#anyways back to the main point of this post. i don't think in this au chess would die first because she does care about her grades | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hier--soir · 1 year ago

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a lover's pinch | four

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: after a conference in new york, you and j miller phd take things a step further. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, i think i describe reader as having sweaty palms about 1500 times so it deserves a warning, alcohol consumption, the plight of being a woman in academia, oral [f receiving], unprotected piv sex [IN A BED ??? GASP] for you filthy animals, prone bone, a little roughness and then not much at all, uhhh pet names during sex.... uhhmm intimacy errrrrr.... soft!joel... feelings... okay bye word count: 9.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: hey folks, thank you so much for all your patience as i took my sweet sweet time writing this. we get to know our prof a little better in this one so a fair amount of dialogue for you but yeah anyways i hope you enjoy it, and i'd love to hear what you think! [and if i Fell Off because of the depression, don't tell me lol] A WORD ABOUT THE TAG LIST: i will continue the taglist for this part and for part five, and after that i will rely solely on my notifications account @hier--soirupdates so pls follow that and turn on notifs to be told when i post writing x this is part four of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three.

Saturday.

The conference centre is vast.

A large space that protects you from the threatening clouds that loom over New York City, and exposes you to countless dense conversations.

An NYU teacher’s assistant is glued to your hip, parading you through the centre with a wayward index finger that points out the bar, the room where the keynote speech will be given [large, with an imposing stage], and the room where you will give your presentation [less large, with a far less imposing stage].

Your presentation.

You fight the urge to pull up the email for the thousandth time while she explains how there will be fifteen minutes to set up beforehand, and advises on when the doors will open for guests, and reminds you that you have a strict allotted time of 20-minutes, do you understand?

But the email is branded on the inside of your eyelids after this morning’s flight was spent reading and rereading and rereading the words. So you nod and smile and placate her on the tour of the centre, as you run through it in your mind.

We look forward to welcoming you to NYU’s Annual Classics and Ancient History Conference. Our team was intrigued by the presentation devised around your translation study in Athens…

“Did you hear me?”

You wish she wasn’t dressed so casually.

Loose balls of lint are collected on the back of her cardigan like trinkets, weighty and threatening to fall off in a sort of bread crumb trail behind her every movement. It makes your dress feel all the more serious, all the more formal. Navy blue and a little tight, with sleeves that slant across the middle of your bicep and a hem that cuts modestly across your lower thigh. Professional, smart, sexy, but not too sexy. You and Nora spent two hours at the mall picking it out last weekend. And you can see people in suits, in blazers, in dresses, everywhere you turn, but your eyes keep returning to the TA’s cardigan. Little pills, sad morsels of broken fabric.

She says your name sharply.

“Yes,” you snap to attention, and clock her poor attempt not to roll her eyes. “You were saying?”

“It’s an open bar,” she continues from a few steps ahead, slowly back away while raising her voice to be heard over the countless others sprouting across the room. “And food is served after the Keynote.”

Finally free of her and her cardigan, you scale the edge of the hall, curious eyes glancing across faces familiar and not. You notice some other postgrads from UNE, and some professors from your alma mater. But it isn’t until three hours into the conference that you notice him.

You’re in a painfully long conversation with Professor Carmichael, an ancient history department head from Boston, when you notice them.

“Well you see,” he’s saying, slowly. “The First Roman Triumvirate was very unique. Surely you agree with me there, my dear?”

“Of course,” you nod amiably. A waiter floats past you holding a tray of glasses. You grasp one with a grateful smile, and turn back to face him with a sip of cold white wine moving down your throat. “The Big Three, it’s all very interesting. Although I must say, I am personally more interested in the second triumvirat—”

“Oh they all say that,” he waves his hand. “Everyone is so taken by Antony and Octavian that they forget about Crassus! So tragic.”

“A very tragic death,” you offer an exaggerated frown. “I agree.”

Carmichael hums, eyes narrowing as if you’ve said something wrong. Sipping your wine, your eyes float over his shoulder, determinedly trying to spot any sign of food, gaze spilling across countless faces and tables and waiters and professors until one set of people makes you pause. Wild dark hair atop a floral dress floats in your vision, her pale hand hovering over the sleeve of a tall man in a suit. You watch the backs of their heads; the way the woman tilts her chin upward to speak to the man and laughs at what he says in return. That laugh. You frown, and feel yourself take a step forward, a step in their direction.

“Is something the matter?” Carmichael asks and you halt, flash him a sweet smile and shake your head.

“No,” you rush, practically tasting the opportunity to escape the conversation. “I’m sorry, Professor, I thought I saw someone waving me over. If you don’t min—”

“Always so many people to talk to at these things,” he says in a sing-song tone of voice, smiling obliviously. “All in due course, dear. You’ll find them later I’m sure.”

It’s not until fifteen minutes later that the tap comes on your shoulder. You turn and feel relief wash over you as you come face to face with Rachel, with her tangle of curls and bright orange dress. But then a jolt shudders through your frame, for you spot the man accompanying her; the man you watched her traipse around the room with, the man in the sleek black suit—Joel, hovering a step behind her.

“Rachel,” you blink. “Joel. Hi—”

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Rachel says. Her eyes are wide, lips pulled back into a crooked grin that immediately sets you at ease. Joel, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable to say the least. You watch him tuck his hands in his pockets and then take them out again quickly, lips pursed together in a tight line as he glances between you and Professor Carmichael.

“Joel,” she grips the sleeve of his blazer and tugs him forward to stand beside her. You watch where her hand grazes him - the ease with which she jostles him around. “Did you know?”

“No.” He stares for a moment, lips parted and eyes darting across your face, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t know.”

“I’m giving a presentation,” you explain quickly, eyes darting between the two of them, fingers tightening around your glass every time your eyes settle on him. He trimmed his beard again; the hairs are shorter, neater—almost too short and too neat for your liking. His shirt is pressed and crisp, shock white beneath the midnight black of his jacket. He’s wearing different glasses. Tortoise shell glasses. Someone clears their throat to your right, snapping you out of your reverie. You apologise quickly, “This is Professor Carmichael.”

“Of course,” Joel nods, stepping forward to grip the older man’s hand. “Good to see you again, Professor.”

“And you, Professor Miller,” Carmichael chuckles, patting a shaky hand against Joel’s shoulder. “When was the last time we crossed paths? A year ago?”

“Must’ve been a year,” Joel smiles easily. His eyes slip to look at you every few seconds. “The conference in Ottawa.”

“The conference in Ottawa!” Carmichael cheers, nodding away. A weight sinks in your stomach like a cinder block as you watch the Professor gear up to wrangle Joel and Rachel into another conversation about Crassus’ untimely demise. But then Rachel slips away, called out to by someone across the room. And before Carmichael can open his mouth, Joel is speaking again, that honeyed drawl like music to your ears.

“Excuse me, Professor Carmichael,” he smiles again. Two of his fingers grip your elbow, tugging you a step backward. “Do you mind if I steal my star student for a few moments?”

Joel tilts your body to the left, and then the two of you are veering off into the crowd, wandering through throngs of people, his warm fingers pressed against the soft flesh above your elbow.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say under your breath, glancing around warily, trying to spy any curious eyes that might notice the two of you.

“Could say the same thing,” he murmurs, dragging you to a stop at the edge of the hall with his eyebrows raised. “When’s your talk?”

“At one. Overlaps with the Keynote, which I’m a little relieved about,” you smile, a pinched, tense thing. “Hopefully everyone will go to that, and I’ll have a smaller crowd.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. You think you notice his shoulders stiffen. “S’that right?”

A persistent pang of hunger stabs through your stomach, you rub a hand over the front of your dress and nod. Curious brown eyes follow the movement.

“Here,” Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. His fingers graze your skin as he tucks the shiny rectangle of foil into your palm. “They don’t put out any food until after the Keynote.”

It’s a granola bar. Peanut butter and banana. You stare at it for a moment, almost dumbfounded by the kindness of the gesture. By how attentive he is; how much he notices without you even having to speak.

“Thanks,” you say. Nestle it into your purse and give him an appreciative smile.

“Sure,” he nods jerkily. Adjusts the glasses on his nose. “I’m disappointed to miss it.”

“Oh?” you blink. Your eyes focus then, flitting downward to focus on the badge hanging from his lanyard.

Joel Miller, Ph.D.

University of New England.

Keynote Speaker.

“Oh, shit.”

“Mhm,” Joel squints at you. “Sorry if I don’t share the sentiment that everyone comes to watch me instead of you.”

“Why didn’t you…” you gape. “You didn’t say you were giving a talk?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“The Keynote speech is a big deal,” you say, as if he wouldn’t know.

“I was their third choice,” he shrugs you off with practiced ease. “First two weren’t interested.”

“Third time lucky then,” you smile, and he chuckles. Someone calls Joel’s name then, and you both spin to see Rachel across the room with a group of people, all eagerly waving him over. Something nasty curls in your chest – something bitter and unwarranted and cruel. You smother it with a mouthful of wine and a soft smile of farewell to him as he turns and walks in her direction.

A hand clasps down on your shoulder and you flinch, turning to see Professor Carmichael beaming.

“Where were we then, my dear?”

You eat Joel’s granola bar at the back of the hall five minutes before your talk and walk onstage with the taste of peanut and banana on your lips, brushing crumbs of dried oats off your fingers.

Fifteen people attend, spotted miscellaneously across the amassed rows of chairs. The slide clicker is damp in your palm, and your thumb hovers trembling over the button, awaiting each moment you need to press down.

“Working alongside some fantastic translators,” you tell them. “We focused on studying the disparities between how Greek texts are translated by men and women. Particularly, we aimed to delve into the way emotive language has been downgraded or elevated depending on the lens through which a text is being viewed.”

Professor Carmichael sits in the front row, those sun-spot covered hands clasped in his lap, offering an encouraging smile as you shift upon the stage. Rachel is a few rows back, and she nods intently whenever you glance in her direction.

“One of our main points of focus,” you continue. “Was to understand points of difficulty in translating while accounting for cultural nuances, and how the context of differing authors can impact upon this. In my next slide—”

It’s as you turn to glance at the display that you notice them for the first time. Three rows from the front, where a group of men sit. Two of them young, maybe around your age. You change your slide and watch them whisper in each other’s ears. One of them points at you. Or not you, rather—your legs.

And you yearn for it to be meaningless. A meaningless gesture between colleagues. Meaningless legs, meaningless dress, meaningless curves and slopes and dips and spins. But as you continue, you know it can’t be. The way they talk through your presentation, as if they aren’t bothered to be heard. The way they leer at you over Carmichael’s shoulder, grinning to each other. Your words in one ear and out the other—simply a talking point for them, a blue dress, something to stare at. Your dress feels hot, tight, and your chest feels hotter, tighter under the lights as those eyes glaze over you. You glance back towards Rachel. She gives you a thumbs up that doesn’t serve to cool your nerves.

“When translating word for word in our field, it’s uncommon,” you stutter to a stop, eyes flashing warily. “Sorry, it is not uncommon to find that narratological creativity dwindles.”

You hear a chuckle to your right and swallow down the urge to shoot daggers in the direction of the sound. “Translators struggle to maintain the in-depth imaginative expression that the original Greek text inspires. But through my discussions with Professor Samaras, we found that…”

It’s in the final minutes that you notice him. Tucked away in a back row of the room, arms folded across his chest. You pause for a moment, words caught in your throat. But Joel merely gives you a short nod. The faintest hint of a smile, of the corner of his eyes slanting upward, and it’s as if a cool breeze washes over you. Hands steady, knees lock, and you push through. You don’t look at any of their faces until it’s over.

And when it is, and scattered applause decorates the air, you can’t help but cast a smile in Joel’s direction. A smile that slips and wavers when you spot the broad expanse of his back, that sharp black blazer, as he slips out the doors without wasting a second.

The rest of your audience follows suit, a slim line that wanders out the doors without a second glance—spare Carmichael, who tells you he was quite taken with how you presented yourself, my dear.

You hear your own name and turn to see Rachel approaching, a burst of floral frock and swinging earrings. Her smile is wide and crooked, and you can’t help but smile back.

“That was wonderful,” she cheers, squeezing your shoulder. “I was so taken by how you spoke about the importance of linguistic quality assurance when translating emotive texts. Brilliant!”

Your face warms. “Thank you,” you shake your head quickly. “It was… thank you. That’s very kind.”

You glance over her shoulder, wondering if he’ll reappear – perhaps share her sentiments, maybe shower you with praise. He doesn’t.

She catches you looking. “Joel was in a rush,” she offers easily. “Lots of people wanting to talk to the man of the evening.”

“Of course,” you swallow thickly. Another smile.

Rachel stares at you curiously. “He’s very impressed by you, you know.” Her voice is warm, gentle—soft spoken like a mother who can sense the slightest flash of insecurity. You cringe immediately, feel your arms cross protectively across your chest. Don’t give the game away now. “Honestly, I think he read your comparative paper on the katabasis three times. Practically raved about it when I asked what it was.”

“Oh,” you blink, shifting uneasily under her gaze. “That’s… wow, I’m flattered.”

“He sees a lot of potential in you,” she says.

“Right,” you nod. “Well, he’s a grea—you’re both great teachers. I’m very lucky to be learning from the two of you.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, and you fear your face grows warmer in the silence. Can feel the slick on your palms returning, the flash of heat in your chest, the longer you sit in it. You make a quick and tumbling excuse to flee the scene, spitting a mess of thank you so much and just need some fresh air, before you’re stumbling out of the hall and wandering outside on newborn deer legs. You snag a flute of something bubbly off the bar on your way, and find yourself on a secluded bench in the breezeway behind the conference centre.

You sit there alone and watch the grass, the way the light from inside shines out across the green. Feel the chill of the wind slip past you, rustling your hair and raising goosebumps on your bare legs. Sip dry Cava and contemplate how many more of these things you can feasibly imagine attending in your career. There’s a single text from Nora on your phone, asking how the presentation went. You tuck it into your purse, leaving the message unanswered.

By the time you hear the door hinges creak, the glass is near empty. You spy a shadowy form snaking its way down the path, headed in your direction.

“Mr Keynote Speaker,” you hum. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Funny,” Joel mutters dryly, knees cracking as he falls onto the bench beside you. A heavy sigh slips from between his lips, fingers lacing together in his lap as he gazes across the breezeway. You down the last of your drink and place it on the concrete by your feet. “Needed some god damn peace and quiet. All that chit chat drives me insane.”

You murmur in agreement and stare at the side of his face – the neatened beard, the thick frame of his glasses. Purposeful or not, the side of his body is pressed against yours. Thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder – he’s sat directly in the centre of the bench. Heat radiates off his body and it’s almost too warm, and yet you find yourself relaxing against him.

“First time at one of these?” Joel asks gruffly. He’s still not looking at you, his eyes trained on a pigeon pecking at a discarded foil wrapper on the grass.

“Is it that obvious?” you grimace.

“Only because I’ve been to twenty of the damn things,” he says. “Y’learn how to smell the nervous energy comin’ off the first timers.”

“Twenty?” you mutter. Feel your stomach curl and twist at the idea of doing this day nineteen more times.

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Went to a lot during my second degree. Had to get good at talkin’, fast.”

“Ahh,” you say. “So, you weren’t always such a sweet talker then?”

He lets out a low chuckle, as if amused by the thought. “Sweet talker, huh? That what I am?”

You shrug, suddenly emboldened by him following you outside, by how close he is, by how open he seems.

“I suppose,” you say slowly.

“And what gave you that idea?”

“You here alone?” you offer a poor imitation of him, voice low and breathy with your awful take on a Southern twang. “Meet me in the bathroom.” You wink, quietly delighted by the way his lips have tightened into a flat line.

“Funny,” he says again, entirely unamused now.

Something warm shifts in your lower stomach. Something wet—a vivid memory of him on the ground behind you in the bathroom of a bar, of hands spreading you open, of his tongue pressing inside you, of The Eagles playing faintly in the background.

“You do that kind of thing often?” you ask.

“Do what?”

“Approach young women at bars,” you wiggle your eyebrows, smirking. “Rob them of their virtue in the bathroom and then hope you never see them again.”

“You? Virtuous?” Joel rolls his eyes. You can see the corner of his lip curling upward. “Must be gettin’ yourself confused with somebody else.”

“Maybe,” you smile.

“Sometimes,” he casts you a look, after a moment. “Not… often. And not young.”

“Younger,” you counter quickly.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” he trails off and shakes his head. “It’s not a thing I do, alright?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t date then?”

He tilts his head at you curiously, eyes planted firmly on your face now. “Not for a long time.”

“Why not?”

“Been busy,” he grunts, clearly growing impatient by the line of questioning. “Spent a lot of time studying. Working.”

“Where did you study?” you press.

“This twenty fuckin’ questions?” he snaps, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Came out here for—”

“You came out here,” you interrupt. “Because I came out here.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t try to deny it.

“Night classes at Texas A&M for my undergrad,” he grits out. You smile sickly sweet, pleased. “Did my postgrads part time at UT Austin,” Joel says.

Your eyebrows kick up again, the teasing pretence all but forgotten. “Sounds… unconventional?” you offer softly.

“That’s one word for it,” he agrees vaguely. “Spent the better half of a decade at school just to end up teaching at one. Ain’t that somethin’.”

“And before that?” you press.

“Before that,” he continues with a wry grin, one full of distaste and frustration and resentment. “Was a contractor for a long time. Houses, buildings.” He rests a hand against his shoulder, fingers pressing against the muscle there, as if working out a decade old knot.

And for a moment you can see it. Can almost taste it. Collared shirts and glasses replaced with hard hats and hammers and dirt in the lines of his palms. Joel carrying a plank of wood on his shoulder, wearing a toolbelt. Joel on his knees, sweat shining on his forehead while he wields an electric drill.

Your dress feels too tight suddenly. Too warm.

“A contractor,” you say distractedly, and hope he doesn’t notice how your thighs press together.

“Mhm,” Joel nods. “With my brother.”

“You have a brother?”

He ignores that. “Where did you study?”

“San Diego State,” you flash him a grin. “Go Aztecs.”

“Good school,” he hums. “You’re a long way from California.”

Only a little further than Texas, you think.

“You did good up there,” Joel adds.

Your smile dips and wanes into a scowl, uninterested in the change of subject.

“What?”

“It was…” you shake your head slowly, face warming as you glance down to your lap.

“What?”

“It just wasn’t what I expected.” You pick at a loose thread on the hem of your dress. “That’s all.”

“And what did you expect?”

“To be listened to,” you grunt. “Not gawked at by some ancient jerkoffs that were only there to stare at my ass when I turned to change a slide.”

Joel nods, quiet.

“I wanted it to matter,” you mutter. “Wanted to… fuck, I wanted to impress them.”

“I was impressed.”

“Oh yeah?” you snort, finally looking up. “You hightailed it out of there pretty quickly.”

Joel shakes his head and stares back at you, gaze heavy. His hands tighten into fists against his thighs, knuckles lightening to white as he squeezes. You shuffle on the seat—ignore the flare of heat that erupts where your shoulder nudges firmer against his.

“I guess you could say,” he speaks slowly. “I’m tryin’ to keep my distance.”

You arch an eyebrow and attempt to swallow the laugh bubbling up your throat.

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” you smirk.

Joel laughs and your smile falters, mouth going slack at the sound. How rare it is, and how much rarer to have it all to yourself like this. For all of his sharp angles, his sweet talking, his harsh words, and harsher touch—that laugh is the cruellest part.

He jostles his shoulder against yours a little. An acknowledgement; perhaps a glimpse inside. Something that says, I know, I see it, I feel it, I can’t stop either.

“You make it hard,” he says then, and his voice is soft—almost a whisper.

“How’s that?” You match his tone, as if you’re two little kids who’ve snuck outside to share secrets where no one else can hear them.

“You bein’ here,” he murmurs, eyes searching. “Startin’ to feel like you’re everywhere I turn.”

A breeze swims past and you shiver, locks of hair floating in a mess around your face until you pat them down. Joel moves almost imperceptibly, curling his side tighter against yours to shield you from the onslaught.

“I know the feeling,” you admit.

The muscle in his jaw ticks and he clears his throat, looking out across the green again. For a moment the pair of you sit in silence. Not as professor and student, but simply a man and a woman on a bench. Breathing the same air, soaking in a shared silence that only the two of you could understand. And there are so many more questions you want to ask him, so much more you feel compelled to know, but instead you settle for this—sitting on a bench together, shoulders and thighs and chests pressed side to side, two frames moulded around the welcoming shape of one another. For now.

“It gets easier,” Joel says then, jaw tense as he spares a glance back in your direction. “This stuff, these people, all the talkin’.”

You acknowledge him with a small smile, just the slightest twitch of your lip. Don’t bother saying, maybe for you. Maybe for a man.

“You know,” you suck in a breath and give him a lazy smile instead. “I think this might be the longest conversation we’ve had without ripping each other’s clothes off.”

“Mm.” He leans his head back to rest on the wall, eyes focusing up towards the sky.

“I like it,” you say quietly. Hear how vulnerability chimes in your voice – a wobble that begs to be ignored and understood all at once. “It’s nice… talking like this.”

Joel’s head tilts towards you, dark eyes locked on yours. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see that wariness in his eyes. The same wariness that poured out in flecks of brown and amber and gold in the light of your bedroom a week ago, when he told you he was fifty. A hesitant curiosity, an incessant suspicion, a bark of disbelief. You feel the desire to pluck the feeling out of him and swallow it whole. To lock it safely inside yourself and make it so he never has to feel it again.

So you lean in a press your lips against his. Painfully soft, just a whisper of two mouths slotting together. Chapped and dry from the wind, he tastes like bitter sparkling wine. You sigh into him, uncaring. Hook your ankle around his, place your hand on his thigh, and sink closer, deeper.

He pulls back an inch, mouth still hovering over yours, the tip of his nose pressed into your cheek.

“Shouldn’t do this here,” he warns quietly, eyes still closed. His breath is hot against your face, and you inhale the taste of mint and Cava and Joel.

“I know.” You grip the lapel of his blazer and kiss him again. Firmer this time, grazing your tongue along the seam of his lips until he welcomes you inside to taste behind his teeth. The frame of his glasses presses into your nose, your cheeks, and you smile into his mouth. Rough palms and lazy fingertips graze the skin of your bicep, your neck, until they find a home at the nape of your neck. His thumb presses against the hinge of your jaw, hot wet tongue working your mouth open until you’re whining, teeth nipping at his bottom lip and fingernails digging into the meat of his thigh.

Only when you move to press a hand beneath the collar of his shirt does Joel pull back again, this time to stand and take a step away from the bench. A tinge of scarlet creeps its way from the hollow of his throat to the apple of his cheeks. He clears his throat and glances over his shoulder, towards the door. When he looks back, there’s something new there. Some dangerous that flashes in his eyes and lingers when his gaze dances down the curve of your body against the seat.

“Where are you staying?” you ask, breathless.

For a minute he doesn’t answer. Simply stares, contemplating, broad chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The lenses of his glasses are fogged, and you watch them slowly clear.

Then— “The Pendry.”

Joel reaches into his pocket and retrieves something small and laminated. You take it from his outstretched palm carefully. “Fifth floor.”

You stare at it for a moment. Turn it over in your palm once, twice. Read the room number printed on the key card before tucking it safely into your purse. When you look up again, Joel is already walking back inside.

It’s nearing midnight by the time you arrive at the Pendry – a high rise in Manhattan West, the kind with a fancy lobby and a doorman in a neat black suit. The polar opposite of the hotel where your suitcase lies unopened across the city. You feel out of place in an instant, but you’re still in your dress, and the staff don’t bat an eye at your presence. The key card he gave you is hot where your fingers curl around it, plastic damp and foggy with the sweat from your palms. By the time you reach his door you have to wipe it on your dress before the sensor will recognise it.

A hollow beep echoes through the hall, and his door presses open with a soft hiss.

The room is enveloped in darkness. Moonlight shines in through a slim gap in the curtains, highlighting vague edges of the space. A desk against the wall, a large bed on the left of the room. For a moment you consider that he isn’t here—that he got caught up at the conference, sweet talking into the midnight hour with other professors and alums. You can hear sounds from the street, music and car horns blaring, even from the fifth floor. But nothing else. No Joel.

Tentatively, you take a step inside the room. And then another. Kick your heels off and feel rough carpet hairs sift between your toes. Holding your hands out into the darkness, fingertips ghosting the wall for support, you venture further into the room, only pausing when your shin thumps against the corner of something sharp and sturdy.

You spit a surprised curse and stumble into the wall, hands falling to grip your leg where it throbs and smarts.

“Jesus fuck,” you hiss, smoothing your fingers against the already forming lump.

A lamp flicks on, and the room lurches into view, tinged in a soft yellow light. You jump, eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. Bed sheets rumple and shift, and Joel is frowning at you from his place amongst the pillows, a hand raising to drowsily scratch his chin.

“The hell are you doin’?” he rasps.

Heat flares in your face as you straighten up, mirroring his frown. He moves slow, a sluggish stretch out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and he looks almost concerned. It gives you pause for a moment, eyes unsure of where to settle, as you note just how much of his body you’ve never seen before. The soft muscles in his legs, the dark hair over tan skin. You can see the slight round of his stomach through the thin fabric of the shirt.

“Were you asleep?” you accuse.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” Joel mutters, and the sound is a fractured medley of words and yawns. You feel a dull pang of disappointment in your chest as you watch him rub sleep from the corner of his left eye.

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t?”

He doesn’t respond.

“You gave me a key.”

“I know,” he sighs.

“Of course I was going to come.”

He nods. Yawns again, hand snaking upward to cover his open mouth.

You turn your back on him slowly. Take a glass from the little kitchenette and let the faucet run a cool burst of water into it. Little specks of water splash up, dotting against your hand. Your feet ache from wearing those damn heels all day, but you wilfully ignore the pain, gulping down half the glass while staring at your reflection in the splashback. Blue dress, hair tucked behind your ears, charcoal smudged around the curve of your eyes.

Joel’s fingers wind around yours, peeling the glass from your clutch so he can steal the final few sips. He discards it on the counter and leans against it. You try to make out his expression in the shadowy light, wiping your water-dotted arm against your side.

“S’a good dress.” He looks more alert suddenly, eyes sharp and focused, wide shoulders squared.

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“Didn’t say anything about it earlier.”

“Was tryin’ not to think about it,” he says plainly. “And how badly I wanted to take it off.”

Your hand stills. That misplaced disappointment slips out of the room, an unwelcome third party, and you grin at him. A sleazy, sleepy smile, and walk backwards in the direction of the bed without taking your eyes off of him.

“So take it off,” you challenge.

Your heartbeat is a steady thrum against your breastbone as he crosses the room. Badoom, badoom, no less than three strides and he’s there, gripping your waist to turn you so his chest is against your back.

Your zip is a low whir in the air, spinning downward slowly, slowly, from the nape of your neck to the sloping base of your spine. Deft hands trace skin, grazing every mark, every freckle as they are revealed to him, until the material of your dress is a gaping smile across your back. You shiver as the air rushes to meet your bare flesh, and then careful—cautious—you feel a pair of lips press against the top of your spine, soft pink against steely vertebrae. You say his name, low and surprised, and he doesn’t say anything. Those hands push the dress down your arms, and you watch it tremble and fall, a mess of blue at your feet.

You can hear his breathing; the way it stutters and jumps as he traces the clasp of your bra, the arch of your spine beneath it.

“Take it off,” you say again, and feel a sharp scratch of desperation that perhaps this time he won’t deny you this. This something that you’ve not experienced even once, and yet you find yourself missing.

The idea of his skin against yours is something prophetic, something inevitable, something divine—something determined far before the two of you met in that bar. It’s out of your control or his, irrevocable—a beast bred from desire that claws and snaps at the bars of its cage, calling you kicking and screaming into each other’s arms.

His fingers pluck at the clasp, and you smile. Sigh in relief as your bra hits the floor and the weight of your breasts are borne to the increasingly warm air. Joel is still behind you, still not seeing you. But broad palms splay across your back, massaging and flexing into your skin as they roam your sides, your stomach, up your front to cup your breasts. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as he squeezes softly, palms warm and solid against the stiff peaks of your nipples.

“Fuck.” Joel’s nose buries itself in your hair, his forehead against the back of your head. Your legs shake, and you lean back into his chest, your body a soft and tremulous thing that would surely float away if he weren’t here to hold you up.

His hands are on your breasts, sweet and tender and finally, and you wonder how long this wanting will feel like burning. Like nicks of flame that gloss over you and spit embers at anyone who dares to get too close—at him, sparking and sputtering as they collide in a spitfire symphony. This man who lives set ablaze in his own right. This man who welcomes your flame every time—swallows it whole, and lays kisses against the back of your neck with lips still warm.

Calloused fingers roll and circle your nipples, playing gently, listening for every gasp, every sigh, before diligently repeating whatever it was that called the sound forward. Your underwear is all but ruined, already damp and clinging to the slick skin between your thighs. And you can feel him against your lower back, albeit unmoving—not grinding against you, not pushing you down onto the bed, but waiting – for what, you can’t be sure.

You turn around faster than he can stop you. Hook fingers into the band of your panties and drag them down in a swift movement before straightening, holding his gaze all the while. And Joel—

He looks in pain. Dark eyes lock onto on your face and don’t stray. Don’t dip downward, don’t glance around the room. His hands hang by his sides, palms facing upward in a dejected fashion, jaw slack as he just—waits.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you whisper.

“You don’t….” he shakes his head. “If I look, I won’t be able to forget. And I—I can’t—”

There’s a flash of that memory again. Sweating in the dark bathroom of a bar in Portland. Joel wiping stained lipstick from your chin. The words I’m gonna remember this dripping from his swollen lips.

You take a step forward. Feel your nipples graze the soft material of his shirt. “And what if I don’t want you to forget?”

He says your name quietly, shoulders tense. But when you grip the hem of his shirt, he doesn’t stop you. Rather, he lifts his arms and lets you drag the fabric over his head. You marvel at the bare skin, eyes dancing across jutting collarbones and the soft swell of his stomach. Watch the way his chest rises and falls as stilted breaths flurry inside him before spilling into the air between you. Admire the trail of dark hair that rests between his bellybutton and the soft band of his underwear. His eyes don’t leave your face as you push the boxers down his legs.

“So handsome,” you say and Joel exhales, hands hovering a hairsbreadth from your waist. The weight of the moment hangs heavy between you. This moment of more. To be with him like this feels like more. To be naked feels like more.

You grip his hand and raise it to your breast again. Squeeze your fingers over his. His thumb flicks across your nipple and you gasp. His eyes darken, nostrils flaring as he fights to restrain himself.

“Joel,” you whisper. “Look at me.”

Finally, he does. Those brown eyes flickering downward to rake in the sight of your body.

He’s on you in a second, mouth slanting desperately against yours while his hands drift aimlessly across skin, untethered in their access. Fingers pinching and grabbing and squeezing, teeth searing at your lips, and you gasp as his cock presses against your stomach. The long, thick weight of him, drooling and needy. Your fingers slip around him, rub softly over the underside of his head, the vein on the underside of him. Joel grips your wrist and pushes you backward a step, his lips leaving yours with a wet smack.

“Sit on the bed,” he orders firmly.

You wander backward, stumbling onto the edge of the bed when your calves collide with the heavy wooden base. He watches you, hand drifting to wrap around the base of his cock. He strokes himself gently, black eyes tracing vigilantly over every inch of your body. And you expect him to push you down, to crawl on top of you. Instead, you watch with bated breath as Joel drops to his knees in front of you. His knees crack as they bend but he ignores it, nudging your thighs apart so his broad frame can fit between them. Hooded eyes gaze between your thighs, roaming across all of the bare skin on show. Slowly, he lifts a hand and rests it gently on your mound. Calloused fingers stroke over the dark hair there, stroking through the short curls. You sigh and cant your hips up, but Joel only grunts, his free hand squeezing your thigh to hold you against the mattress.

Before you can process it, he’s leaning forward, nose nestling in your hair as his warm tongue parts your folds. You groan in unison, your fingers carding through his curls to hold him against you. He murmurs something that you don’t quite catch over the roaring in your ears, but you don’t care. Too caught up in a smooth slide of his mouth slotting against you. The flat of his tongue glides up and down your sex, smearing a mess of slick and saliva in his wake. You gasp as it flicks sharply across your clit, your jaw tensing at the harsh sensation. Joel notices—pulls back.

“Tell me,” he urges.

“Slower,” you say quickly, voice feeble and desperate.

“Slower,” Joel repeats with a nod, and he massages your thighs as he licks into you, fingernails scraping your skin as his grip tightens and loosens and tightens and loosens. He traces slow circles around your clit with the flat of his tongue that have you gasping and bucking against his face. And when his tongue presses inside of you, you moan, fingers twisting in his hair and tugging.

“Fuck,” he growls into you, and he likes that. You do it again and his eyes flick open, pupils blown, gaze darting wildly across your stomach, your arms, your breasts, your face – watching, admiring, taking in every detail of the offering that you’ve laid so generously at his altar. The tip of a finger curls inside you and he grins when your thighs tense around him. He rears his head back to watch how you welcome him inside, eyes locked on the way your weeping cunt clenches and drips around one of his fingers, and then another.

“Yeah,” you sigh, nose scrunching at the slight stretch. “Yeah, like that, fuck.”

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Christ.” And then the cut of his wet red mouth is back on you, lips parting to suck against your clit until you’re crying out, voice a hoarse shout as you speed rapidly towards your end.

“Shit, Joel,” you gasp. One of your legs kicks out straight and his hand drops from your thigh, one set of fingers working you open while the other comes up to part your lips, giving himself more access. As he lathes wet kisses against you, the coarse hairs of his beard scraping your inner thighs, you can feel it. That liquid heat that coils and stirs in the base of your stomach.

“Joel, I—ohh—I think I’m gonna come,” you whimper, hand shooting out to grip his shoulder. Your nails dig into the tense muscle there, using the leverage to rut your hips against his face.

He groans into your sex, fingers moving faster, unforgiving against that spongy spot deep inside that sets you alight. His teeth graze against your clit, the lightest brush, and your stomach is tensing, every muscle in your body locking up.

“Give it t’me,” he says gruffly. “That’s it, come on, baby.”

A choked gasp falls from your lips and then you’re coming, twitching against his face, pussy bearing down on thick fingers that stoke you through the high. Your hand leaves his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding his face against where you’re aching for him still. Joel moans, a low sound from deep in his chest, dragging his fingers away so he can drink down every heady drop of your orgasm.

Baby.

The word rings in your head, bouncing inside your skull, a fierce ricochet. Baby.

Trembling fingers feather across the cowlick at the crown of his head, twisting and petting soft wayward curls as his mouth pulls back, a wet drag across the skin of your hip. You catch a glimpse of his cock, heavy and throbbing between his thighs.

Joel’s teeth nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh, a sharp pinch that makes you flinch. Tired muscles tensing, face twisting up as he sucks and licks, hot tongue soothing over the stinging red mark. He breathes your name, mouthing the sound into your flesh once, twice.

“I’ve been tryna remember this,” he murmurs. “Only ever had it for a second.”

You whimper as he licks into you again, slowly. And you’re so sensitive, and maybe—maybe—it’s too much, too soon, but he doesn’t care. He grips your calf and tucks it over his shoulder. Holds it there in a vice grip.

“Wasn’t enough,” he says. Dark eyes look up and you’re rapt in them—bound and boneless simply from having those eyes on you you you nothing but you all he sees is you and he loves it, you can tell. Thrives on the way you melt beneath his rough fingertips, the wet drag of his tongue. “Remember that first day in my office?

Remember, remember, remember, how could you forget? I’m gonna remember this this this.

“Yes.” Your leg trembles against the side of face, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching your skin. The tip of his tongue lathes slow circles around your clit. A cruel, leisurely slip of flesh on flesh that has you gasping and twitching beneath his hands.

“I wanted this that day,” Joel rasps. “Needed it. But you were gone so soon, ‘n’ I couldn’t help myself.”

“What—oh fuck—” He flicks his tongue faster, hot swipes from side to side that have your thigh clamping down against the muscles in his neck. Your mind is a blur, eyebrows furrowed as you try to make sense of his words.

“Fucked my fist the second you left,” he growls. “My fingers in my mouth, the taste of you—Christ, couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Joel,” you gasp, impatient. “I—get up here. Please, just—”

Strong hands push you up, push you back, further onto the bed until your head hits the pillows. His hair is a wild fray around his head, knotted and mussed from your fingers raking through it.

“I don’t have anything,” he says.

“I don’t care,” you say.

His knees press onto the mattress on either side of you and his eyes glance down your chest before he grips your waist and he’s turning you. Your stomach meets the sheets and you move to arch your back, to tilt your hips up towards him, but a firm hand rests on the small of your back, and keeps you down.

“Like this,” you hear him say. “Trust me.”

His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel him there, knuckles brushing the flesh of your ass, spreading you apart so his cock can press inside. The pillow swallows your wet gasp, and your eyes pinch shut against the stretch as he sinks deeper and deeper. Every delicious inch splits you open wider, further, carving out that space that’s just for him, and it’s more. Your vision blurs and you clutch at the sheets, fingers tangling in linen as Joel’s breathy groans fill the air.

“God,” he grunts. “Always so fuckin’—tight.”

You cry out as he begins to move, pressing you further into the mattress. The stretch of him is so broad—so deep—it has hot tears pricking in your eyes. Your legs are straight, almost clamped together, leaving the smallest gap for him to break through. His chest melts against your back, sweet sweat sliding from skin to skin. And his stomach is soft against the base of your spine, but his teeth are sharp where they nip and smart against the skin of your shoulder, your neck. He sets a pace that has you biting down into the pillow to muffle your groans. It’s almost overbearing how good it feels, how he surrounds you. Flat against the mattress, there’s nowhere to hide from the pleasure, no way to twist or curl your body away from how good it feels. A choked moan is muffled by the pillow.

And then his fingers are in your hair, dragging your head up.

“What are you fuckin’ doin’?” he grunts. You gasp, eyebrows furrowed and mouth ajar as you take take take. He pulls your hair harder when you don’t respond, presses his chin against your shoulder, lips curling against the skin of your neck as he speaks. “Don’t do that, not here. No more hidin’, I wanna fuckin’ hear it.”

He grips your hips and drags you upward so you’re on your knees, bracing against your forearms, and then his hand snakes around the front of your body, fingers dragging between your thighs as he begins moving again.

“Oh fuck,” your eyes widen in surprise, jaw hanging slack as he rolls his finger in expert circles over your clit. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Fuck,” you repeat, mewling every time one of his thrusts sends your face forward into the pillows. “Yes, oh god.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust of his hips. “That’s it, lemme hear it.”

“Joel,” you cry out, voice cracked and broken. “So good.”

“I know, baby,” he grunts. “I know.”

“You’re so—deep,” you gasp.

“I know,” he soothes.

“I missed this,” you babble, mouth moving faster than your mind. “Missed you.”

“Christ,” he spits, pulling you up until you’re leaning against his chest. His fingers are a blur against your clit, cock a fast wet shift in and out in and out.

You tilt your head back against his shoulder, mouth hanging open as you press your ass back into him.

“Missed me?” Joel says, and his cheek is warm against yours. Wet. Your face is wet. “Gonna show me how much?”

“Yes,” you moan. His free hand grips your breast, squeezing and pinching.

“Need to get my fuckin’ mouth on you,” he growls.

“No,” you beg. “Joel, don’t—fuuuck, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Wanted to,” his hips stutter against you, losing momentum for a second. “Jesus, wanted to take my fuckin’ time.” You snake a hand behind his head to grip his hair again, to press his face into your neck. His mouth latches onto your skin, spit mixing with sweat where his teeth and tongue trace your roaring pulse. Your thighs are trembling, knees weak and wobbling against the mattress as he pistons into you, unrelenting, unforgiving.

“I’m—” your eyes start to roll back. You can feel your back arch and twist against him, toes curling into the sheets. “Oh my God.”

He says your name in a panicked hiss and pulls out.

You gasp at the loss, eyes flying open in alarm. He moves your body, not wasting a second as he lowers you down onto your back presses inside again, hands gripping the underside of your knees, holding them against your chest. Practically bent in half, you tremble in his grasp, eyes blurred and wet as you sob his name.

“Lemme have it,” he goads you, voice a dull vibration against your chest. “Bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, yeah, just like that.”

And it feels like something splinters within you as heat floods your senses, vision whiting out until all you can see is the soft edges of his curls against your chest, the wet smear of his tongue over your nipple. All you can hear is the words he speaks against your skin.

I’m close, he warns, and you say yes, say please, say I want it, because you do.

“Where?” You call the shots.

And you say, Inside, say, I want it, because you do.

Because you want everything. Everything he has and whatever dark matter is left after that. And everything is a naked thought, a stark realisation, a frighteningly bare streak of madness that zips down your spine and melts in your belly, and you can feel yourself tightening around him with the enormity of it. Can feel your body squeezing and sucking and holding it holding it holding it and with black eyes, spheres of a night sky’s pitch, he stares at you. Unruly eyebrows pinched tight. Mouth slick and swollen and snarling, white teeth grit like prison bars, keeping everything contained inside himself, just out of your reach.

“Fuck,” Joel spits, pleading, desperate. “Don’t—”

But his hips are bruising against yours and you relish in the ache. The jut of bone amidst the softness of his skin, a reminder of the coldness in him, the determination, the impatience. And you know that you can only have so much softness until there is stone. But you cannot understand don’t, you never have with him, so you grind upward. Meet him thrust for thrust, and shiver in delight as a tortured expression passes over his face. And when you come again he curses, broad palms bearing down on you, holding your frame into the mattress as he pushes you through it, prolonging that naked thought, that fearsome idea. You only hope that he cannot see how your own everything spills. How it cools and congeals around him with its palms spread open, longing to receive as much in return.

Joel comes with a shout, hips dragging backwards so his spend can spill across your stomach and the puffy lips of your sex. He grips his cock, milking himself for all he’s worth until wet ropes of his come are smeared across your thighs too. You gasp and writhe against the bed, trying in vain to keep your heavy eyelids open, not wanting to miss a second. The shine of your slick on his thighs and lower stomach is clear in the dim lighting, and you smile at the sight of it – your claim on him. Chest heaving, he follows your gaze, fingers swiping across his skin before sinking into his mouth. He groans around his fingers and you stomach lurches as he lowers his chest to the bed, mouth drifting between your splayed thighs.

You cup his jaw and hold him still.

“I can’t,” you murmur, and your voice is cracked and broken. “S’too much.”

And he agrees, tracing the marks on the inside of your thighs with his mouth until your eyes drift closed.

Time passes slowly after that. You don’t open your eyes for a while. Too fucked out, too tired, too tender.

There’s a warm glide of something soft and wet over your stomach, your thighs, between your legs—Joel cleaning up his mess. You almost wish he wouldn’t.

“Sorry,” you mumble a few minutes later. “I’ll go in a second.” But your eyes are closed, and the sheets smell like him.

You feel the mattress dip beside you. Hear a soft click as he turns off the lamp, and darkness swells around you once more.

“S’okay,” he says, and his voice is so close, as if he were whispering against the shell of your ear, breathing the words into you. “Don’t have to go.”

And it makes sense not to go. To stay, to stay, to stay. To sink deeper into the hotel mattress, and let the sounds of his heavy exhales lull you further to sleep. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t come any closer. But you can smell him. Can feel his warmth, a radiating sun that shines across the side of your body closest, and you sink deeper still.

You think of the katabasis - the hero’s journey spiralling down into the underworld. Of Orpheus seeking the safe return of Eurydice, his love lost too soon. Of Odysseus, guided by Circe to discover Teiresias on his quest for homecoming. Of Aeneid, venturing downward to meet his father and hear his true destiny. This descent into the afterlife, into the realm of the dead, wherein upon return our hero is irrevocably changed. But to stay, to stay, to stay. So warm it is here, you think, so lovely and warm to descend wholly into this wanting, this burning, this everything.

“Is this a good idea?” you murmur, voice a drowsy call into the darkness. “For me to stay?”

Joel doesn’t respond.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @bbyanarchist @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @@lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5 @psychedelic-ink @what-is-your-wish @sugadolly @elissaaa @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul

thank you for reading! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #ALP #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut

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adventures-in-mangaland · 3 months ago

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Yet Another Dead Boy Detective Fic Rec List

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I've been having so much fun with these, so I've decided to make another! See above for links to my other fic rec lists. ♥️

Like We're Gonna Die Young (Again) by RoseGanymede95

The latest installment in the superb Codependency World Cup series has the boys attend a nefarious house party and grapple with old frenemies, 90s fashion and temporary amnesia. Also fleshes out their achingly sad backstories, but compensates with the triumphant return of Pierre the rabbit.

When I Picture You by Gruoch

Charles gets braceleted by the Cat King instead of Edwin and receives his heart's desire... being alive again. This author has a special gift for taking fun sounding premises and turning the angst up to 11. So excellent.

young blood (never get chained) by ghostinthelibrary

University AU in which half-demon Charles intervenes in Edwin's ritual sacrifice and inadvertently binds their souls together... I'm genuinely obsessed with this AU, it has so much potential for tons of delicious tropes. Human!Edwin getting a crash course in supernatural shenanigans! Soulmate vibes!Found Family! Demon lore! What's not to love??

Ghosts and Monsters by justafandomfollower

Charles is also sacrificed and the boys meet in Hell! Fantastic premise and executed really well. I loved Masterful Edwin taking charge and protecting Charles while inwardly despairing. Highly recommended.

back to back they faced each other by ShanaStoryteller

The Night Nurse has a theory about how Charles was able to rescue Edwin from Hell so quickly... I'm genuinely shocked I haven't recced this one already. Sorry guys, I forgor. Anyway, this has interesting "Guardian" (angel?) lore, great meta and we even get some temporary amnesia as a treat.

boyfriend jacket by skadii

5+1 times Edwin borrowed Charles' jacket. The characterisation is on point, and it has some great OCs (Kyle the snarky seeing-eye cat!) and really sweet payneland moments. Plus Charles' jacket doing its most to annoy the Cat King.

Looking Like the Sunrise by letters_of_stars

Edwin thinks he's cursed so he and Crystal must team up to solve the case of his Mysterious and Suddenly Appearing Rizz. Funny and sweet friendship fic with some quality Edwin-Crystal bonding and discussions of trauma.

The Case of the Anonymous Confession by Mayarenerose

College AU featuring Charles posting an 'anonymous' online confession about his complicated feelings for his bestie. The closet is glass, but Edwin is oblivious and Crystal is in pain. Cute and funny epistolary social media fic done really well.

the middle of something wonderful by KiaraSayre

Does what it says on the tin and gives us a trope salad of cosy vignettes, including a time loop, temporary amnesia, sudden corporality and Crystal and Edwin trying to get a good grade in Party. Wholesome.

My heart is like a haunted house (series) by halffulljampot

Charles (unknowingly) befriends the ghost of Edwin's mother and constantly gushes to her about his amazing best friend/boyfriend. Beatrice is a great OC and it's just nice (though extra tragic) to read a fic in which Edwin had loving parents. Read it for Family Feels and wholesome intergenerational friendship.

the first rule of fight club by e_va

The boys are captured by an evil underground fighting ring. The fic is from Charles' PoV, so the prospect of having to fight Edwin was especially stomach-churning. Still, we get Edwin being a badass and a brilliant surprise cameo I don't want to spoil.

The Case of The... by sophisticatedyet

Edwin borrows Niko's negligee and Charles' brain breaks. There's also a case and giant squids, but Charles' Distracted By The Sexy crisis is the main (hilarious) event.

in those heavy days when love became an act of defiance by aletterinthenameofsanity, JUBE514

Daemon AU and first meeting fic! Loved the worldbuilding, insightful character work and lovely use of Greek mythology. Honestly, this fandom needs more daemon AUs.

spinning around and around in an ocean of grief (your ladder came down to the sea) by Ingi

Prequel to DontOffendTheBees' excellent College AU, expanding on the boys being alive and in school together. Also has its own prequel about their first meeting from Edwin's point of view. This one, though, is a Charles' Bisexual Journey/Feelings Realization fic. So lovely.

head in the clouds but my gravity's centered by shadowquill17

Face Touching: The Fic. I just love non-sexual intimacy in fics and this one is so tender. I also love Accidental Kissing and Feelings Realization so my cup runneth over.

i don't want to rest in peace by handwrittenhello

Different First Meeting fic featuring Poltergeist Charles! Loved the concept, even though it made me sad.

the great snogging debacle of '95 by thatgayprince

Edwin disguises himself as a girl and Charles starts and then defers a sexuality crisis for 30 years. Funny, steamy and emotional.

a beautiful day to say goodbye by ofstitches

The agency take on the case of a depressed house. This is another bittersweet Edwin backstory fic with discussions of grief.

Smitten in the Stacks by cordelianoir

Adorable prequel to lolotr's equally adorable library AU. Meet cute featuring (platonically married) Dad!Charles crushing on the hot librarian who leads Children's Storytime.

Jenny Green: Butcher, Hot Mess, Reluctant Queer Elder by Money_Maker

Jenny-centric fic! The focus is on Jenny and her financial, mental and emotional struggles post-canon, but mentoring Edwin through his queer self-discovery becomes a big part of that. This turns into a really sweet friendship, plus Found Family Feels and some fun outsider PoV of the boys' dynamic.

I've always got more recs so watch this space! ❤️

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beneathsilverstars · 4 months ago

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been doing research on writing plural systems for sif+loop in mundane modern aus, and i think i've got a solid idea of what i want to do! specifics may vary by au but i wanted a base set of headcanons to vary from, so sif+loop being a system can be a background fact of my au musings instead of something i have to reinvent every time.

(i'm a singlet so if any systems have concrit or thoughts they want to share i'd be happy to hear it! i'm not like planning a fic or anything currently, but it's still nice to not be working off of misconceptions for my silly little posts.)

siffrin took over as the main host in their late teens and doesn't remember anything from before that. in their early-mid 20s their work/housing situation was horrible and when they couldn't take another day like that, siffrin split into loop (who kept the mid 20s memories, with a new personality) and siffrin take two (who remembers the 17-20 era a bit better, but then there's a big gap). between the two of them they were able to cope better and hold a not-as-awful job and get a shitty apartment all to themselves!

siffrin fronts more often on average, because they're better at quietly accomplishing day-to-day tasks. but if he gets too overwhelmed or anxious (think their mini loop-backs in canon) then loop takes over, bc loop dgaf about some of the things siffrin worries about, and doesn't shut down as easily. but since they don't bottle up their feelings as severely, they're more likely to react outwardly and make rash choices like quitting their job, being rude, splurging on little treats, etc. so that's why siffrin is the default fronter for things like work and chores, when he's feeling up to it.

loop is fairly aware of what's going on while siffrin is fronting - sometimes they choose to tune more of it out, but they can catch most of it if they want to, and sometimes siffrin will talk to them or nudge them to pay attention. since they know at least the basics of what siffrin was up to, they can usually step in pretty smoothly when they need to take over! and it's very easy for them to take over, with or without siffrin's say-so, though they try to ask if it's not an emergency (and if it is an emergency, siffrin is likely trying to back away from the front anyway).

when loop is fronting, though, siffrin is entirely away, dreaming in the void. loop can nudge them for a vague opinion or relevant memory, but they can't hold a full conversation and they're not aware of what loop's doing. when loop puts them in the front again they're usually disoriented and need a moment for loop to tell them what's been happening. and again, loop is the one deciding to switch; sometimes siffrin might resist getting pulled back if they're still feeling bad, or get antsy and start reaching out if they've been asleep a while or are having bad dreams, but they're not gonna react to environmental situations since they're not aware of them.

mal is in there too but doesn't front. its role is to be socially hyper-vigilant, pointing out when other people might be upset at them so the alter who's fronting knows to fix it or avoid the person. it's been around longer than siffrin, and was helpful way back then, but now that siffrin and loop have worked out an effective balance and are fairly safe, mal's behavior is somewhat maladaptive (ha!). it's not super directly aware of the outside world like loop is, not anymore at least, but it does get secondhand memories from both siffrin and loop. it actually sometimes remembers facts and details that sif and loop both quickly forgot, because maybe those details will end up relevant to spotting and avoiding future problems - but since it got the memories secondhand and filtered them through a particularly paranoid worldview, it's likely to misremember subjective interpretations as literal truth, so you gotta take its claims with a grain of salt.

it mostly hangs out in the void imagining fractals and whatnot these days, keeping an eye on siffrin while they sleep. it occasionally perks up and chimes in with its pessimistic point of view when siffrin is really upset - it can communicate better with sleeping siffrin than loop can. loop is not on speaking terms with it because they're mad that it goes behind loop's back and makes siffrin more upset right when loop is trying to shield him from the upsetting situation. but siffrin doesn't mind it bc it's just trying to help in its own way, and sometimes it is helpful to face their fears in plain words instead of avoiding them. and siffrin will sometimes ask it for help with like, puzzles, because it's good at pattern recognition.

there's also a no-longer-quite-dormant alter that presumably fronted for much of the body's childhood. they don't hang out in siffrin and mal's void, and they don't talk to anyone else within the system. but now that the system is more safe and stable, every once in a while something will catch their attention and they'll gently push to the front and start talking. as soon as their train of thought is interrupted they're gone again, and the other alters don't even remember that they got usurped for a moment, a la siffrin's bits of telling childhood anecdotes in canon. loop and siffrin have surmised that they exist, and call them the lost one.

mal has also implied that there's at least one more dormant alter, but it's from before siffrin-and-loop's time and possibly mal's as well.

if something happens that's so distressing that siffrin retreats into headspace and loop won't take over either, the body goes into dissociated autopilot. it will follow basic one-step instructions (such as "follow me" or "eat this"), speak in a couple simple scripts (such as answering "how are you" with "i'm fine"), and complete rote tasks such as taking a familiar route home from work or going to bed. loop doesn't pay much attention because that would defeat the point / put them back in front, so they usually have very little if any idea of what happened in this state, but it is possible for outside events to catch their attention enough for them to try fronting again. otherwise they'll be back next time the body wakes up. siffrin, on the other hand, usually won't front for at least a day or two after this happens, and will likely have forgotten the events leading up to it as well.

it doesn't happen very often since it's the very last resort, after siffrin dissociating, loop taking over, and loop dissociating. loop and siffrin don't consider the autopilot an alter because it doesn't form memories, have emotions or opinions, or interact in the headspace; it just follows where it's led, by habit or outside influence. loop has argued in favor of trying to imbue it with more personhood so it's less uncanny for other people to interact with and can get loop's attention when the distressing thing is over, but siffrin argues that if it can think that defeats the point, and they'd just end up with this new alter and a new autopilot.

past all that, the specifics will depend on the exact au; particularly the ratio of loop time to siffrin time will depend on how much siffrin works and how awful their job is, whether siffrin and/or loop have friends yet, etc. but i think when they're doing pretty well they'd be happy with siffrin doing work/chores and most of the activities that they both enjoy (since then they'll both remember it), and loop fronting for maybe a third of their free time to do their own thing, and maybe here and there if something goes wrong at work. and then if siffrin starts feeling burnt out, they swap for a couple days of loop doing most things and siffrin just coming out for an hour or two. siffrin and mal probably talk maybe a couple times a month, unless siffrin is really going through it, in which case they might talk a lot for a couple days. it also might be possible for mal to eventually adapt a little more to being safe, and start providing a wider range of possible interpretations instead of just the worst case scenario.

ok that's all! and as i said, i'm totally open to feedback. :3

#wow it's so easy to lock in on draft posts bc tumblr doesn't show me notes while i'm in my draft #i haven't checked my dash/notifs since i first caught up for the morning four hours ago...#anyway yay now i can really start building my coffee shop au!#isat #siffrin #loop #isat spoilers #thoughts #thoughts about siffrin #thoughts about loop #thoughts about siffrin & loop #café chick #thoughts about siffrin et al

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microwavesaferat · 14 days ago

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Okay, I never post on Tumblr but I just got hit with such a violent hyperfixation that I forcibly had to put into words so, this is long one.

Life Series SMP as the Magnus Archives

So I had an idea for a Life Series AU where all the players are an avatar of one of the fears from tma. Warning that I haven't seen all Cc's povs so I'm mainly going off of vibes and moments I remember. I also tried to have at least 1 member in each fear.

Bdubs - The Dark

This is for obvious reasons with his association with sleeping and clocks. My hc is that, cause he can't sleep the night away, he kind of became an avatar of the dark. I like the idea of him just kind of hiding in shadowy corners, the only way to know he's there is by the sound of the clock letting you know that it's night now and you should not be out at this time.

BigB - The Spiral

This is mainly based on the whole thing with secret life and the weird corridors he had. I like the idea of that every time you look at him, you're not sure what emotion he is feeling. Is he happy? Annoyed? Angry? Who's to say. And where does that corridor lead anyway? Oh, wait, he says there are no corridors, but you just saw one didn't you? Oh, it's gone now, where did it go? Where did it's contents go?

Cleo - The Flesh

This was an obvious one. As much as I think she could also fit into other categories like the desolation, it's too hard to ignore the obvious aesthetical choice of making them a Flesh avatar. I mean, come on. I think as a fully realised avatar, she would have too many limbs. There are at least 7 leg warmers and sweatbands, not all on legs or arms. She had to work hard at jazzercise to get legs like that. And I mean it, the original owner was still using them.

Etho - The Stranger

This was a tough one, but I kind of like where I ended up. In almost every season, he has had more than one alliance, usually a main team and a back up one. Especially in Wild Life, where he was teamed with pretty much everyone. I think he, as a full stranger avatar, is always your friend, but also always your enemy but he's also the enemy of your enemy so he's your friend? At this point you're not sure how loyal he is to you or anyone for that matter. I also think that everyone has seen under the mask, but it's all different things. "I saw Etho's face, he had a huge mustache" "What? No, he doesn't have a mouth" "I saw that he had 2 mouths under there" "I saw every possible outcome of every universe happening simultaneously and in all of them, humanity perishes" "this is why we don't talk to you."

Gem - The Corruption

So this is mainly to do with the whole zombie thing in Secret Life. I was toying with the idea of Bdubs being the Corruption as well due to the Boogieman kills. I'm still not entirely sure of my decision. I want the Corruption ideas to lean into how people draw Gem as some form of woodland creature or druid. I like the idea of the Corruption being like plant life/small bugs. As a full avatar, she would look like how she is commonly drawn, but it's not entirely clear if that's skin, fur or bark. There's bugs in it regardless. Are her eyes glowing? Is it the fireflies around her or is it actually coming from her eyes? I think she'd appear almost like the Creaking, where you turn away and suddenly greenery and bugs start swarming from the ground, consuming you.

Grian - The Eye

I'm really in-between fears for this. As much as the Watcher symbolism works well for the Eye, I wasn't sure if I wanted both him and Martyn to be avatars of the Eye. I eventually decided, given he sets up the games and runs them, Knowing slightly more info than other participants, it does really tend towards the Beholding. I like the idea of an unwilling avatar like Jon is, but his abilities grow more and more over the seasons before it gets to Wild Life where someone is like "I wonder what the wildcard is today" and Grian is just suddenly flashbanged with the image of:

🐌

Impulse - The End

I haven't really watched Impulse POVs so I wasn't really sure what to do. I have a vague memory of him always doing quite well and getting in the last few a lot. I also know that previous teams have banked on Impulse being the member that could actually win. Regardless, he always dies just before he can win. I think he's a new, unwilling avatar, not fully coming to terms with his new identity, he always gets so close, only for death to sweep him away and he is forced to try again. I think that he, as an avatar, would be themed around wasting time, the concept that everything ends in death so the time spent before is pointless and wasted, this especially applies after his death in limited life.

Jimmy - The End

I mean, come on. The Canary Curse? Need I say more? I will add though that I think he's slowly becoming a fully realised avatar, hence why, in recent seasons he's not been out first, able to harness and manipulate his curse. Jimmy's always the first out, so we're all safe until he goes.... Right?

Joel - The Desolation

So this is about the whole "the ship burns, everything burns". I feel like, near the end of every series, he slowly gets more and more angry and violent. He usually starts acting almost desperate, think of his desperation in Last Life with his faulty traps. He is angry, volatile, and will do anything to burn everything you cherish to the ground. If the ship burns, everything burns.

Lizzie - The Buried

I've never really watched Lizzie's POV and I also didn't have anyone for the Buried. I couldn't think of anyone else that would work, so this is based on how, whenever she dies, someone seems to try and sell her bones to Joel. It's a weirdly common thing. I was gonna do the vast cause of her ending in Secret Life, but she did go down, not up, so I prefer the idea that she got stuck underground. It may look like the night sky, but it's the lack of air slowly choking her, unable to claw her way out, suffocating in silence deep under the ground.

Martyn - The Hunt

So I was also gonna put Martyn with the Eye because of the whole Watcher/Listener thing, but I think the Hunt fits better. I like the arc of his transformation over the course of the Life Series. In 3rd Life, he's essentially a soldier for the Red Army. Then, after realising the bloodlust and red haze, he becomes a relatively peaceful Southlander. But eventually, he kills his soulmate, unable to contain the need to kill and hunt. It reaches its peak in limited life where he just snaps, kind of like Daisy at the end of season 4. He then spent Secret Life as a dog before going back to his Red King as his hand in Wild Life. Ren may be an actual dog, but Martyn is his bloodhound.

Mumbo - The Web

Okay, hear me out: Mumbo as a very new avatar of the web who, due to the machinations of mother spider, is not aware of his avatar status, the avatar status of his pears, nor the existence of the fears at all. Think about it, every time Mumbo has gone out of the series, it has been his own fault. He attacks Grian unprepared, completely forgetting the ramifications of his actions. Gets stuck on a fence he placed then killed by a Warden. Gets stuck in his own spider's web of tnt minecart tracks. He also never goes for kills with basic PvP, it's always some elaborate scheme; making end crystals from a ghast farm, making a complex system of tracks for launching tnt, digging out a pit under a base and waiting for sooooooo long for someone to conveniently walk over the hole (also the web fucked that up for him with the fireworks in the background). I also really like the idea of the webs being like lines of redstone. I cannot draw, but can fully imagine the fanart in my head.

Pearl - The Hunt/Lonely

So Pearl is a double avatar. I couldn't decide between them. I hc her as the concept of looking out on the moors to see the silhouette of a lone hunter, on a horse with only the company of her hunting dogs. I think she embodies the solitude and the quiet of hunting by yourself. The only company she has is snarling hunting dogs, there to help stalk and tear at her prey. The only issue is, this hunter isn't looking for game.

Ren - The Slaughter

Ren does also fit with the hunt, but given his whole King persona, he lends more to the idea of a war waged by leaders in distant lands with a large toll amounting of nameless soldiers fighting for ideals their King tells them to believe in. I think his whole Red King character is pretty much a Slaughter avatar as is, so not much needs to change. I'm not entirely sure how I mix this with other seasons, but I do believe that Ren's most iconic character is the Red King, so fight me I guess. Red Winter is coming.

Scar - The Lonely

So Scar always focused on his connection (or lack there of) with Grian. He died, leaving his partner alone. Then he lived in recluse on a mountain, unable to bring back what he had. Even when forced to partner up, he is still alone. It takes him till Secret Life to finally embrace his avatar identity of being alone. Rumour has it that, on the Secret Life world, you can hear faint humming. No idea where the source is though, it's hard to find anything in the vast sunflower field.

Scott - The Vast

Scott was also hard to place, but I can't fight his whole spacey vibe. I also like the idea that, by refusing to succumb to the Boogieman curse, he defied the Watchers, these enormous, all powerful deities. I like the imagery of Scott, an ant in the face of these gods, being the bigger man.

Skizz - The Lonely

So Skizz is normally one of the first out in his team. He's also prone to sacrificing himself for the sake of the team. I think that is a lonely existence. I believe that Skizz, after giving his life to allow his team to move on, is forced to sit and watch. Unable to talk to his former teammates and stuck in isolation watching them go on without him.

Tango - The Desolation

Tbf, I think the way people draw Tango as a blaze has skewed my perception a bit. But I do believe the volatile anger he has works well with the idea of the desolation. As well as that, he has also had everything he loves destroyed. His ranch, his trust, etc. he's experienced so much desolation, he has simply become the burning fire of grief that laps at his feet.

Anyway, thanks for reading this far. Please let me know if you have any suggestions or changes I should make.

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phoenixeclipse-lmkau · 3 months ago

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ok, so I think this is the first time I've posted a question as such and it's not just a comment but I'll try to be brief. I have to say that I loved the scenario in which they go to the world of Reader, it's very good and honestly I laughed a lot, but now changing the subject, considering that this is a ShadowPeach x reader universe, before the monkeys became warlords and met Reader, who was the one who became yandere first, Wukong or Macaque, because it would be interesting to have a little background on that. Another question is, if Reader can use her magic through artifacts, and suppose they change with her emotions, what if when she discovers that they are actually Wukong and Macaque, her desperation drags her to another world by accident (Perhaps as a method of survival for the adrenaline of the moment) and take him to another world with another Wukong, perhaps the canonical world of LMK, perhaps that of Black Myth Wukong, perhaps that of Monkey King Reborn, and Reader meets another version of Wukong or Macaque and genuinely becomes friends/falls in love with them and they are not Yandere, how do you think things would happen when the monkeys (inevitably) envelop Reader?

Anyway thats all i Have for Now, your ideas really change The chemistry un my brain, Hope you have a nice day

For Reader's ability. That is a really cool idea! A pure survival instinct truly. Now I don't think that she'll be meeting any other Wukong or Macaque in this au. (Maybe if I make another au and a crossover? But not in my main Cursed Warlords AU)

My reasoning is quite simple. Too much drama, okay thats kinda hypocritical I guess since there's probably gonna be quite a bit of drama.

Anyways, the pure survival instinct to get her out of the situation is really cool. In my mind, her dimensional travel ability stems from more of a teleportation type.

Because of this, I believe she would either teleport back to her own dimension or she might just teleport far away from them. Even if far away happens to be on Flower Fruit Mountain while they are away. Maybe haven't decided yet.

Anyways love that idea. Will probably use it at some point for the Reader (gonna make it happen at the worst possible moment too, probably. Hehe~)

>>><<<

Spoilers for unwritten Arc below. I will be writing the actual scenes for this later but since I don't have the time write at this moment a few short points from it will suffice.

Read at your own spoiler risk. This is basically an outline for the Arc. Which is the reason I took so long with this ask, Sorry about that, @bluewillbon! Loved writing this though ❤️

Ding... Ding... Ding...

Shadowpeach Arc Unlocked!!

Hehe~ I have a few ideas for this.

Surprisingly, I actually have Macaque go yandere for his husband before Wukong did.

Wukong is pretty oblivious to romantic emotions originally. He just knows he wants something so he takes it.

Basically a short Summery would be Macaque comes to Floqer Fruit Mountain as a traveler and meets Sun Wukong. The two fight each other because Macaque is an 'intruder'.

However, Wukong isn't going all out at, nor is Macaque. Wukong finds that he likes this new monkey demon, and eventually offers him a place in his troop.

Macaque decides to agree, at first to find out more about this other monkey. He doesn't know how he feels at first and is debating what exactly he wants to do.

As they get to know each other and begin to fall in love, but only Macaque seems to realize. Wukong is as dense as a rock (pun intended)

Macaque is already close with Wukong as his right hand man, he doesn't share his feelings. He can be rather shy at times, and believes that he'll have to fight Wukong to the death or unconsciousness like all of his other suitors.

But even though he believes that Wukong won't accept him, he won't let anyone else have him. If he can't have him, no one can. Will he harm his love? No, he'll just kill anyone who shows romantic interest in him.

Of course, he won't tell him, and the person will simply go missing without another word. Macaque is a great actor and no one will suspect him for a while... until...

Everything comes to a head when someone decides to challenge Wukong to a courting dual in public. Obviously, Wukong would have beaten her easily however Macaque who had finally decided to offer his love and picked out the courting gifts and had everything ready, would not have it.

Not only did he have everything ready, but the girl decided to challenge Wukong when Macaque had planned to. So~ yeah, the girl died... at Macaque's hands.

It is only then that Wukong actually thinks of his feelings for Macaque as love. Admitting it to himself as Macaque bends on his knee and promises to stay by his side for eternity.

That is how the two got together, by Macaque slaying one of Wukong's suitors (he had quite a few before he became a warlord) and bending the knee to ask for his hand.

At first Wukong is furious, his right hand doesn't think he can fight for himself- oh. Oh that's why he did it. This Boi was a blushing mess, because it's at this point that his own feelings hit him in the gut (or rather the point where he actually recognizes his own feelings.)

They soon become completely inseparable, more so than they already have been.

So even though Macaque is the first to go yandere, Wukong is NOT far behind him. Of course, there are some stupid enough to try and woo Macaque as well, only to be slain by Wukong's staff.

The suitors only diminish as Wukong and Macaque become Warlords. It becomes widely known who they are and who they are with. Even if some (very few) are stupid enough to try to get between them, they are quickly ended.

No one will come between them, and neither of them are interested in polygamy... at least not until... you.

#dead dove do not eat #sun wukong x macaque #Shadowpeach #shadowpeach x female reader #shadowpeach x reader #sun wukong x reader #macaque x reader #cursed warlords au #cursed warlords lmk au #Spoilers

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your-local-uwu-artist · 4 months ago

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MORE ALCOR DOODLES!!!!

-there was a good handful sketches that didn't make it to the final, some of them I plan to finish as solo drawings or on another doodle sheet

-once I decided to do the galaxy for the coat tails there was a number of failed attempts, and I questioned whether to go with a teal tinted or magenta tinted galaxy up til the end (the contrast and use of complimentary colors with a more purple/magenta tint was lovely and kept up the warm hues but in a similar manner the more teal and blue hues blended in while also standing out with it's cool hues: both were great options)

-the reason why I added those random pokemon team hcs was because that space there was too big to just fill with stars but too small to draw another something: so I just added the first thing that came to mind lmao

-tbh sorta nervous bout posting this cause I don't exactly put in the effort to be canon compliant: like I've sorta been formulated my own take on the tau in my head, as evident by my creative liberties taken with Alcor's design, I figured 'whats the point of a loose canon if you cant play with it' plus like 'i'm already cringe I might as well be free'

-speaking of the transcendence au canon though! if you're not familiar with the transcendence au the official tumblr ( @transcendence-au ) explains pretty much everything and is well organized :3 it's pretty much just so cool and epic and poggers, I love like, fandom-of-a-fandoms so much (like the utmv fandom and phandom's expansive fanon) , nothing more swag then a bunch of cool and creative people making something new out of something they love together!

-anyway back to art notes!!!!

-i love love love to use the coat-tails to show gravity: it's so fun

-the color yellow is both a dear friend of mine and a mortal enemy: tbh probably could've pushed the contrast between the main yellow and the more orange hue i used to shade here

-I draw so many fanged characters I forget how fun drawing shark-teeth style fanged characters is

-another uncertain decision was making the shoes brown: the thought was that it would help tie back in a warm hue on the lower half and bring the colors full circle but i'm not sure how i feel about it: i don't hate it at least.

-I like to think that Mabel would wear a few small goth-adjacent accessories as to signal to the goths that she is their ally

#kyukyudraws #alcor the dreambender #tau #transcendence au #dipper pines #gravity falls #the transcendence au

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

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Jungkook

𝕊𝕋ℝ𝔸ℕ𝔾𝔼ℝ𝕊 (Crumb)

You were once his colorful spark of adventurous dreams while he was stuck in a monotone nightmare of what had been chosen for him. And now, years after he'd escaped and quietly disappeared, he's back- and you're nothing but strangers.

Tags/Warnings: non-idol AU, Angst, Friends to strangers to lovers, smut, I know you've all been waiting for what mom might make out of the groceries aka topless calvin Klein kook, mentions of death, mentions of questionable past time activities (smoking, drinking, drugs but no consumption of such, sex, gambling), more TBA

Length: ???

-> this is going to be a One-shot. Additional content can be added if requested.

🌟 This work has Patreon perks! Please check my navigation post (pinned) for more info!

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"Where's puffball?" Jungkook asks, carefully walking into your apartment, visibly tense as he follows you slowly, rather taking a look around.

"Where he always sleeps." You simply say, and Jungkook needs to think for a second, before his face turns towards the corner near your entrance door, where a small coffee table stands instead of the tiny red dog bed he was expecting-

A picture of the tiny off-white poodle mix on top of it, his baby blue collar in front with a candle unlit.

"Oh.." jungkook can't find the words, his throat suddenly clogging up. Everyone always said how ugly that dog was, and yeah, objectively he was- with the overbite and tongue hanging out, he truly wouldn't have ever won a beauty contest. But you loved the little guy- and Jungkook loved him too, despite his constant yapping.

"Died of kidney failure last year December." You shrug as you search through a bookshelf, opening a folder with documents. "Wasn't surprising."

"I'm.." he starts, before he bites his lip, scratches the back of his neck. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" You chuckle, trying to just brush it off. Truth be told it still hurts to talk about it- but you don't want him to know that. "You didn't kill the guy." You joke, taking out some paperwork as you sit down on the couch.

"No, It's not that-" he says, eyes focused on the grey-ish pull out couch in front of him.

The same you both made love on, years ago, the same he held you on through the entire night before you went for a round two in the morning, the same he decided that he needs change on.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. To.. comfort you." He offers.

Again, only a shrug of your shoulders. You don't acknowledge him at all, it feels like.

And he can't even blame you.

"Here- that should be all the papers for the car." You instead change the topic, holding out the documents- which he takes, though he sits down next to you as well, with a respectful distance. It feels off, awkward, like punishment for his cowardly behavior years prior.

It's like you switched sides- your tattoos covered up by simple black leggings, blank white top covering your upper half. The only hint of color is in the split ends of your hair- though even that's faded to the point of almost being unrecognizable.

And now he's the rebel of the two of you, going against the norms with his tattoos and piercings and hair and everything- something he'd always admired you for, back then.

But the world had finally broken you down it looks like- society having forced you into submission after all, despite your back then huge ambitions.

"Are you sure I can just.. have it?" He asks again, just to make sure you really don't want the car any longer- and you nod.

"I had a seizure three months back, so I'm not allowed to drive anyway." You say nonchalantly, leaning back against the couch, arms and legs crossed to almost fend him off it seems like. "Not that I'd want to ever again." You confess.

"..down the old EDM club." He suddenly says, looking at you. "Near the main road. That was you?" He asks, and you nod, though your furrowed brows and challenging eyes show clearly that you're asking for why he knows about it. "I.. kept up with the news and.." he sighs, running his fingers through his hair, the other hand careful not to clutch the papers too hard. "I wanted to know you're alright."

"Cool." You simply say, nothing else.

He looks at you, waiting for something more you might day- but you don't. You just look at him with a strange mixture of emotions he can't really distinguish. It's all washed together into one muddy mess- and he knows it's his fault that you're so on guard.

He's a stranger to you now, after all.

"Car was never fixed up, by the way." You say, moving to get up. "So you've got some work to do or money to spend." You say, and Jungkook gets up as well, walking after you towards the door that you open for him.

He slips back into his Chelsea boots, before he looks back at you, mouth opening before you can even deny him. "I know you're pissed at me." He says. "And you got every right to."

"Great we talked about that- now leave." You say, pointing out the door.

"I'm not gonna say this to get my dick wet." He tells you with a serious face, as you stare him down, daring him foe his next words. "But I need you to know that you.. what happened between us, that was fucking special." He says. "So much so that I knew I had to change in order to.. become someone." He says.

"Someone what?" You ask, crossing your arms defensively- because his words are getting to you.

"Just someone." He explains. "I wasn't anyone at all back then. Just.. a puppet who did what I for told. I had no personality. No ambitions, nothing- I only had you." He words out, and your gaze softens. "And I couldn't stay with you because.. I would've probably hurt you at some point."

"You still did." You say, and he nods, tongue playing with his piercing.

"I did." He agrees. "But not as bad as I would've if I'd stayed." He tries to justify. "I- listen, can't we.. start over?" He wonders, looking at you with hopeful eyes. "We're basically strangers by now anyway, aren't we?"

You are.

The jungkook in front of you is nothing like the blank canvas he used to be. He's vibrant despite the lack of color he's actually wearing, full of emotions, opinions and views. This jungkook is filled to the brim with things-

While you've become empty instead now, taking his place.

"I don't think I'm the person you remember." You deny. "We don't fit- in fact, we never did." You shake your head.

"Five years might change a lot-" he says, round black orbs watching you intently. "-but the won't change what's in here." He says, offers, hopes, inked finger gently pointing to where your heart sits underneath the shirt and your skin and bones.

And much to your demise, he seems to be right.

Because you're sure he can probably feel it beating faster from this faint touch alone.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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misc-obeyme · 7 months ago

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Okay back on my human!au ideas. I'm gonna do a compilation post or something because the others are just rambles and they aren't exactly easy to find... I don't even have it in the masterlist anywhere... mostly 'cause these are just ideas that I have no idea what I'm gonna do with. asldfj anyway! Feel free to use them if you feel so inclined!

(For reference: Beel, Belphie, Satan, & Asmo, more Asmo & Mammon - you can also check the tag #misc human au)

Okay so I've talked about all the brothers except for Lucifer and Levi, but here's what I'm thinking.

Basically, I can't really imagine any of the brothers living fully alone, so while Beel & Belphie are both living on the farm (though possibly in different buildings) and Satan & Asmo are sharing a place in the city (probably in one side of a duplex because I think an apartment would be too small for them lol), I've decided the three older brothers live together, too.

BUT. Levi is a marine biologist. He has his own boat for research purposes (his research is likely also funded by the university where Satan teaches) and sometimes he goes out on his boat for weeks at a time. His main focus for his research is whales or maybe manatees or something, but everybody knows he's secretly trying to find evidence of sea serpents.

Still completely obsessed with anime & manga, I don't think you could ever take the otaku out of Levi lol. So when he goes out on his boat, he brings piles of manga and anime to catch up on while he's out there.

He has a lot of high tech equipment on his boat that he's especially good at maintaining. Other researchers often ask him for help with this.

When he's home, he spends his time holed up in his room playing video games, occasionally emerging for food and what have you. He also spends a decent amount of time working through what he learned on his expeditions and writing research papers good enough to continue getting grants. Satan helps with those, taking Levi's data and making it sound good. Sometimes Belphie helps out too.

All the other brothers seek out Levi when they need help with tech and sometimes he takes them out on his boat for rides or even if they just wanna get away for a couple days. Belphie especially likes to do this because you get some amazing views of the stars out on the ocean.

Lucifer owns a vineyard. It's not far from Beel's farm, but unlike Beel Lucifer doesn't live there. His house is in the city proper and as mentioned, he shares it with Levi and Mammon.

Lucifer spends a lot of time at the vineyard, though, perfecting the various methods of wine production to create a superior product. He's the real money maker of this family. While everybody else makes money from their various jobs, Lucifer's personal wine label makes the most. We all know that Lucifer would take care of all of his brothers if any of them needed anything. He gives them money regularly and doesn't ask for it back.

Human!Lucifer is much softer than demon!Lucifer in general. There is some angsty family history that I will write about in a different post, but basically he's been through a lot. Basically raised all his brothers himself and they mean everything to him. He isn't about to let them stumble through life because they didn't have enough money. Especially not if he has it to give them.

He's more indulgent, probably middle aged, tired. He was perhaps more intense when he was younger, but he's mellowed out at this point.

He and Mammon are both very business minded, so together they kinda keep everybody else on track. They help with the business side of Beel's farm, allowing Beel to focus on things like crop quality. And if for some reason Levi or Belphie don't get the funds they need from the university, Lucifer and Mammon come up with ways to supplement their income. Satan does all right as a professor and Asmo is a successful therapist, so they don't need as much help. But they will come to their older brothers for advice. Together, Lucifer and Mammon are especially good at helping their brothers plan for retirement lol. They're like, listen we know you're young and don't care, but you gotta start saving with that 401k!!

Lucifer thinks Mammon is a little too wild with his fancy cars, but he also admits that Mammon is good at what he does. Levi worries Lucifer when he's locked up in his room for too long or when he's gone on his boat for too long without checking in.

Lucifer is proud of Satan and Asmo, how they're doing well on their own together, how successful and well balanced they both turned out. He worries a little bit about Belphie, spending a lot of time alone staring at the stars, but he's also aware that Belphie is doing what he loves. Lucifer is also proud of Beel for pursuing something as difficult as farming.

I still like the idea of MC being the only non human in this scenario lol. The one pink sheep on Beel's farm. But of course there could be a situation in which they all meet an MC character...

Buuuut I also think I'm getting ahead of myself. We still got the tragic family backstory and the side characters to consider.

Anyway, this is just me rambling about my thoughts. More likely to come 'cause I can't stop thinking about them.

#I've been considering the side characters too #still working that out though #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me human au #misc human au #misc rambles

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originalartblog · 2 years ago

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Answering some asks about the dad Murase lives AU under the cut because you are forcing me to think about what I've created (❤)

@inkingkitsune

Murase had to know about N's less-than-savoury work. He was hired as a security guard (thanks to his brother) for a military facility for which he was told to kill any trespassers on sight. And his brother had been legally dead for a decade! But the main difference between the two brothers is that while N will still do horrors in the name of his job, Murase has spent his life after the war trying to help people to atone for what he had to do to survive. I think having to face concrete proof of what his brother did/does, especially without the immediate pressure of war and survival to "justify" his actions, to a kid he's grown somewhat attached to? That would be really hard on him.

Frankly I had never heard of that theory before, and after considering it, I can't agree with it. The government has expressed barely any interest in Chuuya, N seems to have acted on his own. The PM has so many ability users, and abilities are so unknown to the general public, with or without Chuuya, it was an important move to make, and there was no normal legal way of getting it.

As for Oda... I fear he's going to suffer the same fate. In another post I did wonder if Mori would try to be more careful with Dazai, since we know he was very careful to nurture Chuuya's loyalty and bond to the mafia. But after thinking about it, while Mori felt bitter after Dark Era (please read the light novel), he says he would still do it because the permit was so important to get. Chuuya going away here wasn't his fault, so I see no reason he wouldn't do things especially differently. Maybe he'd feel even more bitter though.

If Oda dies the same way... it's a fun question. Dazai would leave, Dazai would still refuse to work for the government, so his options are limited. I can't imagine Chuuya leaving at 16, join the ADA, and the mafia not knowing a thing about it? So what would Dazai do? Chuuya left and joined a group and now that group is his only option in Yokohama. If he wants to join them, he'll still have to wait two years for his records to be erased and hidden. And he knows Chuuya is gonna be there, and he knows him!! How frustrating and stressful is that wait going to be?

I'd like Chuuya to be gone when Dazai first joins, so Entrance Exam can still take place in a similar way. Maybe he accompanied Ranpo on his contract out of town? I do wonder if he'd confront Dazai publicly or in private... I'm still not sure how much he told the ADA about his own origins.

I've decided that Chuuya leaves after the Dragon Head Conflict (after loosing a second set of friends in the same year), because this time, he has someone waiting for him to offer him an out. And this is interesting from a skk point of view. At that point, Dazai has already met both Oda and Ango, and technically, Double Black has made a name of themselves. Chuuya would be leaving at the creation/peak of Double Black, barely giving it enough time to get their name. But all that we know (so far) of what they were up to as teenagers has happened already! And Dazai has met Oda and Ango, he has a support system now! They'll be fine. Well, as fine as their canon counterparts anyway.

This is also funny because their "history" is less than two years of absolute hell, then a 5/6-year gap, and suddenly they're coworkers again.

Honestly I don't know if Murase would have an opportunity to see it or its repercussions? I doubt he saw Chuuya directly after Verlaine (you know, mafia and all that), and I think Chuuya would be the one to seek him out after the DHC. I truly think you could count the amount of times Corruption was maybe used by Double Black in canon back then on one hand, and in this AU, it's literally only twice. Unless Asagiri planned for another big event and hasn't told us yet, I don't think Chuuya has had to use Corruption again in this AU until Lovecraft.

MAYBE someone would notify Chuuya's dad guardian that his son charge was badly injured, but with Yosano in the room, I doubt it would make it back to him. Same thing with Dead Apple. Murase lives in a blessed world where he knows Chuuya's powerful, but doesn't know the extent of it.

Have a lil' doodle for making it all the way down here! (it's Chuuya's first week or something)

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an-au-blog · 1 year ago

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Omg i have an idea - Sanji prince set to marry the princess of Wano arc but she is in love with her bodygaurd Zoro. This makes sanji jealous of him and he in his free time does everything in his power to piss off zoro but zoro starts liking it. In reality he had never had hots for the princess, but the day he saw Sanji and his fighting skills, zoro was inexplicably drawn to him. So they start sparring together and arguing but they find it comforting in a way.

Will u elaborate this au ?? I would love to see you enhance it

Yesyesyesyes! I saw that (I just hate replying from my main and as far as ik I can't respond from a secondary)

This reminds me of a royal au art post that I see or come back to every so often like "I should probably write a royal au"

(anyways here i go... this turned out longer than intended lol:)

At first, Sanji would be so happy and anxious about meeting the princess. He's never seen her, it was an arranged marriage, but he heard that she is the most beautiful and elegant woman. So it was a huge shock when he arrived and all she would do was try to tend to her bodyguard or try chatting him up. Emphasis on the "try". The most he replied with was a huff or a grunt. Most of the time he acted like she wasn't even there. Even when she did talk to Sanji, the conversation somehow always circled back to her body guard.

It was all "Zoro this," and "Zoro that," and admittedly, Sanji could hesitantly agree that if what she was talking about him was true, he was a man of pride and honor. It still pissed him off.

Sanji was a bit disappointed on many levels. He wanted a nice date with his future wife. What was he thinking? The mossheaded brute? She could do so much better than that swordsman. What does he have that Sanji doesn't??? Not to mention that the guard was staring daggers into him the whole day.

At the end of their "date", the swordsman insisted on sending him off to where he'd be staying. He even offered to give him a tour of the city.

Sanji responded with a "I'd love to get a tour from miss Hiyori, but I don't want anything from you, mosshead."

They end up going anyway because the very next day...

Zoro to Hiyori: I should take him into town for a tour.

Hiyori: Yes that's a great idea! I could come too,

Zoro: No

Sanji: Yes

Zoro sweating: it uh... it won't be safe.

Through out the whole walk Sanji would keep saying things like "oh, how I wish my FUTURE WIFE could be with us now," and "do you think my FIANCE would like this if I bought here one?" to make sure Zoro knew that Sanji was the one who would marry her.

Zoro seemed irritated at first but it slowly started seeming more like sadness than anger. At one point Zoro turns and interrupts him, telling him that they're lost. Turns out not only were they lost, Zoro didn't know where they were going for a while now.

An insult turns into a snarky remark in return, which turns into a kick, turns into a fight. After they were all worn out from the fight, Sanji begrudgingly realized that he enjoyed sparing a bit too much. It was the most fun he had since he arrived. He would never admit it though.

Once they found their way back Sanji decides that he would try and be as close to his fiance as possible. If he flirted with her enough, the Marimo would get the hint.

On one hand it worked. Zoro seemed to get really angry whenever he flirted with her. Which usually ended with them sparring. Zoro would say some questionable things during their fights... so Sanji responded. It escalated to the most fucked up and homoerotic shit, to the point where people got used to leaving the room to give them privacy.

As the wedding approached, Sanji started seeing less and less of Zoro. When he asked Hiyori about it she always gave an answer that sounded extremely fake.

It didn't bother Sanji... until it did. He stormed every room until he found the mosshead meditating under a tree. Sanji didn't know what he was going to do, but it would definitely going to include a confrontation.

Sanji: Are you avoiding me shitty swordsman?

Zoro, not even opening his eyes: ...

Sanji: At first I thought you had left or that you were avoiding both me and Hiyori, but then I find out you were with her daily.

Zoro still not answering pissed Sanji off and was his sign to continue talking.

Sanji: I can't believe you'd try to seduce MY future wife behind my back like that! For all that talk about honor, you sure are dishonest!

Zoro finally snapping: I avoid you because I know she'll marry you, I'm doing this for her sake. I don't want to ruin her wedding.

Sanji: Oh, right you're stealing her from me for her sake.

Zoro: I'm avoiding you because if I see you I can't guarantee I can hold myself back from ending the engagement and running off with you.

Sanji, absolutely baffled with this answer. That was so much new information, he didn't know what to ask first. After a minute of gaping like a fish, Sanji started talking on auto pilot. An apparently "autopilot" was "bitchy": What makes you think I'd want that?

And when he thought Zoro would spit something back, Zoro looked up at him with the saddest most heartbroken look in his eyes: I don't.

It sounded more like an apology than an answer.

Sanji felt like his world shattered.

The swordsman stood up and paused for a bit. As if he was ready to do something that he would regret but stopped himself. Sanji would have done anything to know what he was going to do or say. But alas, felt frozen.

Zoro: It's okay, I told Hiyori I'm leaving after the wedding. I won't be bothering you and your wife anymore.

Walking away, Zoro couldn't help but think how much he wanted to rush back and give him a kiss farewell. One filled with all the passion, frustration and despair he'd be harboring until now.

#zosan #one piece zosan #zoro x sanji #sanji x zoro #zosan au #op #i bet you though this would be a happy haha story huh >:]#answers

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eurydicesflower · 1 year ago

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speak now (lty)

Pairing: Taeyong (NCT) x Reader Tags: Royalty AU, Arranged Marriage Warnings: None Word Count: 10.4 k Summary: Nothing had seemed to prepare you for this moment when you realize you were standing in the middle of a wedding. It is not something you had planned inside your mind, but here you are. A/N: This was posted a month earlier on AO3, and I keep on forgetting I should post this here as well 😭 Also, this was supposed to be part of my entries for ficwip 5 k challenge but I got carried away. Anyways don't forget, FACT CHECK on OCT. 6!!!!!! Also posted on: Archive of Our Own

Nothing had seemed to prepare you for this moment since this is not something that you had planned inside your mind. Days before the wedding day, this only slipped inside your mind, but you never wanted to make this real but today, you are in the middle of the aisle, dressed in your pretend baker clothes— why you were dressed like that was not the main point— because right now, the wedding guests are peering, and waiting for you to speak whilst the blushing bride and the handsome groom stand there expectantly, a surprised look painted in their faces especially from the bride.

“What are you waiting for? Speak now— are you against this wedding?” The preacher asked you, snapping you back from reality.

So, what really had happened before this? How did you find your way all the way to a wedding uninvited? Because honestly you are not that type of person who would just barge in a white veil occasion without logical reason.

So, for starters: the ballroom is not as memorable as you thought it was.

The time where you two were dancing all alone was the day you have said you were deeply enamored towards the prince; he has his pretty smile and his brown velvet eyes boring in your own eyes, and the soft chuckle from your lips as he almost tripped on his feet which was merely intentional. The prince was well-versed with dancing, he only wanted to see you smile that night. He matched your joyful smile you had that night with an enamored grin. That night felt so wonderful, the butterflies inside your stomach could burst out with giddiness and flutter around the ballroom, soaring, but the difference was that instead, locusts might be the one bursting out because as of the moment, instead of you dancing with him, he was out in the ballroom dancing with the woman he was about to be married with.

Oh, how you missed that feeling instead of the green-eyed monster eating all of your insides.

Do you think he had said the same words he had whispered in your ear? Does she also get those warm and fuzzy feelings inside her chest as he says all those words?

Maybe your mother was right. Men are the same. They always know how to make a woman swoon, no matter who and where they are. Because how in the heavens he was dancing with the woman when you caught his eyes focused solely on you. Not to indulge with your delusions, but you genuinely feel so bad for the lady. Yet of course, you love this attention that he was giving you in spite of it all.

Stolen glances, and longing stares in the ballroom should not be as hard as this. You had done this before and yet, the feeling of loving someone who wasn't destined to be yours crushing your soul as deep as the pits of the underworld. You should have known of this yet you still yearn to this day that you should love someone without the scornful looks from the public's eye. How could you even live and give in with secrecy?

The number one gossip you had remembered from one of the servants was that: The princes are not allowed to marry anyone below their status, and if they do, they are a disgrace to this kingdom, the One-to-Seventh of the Southern Mountain province. The conservative values that were instilled centuries ago were still preserved until the present times. Since then, no one has dared to defy those traditions except there were a lot of royal families in the province who had not taken part of the traditions. Take for example the Prince of Evening Cross Outlands, Prince Chen. The public had only known of his private affairs after one of the stewards had announced his wedding. Of course, the people were angry, a lot of the women who were head-over-heels were angry at him. And yet, the marriage went on.

Thinking of that, the old servant lady who had relayed you the gossip might be shocked if he knew the prince of your kingdom is a rebel to their traditional values. He wasn't caught yet because he moves so quietly like a feline in the shadows. All of your hidden meetings were always calculated. Not one soul in the palace should know about it or else... Who knows what fate you could have?

Besides, while you two aren't caught, yet , you two have the pettiest of excuses, and people would believe it all.

“Your highness, you wanted to see me?”

The prince’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw you in the room. Composing himself, he firmly nodded at you.

“I am in dire need of assistance for this book I was reading, and I need your help, Miss Librarian.”

A mischievous look in his eyes were only seen by your own while his loyal servant was too oblivious to know what he meant.

“Of course, follow me, your highness.” You stifled the giggle you had.

A soft chuckle left out of your lips as soon as you left the vicinity with the prince. There were soft kisses turned to heated moans as soon as you were led to his own chambers. Although you loved loving him in secret not until you slowly fell into his grace, there is that one morning when you woke up, you prop your arm to see him, peacefully sleeping beside you. How you wish one day you won’t be living like this behind the walls. How you wish you would never feel an afterthought, and will be permanently engraved in his heart and be shouted proudly around the kingdom. As selfish as it seems, you already knew that it might not happen unless the divines above would grant your wish.

“Do you really love me?” You then whispered as you traced his cheeks with your fingertip. You sighed deeply before you dressed up, and left his chambers quietly. You start to think what if the prince actually loves you but you wonder if that love you thought was real and not just a pastime during the night. You wonder if he would be like the prince of the neighboring kingdom, would Taeyong do the same for you?

“May I have this dance, milady?” Someone asked before you, snapping out of your trance. You almost jumped from your seat when you were surprised to see the General of the Green Knights was right here in front of you, dashing with his suit, and his styled hair.

“Oh, Sir John… you really don’t have to, I am fine in my seat, watching the party on the sidelines.”

The knight furrowed his brows as he looked you up and down.

“You were dressed so elegantly suited for the ballroom, milady, but you quite have the long face. What had troubled you to sulk in the corner? Was it because of a troubling, young prince—?”

You almost stood from your seat and swatted your hand fan on his arm, however, as scandalous and playful as it were, you decided to hold that thought. John was right. After all, John was one of your friends who you consider would not share your secrets to anyone. You even wanted to ask if John could read your mind, and know what is going inside your head, but you brushed that thought.

“Stop teasing, John. And do not address me like I am a noblewoman.” There was this cat-like smile on his lips as he watched you.

“I can stop addressing you ‘milady’ if you accept my request to dance with you, milady .” He keeps on teasing you until you eventually give in and extend your hand with a playful roll of your eyes.

“Milord.” You curtsied with a roll of your eyes.

“Milady.” He kissed the back of your palm before taking your hand. You ignore the fluttering feeling inside your chest which in your defense, John had done a lot of times but everytime he did it, it was an effective heart shaker.

As John walked you in the middle of the dance floor, you could feel all the eyes staring through you. Murmurs from different ladies were heard behind your back. In spite of it all, you ignored them except for one prying eye— the young prince. You can ignore all the gossip that surrounds you as you dance with the dashing knight, however, what trickled up your spine was that the prince was preying on you like a hawk.

“You seemed distracted, milady.”

“I am fine, John.”

“Fine? You mean you are seeing how Prince Taeyong was looking at you right now?” He smirked.

“Let's just dance, okay?” You then led him into a waltz in the middle of the ballroom.

The orchestra played in a waltz where it opens where it starts sweet, and as mellow as the ocean waves, until your bodies sway like the currents. All the people were mesmerized at the way the two of you were dominating the dance floor. The ladies had their jaws on the floor as they watched you. You are not the quite the dancer you were, but you had a great mentor, Seulgi, and thanks to her, you can show how you gracefully dance with a beautiful man. You both successfully caught the attention of everyone including the person you wanted to impress the most. Applause was heard as soon as you two finished dancing. You and John took a bow, and smiled at each other

“Milady, that was an eye-catching performance, or may I say you are a show-stunner.” You were stunned as soon as you lifted up your head and saw the one who complimented you.

“Your highness, it is a pleasure!” You curtsied quickly at him, hiding your flushed face from the prince.

'Get it together!' You screamed internally.

“I must say she was a good dancer as well as you, sir John. You did well.” The woman beside Prince Taeyong was Lady Gwendolyn, his soon-to-be wife.

The music started once again, and yet another round for dancing in the ballroom commenced.

You and John excused yourselves away from the royal couple. When you were about to step on the grand staircase, you forgot to bring your hand fan with you so you told John he should go first before you. As you look around for your hand fan from where you last seated, it wasn't there. You were about to give up and head back to your quarters when you spotted a familiar figure in the corridors, holding the same fan you were holding earlier.

“Your highness, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be out with Lady Gwendolyn?”

“Lady Wendy says she was tired from all the dancing so I was out here, waiting for the owner of this hand fan to come back.”

“Oh, why thank you, your highness, I can now go back to my quarters, then.” You ignore his given nickname for the noblewoman.

You were about to take it from his hand and yet he didn't give it to you, raising the hand fan above his head. He did it as if he was playing a game with you. You sighed defeatedly as you looked at him.

“Your highness, I can't do this right now, we might get caught.” You said in a hushed tone.

“Oh, but when you were out with John, it was like you were tearing each other's clothes out in public. And, oh, the way you were looking into his eyes? What was that?” He sighed exasperatedly as his eyes darted out away from yours while his ears were turning red. And that's when it hits you.

“You're jealous? You're jealous of John?” You wouldn't believe what was happening right now, and good thing, there were no people around you who could witness this. You were holding your laugh out the way he is embarrassed and pouting right in front of you, you were so lucky to witness it and call him yours at first before he marries somebody else.

He was about to open his mouth for a witty retort, but he closed his mouth and sighed defeatedly.

“Forget it, meet me back in my chambers, and we'll talk about this, Miss Librarian .” He gave your hand fan to you before he would be teased to death in the middle of the palace's open corridors.

…

Taeyong stays silent as he gazes up at the ceiling as you rest your head on his chest. You didn’t engage with your usual frolicking with the prince tonight, instead, you only wanted to feel his warmth even if it meant to be the last time you will be wrapped around his arms.

“You will be marrying Lady Gwendolyn of House Song next month… I don't think we should continue this anymore, Yong...” Muttering his nickname was not meant for this sad feeling lingering on your chest. You can’t even look him straight in the eye because you already knew that this day would come. Although you wanted what they called the 'happy ever-after' like the old tales of princes and princesses, you remembered that all of those were only myths and not meant for someone like a commoner like you. You don’t want to tarnish the prince’s reputation after all.

“But don’t worry you can still visit me in the royal library, and we can still be friends even after this you know—”

“I don’t want this to stop…” This time, Taeyong drops down his gaze to meet your eyes, and caresses your cheek so that you can look at him.

“I know I sound foolish right now, and I know my ancestors would be rising from their graves right now if I attempted this one thing: loving someone like you. But I will promise you that I will never, ever, love anyone, even Lady Gwendolyn, but you. I know my engagement with Lady Gwendolyn has been already set in stone even when we were children and yet…” He took your hand in his own and kissed it before laying it down on his chest, having you feel the beat of his own heart. “I do admit that I am as uncertain with you for what's to come, but I am willing to commit, to the point of no return, bearing you my soul and my life, that I am bound to love you till the end.”

“Taeyong…” You were teary-eyed when he uttered those words to you. “I hope you are being true to your words, because I do not just simply give in with sweet words, Yong...” You tease him as you trace your hands on his chest.

“I know you, but you were here with me right now and I thank you for that, my love.” Taeyong chuckles softly as he resumes leaving small kisses on your wrist.

“Yong…”

“Yes?”

“I love you…”

He smiles and kisses your temple. “I love you, too…”

Silence befalls between the two of you. You watch his breathing carefully, and trace your hand on his chest.

“If you don't mind me asking, does Lady Gwendolyn already have suspicions about us?”

Taeyong falls silent for a moment. He sighs deeply and shakes his head with a smile.

“I don't think Lady Wendy would find out about our relationship but if she did, I won't let her harm you… I promise you that.” He kisses your temple softly, and you match his smile with a breath of relief.

Oh, you just wished you could just stay in his arms more than you wished for because the next day, you came unprepared.

There was a small banquet in the palace hosted by none other than Lady Gwendolyn. You were staying silent from the farthest seat from the noblewoman, but of course,

“Oh, our lovely guest, the Miss Librarian, what do you think about my dress?”

You don’t know how or why, but you don’t seem to like the aura Lady Gwendolyn gives off. Yes, she seems nice with the way you had conversed with her the past few weeks since the engagement was announced, but the more the wedding comes closer, Lady Gwendolyn is slowly giving off some wicked vibes. Maybe it’s just your problem, so you just brush it off.

“Your dress looks good on you, Lady Gwendolyn and it does suit you well.”

“Of course, the royal tailor was the one who was assigned to cater to my tastes! And soon enough, when I get to be wed with the prince, I will lavish myself with everything the royal palace has to offer!”

“Speaking of Prince Taeyong, my what a pretty couple you are!” One of the lady-in-waitings, Giselle, compliments.

The lady of the hour giggles behind her hand.

“I know right, however there is one problem… There is this that bothers me when I am with the prince…”

“Tell us, Lady Gwendolyn!”

“Don’t be afraid to tell us!”

“What was it?”

“Don’t tell this to anyone but… I heard that the prince unfortunately had his heart on someone else that's why he remains distant to me.”

A wonderful heated gossip caused exaggerated gasps from the mouths of the ladies except from you. Lady Gwendolyn’s eyes deeply seep through you. Deep inside the back of your mind, you know she was talking about you but maybe it was just you.

“Miss Librarian, are there any problems with that? Why didn’t you seem surprised about this?”

Were you that obvious? What face did you make in front of the women?

“I don’t get what you mean, Lady Gwendolyn, I’m pretty sure I am as surprised as Lady Aeri and Ning here.”

“Oh, anyway. As I was saying, Prince Taeyong had his heart on someone else. And I am quite nervous, girls. It seems he likes this cunning snake! What should I do?” The woman whined exaggeratedly as she wiped her eyes.

“Don’t invite that, snake!”

“Prince Taeyong shouldn’t fall in love with a snake!”

“What about you, Ms. Librarian? Don’t you have anything to say?”

“I just say don’t invite whoever that is, Lady Gwendolyn.”

"Thank you for your input because I will do what you'll say, ladies."

You don’t want to jump to any conclusions when Lady Gwendolyn grins at you. You don’t want to paint her as a villain inside your mind. Maybe it was just you, but you definitely do not like the way she grins at you.

…

Later that afternoon, you went back to your work in the library like nothing happened. You were listing the things that you needed to stock for the library. Sometimes you head town with Donghyuck but since John insisted on assisting you, Donghyuck will be staying here so that he can attend his library duties.

“Miss Librarian?”

Oh… Lady Gwendolyn. Why was she here? You wondered as you eye the noblewoman walking around all by herself. Her lady-in-waiting wasn’t around following her for some reason, and the banquet had ended hours ago! Why would she want to meet you here once more? What was she up to?

“Good afternoon, Lady Gwendolyn. What are you doing here? Do you need any books to borrow? I can get it personally for you.” Donghyuck greeted her with a smile yet the noblewoman eyed him from head-to-toe and brushed him off so that she could get to your table.

“I don’t need your help. Can you leave me alone with her?” She told Donghyuck when she had her back turned from him. Poor Donghyuck scurried away from the library, leaving you and Lady Gwendolyn in one room.

“Do you need to borrow some books, Lady Gwendolyn?” You asked, still as polite as possible.

“That is not what I am after, miss librarian.” She said with a hint of distaste. “You should be thanking me because I am too nice not to out you as the town whore during my banquet earlier.”

“Excuse me? How dare you—?!”

“I already know what you did so no need to defend yourself.” She raised her hand in the air, interrupting you in mid-sentence. “I already know about your secret affair with the prince and I knew about what happened last night. How long have you been entangling with my soon-to-be husband? You should be ashamed of yourself and stop pretending you're pure like everyone believes you to be!”

You wanted to defend yourself. You wanted to yell at her and tell the truth that it was long before she and the Prince had been together. She may be engaged with him, but the Prince loves you, but you can't seem to move your lips nor open your mouth to speak against the ruthless noblewoman.

“The prince was already engaged to me, don’t you see?” She showed her ring to you. “Yet you acted like a brothel whore. I really don’t know why Prince Taeyong still wants you even after all this time when he and I were already engaged since we were both children. So, stay away from him, do you understand?”

You don’t know what you should do during that moment. Cry? No, you can’t, she’ll just taunt you even more. Scream at her? You will be causing a commotion and you know Lady Gwendolyn’s power. So, instead, you just chose to stay silent and nod your head.

She rolled her eyes at you and scoffed.

“You can act pretending you understand what I meant, but I am giving you a forewarning, librarian. The prince will know how to love me eventually but you? You will stay miserable till you age in the end knowing the prince DID love you, but, what did he do to his little whore? He didn’t choose you in the end.” She snickered at you with a smile before she left your station.

“Oh, before I leave, you can do everything that you want before this wedding, but you will never be the one smiling in the end. Hope you enjoy watching the wedding, because you won’t— Since you said it yourself that a cunning snake shouldn’t be invited.” She tossed the crumpled invitation to your table and bid a 'sincere' goodbye to you as if she didn’t humiliate your whole being.

You tried to salvage what was left of the crumpled invitation on your desk. Your name was crossed out multiple times yet, you saw even with a small glimpse of how your name was written delicately with the intricate design mixed with flowers. You held back the tears that were attempting to stream down your cheeks when you saw Donghyuck come back once Lady Gwendolyn exited the library.

“That Gwendolyn sure is something . I don’t know what her problem was but I really sense Prince Taeyong would have a hard time living with her! She is not a good fit for a queen!” He wasn’t paying attention to you when you were wiping away the stray tears in your eyes.

“Did she say anything absurd to you, ma’am?”

You raised your head as soon as you were done wiping your tears.

“To me? Oh, she was being nice to me actually.” You smiled, distracting yourself by organizing the papers that do not need any fixing.

“I just hope Prince Taeyong could change his mind and not marry that woman because I know that there will be chaos once she steps in the palace, and lives here. Don’t you think, ma’am?”

“Well, let’s see what the prince can do.” You smiled despite the fact that you knew that there is only a small chance of that happening if one engagement is already set in stone but in the back of your mind, you wished he would choose the right decision and not choose the former.

“You’re not invited?”

John asked you as the two of you took a stroll down the town streets. You decided to take a break by doing errands away from the library. Besides you need to stock up on some materials in the royal library and you are the one who knows the materials you need. Although usually it was Donghyuck who did these errands, since you wanted to take a break, and John just happened to be staying at the palace indefinitely, you are now away from the palace and from your thoughts.

“Like why of all the people in the palace, the royal head librarian wasn’t invited at all? Does it make sense? The royal librarian who happened to be one of the closest friends to the prince wasn’t invited! Did something happen? Did Taeyong exclude you?”

“Oh, God, no, it wasn’t his fault. I guess the guests were already full, so I don’t think whoever is the wedding planner might have seen a reason why they would invite me.”

“But your assistant, Donghyuck, will be present. But you aren't? Think about it! Maybe someone just misplaced your invitation or maybe someone messed it up. Don’t tell me… Was it Lady Gwendolyn, wasn’t it?” John frowned.

There go your tears forming in your eyes when you remembered what happened earlier that morning. You tried fighting it back so that John would not see your eyes glistened with tears.

“I don’t think so— Oof!” You raised your head all too quickly and apologized at the person you bumped into. “I am very sorry, it’s my fault I wasn’t looking where I am going—”

“No worries, ma’am.” The man said as if he was in a hurry.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I am very sorry—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” You didn’t even see a small glimpse of his face when he bid goodbye.

Beside you, John was holding his laughter before the man left. You looked him in the eye and there, he just burst out laughing.

“What was that for?” You huffed.

“Nothing, nothing. As you were saying? Weren't you going to treat me with that favorite bread of yours?”

“I'll treat you next time since you teased me today.” You stuck out your tongue and walked five steps ahead of him. You both acted like children but you were glad that you forgot that you had a heavy heart after what happened even for a moment. Maybe you should really give up and move away from the palace so that no royal nor noble blood could mess with your life ever again.

…

Feels like heaven welcomed you with the buttery smell of fresh bread wafting into the air even if you were still outside the bakery. You lead John inside your favorite bakery, and good thing, not a lot of people are lining up so you easily pick up the bread you wanted.

“Welcome to Peach Bread and Pastries!” A handsome man welcomed the two of you, it seemed he was a new hire or something because you didn't seem to recognize him except for the older lady and her daughter, Joy, who already knew your order since you are their loyal patron. You wonder if Joy was there but it seems she may be out of town.

“Jaehyun!” John says all of a sudden.

You turn your head to who he calls out, and it turns out John knows one of the bakers.

“John.” He nods his head.

“By the way, this is my cousin, Jaehyun.” Johnny then introduces him to you. You try to think where you have met him. He is familiar! And when it hits you, you point your hand at John, and say, “Is that why you're laughing earlier because I just happened to bump into your cousin? Why didn't you say so?”

You playfully glare at the taller man but John only cheekily grins at you as he chooses the bread he wants.

“Well, at least you are acquainted with Jaehyun now.”

You huff with a pout and turn your back against him to choose your favorite bread among the display. You can’t seem to find it easily, so Jaehyun helps you find the bread you want. You faintly say ‘thank you,’ and lead you back to the counter.

“Thank you for your patronage, madame. I hope you can come back soon so I can serve you again.” The man smiles, dimples showing both sides of his cheeks, as he hands your orders.

When you exit the bakery, you try not to swat your hands on John’s arm when he decides to tease you around his cousin.

///

When you thought you could avoid Prince Taeyong, it was one of the hardest things you did in your life because you get to see him everyday inside the library because that was one of his most frequent places to go to and obviously that’s where you work. Even if you wanted not to see him, he was just there. Donghyuck could see the frustrated look on your face, even if you deny that you weren’t agitated, he just continued to tease you when he knew the prince had arrived.

“The prince is here, ma’am.”

“I know. You don’t have to remind me, Donghyuck.” You resort on not raising your head because for sure, the prince was not paying attention to his book.

“I thought you two were friends? What happened?”

‘So many complicated things happen,’ you muttered defeatedly under your breath. You know Donghyuck already knows half of it, like you and Prince Taeyong but beyond that, you don’t want him to know the secret affair between you and the prince. It’s not like you don’t trust Donghyuck, what you just don’t like is his attitude because he was the type of person who will tease someone hard. And you know how mischievous he was especially towards his friend, Mark Lee, in the Green Knights who happened to be courting the lady-in-waiting, Yerim, so you rather shut yourself up.

“Donghyuck, can you point me out where I can look at more of these types of fish?”

“Oh, the head librarian knows a lot better than me, your highness! I think she can lead you there, right?” He looks at you with a cunning smile on his lips.

You glare sternly at Donghyuck, and the younger man shrugs with a nudge of his head towards the prince. You curse at the back of your mind before you head towards the prince. You fight the urge to stare at the young prince— make eye-contact, and the next thing you know, you are enchanted by him once again.

“Your highness, follow me here.”

The prince followed you obediently behind you. When you two had gotten away from the eyes of your assistant, Taeyong walks past you, and grabs your wrist.

“What are you doing—?”

“Just trust me.”

And you did trust him— like you always do. Taeyong leads you to a closet somewhere inside the library. You swear you haven’t seen this place even after working for like five years. He shows you a key, and you roll your eyes at him when he tries to open the door— which he was having a hard time opening.

“Did you conspire with Donghyuck or did you do this on purpose to have a private time with me?” You cross your arms on your chest, waiting for him to break in the two of you in the locked closet.

“What? I just wanted to see you, is there anything wrong with that?” He smiles cheekily. You almost bite a quick retort when he surprises you by dragging you inside the closet. Once inside, he presses his lips on yours but you resisted his kiss, pushing him away from you. His warmth never fails to soothe your aching heart, and you do want it so bad, yet times have changed and you do not want to get you both in trouble.

“Please do me a favor and get us out of here, Yong... You don’t have to do this.” You tried to get serious, but he holds your hand, and presses it to his chest.

“Just one last time, my love…” He kisses your forehead. “Please…”

“But you know we shouldn’t see each other anymore, Taeyong. Lady Gwendolyn already knew about us—”

“Did she hurt you?” He immediately lays his hand on both sides of your face.

“Just please, Yong, let’s just stop this…” You shake your head. You don’t want to tell him what happened a week ago when Lady Gwendolyn threatened you and you know Taeyong. He would actually break his engagement in one snap, and you do not want to be the cause of all of it— even though a part of you wants it.

“But do you think that won’t stop me from wanting you? Do you really want me to stop?”

You would be lying to yourself if you didn’t want him as much as he does. If the circumstances were different, of course you would say yes to him. After all, you wanted to end up with him without worrying about the consequences of your actions. You do want to push him away from you again, but again, he was irresistible. He knows you too well. He knows how you couldn’t resist him despite pushing him away. That one last time is a lie, you know it. You know each other like the palm of each hand, and it both warms you all up all over again despite all of the sins you two commit in broad daylight.

“Let’s just stop this—”

You lie to yourself once again but the moment he captures your lips, you want nothing more than anything but his warmth against you. You wanted to push him away, but your desire pulls you in and you still return his kiss with the same fervor and heat. You are both hungry for desire, your hands intertwined with his own as it caresses your back.

“And even if you say no, I promise you that I will break this engagement, just trust me please… ” He pulls away from your lips, eyes gazing with your own. His eyes are mesmerizing as he stares at your own, one look from his, and you are once again trapped by him.

“I love you…” He whispers those words that should have served as a declaration of affection towards you, but it left an opposite mark on you instead.

You try hard not to feel the pang, aching inside your heart, seeing him about to be parted away with you. And to you, it was one of the most bittersweet feelings you had in your life— he was your lifeline so are you to him. You wished everything was fine. You just wished everything was never like this. You just wished everything was simple for both of you, but in the end, it was never that easy.

“I know…” You say softly before Taeyong kisses your temple once more.

The moment he opens the door, you know that was the beginning of uncertainties, and probably the end, between the two of you, and you wouldn’t be able to do anything beyond that except to mourn for your loss— that breaks your heart into a thousand pieces and it’s hard to pick them all up all by yourself.

///

The days became weeks, when you realize that you hadn't even seen Taeyong for so long now. Though the talks of the wedding inside the palace were so frequent, you know how busy he was.

Besides, the work in the library is not that heavy for the past few days. The prince hadn’t even visited the library, like you instructed him to. You wanted Taeyong so bad like you were before but in return, what you received was the price of loving someone too hard, and soon you will be left with nothing but grief and sorrow in the bellows of your heart and soul. You try not to further saddened yourself by lingering inside the palace, so you travel out of town.

The thought of him lingers in your mind especially the promise he made— you kind of hope it was true, yet, you are slowly losing hope for the two of you to be together like before. Either way, you stopped thinking about him, and just enjoy your vacation by the seaside. You bask in the salt air, brushing your skin, serenity wraps you in warmth and peace. You wanted this to set off your mind away

“What are you doing here all by yourself?”

You were surprised to hear a familiar voice. When you turned your back, Jaehyun from Peach Bakery was standing right in front of you, there was nothing different like he was back at the bakery except he was wearing casual clothes, and nothing fancy like you used to see everyday in the palace.

“Jaehyun? What are you doing here?”

“My mother lives here around the plaza.” The man smiles at you, and the prominent dimples show up on both sides of his lips. He then stands beside you, and watches the sky on the horizon.

"This is peaceful, isn't it?"

You nod to him. "Yeah, and I am glad I am away from the drama in the palace. It was soooo exhausting."

"Yeah, I heard that the prince is marrying the daughter of the nobles from House Song, wasn't it?"

"Don’t get me started with Lady Gwendolyn…" You sigh defeatedly, and the man beside you laughs along.

“Do you want to take a stroll around here? I think that would be a long story, and it’s much better if we did it around nature.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure, thank you, Jaehyun.”

…

The two of you set off to a slow stroll around the town. The town was located in a rural area and you just wish that if you get to live in the palace, you hope you can live in a place like this— away from the drama, and you will just tend your lovely gardens when you go home after work.

“I didn’t know you lived around here. Seems peaceful to live here, doesn't it? Must be nice to stay here and just live far away from the kingdom.” You say with a dreamy far-off look.

“I visit here from time to time, yeah, and I still love it whenever I go back home. And don’t mind me asking, John said that you are the royal librarian? Is that true?”

“Yeah, looks easy but it wasn't, especially if the prince was around.” You laugh half-heartedly.

“Especially if the prince is around? I thought he was kind around people in the palace?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I mean it in a good way, it’s just the prince could be playful and mischievous, but yeah, he was kind, don’t worry.” You chuckle lightly as memories flash around inside your mind. It is not the time

“By the way, I almost forgot, when you mentioned Lady Gwendolyn, one thing instantly made me remember what was the talk of the town before she stepped into the palace.”

“What was it?”

“I thought everyone knows it? Isn’t Lady Gwendolyn’s family responsible for what happened during the ‘Cherry Bomb incident’?”

“Cherry Bomb incident… Yeah, I remember that…”

You recall that night where you heard that one of the palace guards found out that someone stole the Cherry Statue, and they said it was only a prank, but it was already returned. Silly as it may seem, but it caused a stir the next morning in the kingdom.

“But I thought that was just a rumor the palace addressed last month, and it turns out it was Lady Gwendolyn did it?”

“You know what wealth and power can do to wipe away these rumors, besides it was just a minor incident, but I still remember the look on her face when she was caught red-handed by one of those guards. I was up that dawn when they caught her along with the Cake girls.”

“Guess, can't a woman have hobbies, huh? Looking back, it’s funny, to be honest. I can’t actually believe Lady Gwendolyn would be like that.”

Jaehyun smiles along with you.

You didn’t realize that it was already sundown. Time flies so fast, you presumed, in these parts. You excuse yourself from Jaehyun, but he stops you when you are about to leave him.

“If you want, I can treat you to dinner, my mom would be delighted to see a friend of mine.”

You cannot refuse a free dinner so you follow him along back to town, and his home is not in a faraway distance unlike in the kingdom when you will trek the hills just to go down the town proper.

Jaehyun’s mother is knitting a scarf in front of her porch when you and Jaehyun arrive. When she sees the two of you, she waves her hand, and greets you with a placid smile on her face.

“I didn’t know my son would bring his beautiful beloved to our humble home.”

“Oh, we’re not—” You wave your hand in the air, denying that you and Jaehyun are together.

“Mother, she’s my friend, I told you about the royal librarian, right? Here she is.”

“Ah, the royal librarian who loves my son’s peach bread. Of course, of course, you are their regular customer. What brings you here? Why are you two together?”

“I just happened to see your son in town. I was just taking a vacation for two days, and here I never thought that I would see a familiar handsome face.” You raise your head and smile at Jaehyun. Jaehyun avoids looking at you, but you see the redness building up in his ears.

“If I didn’t knew any better, I would think that you and my son is already together—”

“Oh, no, no, I have already promised myself to someone.”

Jaehyun and his mother look at you with your confession. His mother cannot believe this but she just smiles at you. Meanwhile his son, Jaehyun, is looking at you like you have told them the most elaborate lie, or, maybe you are just overreacting because you actually cannot decipher his face. His expression is quite unreadable, but the next few words from his mother shocks both of you.

“The prince? Prince Taeyong Lee? You know him, and you are engaged with him?! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” His mother stares at you like you won the grand prize from the lottery.

Hearing Taeyong’s name should have brightened up your mood but the reason you were in this town was to get away from everything royal— from the prince and his fiancee and to the library— You guessed that you couldn’t run away from the flow of life.

“Ma, that’s enough. How about we eat dinner now?” Jaehyun stops his mother before she asks tons of questions about you and the prince. Good thing, his mother was easy to talk to, and she ushers you both inside their home.

“Sorry for making you uncomfortable. My mother should have known better.”

“It’s fine, it’s just… I thought I would run away from anything palace related. I am here to take a vacation.”

“So does that mean, I won’t stand a chance from the prince, then?”

You shoot him a playful look, and you roll your eyes at him. “As if I STILL had a chance with Taeyong.”

“I mean you can do something like, for example, speak that you are against their marriage during their wedding.”

“I would not stoop that low.” You counter him right away.

“I don’t know about you, but if you changed your mind, just tell me. Peach Bakery will always love to serve their loyal patrons.”

“Even if it means to crash a wedding?”

“Yeah, even if it means to crash a wedding.”

You hold your chuckle, and he does follow along, so you both end up bursting out laughing. His mother probably wonders why you two are taking so long to come inside.

…

Even if you wanted to stay for more than two days, you have to bid goodbye to Jaehyun’s mother. She wishes you a great journey along with his son, Jaehyun, when you go home. When you get back to your healing vacation, you already know that you will be facing familiar faces again, and here you see back at the palace, none other than the prince’s fiancee. You honestly wish you stayed, so, you can skip the day of the wedding which is seven days from now.

Lady Gwendolyn sees you in one of the corridors, but you only smile at her and bow on your way.

“I thought you would never be back.”

“Lady Gwendolyn, good morning.” You try so hard not to slap hard in the face, but of course, you fully restrain yourself. You know it would not only cause a commotion, but it would cost your life.

“Stop pretending nice, you know you are planning to sabotage the wedding.”

“Now you have given me an idea.” You whisper to yourself, but the noblewoman had heard you.

“What is it? What are you planning—?!”

Just when she was about to claw her hands at you, the prince shows up along with his assistant, Doyoung.

“What is happening here, Lady Wendy? Is there any problem here?” The prince stands beside her. Lady Gwendolyn, on the other hand, shuts herself up but she still eyes you annoyingly.

“Lady Gwendolyn just told me that she wishes a recommendation from the royal library but I don't think she is fond of reading books as much as you do, your highness.”

You smile at the prince, and you already want to move away from him. Because the more you see him, the more you realize that there would be no other way but be worlds apart now that he was about to marry someone who is not you.

“If you may excuse me, I need to go back on my duties. No time should be wasted.”

When you leave them, you can feel the eyes boring behind your back, watching you go away.

…

You visit your favorite bakery once in a while, and you always spotted John's cousin there along with your friend, Joy. You decide to talk with him, a small conversation starts up and then the next thing you know, you are closer to him. Joy noticed this and she teased the two of you but your heart remains loyal in the end even if it hurts you.

“Will you order your usual?” Jaehyun asked.

You nod at him and he seems to notice the frown paint in your face when you sit by the window.

When he brings your order, Jaehyun sits across from you.

“If you don't mind me asking, are you okay?”

You shrug. You don’t even know anymore since what is the point now that in the next few days the love of your life is about to be wed with someone that is not you. You haven't even seen his face for weeks now. And you know you are bound to give him up anyway now that Lady Gwendolyn had confronted you again the other day. You knew it would come to the point that the noblewoman would have known about your relationship, so instead of retaliating, maybe it’s best to just give him up.

“Well… what do you think?”

“What if I tell you should really consider what I told you last week?”

You know where he is going with this. You almost forgot that you mentioned to Jaehyun about your relationship problem, and wow, it is really satisfying to let those out.

“But that’s just too much…”

“Don’t worry, as a way of gratitude for being one of Peach Bakery's loyal patrons, and a loving friend, I'll help you with the best that I can.”

You want to refuse but Jaehyun has this charm you can't resist, and the voices inside your head do want to get back onto Lady Gwendolyn. Crashing the wedding without an invitation? You hadn't done that before, but at least if you have the choice then you'll just see the prince for the last time he was not wed yet.

“So? Do you want to go dress up as a baker and stop the wedding?”

“You know I won't do that...”

“But are you willing to see someone you love be taken away from you?”

You consider his offer for a moment. You actually wanted to see Taeyong in his wedding suit (even if it would hurt to see you that it will never be you), but at the same time, you might cause a stir among the guests, and worst of all, you will be banished from the kingdom.

“Then, I’m in,” You said firmly.

It was not what you dreamt of when you were a child, but there is nothing wrong with trying, right? Risking it for someone for the love of your life? You have never been so foolish with your whole life except you have already been foolish since you have been in love with the prince.

Jaehyun smiled at you. “This will take us a week, then.”

“Perfect for the day of the wedding.” You mumble under your breath.

And a week had never been so fast to slip away.

In those days, Joy and Jaehyun assist you with your plan. Joy even said that you can borrow her dress that you can wear in the wedding but you refused, you don't want to catch attention. Thus, when the day comes, you get in as a baker from Peach Bakery. When you arrive, you hear the organ play the wedding song, but to you, it sounds like a death march. You know Taeyong will make a joke out of it, and it makes you smile when it flashed into your mind.

You are wandering around the premises to blend in but John is the first one to recognize you with your disguise. John looks at you with widened eyes when sees you.

“You told me you’re not going to the wedding? What the hell happened— Oh, wait, you don’t have to tell me…”

“You’re looking at a baker right now.” You proudly grin as you twirl around with your baker uniform. “And I made it, can you believe it?”

John shakes his head with amusement.

“So, what’s your plan next—?”

“Oh, about time one of the servers shows up.” You hear the prince’s assistant, Doyoung, show up to John’s direction. To your relief, he doesn't even recognize you while he is flipping through his logbook.

“These pastries are needed to be delivered to the prince’s quarters. He likes his sweets by the way.” Doyoung orders you before he walks to the organ player, who plays like it was for the funeral.

You wave a small goodbye at the knight as you beeline all the way to where the prince is staying before the wedding starts. Some of the guests aren’t able to recognize you and you hope it will stay that way because you don’t want to cause any trouble— although you know in the first place, crashing the wedding is already considered to be one.

You take a deep breath before you knock at the door.

“Your highness! Your pastries were here, I will leave this on the table beside your door.” You leave his door right away before he can see you. You release a deep sigh and pray to the heavens that he will not recognize your voice.

What was even running in your mind when you do this thing all for a man you know in the end that it might not be worth it at all?

When you are on your way back to see John, you then soon spot the blushing bride by the dressing room, not with glee, but with a face full of fury, because although she was dressed in a beautiful white gown shaped like a pastry, makeup full-blown, she is yelling at a bridesmaid because she happened to wear white that was supposed to be color of the bride's gown only.

“You should change your gown right away!”

And so her bridesmaid did. You pity the younger lady because of the humiliation she had just experienced but there's nothing you can do but watch from the curtains.

What's the worst thing that could happen at all?

And, as much as you don’t want to admit that you will not do anything you will end up regretting at the end of the day, it led you to this point where you were standing in the middle of the aisle. You actually forgot how the hell you found your way here when you were just looking for John. But all this time, when you heard the piano start, you knew to yourself that you were not that type of person who would just drop by a wedding without having any invitation brought with you.

This was a foolish idea, your conscience screamed at the back of your mind, yet here you are, dressed in your pretend baker clothes, standing in the middle of the aisle with many eyes looking at you.

You ignored the leering eyes from the guests as they watched every step you make. You also ignored the bride's agitated look because let's be honest, she was not even the one you were there for. You then spotted the prince donning a silver-studded suit, ivory white hair handsomely slicked back as he stood aghast, seeing you there.

“What are you waiting for? Speak now, are you against this wedding?” The preacher asks you, snapping back to your reality and it hits you, you arrive at the time when the preacher asks if someone is against or not in the wedding. You know to yourself that being here is already a scandalous move, people would talk about how the royal librarian crashed the wedding and stated her objections, so if it would come to this, then…

“Well, I am—”

“Wait.”

Instead of fully speaking your objection to the wedding, you are surprised that you are interrupted by the prince. You looked at him with confusion, but you swore to yourself that he said, “I can handle this,” in his lips.

His eyes land on yours then to the preacher.

“I am against this wedding.”

His response caused a stir among guests. Gossips and murmur surrounds them, and of course, his fiance pleads at him asking why would he do such a thing.

“Your highness, this is absurd! She was a commoner! I am your soon-to-be loving wife!” Lady Gwendolyn holds his hand in hers.

“I have been against this wedding ever since I have known that this is absurd!” He pulls away his hand, and steps away from her.

“I have been waiting for the right time, and I think now is the time that I state my objections. And I have never been so surprised to see that the love of my life was here with us and I am glad she was here.” His gaze lands at yours, so do the guests.

“I have never wanted to spend my lifetime, soon to be the king of this kingdom, in a life not filled with pure love and passion. And I was glad that I met someone like her, she had brought serenity to a life that I never knew would be as colorful as the painted skies, and as serene as the rivers. And as the prince, I should have the right to choose someone that I know that would love me till the ends of the earth, because I, too, would do the same. And that is why I know that it was her, and not Lady Gwendolyn.” His eyes never left yours as he walked towards you. “This wedding is not for my liking, and by the graces, my father and my mother, I come to you not as a prince, but as your son, your offspring, would you grant my wish? And if not, I would rightfully leave the kingdom and abandon my birthright as a prince and live with my beloved wife as common people if you do not agree with my terms.”

The prince walks towards you and grabs hold of your hand and smiles fondly at you. His eyes twinkle as your eyes meet, face lighting up as soon as he gets to stand by you.

“Your highness, do not abandon me this way! If you step outside, this engagement ends now!” Lady Gwendolyn threatens.

When you thought the prince would go back for her, to your utter surprise, the prince took your wrist and ran away from the wedding. You can't help but be giddy and nervous at the same time. The swirling feeling flutters inside your stomach now that you are reunited with Taeyong. It still feels surreal to you that your dream came true as uncertain as it can be. You briefly look back when you hear Lady Gwendolyn scream at the top of her lungs, knees on the floor as she was abandoned by her own groom. The pity was not apparent, and you only feel the happiness brought upon you.

However, it seemed you spoke too soon as it was cut short.

“Taeyong!” The king roared in anger when he followed you and Taeyong outside of the church.

“I did not know that this would come to this. I did not know that the prince of the kingdom of Evening Cross Outlands would influence you like this, my child! And you decided to abandon your marriage to the royal librarian? What kind of nonsense is this? Do you want to be a disgrace of this kingdom? Go back there, and marry Lady Gwendolyn, and leave this woman!” He directed his attention to the young prince then you.

You shrunk to yourself. You almost want to die on the spot now that the king has his attention to you. You don't want any of this attention but here you are, the king addresses you like it was the day of your execution.

“That's because I do not love Lady Gwendolyn! And no other arrangement can make me fall in love with her.” Taeyong stands between you and the king, shielding you with his arm.

“You have not been asked to speak yet, Prince Taeyong.” The king pushes the prince aside, but he is stopped by the presence of the queen. The queen whispers something to the king, and he sighs when she is finished. His eyes still never left you, watching you with every step you take.

“How did Prince Taeyong fall in love with someone like you?” The queen speaks with a sincere heart as she stands in front of you.

You can feel the pressure punch down your guts. The silence is too loud, you can hear every heartbeat inside your chest. You take a deep breath, and stand firmly on your feet.

“I may not have been born as a noblewoman like Lady Gwendolyn, but I have given Prince Taeyong with kindness when we started as friends, and comfort when we ended up as lovers. I do wish he would live a good life even if he and I part ways, but if fate permits us, then all I can say is that: I can't offer anything yet but I promise you your highness but my love is nothing but filled with honesty and truth, and I swear to the divines that I am speaking this with my whole heart.” You are unable to process what you had said to the king. Your words flow coherently as possible and you hope she understood what you meant, and it is not just a petty excuse of a confession, but a declaration of your true feelings towards the prince.

“I do not need you to grant me something impossible, but a woman can dream, and I will be forever grateful for your grace.” You bow down to her but the queen stops you.

“Then that is what I only need to know.” She says with a smile as she clasps her hands with yours. You are genuinely confused at what she had said. You even look at Taeyong who shared the same sentiment to you.

“I beg your pardon, but I don’t understand.” You ask her but she only laughs heartily before she takes her own son’s hand and links to yours.

“It's a pleasure to see my son's beloved in person, so it's an honor to wish you both love, prosperity and abundance.” The queen then ushers you and the prince to the aisle. “If anyone is against this wedding, just let me know because I will be the first one to be the one to push them away even if it's the king.”

The king glances at your direction and sighs defeatedly.

“Now, where were we?” The queen links her arm in yours as you watch Taeyong go back standing by the altar.

You walk in the middle of the aisle along with the queen. You don’t feel any pressure at that moment, it actually shocks you as the events unfold so quickly.

Fortunately, there was no sight of Lady Gwendolyn in the premises; probably the royal guards escorted her outside. And it is a surprise that the guests are still around, and their faces were much better than when the noblewoman was present. You even saw Jaehyun, Joy and Johnny with the brightest smiles. You knew Johnny would be the first one to congratulate you, and of course, you silently thank Jaehyun and Joy for helping you even if you knew this plan was too risky.

When you almost arrive at the altar, the queen leaves you and wishes you with a faint good luck.

“I’m sorry if I didn’t have the time to pick a dress and you will marry me in this.” You emphasize by pinching the sides of the hem of your baker’s top.

“It’s fine. You look beautiful no matter what, dress or simple baker’s clothes.” He squeezes your hand, tracing little circles on top of your hand. “At least you are here with me.”

The priest clears his throat, and you can’t hold your laugh even in a serious occasion.

Who would have thought that in the end, you and Taeyong will be together? Of course, it’s definitely not you. But maybe the universe has the way of saying that everything will be alright in the end, and it is! Here you are, marrying the love of your life.

#taeyong x reader #lty #taeyong imagines #taeyong fluff #taeyong fanfic #taeyong scenarios #johnny suh imagines #jeong jaehyun #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 imagines #nct fanfics #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct x reader

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staybabblingbaby · 2 months ago

Text

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.4 (Lewisia) a2d3 Addition Post (+1,308 words)

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 2,866

TO THE UNAWARE: THIS IS A PROGRESS UPDATE OF A CHAPTER NOT REMOTELY CLOSE TO DONE! PLEASE DON'T EXPECT A FULL OR POLISHED PRODUCT HERE

Notes: The first addition post in the history of the archive! Huzzah! This chapter just keeps growing, I was expecting this to be shorter than Lino's chapter, but I think it's gonna be quite a bit longer. Some genuine editing notes - I think the transition into the flashback is a bit awkward and I would like to smooth out the whole morning sequence. I'm not even 100% sure what that vibe is and it shows. I also don't like the complete change in Reader's mood while she's talking to Jake, so I either have to make her morning more lighthearted or show her shoving her feelings down somehow. I genuinely operate like this, just code switching between private emotions and public face, so idk. What do y'all think? Is it was weird and jarring as I think it is? I also need to find a place to mention that this Stray Kid (dunno if I've mentioned who it is yet - obscuring just in case some of you haven't gotten it yet) is wearing a mask. I completely forgot to, but it's important for later. At a point in this one where I think I need another pair of eyes. Writing by yourself is hard :c

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, Flashback (yelling), pls lmk if this needs smthn more specific

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Main Part (Unfinished </3)

The next morning marks a return to routine.

You roll out of bed half awake, sleep-mused and ready for murder. Your mood isn’t improved by the way you’d gone to bed - still in your work clothes with day-after mascara gluing your eyelids together.

A quick stop by the restroom to strip and scrub your face is a necessity, otherwise you’re liable to just crawl back into bed and rot there. You brush your teeth while you’re there, doing your best to ignore the remaining traces of grey streaks down your cheeks where your eyeliner hadn’t been as water-proof as advertised.

You don’t even know why you’d cried. After all, it’s not like you were the one rejected by your soulmate for no reason.

You do your best to shake off the maudlin feeling of the morning, ambling your way into the kitchen. As tired as you are, you still spot your twenty on the counter where you’d left it. You press your lips together to stop the bottom one from trembling and open the fridge. There’s a plate of eggs, fruit, and toast inside.

Taylor, freak of nature that he is, has been up for hours already, you know. He’d probably been up and out the door before the sun had even thought about rising. Weirdo.

your roommate is well aware of how non-functional you can be in the morning, so it’s not unusual of him to leave you leftovers when he makes breakfast. The little note on top isn’t new either, usually a reminder, grocery list, or a little encouragement for your day. The whole thing makes you smile, usually.

Today that little note makes your eyes prick with a new wave of tears.

‘Give yourself a chance. Bet’s still on <3’

You very deliberately do NOT cry, though it’s a near thing. You’d done enough crying last night. But if you sniffle a bit into your eggs, well. That’s for you to know, isn’t it?

You leave the money where it is.

It’s a Tuesday, so after breakfast you drag yourself back to your room to throw on your largest, rattiest, t-shirt and a pair of leggings to head to the gym.

You can’t help it when eyes catch on the newly-bloomed marks on your skin as you strip away your sleepwear. You take a moment to wonder why looking at your mark, a daily ritual you’ve kept for years, feels odd to you.

It occurs to you, only after several long seconds of staring blankly at your stomach, that you hadn’t taken the time to look at your mark at all since since you’d met your first soulmate. Things have been... hectic, to say the least.

It’s no wonder looking at it feels weird. It might as well be a whole new mark, for all the changes that have happened since you last saw it.

You decide, in the name of returning to your routine for good, that you can’t skip even this tiny part of your daily rituals.

You shuffle over to your closet, swinging open the door to reveal the full-length mirror hanging on the other side. You don’t bother with your usual rounds of self-depreciation or daily affirmations. Instead, you find your eyes glued to droopy purple petals and blankets of white stars across your abdomen.

The names of the flowers come to mind with ease as you trace gentle fingers over echoes of delicate petals. ‘Bellflowers’ You recite to yourself, drawing your finger up thin stalks and back down dipped heads. ‘Edelweiss’ you muse, lightly tapping each fuzzy white star.

The knowledge comes easily to you, not from any cosmic force, but because of course it does. Your sister hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that asking a person’s favorite flower had been basically an obsession of yours.

The habit had started well before you’d gotten your mark. Before you’d even properly known what soulmates were, really.

Gardening with your mother had started as a way for her to drag you out of the house to get some sun while keeping an easy eye on you. Before your sister was born you’d spent many a joyous afternoon learning to work the soil beside your mother.

After the advent of your favorite gremlin, you’d spent those afternoons tending to the family garden alone.

You remember being grateful to the newborn back then. Those solitary afternoons were some of the most peaceful in your memory.

At some point the ‘family garden’ had become more ‘your garden’. Your mother wouldn’t even bother to plan it out with you by your sister’s toddler years. She’d drive you to the store, hand you a bit of cash, and leave it all in your tiny hands.

You’d spend hours researching the best ways to nurture your plants. What flowers liked being planted together, which ones should be separated. You learned about soil types and the nutrients found in them. You learned about ph. values, how to measure them, and why they mattered. Anything to have your garden thriving more brightly, more beautifully, for longer.

If you weren’t in the garden you were in the library by your house, nose buried in a gardening book.

You vividly remember the day it all went wrong.

It hadn’t even been that dramatic, as you recall. At least, not in terms of your parent’s usual fights. It was heartbreak- despair- that marked the day, instead of fear.

You’d been digging up weeds, clawing up deep roots with your gloved hands and a trowel, when your father had come storming outside. You don’t even remember what he’d said. Something about you always taking your mother’s side because of your shared hobby, you think.

Never mind that the woman hadn’t put so much as a toenail to the dirt since your sister had been born.

He hadn’t let up for quite a while, if memory serves. Stood there yelling at you in your safe space for close to an hour. Maybe two, but your child-brain couldn’t be trusted with the time. It might have just been minutes, now that you think about it.

Nonetheless, he’d yelled and yelled and yelled. He hadn’t trampled on or broken anything, hadn’t even made sense. And yet, when he’d finally left, everything was different.

The blooms you’d worked so hard to nurture were no longer beautiful, and the soil you’d once called home was no longer safe.

You hadn’t tended another garden after that season. You’d seen your plants to winter, and you’d let go. You’d turned away from the sun and soil and leaned into your books and silly questions to fill the hole left behind.

You’re sure you left claw marks in the dirt.

Something like a gentle humming fills your soul, and you notice how tightly you're clutching the garden around your waist. You gingerly pry your hands away and study the crescent moons you’ve left behind, soft skin indented where petals should have ripped.

You wonder if you’ll leave claw-marks in this garden too.

You tear your eyes away from the mirror, ignoring the gentle tingling up your side where your fingers had dug in. You quickly toss on a camisole, forgoing your usual privacy wraps, and your t-shirt over that.

There was nothing for emptying your mind quite like running yourself into the ground at the gym. With full awareness that you’re going to regret your gym session later, you flee your apartment.

Maybe jogging all the way to gym wasn’t such a great idea. It’d sounded fantastic at the time, a head start on your cardio and a way to remove yourself from your negative headspace before you tried to toss around weights you barely knew how to use.

It had sort of worked, but now you hadn’t even entered the building and you were already a sweaty, panting, mess.

After guzzling down half of your water bottle you enter the building, resignation in your heart. Cardio wasn’t even your focus today.

The automatic doors slide open with their usual swish, and you’re greeted by the familiar stale smell all gyms seem to share, no matter how clean. It’s comforting, even if you do wish you could go home already.

There’s someone already at the receptionist’s desk when you approach, talking in slow and measured English. You try not to be annoyed with the tiny delay, but your mood really hadn’t been helped by running from your thoughts, no matter what you’d hoped.

Alas, you’ve ventured into the public and so you’ve encountered a member of the public. Shocker. You cross your arms and bite back irritation that this complete stranger hadn’t done anything to earn.

Luckily enough, the low and measured cadence of the stranger’s voice is soothing enough to zone out to. Unfortunately, your latest obstacle is the only thing around to rest your eyes on, and so you find yourself studying his form.

His back is broad and built, huge biceps on display in a tight fitting black t-shirt. You kinda wanna squish them.

A vivid tattoo sleeve runs all the way down to his wrist, and you find your stare glued to it. Large boldly colored flowers take up the majority of the space, vague outlines of crashing waves and rolling mists fills in the rest in a luxurious combination of oriental art styles.

You can’t help but think it doesn’t look finished.

Dragging your eyes away from such beautiful ink is quite a task, but you don’t want to seem judgmental for your admiration. That arduous labor is made infinitely easier by how fine the man himself is.

You really can’t help the way your eyes trace up and down his form. It should be impossible, you think, to somehow bulk up in only the right places, but by Jove his man has done it. You’re quite jealous, honestly.

Your eyes come to a rest on the stranger’s backside. Quite jealous, indeed.

You try to shake yourself from your admiration, reminding yourself that there were very many well-muscled men in this place and that you’d always endeavored to keep a polite line-of-sight, even when they don’t. It hadn’t even been a hard ask, until now. You drag your gaze back up to the back of his head.

You’d be polite if it killed you. Even if neither the stranger or the scrawny receptionist had noticed your wandering gaze.

Especially then.

While you were.... distracted... the man’s conversation with the receptionist seemed to be going a whole lot of nowhere. From what you can gather, he’s looking for a short-term membership, and the receptionist is trying to tell him they don’t do that.

You know this to be true, even the trial period was an entire month. You’d specifically chosen this gym for that reason. If you hadn’t been able to stick it out for a month, you know you’d have never used the place enough to justify a membership.

Your sympathies to this stranger, it seems he really just needs a little less than a week. You know there are some no-commitment type places not too far though, so you wonder why he’s stuck on this place.

Their back and forth goes a while longer, but it’s evident that the beautifully-built stranger can’t really argue his case properly. Whether because of the obvious language barrier he’s working with, or because he’s run out of arguments, you can’t be sure.

Eventually he steps to the side to make a call, and you’re able to approach the counter.

The receptionist (you think his name is Jake. The owner’s nephew, if you recall correctly) looks relieved to see you after whatver hassling the stranger had given him. He lazily waves the clipboard and it’s sign-in sheet at you in greeting. You take the clipboard, trading him your membership card and driver’s license for it, and turn to prop your knee up on the counter to balance it while you write. Incidentally, your choice of position keeps the stranger in your line of sight.

You magnanimously ignore Jake’s gaze wandering to your chest, if only because you’re still looking not-so-respectfully at the tattooed stranger a few feet away.

“So what was that all about?” You ask him as you hand back the clipboard. He shrugs at you as he types a second longer.

“Some big-shot who needs a security detail,” He answers, unimpressed, “Says this is the only gym in, like, five miles of his hotel that he doesn’t need an entourage to go to.”

You hum your understanding, now trying to place if the handsome stranger was someone you knew of.

Such situations weren’t uncommon for this gym. Celebrities that actually lived in LA weren’t spotted here very often but, since it was settled very close to quite a few high-security luxury hotels, the building saw it’s fair share of famous faces.

Security was kept quite tightly, and a certain code of conduct was expected amongst the gym’s members. It was another justification for the long trial period, wherein one could only access the front room with the basic weights and machines. All the fancy stuff (including a pool, rock wall, dance studio, and all sorts) was in the back.

It was also another reason you yourself were a patron here. The high security and strict standards made for a quiet and comfortable atmosphere.

At least, as long as you ignored the judgmental stares.

“What’s the issue, then?” You question Jake, “Doesn’t the owner make exceptions for high-profile clients?” You phrase it as a question, but you know he does. The unfamiliar faces that pop up for a few days every now and then wouldn’t show up otherwise.

Jake just sighs like he’s had this conversation a thousand times. Considering the celebrity (?) waving his hands around as he spoke rapidly into his phone not far away, maybe he had.

“He does, but he’s out of town and no one else can adjust the contracts.” He eventually explains. He finally hands you your stuff back, and you hum consideringly as you put the cards back in your wallet.

Another glance at the furrowed brows on the stranger’s masked face has pity welling up your throat.

You turn your gaze to focus on Jake.

“Do I still have that visitor pass?” You ask him, knowing that he still has your details up. Jake glances at you with a raised eyebrow, but obligingly checks the computer.

“Yup,” He confirms, “You’ve been paying for it since you dragged your poor roommate in here that one time. Why?”

“Can he use it?” you nod your head to the frustrated stranger. From where you’re sat, still perched on the edge of the desk, it looks oddly like he’s begging whoever’s on the other line.

Jake levels you with his most deadpan stare. It’s quite a good one, completely unimpressed. You think it must be something about customer service that allows him to make that face. Or maybe it’s just you.

“You realize that your visitor pass is you vouching for your visitor’s character, right?” He reminds you, “If he does anything, breaks anything, pisses off the wrong lifeguard it’ll be on your head.”

You just shrug. It’s not like you couldn’t find a new gym if you had to. You’d miss this one, with it’s quiet atmosphere and abundant amenities, but you didn’t require it’s security and discretion like some of the other clients did.

“I’ve got a good feeling about it.” Is all you tell Jake. It’s not even a lie.

The poor boy just rolls his eyes at you. He still turns to rifle through the desk for the right form for you to fill out though, so you’ll take it.

“You a fan of his or something?” Jake asks as he hands you a different clipboard.

“Nope!” You answer cheerfully, starting to fill out the form, “No idea who he is.”

Jakes huffs an incredulous laugh, and turns a considering gaze on your new friend. And the stranger does have to be a friend now, because “some guy” is not an option on your paperwork.

“I bet he’s a wrestler,” he finally says after a long moment, “Or a sportswear model.”

You gently bop him on the head with your clipboard, “I refuse to participate in your speculation.” You admonish, ignoring his whining.

“I’ll show you his picture when you leave,” He smirks back, “and whatever google says about him.” He shrugs when you send him a cutting glare, “It’s not speculation then.”

“Respect your customer’s privacy, you weirdo.” You scold. He just laughs as you hand him the form, all filled out and just waiting for the stranger’s signature. You know full well that Jake will go through with it, regardless of what you say, so you give up easily.

He won’t get fired as long as you don’t blab outside of the gym. Privileges of nepotism. You exchange farewells as you hop off the counter, and he begins to wave over Mr. Celebrity. You meet the eyes of you on-paper friend and offer him a quick nod before you scuttle off deeper into the building.

Hopefully he’d be too grateful of your offer to find you terribly strange.

I could really use some feedback for this one, if y'all have the time. 人´∀｀) Especially regarding my dialogue and transitions. plsplspls I would be so grateful. My comments, dms, and ask box are all open

#skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #baby writes #skz fanfic #skz fic #w.i.p fic #w.i.p #SGAU #Soulmate Garden AU #Soulmate AU #skz soulmate au

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