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firegirl888101 · 1 month ago

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Insatiable Madness (12)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

People are taking notice. This is good, just... don't allow suspicion to linger for too long...

Reader is Gender Neutral!

It was the next morning.

After your little ‘Dress to Impress’ situation with Signora, you grabbed lots of blankets and extra mattresses for the Harbingers. Originally, you planned for all of them to sleep in the living room and dining room as it was the biggest and the furthest space away from you. However, all the girls complained about this and managed to persuade you to let them stay in the guest bedroom instead.

So there you were, moving half of the mattresses and blankets into the guest bedroom for them, not a single shred of help given to you. You’re not sure how they’re going to decide who gets the bed, but honestly, you don’t want to imagine the petty chaos that will ensue because of it. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to have the girls close to you, after all, you can hear all their arguments through the walls quite clearly…

Anyway,

After that you used the rest of your noodles for yourself and forced the harbingers to eat boiled vegetables. You’re not evil, it’s just the only other thing you could cook without guaranteeing the house would catch on fire. Also, it might have been the only thing left in the freezer.

And off to bed everyone went after dinner. They didn’t say thank you, of course. However silence is better than having to figure out how to piece your sofa back together like a lego house. As of now, you’re downstairs and suffering through an onslaught of Childe’s complaining.

“When’s breakfast?” Childe whined, laying on the sofa with his patched up injuries still healing.

“Never, until you and the others get a job to financially support the house.” You replied, leaning back on the armchair and watching the news. It wasn’t anything interesting unlike yesterday, with the notice of you being missing being the conversation of the day. Today, it was reporting on the increasing average climate temperature. Ah yes, another problem. But luckily, that’s something out of your control right now.

“But it huuuurts! You can’t expect me to walk around the city limping.”

“Yes, but that won’t stop you from using the Internet, will it?”

“I have no idea what that is.”

Maybe this is a good thing. Letting the harbingers go on the Internet without any control or restrictions could possibly not just end you, but also the entire world. At that point, if you let it happen, humanity’s biggest problem wouldn’t be climate change anymore.

“It is decided.” Sandrone gleefully spoke with an excited voice, walking through the front door and entering the living room. “I’m officially working as an engineer in a garage not too far away. Oh, this is simply splendid news!”

“Sandrone, I thought we agreed you weren’t going to work due to you looking too young?” You questioned her with an exasperated sigh, already expecting this outcome.

“We never agreed on such a thing.” She scoffed at your unenthusiastic reply. “The Rooster and I discussed my wishes to learn the field of mechanics of this world. We decided it would be best if I visited the mechanic’s garage we passed by when we were walking to that weird food place we found you in. When I walked inside and inquired about a position, they instantly said yes! Ahh, it seems even in this world humans can detect true talent.”

“Or, get this, they were suffering from this city lacking engineer’s to hire. From the sounds of it, they were desperate to employ just about anyone.” You fired back, voice plain.

“Don’t be so conceited. They specifically asked for my skills. And, after I talked about my puppets and robots, they were instantly intrigued and brought me aboard!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Good for you, or whatever.” You turned back to the television, not giving her anymore attention.

“Well, I believe it is a wonderful thing.” Pulcinella walked into the room, sitting on the sofa with Childe, his back to Childe’s shins.

“At least someone’s got a job. Did anyone else actually try to find one this morning?” You groaned.

“A woman approached me with a business card, something about ‘fitting the vibe’ with a new fashion collection she was working on and offered for me to be a part of it. What did that mean?” Arlecchino spoke up, passing you the business card she mentioned.

Looking closer at it, you could tell it was a relatively new business. One owned by someone just a few years older than you maybe. Honestly, it actually looks really cool. Maybe you’ll check out the website link on the back of the card later.

“She’s asking you to become a model for a fashion branch she’s designing.” You explained, passing the card back.

“Modelling? Hm, looks like I’ll have to find something somewhere else.”

“You don’t want to be a model?” You questioned her.

“I’m used to working in the shadows, I dislike public attention when I work. Becoming a model would be unlike me.” She sighed disappointedly.

“I say you do it, Knave.” Columbina cheered for her. “If you don’t like it, you could always kill her and erase all footage from her Kamera.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“I suppose that could be a possible outcome.” Arlecchino thought to herself, ignoring you.

“Okay, please don’t think about it if that’s what you’re going to do if you don’t like it! Be normal and just quit the job, and read your contracts!” You exclaimed in horror.

“Very well, I’ll contact her later today.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” You turned to her.

“I thought I’d ask you to help me.”

Of course she’d expect that. Children, all the Harbingers are basically children high on drugs in wonderland not knowing what to do or how to do it. Just what would they do without you? It’s no wonder despite kidnapping you they give you a lot of freedom. You’re surprised they haven’t tied you up and left you to rot in your own boredom actually. You often wonder why they haven’t done that, it’s very clear they get more and more annoyed the more time you spend with them.

“Childe, the second you heal I’m kicking you out of the house until you find a job.” You announced, Childe whining as a reply.

“Why are you so harsh with me!? I’m one of the nicest guys here!”

“Because some of the others actually took the initiative to go out and find a job today which I’m pleasantly surprised at. It could have turned out a lot worse, but luckily it didn’t. Therefore, I really don’t care.”

“Decider!! You’re so mean!”

“Why do I hear Childe screaming a lot more than usual this morning?” Pierro yawned, entering the room with hazy and cloudy eyes.

“The Decider wants him to get a job.” Scaramouche bluntly stated, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.

“Oh, as if you have room to talk. You didn’t even try to get a job this morning. You didn’t even leave the house to pretend to try!” You argued with him.

“There is no way, in any stage of care I could possibly and deniably have for you, am I working to support people I don’t even like.”

“You’re doing it to support yourself!”

“I don’t even need to eat, silly mortal.” He snickered at your flabbergasted face, struggling to keep up and monopolise him.

“Hmph, if the heartless crude doesn’t wish to work, don’t force him.” Sandrone scoffed in his direction, fiddling with the TV remote in her hands, observing which button does what.

“As I have decided and discovered a place to work, allow me to earn as much money as you need. I can guarantee you, I’ll be much more helpful than this…” She struggled to find the word.

“...thing.”

“Excuse me??” Scaramouche couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his head snapping towards her direction as fast as the speed of light.

“It truly is shameful, to take and not give in return.”

“Like you’re one to talk.” Dottore grinned, entering the room alongside Pantalone and shutting the living room door.

“It doesn’t matter what any of you morons say. I’m not getting a job, meaning stop bothering me with blather I’m ignoring. You’re wasting your own time.” Scaramouche scoffed, turning away dramatically and walking in the direction of the dining room going to do something that you couldn’t even attempt to guess.

“...I’m going to kill him.”

“Don’t try it, you’re thinking of what we’ve wanted to do for years. His usefulness is the only thing keeping him alive now.” Pierro sighed, a hand on his head trying to soothe his incoming headache.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

You were back in your bedroom, trying to communicate with the Traveler on the other side again. Alas, he still wasn’t replying in your favour. His blank look was still displayed on his face. Maybe you should stop for a while and give it time, continuously trying seems to be wearing you out more than the Harbingers themselves. Either that, or you’re getting really angry now. …What are you saying!? Nothing will wear you down more than the presence of the Harbingers, never forget what they did and what they could do to you. Even if they’re acting nicely towards you, it doesn’t change how they treat and have treated others. Never forget it, ever.

Speaking of never forgetting, now that you have the time, you should do something about all this merch.

You walked up to your desk, eyeing the different figures and occasional sticker littering your desk. You made quick work of scratching the stickers off, ripping them to shreds and violently throwing them in your bin. You looked at the Arlecchino and Scaramouche figures standing next to each other on the back shelf of your desk, you grabbed them and stared at them, admiring every detail made by the artist.

Such a shame. It’s funny how just last week you were excited that you could potentially buy all the figures and line them up on your desk. Unfortunately, you’ll never be able to see these characters the same ever again. Especially fucking Scaramouche.

You shook your head after a short while of staring, choosing to shove the figures under your bed instead of smashing them like you wished you could with the real people. You’ll try and resell them later for money to support yourself once this is all over.

Anyway, at least now your desk is clear. You can’t remember the last time you saw it bear with only your computer on it. Next, you should get rid of all the genshin plush toy’s on your bed and above your wardrobe. Starting with the massive Childe whale laid out across your mattress. Ugh, but you actually like this one! Without the genshin context, it would just be a cute whale! Should you just shove this one under your bed too? And what about–

“You’ll never guess what I did!” Childe burst through your door, a very excited expression on his face.

“Childe!? What are you doing?? GET OUT!” You shrieked, standing up and running to cover your computer screen before he could see it.

“Okay, so, you know how you told me to go out and find a job when I got better?” He began explaining, ignoring your complaining with a mocking tilt to his head.

“Yes, but get out! We can talk outside of my room!” You quickly ran forward, pushing him away from the door frame and out of the room with haste.

“You don’t even have anything interesting. Just looked like a basic bedroom to me…” He pouted playfully, his eyes narrowing at the door you slammed behind you after you successfully removed him from your bedroom.

“Right. What were you telling me about you looking for a job?” You sighed, not wanting to discuss your bedroom any further.

“Okay. So, I was out looking for a job, yeah? I was struggling and felt really angry, but then I passed by a building with boxers punching and training! I went in and asked if I could try it, and they immediately asked if I could join their gym after I did! Pretty amazing, right?” He hummed, grinning widely.

“...You have to pay to join a gym.” You countered him, a confused expression.

“That’s what I thought too! But, the manager of the place was coincidentally having a meeting with a man looking to sponsor an upcoming athlete. When he saw me, he offered a sponsorship to me. So now I get paid to train in the gym everyday!”

“That’s… um.. You know what? If it’s what you want to do and it pays well, go for it or whatever. Just warning you, sponsored athlete’s training is very harsh and time consuming. You don’t get to eat what you like and have spare time to yourself. You’ll have barely any time to yourself in the house. Not to mention–”

“That I can’t quit until my first fight? Yeah, I know that!”

“Alright fine then. Just… don’t kill anyone.” You gave him a suspicious glance, turning around and opening the door slightly to squeeze through without him seeing your bedroom.

“See you la–”

“Decider, could we have a look at the modelling place now? Pierro has given his permission for us to head outside and find the shop.” Arlecchino walked up the stairs, stopping after seeing the awkward placement of yours and Childe’s conversation.

“I CAN’T CATCH A BREAK I HATE MY LIFE!”

“What are they talking about?” She whispered to Childe, the ginger shrugging as a response.

“Dunno. They’ve been more annoyed than usual today, kind of reminds me of my mother when Tonia steals her clothes and goes outside to make them dirty on purpose.”

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... …

You can’t believe this. The Harbinger’s are actually letting you go outside without the worry of you escaping? Okay, you suppose you are essentially tied to Arlecchino right now due to her grabbing your wrist with an iron hold, but it’s better than nothing!

Your visible appearance must have been one to laugh at. You were wearing an oversized jumper and three of your mothers scarves which were so long they were almost touching the ground, even with the three wrapped around your neck twice. Thank goodness it’s cold today, if it wasn’t, you would be getting even weirder looks than you already are now. You sighed, your breath sticking to you thanks to the blue covid mask wrapped around your face under the bundle of scarves.

“You went overboard, you know?” You turned to her with unimpressed eyes, Arlecchino’s head still looking forwards in attention, ready for any potential surprise attacks like a true soldier.

“No, I say we didn’t cover you enough.” She replied with a rich voice. “I insisted we add a hat to cover your head, but Pulcinella couldn’t stand the fact you’d be sweating with it on.”

“Thank you…” You did a small imaginary salute to Pulcinella. “I would have cried if I had to wear any more clothes. I can already feel my skin soaking wet.”

“That’s repulsive.” She commented.

The two of you crossed the street, heading towards the shopping centre in the middle of your city. When following the link on the business card Arlecchino was given, Google Maps led you to the main shopping centre in town. Seeing this was a beautiful opportunity to see if you could find anybody you recognised to get help, you gladly accepted her request for you to guide her towards the shop she needed to get to.

You walked in, following after the silver haired woman with anxious steps. She stopped, seeing a map of the building and pointing at the words, trying her best to try and read them. With a frustrated sigh, she turned to look at your smug expression, watching her try and fail to understand the map.

“The place you’re looking for is that one.” You walked up to the board, pointing to the name of the clothes shop she was looking for.

“Thank you.” She closed her eyes, trying to conceal her annoyment with a screwed up face.

The two of you then began walking through the shopping centre, yourself occasionally glancing at the confectionary shops smelling like heaven. You were tempted to drag her in, to have a look at the delicious delicacies wrapped in colours and dream of having them, but you decided against it considering her gaze darkened every time you yanked her towards a window.

“You are such a child.” She commented, breaking her silence to mock you. “Pulcinella tells us of your childish behaviour and resorts to disobey, witnessing it first hand at first was entertaining, but now it’s becoming frustrating.”

“I tend to have that effect on people.” You replied, struggling to hold your tongue with a grin. Technically you’re safe right now. There’s too many people around here for her to try anything if you annoy her too much. Sure, she would take out the majority, but there will be some who could run away unscathed in time to call the authorities.

Well, that’s what you would have done if you were 100% sure she came alone with you in the first place. Not only that, but you don’t want to get other people stuck in this situation with you. It’s kind of crazy how traumatic situations like this will either bring out the best or worst in people. In your case, you luckily responded in the former way. To think a couple days ago you were a selfish angsty hermit who never left their room unless your parents called for it.

Arlecchino isn’t stupid, you know she’s the Fourth Harbinger for a reason. She’s intelligent, patient, and excellent at hiding her true feelings if she needs to be careful. A terrifying analyser, and one you should probably stay neutral around when you’re alone with her. If she’s not as arrogant as you think she is, you’re guessing she asked one or two Harbingers to spy on the two of you from afar. It’s a shame you’re not as perceptive as the others, maybe then you’d actually stand a chance.

“Hey,” You felt a hypnotising click in front of your eyes, focusing on the mutated fingers with red nails very close to your eyes.

You came back to reality, finding the silver woman bent over slightly clicking you back. “I would advise you to pay attention and listen to me from here on. I cannot have my guide slacking and leading us in the wrong direction.” She coldly stated, slipping on a pair of gloves you advised her to wear before leaving the house.

“Right.” You coughed, avoiding her mesmerising eyes with a dramatic step back and a light flush on your cheeks. What in her right mind made her think getting that close to you was a good idea!? Is she trying to kill you, and embarrass herself in public??

The two of you walked in silence after that, the happy families and couples you walked by contrasting the tension between the two of you. Thankfully, the shop wasn’t too much further. If you had to walk anymore in that suffering silence, you think you would have charged through one of the shop’s glass windows. The two of you had successfully reached the shop in question and found the woman who scouted Arlecchino inside. You saw her brooming the floor through the glass windows.

“Sooo…” You awkwardly turned to her. “I’m presuming that’s the woman who gave you the business card?”

“Yes. That’s her.” Arlecchino nodded, grabbing your wrist and walking inside with you being dragged behind her.

The shop was very gothic. There were many clothes both in and out of fashion, that seemed to be loved by the community who were browsing the shelves and hangers with bright smiles. Yeah, this is a good shop. It reminds you of one of those small online businesses that only a few people know of due to its rarely appreciated products. You can see Arlecchino fitting in somehow.

“Wow, wow, wow! You actually decided to come!” The woman exclaimed. “Please, do come in! I’ll be with you shortly, I just need to put this broom back.”

She seems… cheerful.

The excited woman ran up to the two of you, standing at the front door. She clasped Arlecchino’s gloved hands, and practically had stars in her eyes.

“If you’re here, I’m guessing you took my offer then? Oh! I’m getting ahead of myself. My name is Aurora, but everyone calls me Rora since the name Aurora is quite posh, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s a beautiful na–”

“Do you really!?” Rora beamed at you, interrupting your quiet voice with her louder brasher one. “I thought so too, until I realised it didn’t fit the brand in my shop.”

“Anyway…~” She laughed, interrupting herself. “We’ll have to see whether my vision does indeed match your style. Come with me, err, what was your name again?”

“My name is Arlecchi–”

“Ahem!” You coughed, interrupting her with a side eye. You forgot to tell her she should use a different name for when she applies for the job. Fuck, that reminds you, you didn’t tell the other Harbinger’s who unexpectedly went out to find a job on their own to give fake names either!

She seemed to get the hint, closing her eyes then opening them again. “My name is Arlette, it’s nice to formally meet you once more.”

“Sure, sure! The pleasure is all mine, or something like that. Now come on, I’ll have you model some styles I put together to see if they’re good enough to go on my website.”

“Website?” Arlecchino mimicked, turning to you with a raised eyebrow.

“It means if she likes the way you look, you not only get the job but you get paid for the work you’re going to do today. That’s what it seems like anyway, she seems nice.” You shrugged in reply.

“‘Seems nice’?” She gasped jokingly. “I am nice! We’ll show you, you just wait there and we’ll come out looking fabulous!”

“Yes, wait there. It would be a foreseen shame if you exited this shop without a second pair of eyes on you.” Arlecchino hinted, before turning around and following the woman behind the till and through the staff door.

Well, that confirms your suspicions. She did get a couple other Harbingers to trail the two of you to the shopping centre. How frustrating of her.

What’s even more frustrating is how Rora didn’t realise your appearance is unnatural! Come on, girl, even though it’s cold it’s not normal to wear this many layers inside a shopping centre! Oh well, maybe you could turn to the other customers in the shop?

You looked behind one of the shelves covered in t-shirts, peering through the gap to see two other girls laughing at a video on their phones. Would now be a good chance? But you’re being watched. Maybe you should test the waters first by having a normal conversation.

Yeah. That’s a good idea. Now, if your legs could just move and guide you to where you want to go that would be great. It would be a bit weird if you called out to them when you’re in an enclosed space together. Huh? Why is the ground shaking? You feel like you’re about to collapse to your knees, where did your strength go? Your eyes widened in realisation when you realised what was happening.

You can’t do it. Your legs won’t move, they’re shaking as if they’re trying to move, but can’t for some invisible wall. You can’t seem to get your voice to work either, it feels as if it’s wrapped itself inside your throat like a coil. Come on, just move! Now’s the perfect chance to try and do something! Are you scared of the fact that a few other harbingers may be watching? Or is it something else?

You looked around the room quickly, feeling a sickly heat wave over your head. You couldn’t tell whether you were crying from disgust or fear. Why is it, when you just need to do something, does your body freeze like this? Is something wrong with you? Surely it isn’t normal to just freeze, when people are scared you usually see them run - not stand like a deer in headlights!

Realising how awkward and how hard it would be to explain yourself if someone saw you in this state, you went to a random corner of the shop and tried to calm yourself down.

“Helloooo?~” Rora called out, stepping out of the staff room with Arlecchino trailing behind her.

“Where areeee youuu? We’re finished, and I need a second opinion!”

You sighed, giving your eyes one more wipe then rubbing your hands as if you were drying them under a hand dryer.

“I’m here, just looking at this collection of… jeans.” You lied, not being able to keep your voice cheery, instead it came off as a dejected unnatural tone.

Walking over to the two after a deep breath, you saw Arlecchino dressed in an entirely different outfit than her usual one. She was wearing a clean white blouse with long sleeves, the blouse tucked in a pair of black jeans with a chain connecting her back pocket to a section on her belt. There was a tie wrapped around her collar, descending down and resting above her chest.

She stood tall, a blazer slung over her shoulder rather than around her body. Not going to lie, she looks amazing, and strangely sexy in a way… Her modelling a tomboy outfit like this reminds you of a fanart you saw once, which you definitely didn’t spam a certain copypasta on… ANYWAY—

Your point is she looks great, Rora really knows her stuff.

“Well?~ From your stunned expression, I can tell I really hit the mark with this one! It’s targeted for office girlies who want to dress differently, but still classy. Non-gender specific and of course, fab-ul-ous!” She stepped beside the harbinger leaning a certain way and spreading her hands out dramatically.

“What do you think, Arlette? Is it comfortable? Is there something you would change?”

Arlecchino looked down at herself, judging her appearance with lidded eyes. After a short pause, she nodded and looked back at the designer.

“I like it. It’s comfortable, and the stitching is beautiful. Sometimes the most basic of outfits can make the boldest statements.”

“Exactly! I knew you’d get me!” Rora cheered. “And my, my! It’s not everyday somebody notices my trademark stitching. You have perceptive eyes!”

“Trademark? Does that mean you sew all these clothes yourself?” You gaped, not believing a word you’re hearing.

“Mhmm. I hate the idea of allowing a machine to create my clothes for me. I want to spread my passion and ideas sustainably, not mass-produce them in a factory without a care in the world. The idea makes my heart wrench!” She comedically weeped.

“Actually… To be fair, that’s actually why a lot of the shelves are still empty. Turns out managing a shop in a busy shopping centre like this takes a lot of work - especially when it’s just you. A lot of the time, when something is bought out it takes me months to refill the aisle back to how it once was. It’s difficult… but, I love it.”

“Wow…” You felt your eyes glistening. “Environmentally aware and sustainable? Rora, I might be your newest biggest fan! I’ll be honest, I thought you were just a massive Pinterest fan.”

“Ahah! I get that a lot!” She giggled into her hand.

“You wouldn’t happen to do custom designs, would you?”

“I haven’t thought about it. Buuuut, considering I’m running a little bit low on funds, I would love the idea if you had something in mind?” She thought to herself, encouraging the thought.

“Sorry, but it’ll have to be another day. My funds aren’t the best either at the moment. I’ll definitely keep the thought there though, if you’ll do the same?”

“Of course!” She gave a thumbs up. “Anyway… Whaddya think? You’ve had a look at one of my simpler designs, and I think you fit the image I had in mind perfectly! Your friend seems to agree also!”

Arlecchino stared at you for a few seconds before brushing a strand of hair out of her face and looking away.

“I’ll take the job.”

“Yippee! Welcome aboard, Arlette!” Rora jumped up and down, unable to control her excitement. Everybody else in the shop awkwardly applauded after being spooked by the sudden noise, not looking surprised in the slightest. It seems Rora getting excited is a usual occurrence…

“Alright-y then! Hmm, let’s see… we’ll discuss contracts and serious stuff tomorrow when you come in for your first official day… for now I guess I can ask whether you’d be okay with restocking shelves and helping me manage the till?”

“Hm? I thought I was simply modelling?” Arlecchino wondered out loud. “It is not a problem, I thought it would just be my image that’s being used.”

“You see, having someone monitoring the shop would give me more time to work on clothes and research. It could possibly get the shop running smoother and make business quicker.” She clicked her fingers.

“And besides, you seem like the thorough type. If someone tried to steal from the shop, I know you would chase them down instantly!”

Pfft, yeah, you can see her doing that alright.

“I appreciate the honest thoughts.” Arlecchino nodded appreciatively. “Would I be paid a higher amount?”

“Why, of course! I can see your added efforts would boost productivity which in turn could increase products being bought. When that increases, I’ll be sure to pay you more.”

“Then I see no issue with our arrangement.” She sighed, eyes shutting harshly when hearing Rora squeal in excitement again.

Oh dear, this is going to be a long day.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... …

“Aaaaand that’s a wrap! Thank you so much for this!” Rora clapped, thanking Arlecchino with a thumbs up and a cheer.

“That was… suspiciously easy.” Arlecchino mumbled her thoughts. “Your Kamera equipment took less than a minute to set up.”

“Well, yeah, duh? Hey, is your friend always like this?” Rora turned to you.

“Something like that…” You coughed into your hand, avoiding eye contact. “Anyway we should be heading out, it’s getting late and I’m hungry.”

“Before you go!” Rora ran behind the till, scrambling to pick up a few notes before running back to the two of you and handing them out. “Here, I’d be a bad boss if I didn’t pay you fairly for today’s work. We got around 12 outfits for my website, so this amount should be alright. Do you have any complaints?”

Any complaints… ANY COMPLAINTS!? She’s given her way too much, no wonder she’s having some financial troubles! Buuut, you are in need of some money… Okaaay, you’ll be a bit greedy and let it slide this time. But when Arlecchino’s next pay-day comes around you’ll definitely say something to protect Rora’s business - being too kind might be her downfall. If only you knew how right you were in saying that.

Arlecchino looked to you, clueless with the money she gratefully took from her new boss. You nodded, smiling as normally as you could, eyeing her as she folded it and stuffed the notes in her pocket.

“I will see you tomorrow.” Arlecchino waved slowly, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the shop with her.

“Wai– Arlecc– I mean, Arlette, let me say goodbye too!” You struggled to speak, fumbling due to being lurched forward to match her strides.

“Bye Rora!”

She simply waved back, a gentle smile on her face as she eyed the two of you leaving her shop like a herd of elephants. Her smile dropped, her arm going back down to her side as she turned to the other customers in the shop.

“Ladies, you wouldn’t have happened to feel… something wrong there, would you?”

The two girls looked at each other, one looking clueless whilst the other nodded, agreeing without words.

“I didn’t see anything, they just looked like two normal people to me.”

“No, there was a threat of intimidation with your new worker.” The other thought out loud. “It’s hard to explain, but I get what you mean by feeling something wrong. The person with her looked like they were about to burst into tears at one point - hell, they were wandering around the store aimlessly when they weren’t at her side.”

“Huh? But if something was wrong, why wouldn’t they have just… I don’t know, passed us a note if they couldn’t say anything?”

“No. I don’t think they could.” Rora interrupted her. “Did the two of you hear their name, by chance? It’s almost as if Arlette was making sure that question wouldn’t come up, when she was talking the conversation always felt controlled.”

“Okay, even I don’t know what you’re referring to here.” The intelligent girl with the headband said. “If anything, Arlette didn’t speak very much. It was almost as if she was clueless about the whole thing, maybe that’s why she brought her friend?”

“Hmm… Wait, we really didn’t hear her friend’s name! I wonder why they didn’t introduce themself. Oh, speaking of suspicions… Now that I’m thinking about it, did anyone find it weird how they were wrapped head to toe in scarves and coats? They must have been boiling, I don’t think they would have chosen to leave the house like that…”

“That’s true. In fact, now that I’m thinking about their appearance also, I don’t think I could mention a single unique characteristic of theirs at all. If they ever entered the shop without all the coats and scarves, I don’t think I’d be able to recognise them unless they spoke.”

“I’m going to find out everything when Arlette returns tomorrow.” Rora looked determined, turning around back to the till. “Something just doesn’t feel right. I’m sure it’s nothing, and we’re just looking too deep into things, but I think it would be wise to ask more personal questions tomorrow.”

“Good idea.” The girl in the headband agreed. “Would you like me to also be there tomorrow? There’s strength in numbers.”

“Yes please.” Rora’s face turned serious. “I could use all the help I can get right now. Say, ‘Lils’, you coming in tomorrow too?”

“Of course, girlhood is girlhood after all! We have to stay toge–” She flinched, running up to the window without warning and looked around. She looked back to the other two giving her a suspicious look. “Sorry, I thought I felt something weird. Must be all the creepy talk.”

“...Damn it, Knave. It hasn’t been a day and you’re already garnering suspicion.” Scaramouche whispered to himself in frustration, looking through the window carefully once the girl turned her head.

He sighed, moving away from the window to tail both you and Arlecchino. It seems his presence was needed here after all, the Knave didn’t warn him wrong. He has to give her credit, unlike some of the morons he’s been forced to come here with, everything she planned has indeed come true. He thought this outing would be useless, that it was a waste of time, but it ended up being useful and that’s all he could care about. What to do about those three though? It would be far too dangerous to let them live, especially considering they were onto her. What’s more important to him is this sudden interest in The Decider. In his opinion, they’re becoming far too curious. He would rather them stay entirely clueless.

“Hey, Arlecchino? Now that you’ve been paid… could we plea–”

“No.” She cut you off, placing her hand over her pocket so you couldn’t snatch the money inside. “We are not buying stupid things, we finally have money that you’ve been complaining for. I will not let you waste it.”

“But… But it’s a tradition I have!” You complained.

“Tradition?” She raised her eyebrow, not looking impressed.

“Yeah!! Whenever my mother and I come to the shopping centre, we always stop by a chocolate shop and treat ourselves.”

“What a stupid tradition.” She muttered under her breath.

“Come on, pleeeaaaseee? You’re a ‘Father’, you should know when to treat your children!” You tried to convince her, trying to use puppy eyes with your hands clasped together.

“Don’t try to convince your perfectly fine brain with your own stupidities.” She glared at you. “You are not a child of mine, and you never will be, so end that thought whilst it’s still alive.”

The two of you walked in silence after that, the occasional puppy eyes from you and a heightened glare in return from her. Scaramouche looked on from behind incredulously, mouth threatening to gape open in disbelief. Is he seeing this right, the Knave is tolerating your begging? Not to mention, her facade is definitely dropping. He can’t remember the last time he saw her like this without lashing out in a violent rage.

Before long, the two three of you found yourselves at the front of a shop. You stopped, looking up at her confused, until you realised which shop she stopped the two of you at.

“Arle— You didn’t!” You beamed at her in excitement. No way, she remembered which shop you were looking at the longest on your way to Rora’s shop!? So, she really did care about what you were thinking earlier!

“Pick what you want, and get something for myself also. I am trusting you to get something cheap and delectable, if I dislike what you give me I’ll tell the others not to consider letting you out of the house ever again.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You ran up to her, wrapping your arms around her tense body. You hugged her tight, smiling widely before letting go and grabbing her hand.

“I’m going to give you a tour of the entire shop so you can make your choice, trust me, you have an expert over here!”

“Ah…” Arlecchino looked away for a moment, the only evidence of her mood being her eyes shining more than usual. “Alright.” She nodded, a twinge of embarrassment showing.

Scaramouche felt his jaw drop, his incredulous expression from before leaking out in the shop like incense. Is he… Is he seeing this right?

Hoh, this will be interesting…

Helloooo! Nice to see everyone before another 6 months have passed. I'm hoping to be more consistent now that studies have become less important for this next year. Still important but my procrastination to do other things has no limit.

Just because I said I feel more motivated to get out of bed every morning in my Christmas message doesn't mean I've changed as a person lol

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

✨Elusive✨ Taglist!:

@valeriele3 @pale-value @pix-stuff @yumi-genshin-writer @yuii-v @itz-luna @annoying-mary @etherisy @khalhaimdad @haikyuusboringassmanager @magica-ren @sweatyexpertdeputyduck @booksandteaplusart @9140 @whatamidoing89 @raesleepyhead @nasidibakar @shikanosn @purpleamethystsblog @chihawari @esthelily @stuffyfrenchflowers @conspicuous-mayonnaise @sielt @katsumikumo @greyhoundwires707 @carminerin @raidendeeznuts123 @angelofdarkness2 @shellofthewell @ginnxy-galaxy @clara-maddenlin @bk-4-trash-fire @uniqaal @tnsophiaonly @vianitry @dottoreandcolumbinaslovechild @melou008 @lsleepysimpl @steadybreadbluebird @thebigkessydisaster @eliciana @kamit-frog @twst-kumi @idk098 @kurayamioterasu @mmeatt @the-lazy-perfectionist @florelll @vvzhyxx @averycuriousperson @starlaisopaque @liyuedragonmorax @lovelive-animequeen1029 @mayythammyy @eirly-morning-tea @rainejiang

Quick Reminder Here! If you no longer want to be on the taglist that's completely fine; I take no offence whatsoever so please don't hesitate to tell me. ^^

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amongemeraldclouds · 11 months ago

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Things I’ll Never Say

Why say things out loud when you can write them all down in a journal? No need to inconvenience everyone else with silly declarations of love that’s only guaranteed to break your heart. So what happens when your enemy - of all people - finds it?

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

Thanks to @thatdammchickennugget for the prompt. Here's my official entry for the Hogmarch challenge, prompt one. 1k words.

Author’s note: The way I screamed when this idea came to mind! Journaling is such a big part of my life, I’ll take any and every chance I can to incorporate it to my stories.

Indented text are journal entries.

Warning: Cursing, no use of y/n, slight angst but it’s kinda cute. Fluff express coming through!

✿ Masterlist

“Stop copying my notes!” I hiss at Lorenzo, moving my arm to cover my parchment.

“Come on, I missed class today. I need to catch up,” he says, tugging at the arm of my sweater.

“Go ask your friends,” I retort, moving my arm away from his grasp.

“You know they’re not in that class, just you,” he insists.

“Oh we’re not friends,” I deadpan.

“It won’t take long,” he tries again.

“If you weren’t busy sleeping around with everyone, Berkshire. You would have made it to class this morning.”

He leans in to my ear and whispers, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

I grab the nearest hardbound book and swing it in his direction. Thwack! It strikes his shoulder.

The librarian looks at us sternly. “Your final warning was just given five minutes ago. No noise in the library!” She points her finger to the exit, “You two, out!”

“Great. Thanks for that, Berkshire. Good luck with your notes.” My face gets hot with embarrassment as I gather my things and rush off to the exit.

Enzo spots a black leather bound journal in the area you just vacated. He takes it with him as he exits the library. She’s always writing in this notebook. I’m sure she won’t mind if I take a peek, I’ll give it back to her anyway.

He damn well knew you would mind. When he reaches a quiet corner of the hallway, he proceeds to turn the cover anyway.

I know, I know. I’m not supposed to like Lorenzo Berkshire. Why the fuck did I just draw a heart over the “i”! That’s it. I’m losing my mind! I can’t be caught liking the boy who spewed the word mudblood in my direction our first year. Like it’s my fault I was born into my family. And screw him okay, muggles are awesome. I can break my own heart with my misguided affections, but I’d rather die before I ever let him break my heart. So before I check myself into a mental asylum, I need to just say this somewhere. Anywhere. A last ditch effort to save my sanity.

He’s the intrusive thought I love to entertain in my head.

As a dare, he took off his shirt at the party. My toes curled. I pretended not to notice him.

I heard him laughing with his friends. I love the way it lit up his face.

I saw him enter his dorm hand in hand with a girl. I never wish to be her, another one night stand. Once would never be enough.

I nearly kissed him again.

He helped me pick up the pile of books I dropped at the library. He seemed kind and concerned. Ha! Who am I kidding?

I count down the hours until I see him again.

Maybe in another lifetime it wouldn’t matter: bloodlines, social status, and hierarchies. So unnecessary.

I noticed the veins in his arm at quidditch practice. I tried not to bite my lip. What must it be like to be wrapped in those arms?

And there he was again with his stupid hair breaking my stupid heart.

Enzo hears determined footsteps approaching and he shuts the journal, hiding it behind him.

“Fine, Berkshire,” I sigh when I reach him. “Here, take my notes,” I say, handing it out to him.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you so desperate to get them earlier?” I fold my arms. “I will not be part of the reason you fail in class.” I point at him, “you and your dumb ass can very well do it yourself. I have more important things to worry about.”

“Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?”

My brain short circuits, the fire freezing in my veins. How the hell does he know?

He smirks, pulling out a familiar black journal. My eyes widen.

“On second thought,” I say, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter,” I turn around and walk away. “Fail class for all I care.”

I’m yanked back when I feel Enzo’s grip on my wrist. “Wait.”

My heart thumps in my chest. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. He knows!

“I’m sorry,” he says. What? I turn back, my confused expression directed at him.

“That I called you a mudblood,” he explains. “I was a dumb ass when we were younger.”

“Finally, we agree on something,” I state, trying to mask the tremble in my voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you back then and I was prejudiced. Over the years, I enjoyed watching your passion for magic and studying. How you light up when you talk to your friends about a book you just read. And how you’re always the first to volunteer when someone needs help. You have this fire and warmth in you and I just need to be around it all the time. I’m reduced to being a moth to your flame and I don’t mind it at all.”

I blink, speechless.

He takes a step forward, voice softening. “Why do you think I tease you all the time?”

“Well how the fuck was I supposed to know?” The anger not quite there in my voice.

“I just wanted a chance to talk to you and I thought you hated me.” He brushes the hair from my face and cups my face. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

I roll my eyes, “Oh no, I do hate you.” I falter, “but maybe I kind of, just sort of, like you too.”

He grins. “It seems there are things we need to talk about. Will you go on a date with me?”

My heart stutters. “You already know my answer.”

He laughs, “stubborn as always. I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulls me in for a hug.

Oh. Being wrapped in his strong arms is even better than I imagined. I rest my head on his shoulder when a thought occurs to me.

“You’re sure this is not just some elaborate ploy for me to keep giving you my notes?”

He sighs, “of course not, just enjoy this moment."

He moves his mouth to my ear, "But if you do, I solemnly swear I will make it worth your while.”

I don't hit him this time.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: For those who get the Avril Lavigne title reference, here's a tight hug for you! ♡

I may or may not have also had a place where I wrote down love confessions for someone I couldn’t have. Some of those may or may not have been included in the journal entries.

Two fics published in one day? Who is she?

#hogmarch challenge #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #enzo x reader #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fandom #slytherin boys #wizarding world #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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stariikis · 1 year ago

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

synopsis ; going off my older fic engraving on my wrist , jungwon is late for a 'date', but you don't suspect the underlying reason behind his tardiness.

pairing ; idol!jungwon x trainee!reader genre ; fluff, situationship, getting together, oneshot wc ; 834

You’re not very sure why Jungwon would ask you out to a nearby café just to be thirty minutes late and leave you waiting. But you trust the process.

Is it too late to cancel the ‘date’, and go back to the company? You’re growing incredibly sick of the countless camera flashes directed your way. Of teenage girls, fluorescent bangle bracelets adorning their wrists and idol photocards clasped to their school-bags, coming up and asking for your signature. Is Jungwon late or is he not coming?

Your frantic messages go unread even when you check your phone for the millionth time. It’s not very ideal in the situation, but your mind starts to go into a frenzy. What if something happened to Jungwon? What if it’s my fault, what if I did something wrong? But I can’t have, can I, if I’m just sitting here waiting for a date?

A date. You almost laugh out loud. What are you even thinking? He still hasn’t asked you out and here you are, foolishly believing it’s a date.

Date, date, date… it’s all Jungwon’s fans can think about. Because of their influence, it’s all you can think about too. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel guilty when the thought of Jungwon taking you out crosses your mind, though. It’s like you’re desperate, or something. The beginning of a scowl prods at your lips – at fourteen, you vowed never to be the desperate one, after comforting your best friend through a difficult break-up.

Sneaking a glance down at his initials on your wrist, you start to contemplate getting up and going for dance practice with your trainee friends instead. Oh, the scolding you’ll give Jungwon when he finally answers your texts… he’s going to wish he never even said hello to you, that first day when you showed up to the company, freshly fifteen. What kind of stupid reason for being tardy will he give this time, you wonder?

Just as you’ve given up on waiting for him and started to get ready to leave, thunder rumbles loudly outside. Whipping your head around to check the only window in the quaint café, your heart sinks. Raindrops strike the clouded glass, each one a representation of the shards of panic stabbing you.

How are you going to leave now? You’re never going to listen to the morning radio’s weather forecasts anymore. Next time, you’ll be guaranteed to bring a damn umbrella around. This day isn’t going very well for you, is it?

While you’re sulking, slumped over your table-for-two hopelessly, you don’t notice Jungwon bursting through the door and coming up to you. He is completely drenched from head to toe, brown cotton trench coat not doing much to block out the rain. A small puddle of wetness forms on your shirt as he taps your shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly when you turn your head in confusion. “The line at the bakery was super long.”

You blink at him, dumbfounded, as he hands you a huge plastic bag with assorted breads. A couple beads of rain drip down the sides.

“I’m really craving bread,” you whine, flopping down onto the wooden ground during one of your breaks. Jungwon pulls the beanie off his head and sits down beside you with a tiny grunt.

“Bread? That’s a really weird craving,” he teases you, craning his neck to seek agreement from Sunoo and Riki, who’ve joined you that day for dance practice. They simultaneously glare daggers at Jungwon as if saying they don’t want to get involved, and so Jungwon turns his attention back to you. “What kind of bread, though?”

Is what he asks innocently, as if he hasn’t just taunted you for wanting to eat it.

“The one with strawberry paste inside. I haven’t tried it myself, but I heard it’s super go-”

“IT REALLY IS SUPER GOOD!” Sunoo slides over and interrupts, truly the foodie of his group. “You should try the blueberry paste one too! And the new one where they put raspberry bits into the dough…”

You snap out of the memory and unwrap the plastic bag, checking what’s inside. Sunoo’s list of recommendations are all inside, and some extras that Jungwon knows are your favourites. It’s so out of the blue and sweet of him that it makes you laugh.

“This is why you’re late, isn’t it?” You mutter, feigning annoyance.

He looks down at his shoes, looking ashamed. “Maybe. Sorry if they’re soggy. I didn’t have an umbrella because I believed the stupid weather forecast this morning.” And he looks utterly dejected about it.

How cute.

“It’s okay,” you pull him into a gentle hug, patting his back soothingly. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Take that, delusionalists in the crowd here. Jungwon is mine!

“But…” Jungwon moves his head closer to your ear, and you get the eerie feeling something is coming. You’re proved correct as he hesitates, then whispers lowly, “but now how am I going to properly ask you out?”

thanks for reading! if there are any other tropes or members you want me to write about you can send in an ask or comment here~ i'm very bored so i'll write pretty much anything sfw

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candycandy00 · 1 year ago

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The Doll House - A Nanami x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Despite your crippling fear of men, your family sells you to the Doll House. Luckily, you end up with the handsome, gentlemanly Nanami as your trainer, and he’s about to show you how great a man can be.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Nanami’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m keeping the same tag list as Geto’s part. If you’d like to be removed, please let me know!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Daddy kink. Hair pulling. Oral sex. Fingering. Divider by @benkeibear!

Ever since you can remember, you’ve had a crippling fear of men. Your father died when you were so small, you have no memories of him. You have no brothers, no uncles you’ve ever met, and you don’t even remember playing with any boy cousins as a child. Throughout your education, you only went to all girl schools. Otherwise, you’ve avoided going out in public as much as possible.

As a child, your older sister told you scary stories about men being brutish monsters who only wanted to hurt girls. Looking back, you understand now that she was only teasing you. But those stories combined with the fact that you’ve never even had a full conversation with a man before has left you with quite the phobia.

Even though you’ve watched movies and tv shows and seen men in that context, you’re still afraid of them. The fact that you find lots of fictional men attractive only confuses your emotions even more. You’ve spent years watching animated shows with men way too handsome to ever be real, developing crushes on them because they felt safe.

And your favorite, the one you’ve always been in love with despite him being made of ink and paper, is Prince Sebastian. In the cartoon, he’s a tall, muscular, blonde prince who is always a perfect gentleman to the women around him, always there to protect them from danger. Despite being an adult now, you still have a poster hanging on your bedroom wall featuring him.

Now, you find yourself standing in the welcome room of the Doll House, waiting to meet your trainer. How did it come to this? Just yesterday you were cooped up in your room, playing video games. Then this morning, your aunt who raised you and your sister stormed into your room and announced that she was selling you to the Doll House. You thought she was joking at first. What she was saying was unthinkable! She was rich! She didn’t need the money! Sure, she’s been complaining a lot lately about you staying in your room all day, but you didn’t think she was this angry!

You screamed, you cried, you made quite the scene. But then she told you that if you refused to sign the contract, she was kicking you out of her house and completely cutting you off. So you could live in a nice house with a rich man, or you could live under a bridge. To you, both options were terrifying. But one was slightly worse.

If you live under a bridge, how would you watch your favorite shows or play your games? And who knows how many unsavory men would approach you? Dealing with one man would be much better. Or so you’ve been telling yourself since you got here. But… now that you’re here, and there’s a strange man on his way to get you and do unspeakable things to you… you can’t do it!

You make a run for it, even though you’ve already signed the contract and met the owner, even though your aunt dropped you off and told you not to come back, you run out of the welcome room and into the front lobby, toward the exit. But just before you reach the door, you hear footsteps and voices behind you. One of them sounds like the owner, calling out your name. You’re so startled that you trip and crash to the floor, pulling off a perfectly humiliating face plant.

For a moment, you just lie there, feeling stunned and defeated, the adrenaline that fueled your brief escape attempt all gone. Tears sting your eyes as you begin to cry, hiccuping pathetically as your shoulders shake.

“Are you alright, miss?”

At the sound of a male voice, your body freezes up in terror. You turn your head to the side so you can look up. A man is squatting down beside you, holding out his hand.

“Let me help you up,” he says in a soft voice.

You blink away your tears as you stare at his face, and you realize something that momentarily shocks the fear right out of you. He looks exactly like Prince Sebastian! That blonde hair, those kind eyes, that muscular shape! It’s like the character just walked out of the tv! You never thought a real flesh and blood man could ever be as beautiful as Prince Sebastian, yet here he was!

Still stunned, you take his offered hand and allow him to gently pull you up. It’s the first time you remember actually touching a man.

He hands you a white handkerchief, spotlessly clean, and you use it to wipe your eyes. “Thanks,” you mumble, reaching the handkerchief back to him.

“My name is Nanami Kento. I’m your trainer,” he says, and you can’t help staring at him. He’s your trainer? Prince Sebastian? Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. But no, you can’t let your guard down! He might be ridiculously handsome, but he’s still a man!

You introduce yourself in a small, quivering voice. He nods and then calls over the lady working behind the front counter. “Can you take her to my room, please? And make sure she has whatever she needs.”

The lady smiles and nods, then heads back toward the welcome room. “Follow me. We’ll grab your suitcase on the way!”

Numbly, you follow after her.

************************

Nanami waits until his new doll has left the room, then turns to the owner. “When you said she has a fear of men, I didn’t realize it was this bad,” he says, sighing. “So what’s going on? You normally don’t accept dolls who were clearly forced or coerced into signing the contract. She obviously doesn’t want to be a doll.”

The owner gives a sigh of her own. “Her aunt came and spoke to me yesterday. Apparently she threatened to throw the girl out if she didn’t sign.”

“Coercion,” Nanami says. “Despicable. So why did you accept?”

The owner looks him in the eye. “The aunt said that if I didn’t take the girl, they were going to sell her on the direct market. You know how things work there. It would be like tossing that girl into a lion’s den blindfolded and with her hands tied behind her back.” The owner pauses and sighs again. “I thought that if she’s trained by someone like you, at least it would be like tossing her in there with a sword and a shield. At least she’d have a fighting chance.”

She has a point. The whole situation leavrs a bad taste in Nanami’s mouth though. “So why is she afraid of men? Any past trauma I should be aware of?”

“None,” the owner says. “She’s just never been around men in her whole life. No male relatives. Went to all girl schools.”

“Hmm.”

“And Nanami,” the owner adds, her voice dropping a bit lower, “I know you’re not going to like this, but you’ll have to deflower her. Ordinarily I’d keep her a virgin and charge a premium for her, but in this case I think sending her out so unprepared would be exceedingly cruel.”

He looks toward the door the poor doll had disappeared through. “Only if she agrees to it.”

The owner nods. “Of course. Oh, and stay sharp. There’s something off about this whole thing. Her aunt is wealthy, and she even took half what I would usually offer. She seemed really determined to have the girl trained here. There might be something else going on.”

Nanami looks at the owner. “A punishment perhaps?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. But the contract was signed so we’ll see where this goes.”

*********************

Inside your trainer’s room, you find the place impeccably neat and orderly. There’s a large bookshelf filled with difficult-looking tomes, though you do spot a few fantasy novels you’ve read yourself. The bed is so smoothly made that you wonder if he even sleeps in it. The dresser has several bottles of expensive-looking cologne, and a peek in the closet reveals a wardrobe of stylish, fancy clothes in brands even you, who grew up in a wealthy family, haven’t heard of. They’re probably brands that focus on menswear, something you would be clueless about.

The lady from the front desk sits your suitcase on the floor beside the closet and smiles at you. “You hit the jackpot, miss. Nanami is an excellent trainer.”

“He is?” you ask, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

The lady laughs. “Let’s just say that if I had to pick one of the trainers to be mine, I’d pick him in a heartbeat. He’s respectful and kind, and not to mention handsome. The dolls he trains are always sad to leave!”

That made you feel a little better, and you were grateful to her for trying to put you at ease. “Thanks for telling me,” you say. “That’s really good to know.”

She smiles and nods and leaves the room, and it only takes a few moments for your anxiety to return. Your trainer will be coming in here any minute. He’ll probably make you strip! He’ll make you touch him! He’ll touch you! Even if he’s gorgeous, you can’t handle that!

You hurry over to the lone window in his room. It overlooks the back parking lot. You push the window up, opening it, and lean out to look down. The Doll House’s structure is elevated a several feet off the ground, but it’s still only one story. The drop doesn’t look too bad. You sling one leg out over the ledge, leaving you straddling the window. Just then, the door opens, and your trainer walks in.

It only takes him a moment to assess the situation and realize what you’re doing. He rushes toward you, and in a panic you try to jump out, but your other foot catches on the window sill. You fall at a strange angle, reflexively reaching out with one hand to grab the ledge, screaming as you do. Your trainer is quick to action, lunging forward and grabbing your arm.

Nanami pulls you back in through the window, and the two of you fall to the carpeted floor, you on top of him. Did he purposely turn so that his body would shield you from the fall? His strong arms are wrapped around you, holding you firmly but gently. You look up at him, and he seems upset. You let out a squeak of terror and scurry away from him, backing into the wall, still sitting on the floor.

He stands up and dusts himself off. Oh no! Did his fancy clothes get dirty? Is he mad now? He looks at you with a strange expression. Something between exasperation and concern. “Before you hurt yourself trying to escape,” he begins, walking over to a polished shelf and pouring what looks like water into a glass, “why don’t we talk?” He steps over and hands you the glass. You take it, then sip the water.

“Okay,” you say, feeling stupid now as you tuck your knees under yourself.

“Let’s go over a few things,” he says. “First of all, I’m not going to hurt you. If there’s any pain involved in what we do, it will be thoroughly discussed and agreed upon beforehand. I’ll respect your boundaries. I won’t do anything that you don’t consent to.”

That doesn’t sound so bad. You start to relax just a little.

“That being said, the more training you receive while you’re here, the easier things will be for you when you’re purchased,” he says. “I’m not here to make you miserable. I’m here to prepare you for the next ten years. It would be to your benefit to experience as many things as possible here, with me, in an environment where your wishes are respected, before you end up with an owner who might not be so patient.”

You know what he’s saying. “You mean, I should have s-sex with you.”

He nods. “That would be my recommendation, yes. But I won’t force you to do anything. It has to be your decision, and you don’t have to decide right away. For now, why don’t we start with something simple, like letting me help you up?”

He extends his hand to you, for the second time today. Earlier, you were so stunned by his resemblance to Prince Sebastian that you took his hand easily. Now, you hesitate, staring at him for a moment before reaching up and letting his large, warm hand envelope yours. He pulls you to your feet, and you end up standing so close you can see his face more clearly than ever. Ahhh, he really is incredibly handsome!

“Now, is there anything else you’d like to try?”

You blink. “Right now?”

“If you want. Or we can wait until you’ve had more time to adjust.”

You think for a while. His muscular frame looks so inviting. You’re not sure how much you can handle, but you want to try.

“Would a hug be okay?”

He seems a little surprised, but he smiles softly at you. “Sure,” he says, before slowly putting his arms around you and pulling you into his embrace. It actually feels really nice! And he smells so good! For a brief time, you almost want him to make love to you right then and there. Your brain is filled with thoughts of him picking you up and carrying you to his bed, of him taking charge, pulling off your clothes, having his way with you. The thoughts leave you blushing, and you pull away.

“That wasn’t so bad,” you tell him as he gestures for you to sit in a plush chair beside a table.

“When the training begins, there will be some rules,” he says, sitting down in a matching chair on the other side of the table. “You are to refer to me as ‘Daddy’ at all times. If you misbehave, I’ll punish you. But, as I said, that’s something we can discuss and ease you into.”

You feel your heart pounding rapidly. Calling him Daddy? Punishment? It sounds terrifying, but also strangely hot. You’ve watched porn before, so you know a little about daddy kinks. You’ve always been kinda turned on when the man calls the woman “good girl”. You just never imagined, in your wildest dreams or nightmares, that you would end up in a situation like that. When you watched porn, it always felt distant, like something happening in another world. You’ve even masturbated to it, still never once imagining yourself in those positions. Men in “real life” were far too scary.

“I’m going to leave the ball in your court,” he says. “You can tell me when you’re ready to officially start the training. Until then, I’ll keep a respectable distance and let you get accustomed to being here.”

His words are very reassuring. You can feel your anxiety beginning to melt away. Maybe, just maybe, you can get over your fear with a gentleman like him.

That night, Nanami sleeps on a borrowed futon on the floor, giving you the bed. You feel terrible about that, but also relieved. While a small part of you was excited by the prospect of sharing a bed with him, a much bigger part was scared out of your mind to be in such close proximity to a man all night long.

For three days, nothing really happens between you and your trainer. You do feel slightly more comfortable with him, sharing a room and a bathroom will do that, but aside from a couple more hugs and some accidental brushing of elbows, he hasn’t touched you. Deep down, you’re a little disappointed by that.

You accompany him to the dining hall for meals, and you’ve met the other trainers. Most of them stay away from you, even as Nanami introduces them. You figure he’s informed them of your phobia. Just one of them occasionally comes a little closer than you’re comfortable with: the one named Gojo. He’s friendly and not at all threatening, but he’s still a man. So when he stops by the table you’re sitting at with Nanami, you can’t help sliding away from him a little, which results in you sliding closer to your trainer.

On your fourth day at the Doll House, you come to a decision. It’s time to face your fears and begin the training!

You wait until after dinner to tell Nanami. He’s standing at his dresser, loosening his tie in a way that makes you extremely weak. He occasionally makes polite conversation with you, but oftentimes he simply reads for a while before showering and going to sleep on the futon. Tonight, you approach him at the dresser.

“Um, I think I’m ready to start now,” you say, your voice a bit shaky despite your best efforts to stay calm.

He turns and looks at you. “Are you certain?”

You nod. “As certain as I’ll ever be.”

“Alright, then we need to discuss a few things.”

You feel yourself droop. You’ve hyped yourself up for some wild sexy times, but now you have to talk first? You really hope this conversation doesn’t get too awkward.

“First of all, you should choose a safe word. Are you familiar with that term?” he asks.

You are, or rather you’ve heard it used in porn or the smutty stories you read online, but you’re too embarrassed to admit that. “Not really,” you say.

“You choose a word or short phrase that wouldn’t normally be used in the bedroom, and whenever you say it, I’ll stop whatever I’m doing. If you’re genuinely afraid or something hurts or just makes you uncomfortable, say the safe word. We’ll stop immediately and only resume once you’re comfortable again.”

“Okay. How about… snowcone?” you ask.

“Snowcone? That’s fine. Don’t forget it,” he says.

“I won’t.”

“Now, part of my training involves light punishment for bad behavior. Mostly spankings, hair pulling, and things of that nature. Nothing that’s going to seriously hurt. Is that something you can handle?”

You suspected as much, but hearing him say it out loud, in that smooth voice of his, makes you feel dizzy. The thought of being spanked by this man as he calls you a bad girl turns you on way more than you expected. It also scares you. A man! Touching you! But you beat back down the panic that’s threatening to undermine your decision and nod. “I think so. I want to try at least.”

He walks over to his bed and sits down. His legs are spread apart as he undoes the first few buttons of his shirt and then runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, leaving it a little bit messy with a few strands hanging over one eye. He gives you a look that nearly makes you buckle, and says, “Come over here and show daddy what a good girl you can be.”

Your jaw nearly drops, your breath gets caught in your throat, and your only response is to say, “I’ll be right back!” and flee to the bathroom.

Slamming the door shut behind you, you grab a fluffy towel from a shelf and press it to your face, using it to muffle a scream. Is it a scream of terror? Of excitement? Even you don’t know. You pant for a few moments, trying to pull yourself together.

He’s hot! He’s soooo hot!

But he’s a man!

He looks just like Prince Sebastian!

But he’s a man!

After several more deep breaths, you feel the panic subsiding. You can do this! You step out of the bathroom as if you’d simply powdered your nose and walk back over to Nanami. “Sorry, I just needed a moment,” you say, hoping he didn’t hear your garbled scream.

He gives you a small, amused smile. He definitely heard it! But he only says, “That’s fine. Take your time.”

Ahhh! He’s such a gentleman! You want him to do unspeakable things to you!

“C-can we start over?”

“Of course. I believe I told you to show me what a good girl you can be,” he said.

“Okay,” you say, feeling even more awkward than usual standing there in front of him. “How should I do that?”

He gives you another one of those sultry looks. “You can start by coming closer and getting on your knees.”

Oh shit. He wants you to suck him off! Can you do it? You’ve seen it done in porn countless times. Yes, you can do it! And after you’re done, maybe he’ll pat your head and call you a good girl! Ahhh! Just imagining it has your heart pounding!

You take the few steps needed to be directly in front of him, so close he could hug you if he wanted to. Then you get on your knees, right between his thighs. You glance up at him, unsure of what you should do next. Do you open his pants? Wait for him to do it? This is a daddy kink scenario, so maybe you can just mimic what you’ve seen and read online. You look up at him with wide eyes. “What do you want me to do, Daddy?”

There’s a flicker of surprise on his face, but then he leans back slightly on his hands and says, “I’ll let you decide. What do you think would make Daddy happiest right now?”

You hesitate for just a moment more, then reach up and unbuckle his belt. Your hands are trembling as you unbutton and unzip his pants. This is it! You’re going to see and touch a real man’s cock! You see his boxers when you open his pants, black and classy. With your heart hammering wildly in your chest, you grip the waistband and pull it down, under a dick that seems way bigger than it should be. But what would you know?

With one hand, you lightly wrap your fingers around the hard, hot organ. Feeling unsure, you gently move your hand up and down the length. It’s too dry! Isn’t it supposed to be slippery? Wait… maybe that’s why women in porn often lick or drool on it. You glance up at his face, and there’s no change in his expression. Should you just spit on it? But that doesn’t seem like a very “good girl” thing to do.

“Can I lick it, Daddy?”

“If you want to,” he answers.

Slowly, you lean forward and touch your tongue to the tip. You thought it would taste bad, but really there’s no taste at all. The only thing you detect is the pleasant scent of bodywash. Of course someone like him would keep himself immaculately clean. You move your tongue all around the tip, licking it the way you would a popsicle, then you move your tongue down the shaft, toward the base, trying to get it as wet as possible. You hear him exhale a breath, and your eyes dart up to his face. He looks like he’s enjoying this!

You feel his hand in your hair, and then all at once he’s got most of it gathered in his grip, holding it firmly. It doesn’t hurt, but it does make you feel like he’s completely in control of this situation, and that in itself makes you wet.

“Take it in your mouth,” he says, his grip on your hair getting just a little tighter.

Eager to please him, you do as you’re told, letting him fill your mouth with his cock. It’s a scary feeling at first, as you adjust to breathing only through your nose and occasionally gagging around him when he slips a little too far down your throat. But somehow his hand pulling your hair is comforting. You realize you like being led.

He pushes your head up and down his length, slowly at first, gently. It’s more like he’s guiding you than forcing you. Gradually he ups the pace, going a bit deeper into your throat, which automatically constricts around him. By now your lips are covered in drool and the sticky fluid leaking from his tip, making them glide along the shaft easily.

After several minutes, you hear his voice again. “I’m going to cum,” he says, a very slight strain to his tone. “Don’t spill a drop.”

Before you can do anything to react to his words, his grip on your hair tightens as he pushes your head down, his cock going halfway down your throat. You feel the warm cum shooting out, sliding directly down to your stomach. You swallowed it all without even getting the chance to taste it.

After he pulls out of your mouth, he gives you a few moments to catch your breath, then his hand releases your hair and rubs your head. “Good girl,” he says, and you think you might just faint.

The hand rubbing your head slides down your neck, your shoulder, and then grips your wrist. He pulls you to your feet, and then into his lap. You’re sitting on one of his muscular thighs as he deftly tucks his dick back into his pants with one hand. His other hand is holding you in place, the arm wrapped around you from behind.

“Are you alright?” he asks, a kind look in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, surprised by how true that is.

“Then, since you’re being so good for Daddy, why don’t I reward you?” he says, his free hand slipping under your skirt, between your legs.

Your body jerks in surprise, and if he wasn’t holding you firmly in place, you probably would have tumbled out of his lap. His eyes are on your face, watching carefully, as his hand slowly slides down, inside the front of your panties. He’s taking his time, giving you ample opportunity to use the safe word. But you don’t, because despite the fear you’re currently feeling, you don’t want him to stop.

His fingers softly rub your most private place, gently parting the slick flesh, one finger quickly finding your clit. You gasp and clutch his arm, the sensations nearly overwhelming you.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, his voice close to your ear.

You nod your head, murmuring, “Mmhm.”

His fingers traces circles around your sensitive nub, then strokes it, making you release little mewling cries.

“Tell me how it feels,” he says, almost in a whisper. “Use your words.”

“It feels… so good, Daddy! S-so so good! Nothing has ever felt so good!”

You suddenly wrap both arms around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder. The pleasure is too intense! He’s way too good at this! His fingers never stop, even as you quiver in his grip, even when you cry out “Daddy!” as you cum, your whole body shaking.

While you’re still trembling through your orgasm, with his hand still in your panties, he says, “There’s another rule you need to be aware of. In my training, you have to earn pleasure by being a good girl. You’re not allowed to pleasure yourself. Do you understand?”

You nod against his shoulder, feeling too dazed to speak.

The hand that was holding you in place moves up to grip your hair and pull your head back so he can see your face. It’s not a harsh action, but a firm one. “Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Daddy,” you say, and he releases your hair, then smoothes it down gently.

“That’s my good girl.”

**********************

Nanami sits in a chair in his room, thumbing through a book he bought recently and sipping wine. His doll is fast asleep in his bed, exhausted from the intense training session.

He had made sure she was okay, physically and emotionally, before drawing a hot bath for her in his private bathroom and then later helping her into bed. They will be sharing the bed now that the training has begun, and she seemed okay with that before she fell asleep.

Nanami is actually quite surprised by her. He had guessed it would be at least a week before she would be willing to try any sort of training, but here she is on the fourth day, practically swallowing his cock. She’s facing her fears, and that’s admirable.

Though her escape attempts and nervous, terrified energy are exasperating, he also has to admit that he finds her amusing. Earlier, when she ran to the bathroom to scream, it was all he could do to hold back his laughter when she returned and acted as if nothing happened. She was definitely a strange one.

He closes the book and stands up to stretch. His mind is already full of plans for tomorrow, for the various training exercises he can try with her. He doesn’t want to push her too far and make her fear of men worse, but he also wants to make sure she’s fully prepared for her life as a doll. He’ll do all he can to help her, that much is certain.

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx

#nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #kento Nanami #Jjk x reader #x reader #jjk smut

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dark-frosted-heart · 9 months ago

Text

He Doesn't Know That I Turned into an Animal - Roger Barel (Part 1)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. None of my translations are proofread until a day after posting

(Mm…I should get up and get ready)

It’s been a while since I had a free day. It was such a nice day, perfect for going out.

…And then I felt something squirming about on my butt.

(Huh? There’s something weird about my body…)

Feeling uneasy, I got out of bed and the moment I looked in the mirror, any morning drowsiness left disappeared.

Kate: Arf…arf?! (Wha…What the?!)

In the mirror was an adorable golden-brown corgi with round eyes.

What I felt moving on my butt earlier was a short corgi tail.

(I’m a dog?! What do I do…Am I dreaming?!)

(I need to get help…!)

(I’m out in the hall now, but who do I go to…?)

Liam: Huh? It’s an adorable little doggie! What’s it doing here?

Harrison: Did someone bring it here…?

Kate: Woof! Woofwoof! (Liam! Harrison!)

Glad to see the two, I rushed over to them.

Liam: Wow, it’s so friendly and cute. I wonder if it’s lost?

Harrison: It’s a corgi, right? Roger’s “Ale”* is also a corgi.

Liam: …Then I wonder if this pup’s Roger’s corgi? Let’s ask. Are you Roger’s?

Liam crouched down to meet my gaze.

Kate: Arf…arf! (No…I’m Kate!)

Liam: Hm. Sorry, I don’t understand, I don’t speak dog.

Harrison: …Then why’d you even ask?

(I’ve really turned into a dog…)

It’s not due to Alfons’ power or a dream…

(How did this happen…?)

Harrison: For now, let’s bring it to Roger.

Liam: Roger, you here~?

Roger: What, you get hurt again?

When Roger turned around and saw me in Liam’s arms…his eyes widened with surprise.

Roger: You…!

(Maybe Roger realizes that it’s me?!)

Roger: You’re soooooo cuuuuuute!

Roger smiled widely and began petting me everywhere.

Roger: Who’s a good dog? You are!

(So aggressive…!)

Roger: You’re so cute…Can I give you a kiss?

Kate: Grrrr (Ab-so-lute-ly not!!)

Roger: No? Then can I smell you?

(What kind of compromise is that?!)

In my confusion, Roger buried his face in the neck and took a big whiff.

Roger: Ahh…the smell of dogs…! The best medicine out there!

(I’ve never seen Roger like this before…)

Roger: Phew… So, who’s dog is this?

Liam: I thought the little one was yours. It’s not?

Roger: Nope, not ours. We don’t have a lot of dogs. So…Are you lost~? You poor thing~

With a smile…No, with a lovestruck look on his face, Roger started petting me again.

He was probably concerned about me being a lost dog…but petting was his priority.

(This is my first time seeing Roger be so affectionate with a dog, and it surprised me at first. But now…I don’t know…)

(It feels so good getting pet…)

Liam: Ah, the doggie’s wagging its tail! Looks like it likes Roger.

Roger: Oh…you like me? Haha, you’re so cute!

He suddenly lifted me out of Liam’s arms.

Maybe it’s because he’s so used to handling dogs, but the way he picked me up gave a sense of stability and security.

Roger: Hmm…

Kate: …?

Roger: You don’t have any, so you’re a girl.

Kate: Yip! (Don’t look!)

Roger: Oops, sorry.

(Even though I’m a dog, I can’t believe you looked at my butt…)

(It somehow feels like I lost something important…)

Roger: Don’t look so down. I won’t do it again.

Harrison: So, can you look after the dog, Roger? We got a mission.

Roger: With a dog this cute, I can take care of countless of them. Oh, that’s right. Have you seen the lil’ lady? I wanted her to help out with an experiment, but she wasn’t in the dining room at breakfast.

Harrison: Nope, haven’t seen her.

Liam: She has the day off so she’ls probably sleeping in?

Roger: Then I’ll let her sleep.

Kate: Arf arf! Arf arf! (I’m right here! Here!)

Roger: I know. We gotta find your owner today, don’t we?

(You didn’t understand me at all…!)

And so Roger went around asking everyone in Crown about the corgi.

But I’m not a lost dog, so there’s no owner to find…

Roger: If no one knows you, then you must’ve wandered in from outside.

Kate: Awoo…(It’s not that…)

Roger: I’ll find your owner so cheer up.

Roger patted my head as if to make me feel better.

(Ugh…I really can’t resist this feeling…!)

My short tail started wagging and Roger smiled at the sight.

Roger: You’re getting used to me now. Will you let me kiss you soon?

Kate: Grrr! (No!)

Roger: Not yet…Well, a girl’s kiss should be saved for a prince, shouldn’t it?

(I wonder if Roger’s being so romantic because he’s talking to a dog…)

Roger: Well, since you’re from outside, there’s someone I want you to meet. Be a good girl and wait for a moment?

Kate: Arf! (Got it!)

Roger: Oh, a nice response.

Roger petted me, attached a collar around my neck, tied a leash to the stair railing, and left.

A while later…

Roger: Sorry for the wait.

Kate: Arf! Arf…(Welcome back! Ro…ger…)

???: Arf! Aarf! (Who’re you? Never seen you before!)

When Roger came back, he brought a corgi with him.

The corgi circled me in excitement.

Kate: A-arf…?! (The dog’s talking…?!)

???: Arf? Arf! (What’re you talking about? You’re a dog too!)

(That’s right, since I’m a dog now, I understand dogs…)

Roger: This guy’s Ale, my family’s dog.

Ale: Arf! Woof?! (I’m Ale! What’s your name?)

Kate: …Arf (...I’m Kate)

Ale: Woof! (Nice to meet you!)

Roger: Ale’s got a habit of circling around any dog or person he meets for the first time. I brought him over from my folks’ place to have him check if you’re from around here… But it looks like it’s the first time you two are meeting. So…you’re not from around here. This is bad.

Roger scratched his head and sighed.

Roger: Nah, can’t give up now. Let’s go on a walk. Dogs know how to find their way home. Maybe you’ll remember on a walk.

Thinking I was a lost dog, Roger took me out on a dog walking route.

Of course, Ale was with us.

Roger: Anything ring a bell?

Kate: Awoo…(No…)

(I’m making trouble for Roger by looking for a nonexistent owner…)

(I need to work on making him understand that I’m Kate…!)

(And to do that…)

Roger: What’s up? If you’re running off like that, then…Do you know where your home is?

Kate: Arf! (Yes!)

As I ran down the road in this body of mine, Roger naturally followed after.

Ale: Woof woof! (I’m not gonna let you get away!)

And so, we arrived at—

Roger: …Crown castle?

(This is my home…so please realize that it’s me, Roger!)

Roger: The fact that we came back here…You really don’t know how to get home, do you?

(He still doesn’t get it…)

Ale: Woof woof! (I’m hungry after all that running!)

Roger: Can’t do anything else now… I’m sure you’re beat after today, so I’ll take you back to Crown.

Roger: Time to eat. You two, “stay”.

Roger left Ale and I in the dining room and headed to the kitchen.

(What will he prepare for us? Not human food, right?)

Ale: Woof woof! (Roger’s great at cooking!)

Ale sounded very proud when talking about Roger.

(Roger must’ve doted on him a lot while Ale was growing up…)

Ale: Woof? (You can’t eat until Roger gives you the ‘okay’, got it?) Arf! (That’s how you show respect to the cook!)

Kate: A-arf! (G-got it!)

Roger: Sorry for the wait. I made you two dinner.

(Roger’s cooking? T-this is…!)

He brought out plates of stewed meat and vegetables chopped into small pieces.

(It smells good...Looks delicious)

Ale: Awoo! (Come on, come on!)

Ale jumped around Roger’s feet as if he couldn’t wait any longer.

Roger: Haha, calm down Ale. I’m bringing you down to the infirmary first.

Roger: Sit, wait… Okay, go ahead!

At Roger’s signal, we started eating.

(I never thought this would be how I’d try Roger’s cooking…)

(It’s dog food, but it’s really food)

I was so mentally exhausted and the delicious food prepared with care filled my body.

Ale: Woof? Woof? (You haven’t finished your food. Need help?)

Having already finished his food, Ale nudged my plate with his nose.

Roger: Come on, Ale. You already ate.

Roger pulled Ale away, allowing me to finish my food in peace.

Kate: Arf (Thank you for the food)

Roger: You ate well. I’m glad you have an appetite. Now let’s clean this up and then…

Victor: Roger! Do you have a moment?

Victor came down to the infirmary and called out ot Roger with a serious look on his face.

Roger: Yeah. …You two be good and wait, okay?

After Roger and Victor left the basement, Ale started talking to me.

Ale: Woof woof! (Roger’s a great guy and a great cook!)

Kate: Arf (You’re right. I was surprised by how delicious it was)

Ale: Arf. Arf! (Right? Roger’s amazing!)

Ale sat proudly as if talking about himself.

Ale: Arf! Arf! (Oh! Let me tell you about the time I met Roger!)

~~ Flashback in Ale’s POV ~~

—It was when I was a small puppy.

Before meeting Roger, I lived with another man.

(I’m so hungry… It feels like I haven’t eaten in a while…)

Puppy: Awoo…(Hey, hey, is there food?)

I nudged at the man lying on the bed with my nose. But he didn’t move a muscle.

(Haven’t you been sleeping for the past few days? Why?)

(You’re cold. I guess I’ll warm you up!)

Avoiding the bottles of alcohol littered around the room, I jumped onto the bed and snuggled the man.

He usually got mad at me when I got on the bed with my dirty paws, but he didn’t say anything today.

(Hey, wake up already)

(If you’re so bored every day that you can only drink, then I’ll play with you)

How much time’s passed?

Just as I was about to pass out from starvation, someone pounded on the door.

Roger: It’s Roger! You there?! Don’t be so pessimistic about your life. I’m cursed like you—

—Anyway, let me explain in person! If you’re pretending you’re out, I’m kicking down your door!

After shouting, there was a crack and the door broke, allowing a man with glasses to come in.

Puppy: Arf arf! (Who’re you!)

I circled around the man with glasses.

It’s a habit I still have, circling new people and dogs as a precaution.

Roger: A dog…? You’re so thin. Where’s your owner…

The man with glasses looked up at the bed and gasped.

Puppy: Arf! Arf! (He’s been sleeping forever! Wake him up!)

Roger: Ah, damn it! I was too late… If I came sooner, I might’ve been able to stop him…

Puppy: … Awoo…? (Do you mean he might not wake up again…?)

Roger: Sorry I couldn’t save your owner…

~~ Flashback end ~~

Ale: Arf (And that’s how Roger and I met)

(It happened like that…)

Ale: Woof… (My previous owner stopped moving on his bed on the night of a thunderstorm) Arf! (I’m still scared of thunder so Roger covers my ears!)

Kate: Arf (That’s kind of him)

Ale: Arf? Woof! (Right? If you know Roger’s good points, then you’re a good guy!)

After that, Roger returned to the infirmary.

Roger: Oh? You two are getting along well already? That’s good.

(...Huh? Why do you look so down, Roger?)

(What did Victor say?)

Ale: Woof woof! (This girl’s a good one, so I want her to be your wife!)

Kate: Yip!? (What are you talking about, Ale!?)

Ale: Arf! Arf! (Wife! Wife!)

I frantically chased after Ale who was spouting nonsense.

Roger: Haha, are you playing tag? It’s nice to see you so full of energy.

(Right now I’m glad Roger doesn’t understand dog…)

Roger: For now… Let’s go take a bath.

*Roger’s dog’s name is written as エール, which I’m translating as “Ale”

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikevil jp #ikevil translations #roger barel #ikevil roger

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iiseult · 8 months ago

Text

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝓌𝑜: 𝒜𝓈 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒥𝑒𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓂

CWs → fluff, ANGST, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism, arranged marriage, descriptions of birth (not the reader), blood and mild gore (they don’t call it the dark ages for nothin!), one-sided pining

Wordcount: 5.1k

Note: Remember like three weeks ago when I lied to you all and said I’d have this out in a few days? I had to plan out a bit of the actual plot so that’s what took me so long. But I finally did it, so eat up! Also, I really do NOT know how medieval royal weddings worked but the shallow google searches I made weren’t good enough so let’s all hope this isn’t horribly inaccurate, though I’m sure it is. Do we care, chat?

Every day leading up to the wedding was a day that you saw red. Greeting your traitorous mother in the mornings made you see red, sharing a meal with your power-hungry father made you see red, and listening to the two of them prattle on about how you ought to behave once you were queen? That turned the world absolutely crimson. Each night, you crumpled up and clutched your skirts under the dinner table with shaking fists, creasing them with deep wrinkles that would take days to iron out, but all the while you continued to hold your head high, speaking only when spoken to just as you were taught as a girl. Your strained, thin-lipped smile was only let go of in the privacy of your own bedchambers, when it was replaced with a cold expression and even chillier disposition. Somehow, drifting apart from your family day by day wasn’t as painful as you had imagined it would be. It was easy, really, because there was nothing left for anyone to talk about. After all, your mother had always taught you that if you had nothing nice to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all. However, your sudden “demureness and obedience”, as they put it, did not go unnoticed.

Your parents were positively delighted with your recent change, or “improvement,” in attitude. Your lady mother congratulated you for finally agreeing to fulfill your societal role as a subservient wife and mother– an aspect of life of which you had previously been a bit resentful– and your father perpetually reminded you how beneficial this marriage would be to the rest of your bloodline. Even your younger brothers seemed excited for you, constantly coming up with new questions to pester you with regarding life as royalty. The only thing keeping you sane was the knowledge that soon you’d be living far, far away from your conniving parents, free to do whatever you wished. Whichever benefits a royal connection brought them would be nothing compared to your own guaranteed lavish lifestyle. You’d soon have your own castle, your own servants, and even your own soldiers! Oh, and the husband, too. You kept forgetting about that part.

In some ways, the fact that he was a leper was a great relief to you. That meant you’d most likely be spared many of the wifely duties you had so been dreading; mainly, consummating the marriage. At your age, only 14 years old yet, there was nothing that interested you about the male body, giving birth, or raising children. It was not so long ago that you had helped raise your own little brothers, and the idea of going through all of that again made you feel so trapped. Not to mention the fact that giving birth was extremely dangerous. And painful. And frightening. That thought caused a memory you had been repressing for years to resurface from the depths of your mind, like a buoy in the ocean. It was the tortured screams of your mother the night your youngest brother was born. Had you not known better, you might have thought she was being ripped in two, and the labor lasted for so many endless, terrible hours, which felt more like days. You remembered the midwives rushing around, and the maids leaving your mother’s room with armful after armful of blood-soaked sheets and sloshing buckets of burgundy water. As they passed the place where you were hugging your knees in the corridor, a drop fell at your feet and sunk slowly into the stone floor, leaving nothing but a small round stain.

Once it was time to leave your family home for the castle, you said goodbye to the view from your window, which you had become well-accustomed to. It was probably the thing you’d miss most, besides your brothers. You closed your bedroom door for the last time and meandered down the familiar, dimly-lit corridor, taking note of the particular stone which was still adorned by that tiny dot of brownish red. A shiver ran down your spine. You opted out of doing a final sweep to make sure you’d packed all of your belongings, because soon enough, you’d have better things to replace them with, anyway. The knights they’d sent for you had loaded your bags onto their horses about an hour ago and set off for your new home. Now, the only thing left to transport was you.

Another knight was waiting for you outside with a large white horse. He watched as you hugged your mother and father stiffly, pretending not to notice your mother’s tears as she kissed you on the forehead like she used to when you were younger. Before you were a lady. Before you were the queen of Jerusalem. Your father said nothing, but his somber expression and the distant look in his eyes and the loose grip he had on your hand as he kissed the top of it told you everything you needed to know. The knight helped you mount the horse and get comfortable sitting behind him, and you waved goodbye to your family as you were carried away, truly intending it to be for everything you had ever known. But whatever sadness you might have been feeling was overpowered by sheer determination. Now, at 14 years old, your life was finally beginning.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The knight who sat in front of you on the horse did not turn out to be a very good conversationalist. The only responses you could draw out of him were along the lines of “Yes, Your Majesty,” or “No, Your Majesty.” You were hoping for someone a bit more…engaging, perhaps, as you were feeling an odd mixture of excitement and anxiety that grew with each and every gallop towards Jerusalem. And anxiety always made you talkative.

“Is it fun at all, being a knight?” You shouted over the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves, breaking the long silence that you had been enduring since the beginning of the journey.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”

“You know, protecting the kingdom and such. Isn’t it exciting? I find the idea to be absolutely thrilling! Don’t you think so?”

He paused for a moment, and then replied flatly, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

You pursed your lips, waiting in silence for a few moments, expecting him to elaborate, but no such luck. Was it really so hard to share a gory battle tale or two to pass the time? You knew knights were known for having excellent integrity and virtuousness, meaning they would never say something that could potentially scare a lady, but couldn’t he humor you just this once, while you were alone? But maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it, you thought, imagining how burdensome it must be to know the feeling of cutting someone’s head off. So, you graciously changed the subject and mentally patted yourself on the back for being so kind and just. It simply wouldn’t do, as future queen of Jerusalem, to force sensitive information out of this poor, traumatized knight for your own fleeting amusement. Maybe a few months earlier and it would have been acceptable, but alas. You sighed.

“This noble steed of yours is breathtaking. Does he have a name?” you questioned, admiring the animal’s snow-white pelt, entranced by the way its powerful muscles rippled beneath it.

“I do not know, Majesty. This horse belongs to the king. It is the only one His Majesty trusts, so he instructed me to collect you using it.” Another memory flashed through your mind, this time of your first meeting with your future husband. He had been riding this very horse that day, its stunning color matching that of his robes. Your heart fluttered at the idea that he’d cared so deeply for your safety, although it shouldn’t have surprised you. It was not as if he had parents forcing him into this marriage. He was accepting you in holy matrimony for some other reason, a reason entirely of his own. His own choice. A blush crept up the back of your neck, and you were suddenly thankful for the fact that the knight was facing away from you. You cleared your throat nervously.

“Well, what’s it like, working for the king? Is he nice?”

You felt the knight’s huge sigh before you heard it, your arms that were wrapped around his midsection rising and falling in tandem with the breath.

“Yes, Your Majesty, the king is very…nice.”

“Is that all?” you muttered, rolling your eyes at his reservedness. You got the hint. You understood he didn’t want to talk, that much he had made very apparent, but that was just too damn bad. As queen of Jerusalem, you wanted to get to know your subjects, and who better to start with than the one sharing a horse with you?

“Will I have my own chambers, or shall I share with the king?” You asked, holding back a giggle at the expression you were imagining the knight had on his face.

“I am sure you will be provided with your own chambers, Your Majesty, but the choice of whether to use them or not will be entirely yours and your husband’s,” he replied, a hint of dry humor in his voice. You let out a loud laugh, which actually startled him a little, and then followed it up with another.

“I wonder if he snores!” you said, between giggles. The knight smiled, shaking his head. After that, the journey to Jerusalem was easy.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

The next time you laid eyes on the king was when you were getting married, standing opposite each other in an architectural marvel of a cathedral, both dressed in extravagant clothing and expensive jewelry. His silver mask had recently been polished, and it shone beautifully in the sun, but still not as beautifully as his blue eyes. They were as you remembered them, only a bit brighter. His gold-trimmed robes were as white as ever, freshly washed and perfumed for the occasion. Even the gloves on his hands looked new and clean. You admired them as the priest rambled on in front of you. If God was listening right now, you thought, he’d surely be bored to tears. There was one part of the day you had enjoyed, though, which was the preparation for the wedding. You had been doted on by countless maids all morning, lining your eyes with black powder and weaving your hair into an intricate, interlocking braid pattern. The gown was altered to fit you perfectly, and the large, bell-like sleeves fell around your arms like wings. You were finally beginning to feel like a real queen.

The ceremony seemed to drag on forever, but you passed the time by maintaining eye contact with King Baldwin. You drowned out the rest of the world and focused only on him. When you smiled, he smiled back. You could only see the corners of his eyes crinkling, but you knew what that meant. You cocked your head to the side, trying to imagine what his smile really looked like. During that evening you spent with him, you hadn’t gotten the chance to see it. Just as soon as he had taken off the mask, he had to put it back on. The consequences of your parents seeing Baldwin’s face would have been disastrous, but thankfully, their loud footsteps and jovial voices had carried quite well down the corridor, warning you of their arrival. Regardless of how short they were, those few seconds you’d spent admiring his bare face were enough to conjure up a half-formed image of what his smile might look like. However, that image disappeared when you saw him cock his head to the side, too, just as you had. You blinked twice.

He blinked twice, too.

Was he copying you on purpose?

You shifted your feet, and he mirrored you, his robes shimmering like the ocean as they fluttered around him. You bit back a giggle. He was. Flames of mischief danced in his eyes, and something else, too, ignited there when you grinned at him.

“…that these rings shall forever remained blessed, O Merciful Lord. Amen,” said the priest, approaching the king with a book, two rings laid on top of it. Suddenly, Baldwin became very serious, plucking one of the rings between his slender, gloved fingers and holding it gently. You stared as it glistened in the sunlight, which was penetrating the stained glass windows and casting colorful shadows around the altar. He slowly stepped towards you, making your heart begin to beat faster. His head stayed bowed as he presented you with his open palm. You held your breath and lifted your left hand, gingerly brushing your fingertips against his palm, now understanding what was about to happen. He effortlessly glided the ring onto your fourth finger, where it rested beautifully. The diamond glittered like water, mesmerizingly. Baldwin wrapped his fingers around your hand, now holding it as gently as he could, and the priest was now presenting you with a ring. You followed Baldwin’s lead, pushing it onto his fourth finger, which was waiting outstretched for you patiently. You stood mere inches apart, fingers of your left hands interwoven as the priest finished the prayers. The ring, as breathtaking as it was, was somehow still only secondary to the cerulean eyes of your now-husband, which were like two rich sapphires lined with delicate blonde hairs.

“…And may God bless, preserve, and keep you, that you may have life and love everlasting. I pronounce that you now be man and wife together, in the Name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

The cathedral filled with polite claps and murmurs of “amen” as Baldwin released your hand and you turned to face the pews. Next to you, much to your surprise, he quickly dropped to his knees, his body angled towards you, clasping your fair hand between his. You gazed down at him through your lashes, suddenly feeling your cheeks burn. Boldly, Baldwin drew one hand up to his masked face, grasping it by the nose and swiftly pulling it to the side so that it was hiding his face from the crowd, but revealing it to you. He lifted your hand to his pink lips and pressed a searing kiss to it, liberally letting the physical contact linger, all the while maintaining eye contact with you from under his furrowed brow. You covered your mouth with your other hand to try and hide the toothy grin spreading across your face. He saw it anyway. The next thing you knew, he was grinning, too. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laughed. He laughed. You realized that you no longer had to imagine what his smile looked like.

After the wedding ceremony, you were promptly bombarded by happy civilians wishing to congratulate you, or simply to catch a glimpse of their new queen, and Baldwin was whisked away by his mother, who seemed to be perpetually by his side. It seemed that she was not quite ready yet to surrender the role of Baldwin’s caretaker to you– but you had no gripes with that. You figured you’d grow into the role of loving, doting wife, as opposed to starting it right away, and unfortunately, the idea of changing his bandages each night before bed still made you shudder. In reality, his mother was not exactly thrilled about the marriage, either. She hadn’t found you or your family quite noble enough for her precious son. However, she was smart enough to see that it was unlikely that anyone else would ever volunteer their daughter to marry a leper, so she begrudgingly allowed the union.

From the crowd, two plainly dressed women had introduced themselves to you as Matilda and Amelia, claiming that they were to be your servants. They would apparently be with you at all times, tending to your every whim and aiding you during your ascent to the throne, as well as bathing you and dressing you. Matilda was an older, more severe woman who had immediately intimidated you; her lips were drawn together thinly and permanently pursed, creating deep wrinkles around her mouth, and the rest of her face was an intricate web of creases and lines. Her graying hair was pulled back tightly, exposing her thinning hairline and sun-spotted forehead. Even her hands looked harsh, the skin rough and dry, cracking in some places, like mud that had been baking under the summer sun for too long. Amelia was quite the opposite; a timid, pretty young thing with wide brown eyes, fair hair, and a delicate frame. She’d barely had the courage to tell you her name, and rushed into the curtsey to avoid having to make eye contact with you for too long. She seemed to be around the same age as you, if not even younger.

After the attendees from the wedding had mostly dispersed, Matilda brought you back inside the castle to finally see your bedchamber, which you were to have all to yourself. She and Amelia led you through winding corridors and beautiful flowering courtyards, pointing out all the most significant landmarks along the way, such as the great hall, the kitchen, the maid’s chambers, the library, the chapel, the towers, the gardens, and the hundreds of guest bedrooms with conjoined washrooms. The last thing she showed you before your own room was the king’s quarters, which were directly across from yours.

“Now, Amelia, go draw us a bath. There’s no need for two of us to be standing around here idly while the Queen inspect her chambers,” she ordered, and Amelia nodded, scurrying away to the washroom silently.

As Matilda threw open the giant oak doors of your room, you couldn’t help but gasp, suddenly rooted to the spot. It was glorious. Taking up the majority of the room was a massive bed with four handsome posts, all carved with intricate floral patterns and stained a deep brown. The mattress was topped with overly-stuffed burgundy throw pillows and a comforter to match. Connecting to the four posts was a frame, from which wine-colored velvet curtains hung to give you some privacy. The same fabric was used to shroud the windows, which were floor-length and leaded. At the foot of the bed lay a pile of bags and wrapped items– all of your belongings from home! On the wall across from them was a large dressing table, covered in jewels and precious metals and bottles of fine-smelling oils. A small, round stool with a cushion on it sat underneath. Your eyes sparkled with excitement, and you couldn’t help but abandon Matilda in the doorway, running and throwing yourself face-first onto the bed, just like you used to at home. You giggled and kicked your feet up into the air, unsurprisingly beginning to sink into the plush mattress. Immediately, you felt your body melt against the malleable, pillowy surface, deciding that you definitely approved of its fine quality. Your bed from back home simply couldn’t compare. However, your glee was short-lived, because it was abruptly interrupted by a stern voice.

“Your Majesty! You must cease this behavior at once and right yourself! That wedding gown is priceless, and you mustn’t risk causing it any damage!” Matilda scolded, pulling you up by the arm and frantically kneeling to check the delicate garment for any possible tears or imperfections. You winced and apologized quietly, suddenly feeling embarrassed at your juvenile behavior. She was right. As a matter of fact, most things in the palace were probably priceless, and it wouldn’t do to act so impulsively, to be so unladylike. Even you, in your youth, knew better than that. You crossed your arms over your chest, beginning to feel rather insecure upon realizing just how much you had to learn about life as royalty.

“Come, child, it is time to undress. You must be bathed and prepared for your wedding night,” Matilda called, holding out a hand, her voice much more soft and gentle this time.

You gulped, not wanting to think about that, preferring to cross that bridge when you got to it. She bustled over to the magnificent dressing table, pulling out the stool for you to sit on. You obliged, seating yourself in front of her and watching in the mirror as her spindly fingers deftly unwound your intricate braids. It was relaxing, the feeling of her experienced hands nimbly dancing around your scalp, so you let the buildup of tension from the day slowly seep out of your muscles, loosening up more and more every second that passed. Soon, she was finished, and helped you to your feet, ordering you to keep your arms out straight as she undressed you. She pulled out pins from here and there, untied laces all around, and in a matter of minutes you were ready for your bath.

The water was warm and steaming as you stepped in, your skin breaking out into goosebumps at the feeling. Rose petals floated across the surface of the water, giving the entire washroom a fresh scent. As you expected, Amelia was waiting for you silently, brush in hand, ready to scrub you vigorously from head to toe. You braced yourself, expecting the rough bristles to be painful, but once she began working attentively, it wasn’t so bad at all. Yes, they were scratchy, but that’s exactly what you needed to get rid of all the dirt and dead skin. She lathered you in delicate smelling soap and added some more fragrant oils to the water, letting you soak until your skin had absorbed all the moisture it possibly could. Not a single inch of you was neglected by the time the water had grown cold, at which point you got out and were dried with a fluffy white towel.

Next, you were ushered back into your chambers and changed into a pretty blue gown made of satin, which apparently “complimented the color of the kings’ eyes perfectly,” according to Matilda. You felt your gut twist at the mention of him, at the prospect of being alone in a room with him and that piercing gaze again. Now that you were man and wife, everything was different. You had a duty to fulfill, and it seemed to be unavoidable, despite how young and vulnerable you were. Despite how averse to it you might be. Your mother had told you all about it, about how it would only last a few minutes if you were lucky, and that you just had to breathe deeply and count the seconds until it was over. How it happened to every woman at some point in her life, and that what follows would be completely and utterly worth every second of endurance. How rewarding it was to raise a child, or two children, or as many as your womb could bear. But no matter how much you tried to reassure yourself, you were still scared. You didn’t want that yet. You were only 14.

But before attending to your marital duties, first, there was dinner. You were seated at the complete opposite end of the table as Baldwin, as far as physically possible away from him, despite the fact that he was the only person there you had ever spoken to. You were too far away to be able to tell if he was even looking at you from under his mask. Next to him was his mother, who proceeded to shoot you sideways glances the entire night. The rest of the table was filled with noble men and women whom you did not recognize, their titles unfamiliar to you and the lands they hailed from even more obscure. You picked at your food and tried to stay as silent as possible to avoid making a mockery of yourself on your first night as Queen of Jerusalem. Sooner than you had hoped, dinner had concluded, and you were taken aside by Matilda, who pulled you into an empty corridor as the guests began filtering out of the castle.

“Child, do you know what is expected of you on your wedding night?” She asked, her voice low so that nobody except the two of you could hear the subject matter at hand. You took a deep breath and straightened you back in an attempt to appear more mature, before replying,

“Yes, I will lie down and be still and hope that I am blessed with a child.”

The woman smiled at you and clasped your shoulder, seemingly approving of your answer.

“Exactly right, my dear. The king will call on you when he is ready, so you may go back to your room and occupy your time with an activity of your choosing until you are collected.”

You nodded solemnly and thanked her before slowly making your way back to your room, trying to take as long as possible in an attempt to actually slow down time. Upon deeper reflection during this walk, you came to the conclusion that it was not being alone with the king that you were afraid of, but rather the act of consummating the marriage, which was, of course, something he had every right to do with you that night. It was the correct course of action. It was what all newlyweds did, no matter how young and afraid they were. Did he know what he was doing, you wondered, or was he just as oblivious as you? You couldn’t imagine the young king being oblivious about much of anything, in all honesty. He was far too intelligent– something you had seen for yourself over that game of chess.

Once you arrived at your room, Amelia was waiting at the door for you, an even more wide-eyed look on her face than usual. Uh oh, you thought to yourself.

“His Majesty the King has requested your presence in his chambers, Your Highness,” she said quietly, bowing her head as she spoke. How did he get here so fast? You thought to yourself, terror rising in your chest. Amelia watched in half fear and half amusement as you frantically wiped your clammy hands on the bodice of your dress and ran your fingers through your hair, which was cascading down your shoulders freely. She was young, too, and unwed, and the idea of a wedding night was something that made her stomach churn as well, so she offered you a sympathetic look and watched as you dragged your feet across the hall, knocking on the imposing oak doors of the king’s bedchambers.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Baldwin had never been so jittery in his life. As he sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for you to arrive, he fidgeted with his gloves, pulling them off by the fingers and then pulling them on again, over and over. All throughout dinner he had been gazing across the table at you, ignoring his mother’s neverending ranting as you stared down at your plate. Though you were only a blue blur with a vaguely maidenlike shape from where he was sitting, he was still completely enchanted, his heart beating in his throat every time you looked up in his general direction. He wondered if you could tell he was looking at you. Since the hour you were wed, he was able to think of nothing but you; your dazzling smile, your gorgeous hair, your playful sense of humor, the way the light in the cathedral illuminated your eyes. As the servants bathed him in strong-smelling medicinal herbs and wrapped the raw areas of skin with fresh bandages, he daydreamed about your voice, your laugh. And now, as he sat on the edge of his bed, awaiting your imminent arrival, he thought of practically everything except you.

He panicked about the state of his body, the pressure of consummating a marriage, the burden of fathering a child at such a young age. He panicked about the weight of ruling an entire kingdom all by himself, no longer able to entrust the brunt of the work to Raymond, and of being a suitable husband. He panicked about how many years he might even have left, if his illness continued to progress. But every worry, every fear, every doubt left his mind as soon as he heard you knock on his door.

He leapt to his feet, hastily pulling his left glove all the way back on and bounding over to the door, throwing it open wide with a grin on his face, to reveal… you, standing there, gaunt and sweating, looking like you had just suffered a bout of cholera. The smile on his face fell a bit, but it couldn’t be wiped completely clean. At least he could finally be with his bride, his love, his queen.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” you murmured, your head bowed, pointing down at your shoes, as well as the freshly polished ones directly across from you.

“Good evening, my Queen,” he breathed, heart beating quickly as you shuffled into his room. He closed the door behind you, letting it shut with a ‘click’ before following you over to the middle of the room, where you hovered like a ghost, still staring at the ground and clasping your hands tightly in front of you. A tense, silent moment passed, and still, you didn't move. Whatever was left of his smile faded from his unmasked face, and the panic from earlier began to return, crashing over him in icy waves. Why wouldn’t you look at him? He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from leg to leg.

“Are you feeling very well tonight, my lady?” He asked tentatively, shuffling a bit closer.

You sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly turned, stiltedly making your way over to the bed.

“Let’s just get this started then, shall we?” You said tersely, laying down on your back on the plush covers and screwing your eyes shut tightly.

“I am ready.”

King Baldwin stared at you blankly, frozen in the middle of the room, and completely panicking. No, no, no, this was all wrong, this was not how he wanted it to go…he absolutely did not want to force you into it, to do anything you didn’t also want…and you clearly didn't want it. You were lying there, as stiff as a board. This was the final straw for him.

He wasn’t ready for it yet either, he decided. He would just have to lie to his mother. When she discovered that the queen was, in fact, not pregnant, he would blame it on his own body, claiming to be infertile. It was probably true, at any rate. He took a deep breath, feeling shame and embarrassment at not being able to consummate his own marriage rise to his cheeks, and spoke three words,

“You may go,”

And those were the last three words he spoke to you for the next three years.

Note: I'll give you a kiss if you can count how many times I reference you being the "Queen of Jerusalem" in this chapter.

#baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv #king baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv one shot #baldwin of jerusalem #highnoonsunlight #baldwin iv fic #slow burn #one sided pining #wedding night

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honeyed-hedonist · 10 months ago

Text

SFW:

Rarely cooks for himself because he’s always on the go, but when he does find the time to whip up a meal, it’s always the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

Dry sense of humor, but will crack a smile (and sometimes even a laugh) despite himself at your puns/jokes/general silliness

Stubborn as all hell. Will fight tooth and nail with you over the dumbest shit just because he’s so obstinate.

Speaking of stubborn, good luck getting this man to admit he was wrong. You could draft a whole essay in MLA format with a PowerPoint presentation on why, in fact, he’s completely wrong and he’ll still look you dead in your eyes and say “That proves nothing. I’m right.” Sir, no you are not, let me count the ways.

Don’t let that deter you though! He apologizes for his stubbornness in other ways--whether it’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers or bringing you coffee in the morning, he’s a man of action, not words.

Stoic and standoffish when you first meet him. It takes him a little while to soften, and there’s a big part of him that wants to cave, to break down those walls and open himself back up, but he fights it every time. Despite that, he craves softness and warmth, so when you come along to give it to him in droves, it’s a losing battle for him to keep you at arm’s length

Once those walls are down it’s like night and day. He’s handsy, can’t keep them to himself. He’s always gotta be touching you in some capacity if only to remind himself that you’re real and he needs to cherish every moment he gets with you because he knows better than most how quickly things can change.

Will always make time for you. Doesn’t matter the time of day or night, doesn’t matter what he’s doing, you call and he’s on his way.

Uses all sorts of pet names on you in English and Spanish. Mi cielo (my heaven/sky), mi alma (my soul), chula (cutie), reinita (little queen), mi amor (my love), babe/baby, angel, sweetheart, sunshine, and bunny to name a few. If it’s sweet and makes you fluster, he’s all for it.

Speaks Spanglish a lot, especially when he’s mad. Will switch between both so fast you can hardly keep up, and he’ll stop mid-rant and give you a sheepish smile, shrugging his shoulders. “My mouth has a mind of its own, bonita. Lo siento.”

Calls you often when the two of you are apart. Can’t end his night without hearing your voice. No matter where he is, you can guarantee your phone will ring right before you fall asleep every single night. He always says he’s just calling you to say goodnight, but then the pair of you end up talking for hours. Not that you mind, the lack of sleep is worth it.

NSFW under the cut 18+ NO MINORS.

NSFW:

Oscillates between a hard and soft dom depending on the day he’s had or the mood he’s in, but regardless of that, he’s always the top.

Eats for his pleasure. When his face is buried between your thighs, it’s not about you, it’s about him and he’ll eat until he’s satisfied, regardless of how desperately you try to shove him off. “Nuh uh, mami, m’not finished yet. Lay back and take it, huh? Be a good girl and let me have my fill. Tastes too damn good.”

Grunts and growls most of the time, but when he’s feeling softer that man 100% whimpers.

A vocal lover--he likes to taunt and tease you, overwhelms you with praise, forces you to answer his questions even in the midst of your fuzzy-headed bliss. “Speak up, princesa. I asked you if you can feel me deep up in that belly. Yeah? There we go. That’s my girl.”

His favorite positions to fuck you in tend to alternate, but he’s a big fan of doggy with his hand around your throat while you’re on your knees with your back to his chest, mainly because it allows him to sink his teeth into your neck and speak absolute filth in your ear. Missionary or a full blown mating press and prone bone are others he enjoys. Also likes to pound into you from below when you ride him--again, this man is all about control so even when you think you have the upper hand, you don’t.

Big on marking you--with his fangs or otherwise. When you ask him to bite you for the first time he goes absolutely feral, fucks you so hard you can’t walk right or sit down for a week, your chest, neck, and back littered with bruises, bite marks, and a prominent puncture wound at the hollow of your throat.

Stamina for days. My guy could spend hours on end fucking you into the mattress and he does every single time. There are no quickies with Miguel--when he makes time for you, he makes time. Will clear out an entire day and dedicate it solely to taking you apart and piecing you back together just so he can do it all over again. “One more round, baby. C’mon, need it. You’re not gonna deprive me, are you? Nah--you know better. Open up for me, chula, just like that.”

Big breeder balls. (Sorry, I don’t make the rules.) My boy will stuff you so fucking full. Practically cums buckets and loves to watch it ooze out of your abused little hole when he’s finished pumping several loads inside you. “Lookit that, huh? Ese pequeño coño está lleno, ¿no?” (That little cunt is stuffed full, isn’t it?)

To be continued…..

#miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #sipderman 2099 #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #smut writing #spiderverse imagine

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pretending-ican-write · 10 months ago

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Cowboy Up - Pt.11

A/N: Hey guys just letting you know what the situation in terms of updates going forwards. I am making no guarantees as to updates from now until June because I am at the end of my final year of uni and gonna be v busy with assignments. This won't be going anywhere though and I will have plenty time in the summer to work on it.

As always feel free to send in any requests for this pairing, I likely won't get round to them for a few months but know that I see them and I love you all for engaging with this story which is now nearly 15,000 words! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

Previous part - Next part

---

Once all the morning jobs had been seen to, everyone had congregated in the corral for some fun roping the dummy on the back of the quad. They’d invited hands from a neighbouring ranch for a bit of friendly competition, although it stopped being friendly the moment bets had started flying. Most of the hands were betting on themselves, obviously confident in their own abilities, but a few from the Yellowstone had put money on y/n who had partnered with the other ranch’s female hand, despite the shouts of ‘traitor’ coming from her co-workers. The only response she’d dignified them with was a middle finger and a guarantee to wipe the floor with them all. Ryan and Lloyd had just had their turn when she lined up to take their shot.

Y/n exchanged a look with the other hand, getting a determined nod in return before she looked at Ethan on the quad and gave him the signal. The quad didn’t go as fast as a steer so the horses could comfortably lope after it as opposed to going flat out like they normally would. Their horses followed it easily and she held steady as the other hand swung her rope over the horns quickly off the mark. Once the horns were done, y/n took her turn swinging the loose rope over head before aiming it at the back legs and hitting her mark. As soon as the loop had tightened, she shifted her weight in the saddle back to which Comanche responded instantly by sliding to a halt in the sand.

Cheers came up from the onlookers at their speed, Rip turning to rib those who’d just gone, “y’all just got beat by some women.”

Lloyd turned to Ryan, “you rope like shit.”

“You’re the one that missed!” He defended

Rip rode up to them, “y’all rope like shit. I’m gonna take those women with me today and y’all can just go fucking pack it in.”

Y/n loped down the arena to stop in front of them, “you should really learn to never bet against me. Jake and Colby made smart choices, I expect my share of your winnings boys!”

“Ladies think you can go two for two?” Rip asked to which they both nodded, “get your ass in there let’s go.”

They watched as the girls reset and ran behind the quad to catch the plastic steer again with practised ease. Lloyd rolled his eyes at the ever present fond look Ryan had in his eyes whenever he watched his girlfriend. At this point everyone in the bunkhouse had figured out they were together, it was just a matter of time until Rip worked it out and he did not envy Ryan when that happened. The foreman’s approval likely meant more to her than any of her family’s did (except maybe what Lee had given her with his gentle teasing in the trailer). Next to him said foreman was looking at the girl with a similarly affectionate smile.

“You’re a soft touch when it comes to her aren’t you,” Lloyd said to him.

He kept his eyes trained ahead, “I don’t know what you’re suggestin’ Lloyd.”

“Bulllshit. I know you put this together today so her mind wasn’t stuck on her mom all day,” he pointed out.

Rip chuckled, “don’t act like you ain’t the softest on her.”

-/-/-

For the first time in a while, y/n had denied joining the hands in the bunkhouse and instead chose to have dinner in the main house. Part of her had hoped that her family might be able to have one normal dinner on the anniversary of their mother’s death but she should have remembered that the Dutton’s were never capable of normal, especially when it came to the dinner table. When she’d reached the house, the living room was full of men in suits surrounding Beth and her father, clearly some political play that she’d made clear not to involve her in. Jamie was sulking on the porch listening to the chatter so she decided to ignore him, in no mood to deal with her older brother acting like a child.

Instead she sought out Gator for dinner, which he was happy to accommodate considering she’d brushed off pancakes that morning, before having a shower and settling on the opposite side of the porch to Jamie where the talking didn’t reach her ears. As she listened to the noises of the mountains surrounding her and the comforting whickers from the horses, she indulged in the only alcohol she ever did. One beer, on the evening of the anniversary of her mother’s death. Evelyn’s favourite beer. It wasn’t even something she particularly liked the taste of but it made her feel a little bit connected to her mom as she imagined all the gossip they might have been exchanging if the horse never crushed her. Y/n refused to believe John would have done what he did to Kayce if their mom had been around to talk sense into him.

“I thought you didn’t drink sweetheart,” a familiar voice came out of the darkness to interrupt her ‘what ifs’.

Y/n opened her eyes to see her boyfriend in front of her, “just the one for mom each year. Ain’t even that good but it's hers.”

She watched as he came across the grass in front of the porch to lean on the railing in front of her. Ryan tipped his hat at her teasingly which made y/n giggle.

“What’s got you so close to the house cowboy? Aren’t they missing you in poker,” she joked.

He stuck his tongue out at her, “you ain’t much better at it than me sweetheart. Something told me I shouldn’t let you be alone tonight.”

“The house is full of fools tryna get into bed with my father and Jamie’s out here somewhere sulking like a child!” Y/n said the last bit louder in hopes that her brother would get the message and go inside.

Ryan laughed at her lack of subtlety, “Jamie can stay out here for all I care. If everyone in the house is busy suckin’ dick I doubt they’ll notice us sneaking up to your room.”

“Ry are you suggesting I sneak my boyfriend up to my bedroom like a teenager,” she giggled.

He smirked, “well you did say you never got to sneak around when you were a teenager it seemed only fair that I give you the chance to do it now. We’ll both be at the barn in the morning before anyone here is even considering waking up. You know you want to say yes sweetheart.”

“You make a convincing argument. Come on then cowboy.”

Ryan climbed over the porch railing to take the hand y/n was offering before letting her lead him into the house. He made a joke about it being the first time he’d be going through the front door which prompted his girlfriend to elbow him in the ribs. When they entered, she closed the door as quietly as the wood would allow before gesturing for Ryan to take his boots off. Jamie must have heard his sister because he’d moved his sulking to the kitchen where he was sat at the counter burning a hole into his laptop screen. Y/n turned, putting her finger to her lips, before darting past the kitchen entryway and to the stairs. Both of them made it up to her bedroom, making sure the door was shut before bursting into laughter. Y/n felt lighter than she had all day, the weight of the day finally off her shoulders.

She swiped the hat off of his head, putting it on her damp hair with a smirk. Ryan watched her carefully as she moved around the room to put her boots away. When she turned back around he was still by the door, leant against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes trained on his hat still on her head.

“You know what you’re doing there sweetheart?” He asked.

Y/n shrugged, “you askin’ if I know the cowboy hat rule, Ry?”

“Do you?” He pushed off the wall to stand in front of her and placed his hands on her hips gently.

She slid her hands up to rest on his shoulders, “I been around buckle bunnies since I was 15 Ry, course I know the cowboy hat rule.”

-/-/-

The next morning, y/n was awoken to the loud noise of her alarm blaring from her bedside table. When she tried to turn it off she found herself too far away to reach her phone. Pulling herself further into consciousness, y/n became aware of an arm around her waist and the feeling of Ryan’s lips against her shoulder.

“That’s so fuckin’ loud,” he complained.

She laughed as he let her go to turn the alarm off, “how else do you expect me to wake up before the sun rises?”

“Can’t remember the last time I used an alarm, normally just get woken up by the others getting up,” he explained.

They stayed wrapped up in the warmth of the bed for a few minutes before forcing themselves out of the comfort to get ready for work. Ryan watched as his girlfriend got dressed before putting her hat on his head, not his this time, and followed her down the stairs. Y/n slipped into the kitchen to get two apples, brushing off Gator’s questioning as to why she was taking more than one. After grabbing her jacket from the peg, they walked down the drive to the barn in comfortable silence.

Y/n stopped part way there when she saw the cattle trucks and her dad stood outside, “shit he should still be asleep.”

“Don’t stress I’ll go round the corral and go in the back to the bunkhouse,” Ryan reassured her, dropping a kiss to her cheek, “in a bit sweetheart.”

She watched him go with a smile before taking a breath and steeling herself to speak to John without caffeine.

“Fell asleep in a stall?” She greeted him outside the barn, noting the shavings stuck to the back of his jacket.

John looked over at his daughter, “what you doing down here so early? The hands won’t be out for a bit.”

“I’ll go get Comanche and ride up to meet these at the pasture,” Lucy tactfully ignored her dad’s question, “tell Rip to bring me coffee when they come up.”

Taglist: @child-of-of-the-sunshine @kendallroydefender @qardasngan @thecobraghost @little-diable

#yellowstone #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone tv #dutton ranch #ryan yellowstone x reader #ryan yellowstone #dutton!reader #ian bohen

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fazedlight · 5 months ago

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Plummet (Cat's perspective on Falling)

Cat had started so optimistic. Kiera, finally dressing as an adult? It was a promising development for her executive-assistant-slash-vigilante, one that suggested the kryptonian could possibly grow a backbone in the near future. Goodness knows Kiera desperately needed to come out of her shell.

Cat had ignored the… well, cattiness emanating from the blonde. A bit of cynicism would’ve been icing on the proverbial cake, had it not heralded something darker.

But when Siobhan marched proudly into Cat’s office, showing her the security footage of Supergirl letting a dangerous criminal go, Cat knew something more was going on. And this morning she used my personal elevator. Perhaps she’s truly lost her mind, Cat thought. “It could be another Bizarro,” Cat said to a disapproving Siobhan, “Put this under your hat until we figure out what’s going on.”

---

Kiera seemed to only get more haughty over time. “You’ve branded me in the media as a girl scout,” the kryptonian said bitterly. “Everyone knows real people have a dark side.”

Where is this coming from?, Cat thought. Psychotic break, brainwashing? Carter loved that old TV show with the star treks, and once spent an entire month talking about mirror universes. Was this an evil Kiera with an invisible goatee? “I fear that you're having some sort of mental breakdown,” Cat said, “Don't worry, it happens to the best of us-”

But Kiera snapped back. “You are the most arrogant, self-serving, mean-spirited person I know.” Tell me how you really feel, Cat thought to herself, but she had to admit that those words struck a little close.

But that hurt was very rapidly replaced by a more primal fear as the kryptonian approached her. “You want to see what powerful really looks like?” Kiera said, “Watch.”

---

They say your life flashes before your eyes. That’s not what Cat saw. Nor did she have a single coherent thought, other than Carter’s face and endless screaming.

Luckily for her, her assailant didn’t kill her. Cat collapsed inelegantly to the ground, turning back up in a panic as the scornful kryptonian stared down at her. “True power, Cat,” Kara scoffed, “Is in deciding who will live, and who will die.”

Somewhere in the back of Cat’s mind - a stray thought as she tried to calm her pounding heart - she understood. She has all this power, but she couldn’t save her planet. Kiera was just as frustrated at her own powerlessness; her history would be enough to cause anyone to have a psychotic break.

Unfortunately, it didn’t change what Cat had to do next.

---

“People are in danger,” she said to James and Winn, as she shared her plan for a televised broadcast on the kryptonian’s erratic and terrifying behavior, “The public needs to be warned.”

“Miss Grant,” James started, “Look, I am sure that Supergirl is going to be fine soon-”

“Can you guarantee me that the public is safe?”

James and Winn shifted guiltily. I know this isn’t her, Cat wanted to say, I know this isn’t who she is. But Cat couldn’t carry a death on her shoulders of someone who trusted Supergirl because of her words. And Cat suspected that Kara - if the girl ever recovered - couldn’t bear that guilt either.

But she hated every moment.

---

Is there any recovery from this?

Kiera had been a wreck at work that day, scurrying around the office with slumped shoulders and stressed eyes, avoiding Cat entirely. Cat supposed she was breathing easier now that Kiera was back to normal, but it still evoked the same question - What happens with Supergirl next?

As Cat walked into her office that evening - intent to pour herself a stiff drink - she was surprised to find a metal tube set on her desk, with a folded piece of paper propped up against it. “I’m sorry,” the letter read, in familiar loopy, feminine writing. “I wasn’t myself.”

Cat opened the tube, noting a strange green glow inside. Kryptonite, she realized, sighing internally at the thought of Kara entrusting her with this sort of protection. “I don’t want you to feel unsafe. If you want me to stop interacting with you, I will,” the letter read. Cat closed the tube, mulling again over her assistant’s state of mind. Sighing, she placed the tube in a drawer, pouring herself a drink as she had planned, before making her way to her balcony.

She shouldn’t have been surprised to see the super when she stepped out, but somehow she was. Kiera sat far from the door, quiet as she looked out onto the city lights. Cat knew the super must’ve heard her, but she didn’t face her - perhaps waiting for the sendoff she thought she deserved.

Cat stepped forward quietly, reaching the railing of the balcony. And that’s what gave Kiera the courage to speak. “I love this city,” she said solemnly.

Cat stood silently, listening to the kryptonian’s words - weighing the tender passion with the agonizing remorse. “What I did to you, Miss Grant-”

“Oh please,” Cat said, shrugging off. “I’ve base jumped Kilimanjaro, do you really think you scared me?”

Well, that was a lie, and they both knew it. “Okay, yes, you did scare me.”

“I scared the whole city,” Kara lamented.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Cat said. “But if anyone can win this city back, it’s you.”

Kara nodded gratefully, biting back unshed tears. “Can I just… stay here for a while?”

“Of course,” Cat said softly.

In the soft breeze and the quiet night, the two looked back over the city, and wondered what was to come.

----------------------------------------------------

I found it a really weird writing choice that Kara never apologized to Cat - or didn't seem to understand the fear she must've instilled in her, after throwing her off a building - so I tried to fix it here. (I have thoughts on Kara's relationship with kryptonite, but I will spare this post of that ramble.)

#supergirl #cat grant #mel writes ficlets

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minkkumaz · 2 years ago

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OUR WICKED LOVE

your history with love was a little evil, causing you to aid to your own broken heart. when you finally stray away from the dating scenes, popular boy myung jaehyun asks you out. however, you don't know if he's being truly sincere.

PAIRING myung jaehyun x fem!reader WC 3.1k TAGS fluff. angst. popular boy jaehyun. he needs better friends. reader has fear of heights. misunderstandings. OMI NOTE inspired by queen yena but i might've put shame on her name cuz idk if i like this or not. too tired to proofread, and too tired to care.

love had always been extremely evil. a forbidden force that always ended with you, a broken heart, and multiple wet tissues crumpled up in the trash. you weren’t perfect, but every boy you’ve ever loved taught you a valuable lesson. don’t let the next one fuck you over.

and while your list of lovers wasn’t long, you’d never let it define you; considering many in your grade were already stupid enough to waste their firsts. each boy that seemed to be the one that would sweep you off your feet, left you disappointed and still painfully single.

the never - ending yearning to feel something was simply ignored however, as you decided not to try as hard for your senior year. there wasn’t much of a point on wasting it away on someone you couldn’t guarantee the rest of your life with.

despite this, he made your heart skip a beat, maybe two. it was only last year that he had transferred, and many girls couldn’t keep their gazes off of him.

myung jaehyun, the captain of the sports team, was what could only be described as pretty boy eye candy. talented in multiple departments, and had crazy amounts of energy. most of it sounded too good to be true, but you still admired him a lot.

envisioning someone like him with somebody like you was a difficult task though. he wasn’t normally in the dating scene, so you gave up on the romantic idea.

school rolled around after a long summer. the trees bloomed fragrant flowers that sometimes fell onto the pavement, only to get ran over by passerbys. mornings like these you always got to school a little earlier than usual. first days always excited you.

when you finally arrived at the familiar building, there were big banners and booths for incoming freshman, making you smile. just a little years back you walked into the gates completely clueless. however now was not a time to reminisce, as you were too distracted to see where you were going.

you tripped over your feet, colliding with the person in front of you in the process. hands quickly flew to your side to stablize you so you wouldn’t fall. as you were back up, you quickly bowed and apologized, earning a chuckle from the victim you accidentally fell on.

“it’s okay, be more careful next time, alright?” he spoke in a voice that you remember distinctly, making you shoot your head up to be met with him.

“ah– myung jaehyun! i’m so sorry.” you felt embarrassed before he pat you on the back. “don’t worry about it. you’re y/n, right?” jaehyun questioned, squinting to analyze you a bit more. the sudden attention made you even more nervous than you already were.

“yes, i’m y/n. how did you– how did you know that exactly?” he read the confused expression on your face before cracking a smile.

“you dated that popular senior last year, didn’t you?”

“wow so everyone remembers me from that? he wasn’t my smartest decision.” you laughed, feeling anxiety bubble up in your stomach.

“maybe not, you dropped on the grade list after you guys went public. i only know that because my friend was dying to beat you all year.” he put his hands into his pocket, looking around to see if he could spot his friend.

“i’ll make my comeback this year, now that i’m in books and not his bedroom watching him play valorant.” you scoffed, feeling slightly more competitive.

“i’m sure my friend will be very happy to hear that then.” he joked a bit, “well um, i guess i’ll see you around, y/n.”

you nodded him off, waving a small goodbye before watching him go towards a sports booth. the interaction left you very confused and a little sheepish. your first interaction with the cute boy and you were falling into him.

the best thing to do was ignore it for now, and maybe avoid him for the rest of your life to prevent yourself from humiliation. putting your best foot forward (not the one you tripped over), you walked into the school to find your home room.

it wasn’t difficult, considering you knew the school like the back of your hand at that point. there were a few people that littered the desks, wearing identical uniforms as you did. you sat yourself down at an empty seat, fixing your skirt appropriately.

the atmosphere was quiet despite the loudness from outside, it was still quite early so the first bell wouldn’t ring for another hour. to busy yourself, you pulled a book from your backpack. the hardcover made a quiet noise as you placed it on the desk softly, flipping through the worn pages.

you were immersed in the story at hand, barely noticing how quickly time flew by and how crowded the classroom became. quiet laughter and desks moving around became background noise as your eyes scanned the pages. you wished you had taken note of where all this noise came from, before there was a tap on your shoulder.

“hey, y/n, can i ask you something?” it was jaehyun. he never spoke to you until this morning, and suddenly he was coming back for more? his friends laughed behind him in the background, trying to shut eachother up.

“of course.. what’s up?” you asked suspiciously.

“i was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out sometime? i know we met kind of rocky but you seem pretty cool.” he rolled back and forth on his heels, awaiting a response of some sort.

“oh– um, you want to go out? when were you thinking?” you asked shyly.

“next weekend? the fair is in town and i think it would be fun to take you and get to know you. if you’re down, you know. it’s sudden but a bunch of people from school are going so we could spend the day together.”

any form of words felt like they were suddenly stripped from your throat. you mind told you it was a bad idea, and that it was way too soon. but your heart was telling you yes.

“that sounds nice jaehyun. i’d love to go with you.” you smiled fondly in which he mirrored, handing out his phone for you to input your number. after punching it in, he walked back to the group of his friends to show them your name in his contact lists.

when the school day passed by, you got a moment to properly reflect on what had happened. the myung jaehyun thought your one minute interaction was interesting enough to willingly hang out with you. the same jaehyun that had girls dropping like flies and shoving miscellaneous gifts and letters in his face.

it felt like a prank, some twisted shit that only immature school boys would pull to mess with poor hearts. yet that wasn’t the reputation that jaehyun put out, so you didn’t give it another thought.

the two weeks came and went, but in between it felt like forever. counting down the days that you get to officially hang out with him. but in this time you got to know him more, so in the end, the wait didn’t even matter.

sometimes during class he’d pull his desk by yours and talk to you forever until the bell rang and he had to scurry back. he’d shoot you glances or funny faces everytime the teacher had their back turned, making you bite your lip to hold back a laugh.

jaehyun made sure to take care of you too, despite not knowing you for long. he had some sort of motherly instinct, asking if you had eaten or if you’ve been sleeping instead of studying all night. and afterwards, he’d use the excuse that he didn’t want you to die from starvation or lack of rest before he had the chance to hang out with you.

moments like those made you blush, swallowing back any doubt that he wasn’t sincere in wanting to be around you. his friends definitely made an impression that they thought you were lame, but he was different.

through all of this you started to like him, picking up on the small things that happened. how he would laugh too hard he had to grip onto your hand to keep himself from falling over; in which he’d forget to let go. or when he gave you big hugs whenever you helped him understand a stupid grammar question.

maybe you liked him a lot, just after you swore off relationships the school year. after all, your heart moved quicker than your brain.

these thoughts buried your head as you got ready to leave your house, using your phone camera to make any further adjustments to your appearance. you wore pretty jewelery that complimented the outfit you were wearing. overall, you felt confident that this night would go good. it was almost impossible for him to awkward.

it didn’t take long for a text notification to pop up on your screen, jaehyun telling you he was outside. after one final look you tied your shoes and left to his car parked in front of your house. your proximity grew closer and he waved at you from an open window.

“hey, y/n! you look good.” he unlocked the doors, allowing you in.

“thank you.. you look good too!” you complimented back trying to seem casual.

“i’m flattered, but that’s all you. i hope you’re excited.” he brushed it off, starting down the road.

“haha yeah um– i’ve never really been to a fair before so this is my first time.”

“oh shit really? we have to go on the ferris wheel the view is really nice from up there!” he suggests.

“ferris wheel? is now a good time to tell you that i’m deathly afraid of heights? last time i went on one i almost passed out!” the mere thought made you shiver.

“come on, what if i hold your hand or something? i won’t let you fall off i promise.” his offer made you blush.

“maybe i’ll think about it.” you mutter while sinking down into your seat.

the two of you maintained a steady conversation on the short car to the fair. fun lights crowded your vision the closer you got, blurring together to create one big mush of colors in the night. people walked around with popcorn, cotton candy, and numerous prizes.

the scents filled your nose as you got out of the car. jaeyhun walked alongside you, pointing out all of the best rides.

“only crazy people go on that ride, it’s totally insane! looks sketchy too.” he shook his head, “the more tame ones are the few roller coasters, gravity ride, and of course, the ferris wheel.”

“i still don’t know if i wanna go on that one! i promise i’ll try everything else.”

“once you get up there and see the skyline, it’ll be beautiful. trust me.”

“okay okay i’ll go, only if you’re right next to me.” you sigh.

“good! let’s go meet up with my friends first and see what their plan is, and we can go.” he leads you through the crowd, searching around for his group. it was difficult in such a busy environment, but he called out their names loudly once he spotted them. they waved the two of you over as you followed behind.

“jaehyun! hey!” his friends called him over.

“whats up guys? me and y/n just got here, we weren’t around for long.” jaehyun grinned, fixing his hair from the slight wind.

“y/n?”

you poked out from behind jaehyun and waved. the relationship between you and his friends wasn’t great yet, they didn’t seem to like you at all.

“jaehyun can we talk to you in private for a second? just us dudes you know..” one of them spoke quieter into his ear. “yeah, uh.. y/n you wait here, we’ll be back.” jaehyun knew what they were going to ask him, and he dreaded it.

once the group was out of your vision, one of them spoke up sounding agitated.

“dude when are you break her heart? the dare wasn’t supposed to go this far.”

“i know i’m– i’m going to do it i promise.” jaehyun muttered.

“you better. just ditch her on the ferris wheel or something so we can go hang out without her dragging onto you.”

“i can’t leave her on the ferris wheel, that’s fucked. she’s afraid of heights.” jaehyun tried to argue.

“that’s not our problem. she’s lame and we didn’t even want her around in the first place. it was supposed to be a joke.”

“exactly, just leave her.”

not every popular student could be exactly whole - hearted, and because of this jaehyun wasn’t sure he was with the right crowd. their words stung his heart, knowing he’d have to get rid of you eventually. he was too deep into this stupid friend group that he didn’t want to risk leaving it all.

initially, it was an innocent conversation of who would do the worst dare. but then you became an unknowing victim of their game. get the girls number, make her like you, then shatter her idea of love. it sounded less dramatic at first, but he was too deep into it once he finished the first two steps.

jaehyun didn’t want to hurt anybody, at first he thought that since he barely knew you, it’d be okay right?

wrong.

the more time he spent with you, the more he started to genuinely like you. he suppressed the idea of hurting you until it was too late. now he was running back to you with a huge smile on his face. underlying something much more disappointed.

“hey, sorry about that! let’s go on the ferris wheel, yeah?” jaehyun turned your body around swiftly, and leaded you with his hands on your shoulders. the line wasn’t very long, so surely it wouldn’t be awhile until you got up.

“i can do this, i can do this.” you attempted to hype yourself up as you neared closer to the front.

“it will be fine trust me! i’m just gonna throw away my trash real quick and i’ll run back in line, okay?” he was lying.

“hurry please! theres only a few people left and they’re not letting anyone leave the line.”

“i will!” he crouched under the chain holding together the lines and ran to his group of friends, taking a look back to make sure you weren’t paying attention to him.

jaehyun’s stomach tightened as he watched you enter by yourself, calling out his name frantically. his friends pat his back, laughing at your reaction.

“jaehyun!” your breath quickens as the operator closes the middle bar. “please sir, let me off my friend was supposed to go on with me!”

“sorry kid, we have to keep everything running.”

the wheel started going and you panicked, anxiety beginning to run through your veins. you kept calling out for jaehyun, but there was no point. you scooted yourself as far into the back of the seat and blinked back the hot stream of tears running down your face.

through your hazy vision you barely saw him in the crowd before you got too far up. he was with all of his friends as they watched you freak out in mid air.

feeling betrayed was an understatement. but you couldn’t focus on your anger when you were going to have a panic attack. the higher you got, the heavier you breathed. your hands felt sweaty as you gripped onto the bar that held you in.

maybe the skyline was as beautiful as he said it was, your eyes were wired closed, unable to tell.

you drowned out any other noise, focusing on the creaking of the metal bars as you circled around. once voices became a little more clear, and your feet hit the ground, you opened your eyes and watched the operator lift up your bar and let you out.

your legs felt shaky as you stepped to the side, settling yourself on a bench. jaehyun came running towards you, seeing your tear stained face and balled fists.

“y/n! holy shit i– i’m so sorry i didn’t want to–”

“what the fuck is this, jaehyun? you force me to face my biggest fear just to ditch me for your friends?” you choked out, wiping your face with your sleeve.

“it was a dare, y/n.” “what?”

“i was dared to ask you out.” he admit, staring at the floor.

“so this was just one sick joke? you talked to me for two weeks straight then planned to blow me off the first time we hung out?” your face burned up.

“at first it was but–”

“i should’ve known better. i’m never falling in love ever again.” you cursed, getting up to leave him before he grabs your wrist and yanks you towards him.

“wait y/n!”

“what the hell?!” you yell trying to break away from him, “this isn’t funny jaehyun let me go–”

you couldn’t even process what was happening before his lips were on yours. the kiss enveloped you with a warmth much greater than the one burning in your heart. in that moment you felt your stomach dropping, yet feeling too guilty to indulge in it.

when he pulls away, you stare at him with shock and fresh tears welling in your eyes.

“why would you do that jaehyun.. you already hurt me.” you cry, attempting to get away from him while he held you still.

“because i don’t care about the stupid dare anymore. through all of that bullshit i started to like you a little more than i thought i would. so please, don’t run away.” he confessed, “you can hate me all you want, y/n. i deserve it. just know that there was a point where i stopped pretending.”

“what about your friends i thought–”

“i don’t care about my friends at this point, y/n. they weren’t good influences on me anyways. introduce me to your friends for all i care, i want something real. something like you.”

“you’re not just saying that, right?” you hesitated before he kissed you again, this time you kissed him back.

“do you believe me now?”

“maybe a little bit, but you still hurt my feelings jaehyun!” you pout, relaxing yourself in his grip.

“and i’ll work forever to forgive you. let me take you on an official date, yeah?” he let go of you, letting his hands trail to yours.

“you’re lucky you make my heart melt, myung jaehyun.”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

#⋆｡˚ my works #myung jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x reader #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor angst #boynextdoor jaehyun #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor fanfic #myung jaehyun angst #myung jaehyun fluff #boynextdoor au #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #boynextdoor drabbles #boynextdoor myung jaehyun

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redbleedingrose · 1 year ago

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I believe that the second Rhys finds out that you are very ticklish, he will at random times of the day just start tickling you.

I’m very sensitive, emotionally and physically, so the second that someone touches a ticklish part of me, I’m reacting so quickly. Hands and legs are being used to defend myself from being tickled.

PLEASE!!! This male is a fucking MENACE!

Rhysand would find out by pure accident. Let's start with the fact that the High Lord of Night has his hands on you at all times.

All times.

I think part of it is that he feels extremely reassured by your presence. Rhys puts on a really good front of being in control, but on the inside, he is stressed. He is scared. He wants to be better. He wants to be the best high lord for his people. Not just the fae of valeris, but the fae of his court... including the fae in Hewn City and Illyria. He wants to be more of a high lord than his father was, and he just struggles in figuring it out.

But when you are with him??? His mate?? His high lady??? He feels in control, on the outside and on the inside. He knows that you are with him, that you are there for him, that you will support him on ideas that sound good, and that you aren't afraid to tell him (in private ofc) when you think he needs to make adjustments to his plans. You are his girl. His wife. You are his partner. He knows that no matter what, you will have his back.

And that?? You???

It gives him everything he needs to be the best high lord he can be.

So yes, he likes to have his hands on you. On the small of your back, resting on the plush of your thigh, pressing at your nails and knuckles with the pads of his fingers, stroking at your palm and the back of your hand, gripping at your hips or waist, fingers running along your spine and up to the back of your neck. It reminds him that you are there. Right by his side. A demanding female who is just as clingy as him, who basks in the raspy praises whispered into your ear, who glows at the peppered kisses smattered on your cheeks. He adores it. He adores you.

Anyway, he is attuned to every part of you, so when he feels the slight shiver you get, the gasp and squeal that has you squirming away when his nails trace the veins on the inner part of your wrist... a kind of thrill runs through him. Cuz now he knows.

His pretty, dreamy, angelic mate is ticklish.

And now???? Now, he is gonna abuse this knowledge to the MAX.

Any time he is bored now, you can guarantee that male is gonna go on the prowl to find you so that he can jump you. If Rhys is bored, you can count on the fact that you will be tossed, either onto the couch or your bed, and pounce on top of you to press his tattooed fingers into your sides. You can't help your reactions of kicking and squirming and cackling.

Any time Rhys needs a pick-me-up, he will scrap his nails along your knee. When your knee jerks in reaction, his entire hand covers your knee cap to prevent it from banging into the top table. And he shines like a burning star, teeth shone with the apples of his cheeks rounding out, when you give him the dirtiest looks of betrayal.

If you are ever grumpy with him, glaring at him with suspicion over the top edge of your book with your legs stretched out and ankles crossed because especially he took his tickling this morning a little too far, resulting in the Illyrian baby gets smacked (lightly of course), the male will give you the biggest puppy dog eyes, the violet hues swimming with a mixture of mischief, hilarity, and pleading, with the cutest of pouts of his pretty lips, pawing at your calves to get you to forgive him.

It takes a little bit of begging on his part, maybe even a good orgasm, to get you to allow him to touch you again. You don't hide your skepticism, though, sneaking furtive glances at the high lord who merely stares back with the illusion of complete innocence.

The scandalized look you send him when he tickles your heels has him rolling on your bed with belly-deep, delighted laughter.

Reader being suspicious of Rhys:

Rhys being the picture of innocence with his honeyed smile:

#rhysand x reader #rhysand headcanons #rhys x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #acotar fanfics #acotar headcanons

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mrsnancywheeler · 1 year ago

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i’m actually giggling and kicking my feet rn

Finnick and his sweet girl are at the beach together, just relaxing in the warm sands of District 4. we all know Finnick LOVES to plat readers hair, so of course, that is what he is doing. he is plating a strand of his sweet girls hair, one of the front pieces if that makes any sense. Reader is just fiddling with some shells as he finishes up that small little braid, but he had to add a finishing touch.

One of the sea shells he found for you.

it is one of the ones that’s kinda swirly and pointy if that makes sense (i’m so sorry it’s actually 1am rn). he somehow finds a way to make it fit perfectly at the end of the small braid without it falling off and it looks absolutely ethereal on her😭

all he can do is just stare at his sweet girl in awe and with a massive grin as he’s now found his favourite hairstyle on her.

every. single. morning. he would ask to do that hairstyle, because she just looked so perfect. it was bonus that he also got to sit real close to his sweet sweet girl and let his fingers work his magic in her hair. he’s so proud of himself every time <3

(i’m also convinced that platting/braiding her hair is the only thing Finnick doesn’t teach reader. he will happily teach her knots, but hairstyling? no. that’s his job. it’s his job so he can sit so close to her for a long time and do one of the many things he is good at. so he can stare at his gorgeous girl and appreciate her beauty to the fullest- thanking the stars that he was blessed with an angel who shines brighter than all of the stars combined in the universe <3)

goodnight yall im actually a bit too in love with him for my own good😭

stop this is adorable, I'm so obsessed, and so deeply in love with him 💕💕💕

finnick is someone who always needs his hands occupied and so being able to do plait his sweet girls hair just makes him so giddy. the first time he's able to, it's a guarantee he will never stop. he's got such precise, nimble fingers that it barely feels like he's there at all except how relaxing it is. when he's got that shell in, he's convinced she's actually some beautiful sea goddess he's been blessed with, she's so radiant to him.

he's peppering her face with kisses and would spend all day on the beach getting each strand of hair if allowed. which is so tempting with how sweet and eager he is. and yes literally every morning-

reader is getting all ready for the day and about to leave the bedroom and finnick's looking at her confused from the bed

"what's wrong finn?"

"can I do your hair, angel?" he's got those big puppy dog eyes and she lets him which instantly has him grinning. he gets to see every small detail of her as he goes and be so close, it's like heaven to him. so it just becomes a daily routine.

"you know, if you like it that much I don't mind learning, love, I'll be able to do it so you don't have to-"

"no," he's so quick and defensive about it because he just loves it so much. it feels so intimate and blissful to him. "I do it because I love too, sweet girl, I want to."

"so you're seriously not going to teach me?"

he's kissing her on the nose, "just need you to sit there and be my pretty girl, which you need no lessons on."

I'm so in love with finnick odair y'all, he's so sweet and warm and literally perfect 💋💋💋

#wanda 💋#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #the lakes #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #the river #anon

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fandomtherapy44 · 6 months ago

Text

Sober Buddies Ch.1 Help lines and cults

Summary: Y/n is new at college and trying to find a footing in everything. When she meets a guy who introduces her to something that could really help find her path.

warnings : Swearing

WC/ 2.3k

AN/ Hey Ya'll welcome to my serious I'm so excited to make this series. So it will use some plot lines from season six but a lot will change including CJ but his key character notes will still be there. Without further ado enjoy Sober buddies.

I got the divider from

Firefly Graphics

College, was an escape from my life at home, something I had always wanted. And in Boston: my dream since I was a freshman in high school. At Worthington, I had worked so hard to get here, and I finally did. It's about two weeks away from the start of school and today I get to check out my dorm that I’m sharing with two other girls- which should be fun, hopefully. I walked into the room where three beds were barely fitting together. I put my things on the middle bed when the door bursts open. “Uh, who the hell are you?” I turn and a pretty blond girl is standing there.

“Um, I'm Y/N, your roommate, nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand and she looks down at it like it was covered in shit. “Okay, I'm just going to assume that you're a germaphobe.”

“Don't mind her, she's Audrey, and I'm Joey.” This girl, a brunette, actually shakes my hand. “Y/N, I'm so happy this worked out!” Audrey looks confused. “Well, she needed a place and thought, why not us?” Joey explained to Audrey, who looked like you had killed her dog in front of her.

“I promise I won't be annoying. I will even let you have the first shower of the morning Audrey.” I tried to appeal to her queen bee side.

“Fine you can stay, but don’t touch my clothes, okay?”

I raise my right hand in the air as if swearing an oath. “I promise and cross my heart and all that.” Hopefully these girls and I can become friends and Audrey won't kill me in my sleep for accidentally grabbing her dress.

It had been a couple of weeks- and it was now one week before school started. Audrey and I hadn't really been besties, but Joey and I had a pretty great rapport going on. I was looking at my classes and trying to get a handle on what I should be studying, when Audrey came bursting in. “Omg oh my gosh, do you know where Joey is?”

I looked around. Clearly not, I thought. “I don't know Audrey, I think studying at the library, maybe.” Audrey sits down on her bed with a huff.

“Why is she studying? School doesn't even start for another week,” Audrey sighs. I knew that Joey’s English class was stressing her out.

“Um, probably for her English class, I heard it's super hard.”

“Right, little Miss Perfect does the super hard class and will probably get all A’s.” I could tell by the tone of her voice that this was mostly a projection of whatever had happened that she needed to talk to Joey about.

“You know, Audrey, you could always talk to me. I can guarantee you that I've faced a similar problem.” She gives me a dirty side eye but gives in.

“I guess since you're the only one here.”

“Great, I love being the last choice.” I set down my books and sit down on the ground criss-cross applesauce style. She rolls her eyes at me.

“Shush my problems, remember.”

“Yes, I do,” I reply.

“Well, I was at the bar with my boyfriend. His name is Pacey.” I nod my head trying to keep up. “And we were playing pool when this gothic hot chick came walking up- and this is the woman that he wants to live with!” Audrey threw her arms up in a dramatic flare.

“I'm confused, Audrey. Number one: what do you mean by living with her and two: why would that be a problem?” She looks shocked by my answer.

“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’? She's hot, he wants to move, and she has space in her apartment.”

“Okay, but I'm still confused as to why it would be bad to move to a better place.” At my response, I notice Audrey is becoming more impatient.

“Because Duh! Y/N, she's hot!”

It seems like this girl has a whole lot of issues- but I'm not one to talk on that. “Look, Audrey, do you trust Pacey?” She doesn't even hesitate.

“Yes but-”

“There's your answer.”

“But-”

“But, you trust your boyfriend, and that’s what matters, even if the girl is a supermodel. If he's as good as you make him sound, then he won't even look in her direction.” Audrey takes that in.

“I guess you're right, you know, you're not half bad L/N.” She gives me a little respectful nod.

“Same to you, Lindell.”

School was happening tomorrow, and I had thankfully gotten all things done. Now, I had more time to get to know Jen and her grandma, who were really sweet so far. They are sitting at a table and I go to them. “Hey Jen, Evelyn.” I greeted as I sat.

“Oh please sweetheart, call me Grams, everyone does.” She smiles at me warmly.

“Okay great! If it's okay with you, what are we talking about?” Jen has no problem catching me up.

“Well, Y/N, Grams here has only picked up a math book because of a certain someone who teaches it.”

“Aww, I think that's cute.” Jen did not agree with me.

“l think it's a slippery slope. l mean, one minute you're taking an interest, and the next...you're sublimating your own thoughts and desires, and for what? For a chance to participate in the great patriarchal heterosexist fraud…”

“...that is better known as monogamy?” I answer in her pause. She gives me a quick look.

“ls that how you wanna spend your golden years? Folding some man's laundry and pretending to share an interest? l mean, haven't we come further as a sex--?” She stops and looks behind me. And she stares for a second.

“Hi. I'm sorry, are we bothering you?” Jen asked the stranger behind me. I got curious enough and turned to see one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. “Because if it's not too much trouble, you could get your own conversation.”

“No. Sorry.” He apologized but I had a feeling he wasn't done yet. “I've been sitting there trying to figure out where l met you before… and suddenly I realized I've never met you before.” I chuckle at that.

“Great. Well, I'm really glad that we got that figured out,” Jen states, blandly.

“I've heard you on the radio.” I knew he wasn't done.

“Jen, you were on the radio? I never knew!” I exclaimed while hitting her arm in excitement.

“Ow! And you didn't know because it's not important. And you.” She turned back to the guy. “Okay, you got me. I'm busted. l was on the radio. But I'm not anymore, so thank you very much for listening, and bye-bye.” She tried to end the conversation.

“So, did you get fired, or what?” The man continued.

“What is this, an interview?” Jen looks annoyed.

“I'm just curious.”

“Well, let's just say that l had some artistic differences with the new management.” Well, that sucks she had to give that up because of a dick in a suit, I thought. “Fine. Then we'll just say that,” Jen concludes.

“Fine.” The man replies. Then Grams comes in for the clutch.

“Excuse me, young man. Would you care to join us?”

Grams had gone, I assume, to talk to the particular professor teaching math. While the guy had joined us.

“I'm CJ.”

“Y/N, and this radio host is Jen.” She rolls her eyes and I nudge her.

“It's nice to meet you two.”

“You too, CJ.” We had gotten on the subject of where we were living, and Jen mentioned that she is currently living with her grandma.

“No, l think it's nice.”

“Yeah, that's what everybody says. ‘Oh, you live with your grandma. That's so sweet,’. How do they know l don't beat her and leave her tied to the radiator all winter?”

“Ah, so that's the screaming I hear when I come over.” I added in. CJ laughed at my joke.

“ls this a cry for help?” CJ asked Jen.

“Do l look like l need help?”

“No. Actually, you look like someone who'd probably be good at giving it.” Jen hears that and immediately gets up and begins leaving, practically running for the hills.

“This has happened to me before. This religion thing is not really–” She is already halfway down the stairs.

“Ha, just one Second CJ,” I say. He gives me a friendly smile.

“Sure.” I went after her.

“Jen, wait- we should hear him out.”

“Y/N, he was totally giving weird vibes. Are you coming?” I looked back and I felt something.

“I think I'll stay.”

“Well, call me if you need help out of the cult and remember nine for Joey’s surprise.”

“Gotcha.” With that, she leaves. I turn back to CJ trying to think of some good reason.

“Hey, uh, so she had to leave for a class.” We sat back down.

“No she didn't, class doesn't start till tomorrow.” I give a small smile.

“You're right, sorry.”

“It's okay I know everyone isn't for the whole ‘helping thing,’ but you're still here.” I looked around and he was right, I was, which was weird for me too.

“I guess I am- uh, you said something about helping people?” I question.

“Right- um… no matter how I say this I'm going to sound like a dork. Have you ever heard of The Stand?” He looks at me like he expects me to run away.

“No, no, I never have. I just moved here from Cali so I don't know a lot of stuff here. What's The Stand?” CJ gets this look of confidence.

“It’s a peer counseling program.” I think about it.

“So I help people.”

“Yes yes exactly! There's an information session tonight at seven.” He hands me a pamphlet on it.

“I'll be there and maybe I can convince Jen that this is not a cult,” He says, with a small chuckle.

“That would be great! I can't wait to see you there.” He pats my shoulder in a friendly way and he leaves. I felt a sensation of butterflies rising up from my stomach, but I quickly grabbed a fly swatter and squished them.

I had walked over to Jen’s house. “Hey, was escaping the cult hard?” I sat down on the couch laughing at her joke.

“Very funny Jen, actually he was talking about the stand. Have you heard about that?” She gives me a comical look.

“Yes, it's a call line where people call to complain about who's dating who and if the professor is going to give them an A or not.”

“I thought it was a little more serious than that,” I replied. “Well, whatever it is, I'm going to go to the information session tonight. You should come; if CJ was right about anything, it is that you would be good with helping people.” She sighs and glances down.

“Ok fine I'll go. We can pick up Joey’s gift after. And are you sure that you're not doing this just because CJ is ungodly hot?”

“No, I mean it helps, but he's not the reason I'm going to go.” I wish there was something like this when I was going through… no, I'm not going to think about that. I'm here to move on from that.

Jen and I went into the building and it was covered in inspiring posters and quotes. “On the nose much?” Jen commented, scanning the room.

“I like it, let's get a good seat.” Which wouldn't be hard. There were tons of spots; I guess the word didn't get out. The speaker started and I was trying hard to listen, but Jen- not so much.

“So as l was saying, most of what we do around here. is simply information and referrals. And 99 times out of 100 just reminding someone to take a deep breath and to keep on breathing is enough. Tomorrow will be another day. For you too. Which brings me to our number one rule around here: Never be afraid to ask for a hug at the end of a tough day.” At that Jen left. I leave my bag.

“Jen, wait, wait!”

“I'm sorry Y/N, I can't do that. If you want to stay, great, but I can't. I'll see you later.” She turns to leave.

“Jen!” I sadly go back to my space on the couch. I go to look at my notes when the space next to me gets seated.

“You came.” I swung my head and CJ was right there.

“Yeah, I did.”

“So, there's the coffee maker, and here's the mini fridge that definitely is working.” CJ tells me as he shakes his head, indicating sarcasm.

“Ha, and I definitely won't smell any weird smells from here.”

“Yes definitely.” We both laughed and I looked at the window and it had gotten dark.

“Wow, time really does fly.”

“So, what made you want to stay?” He looks at me with those piercing green eyes.

“Because I know a place like this would have been amazing for me when I was younger, so If I can help someone avoid those feelings that I went through, then I'm for it a hundred percent.” CJ heard me and truly felt I meant it.

“That's the same reason I did it.”

“Really? That's so cool!” I exclaimed happily. “So, what do you do for fun? I haven't been here for long, so if you know of any places...” He thinks about it.

“Yeah I mean the typical places like bars, clubs, parties.”

“Would you want to go to one together?” I asked abruptly which I never did, especially with people I just met.

“I totally would, but it wouldn't be much fun.”

“Why?” I asked. He hesitates for a second, pondering something.

“…I don't drink.”

“Oh my gosh, that's amazing!” I heard what I just said and felt embarrassed. “I'm sorry, that sounded super weird, but I don't drink either.”

“Wow, it's hard to find a college girl not drinking.” CJ searches my eyes.

“True, but it's what's best for me and I'm sure for you. What about this: we’ll be each other's sober buddies.”

“Sober buddies?”

“Yeah, when we are at the same parties, we’ll make sure the other won't even look at drinks.” He thinks about it for a second and I look at the clock. “Shit I'm going to be late and then Audrey is going to kill me.” I grab my stuff and run to the door but before I leave I turn back. “CJ sober buddies?” He gives me a smirk and nods.

“Sober buddies.”

I will get chapter two out as soon as possible thank you for reading!

#cj braxton #dawsons creek fanfiction #cj braxton x reader #cj braxton x female reader #cj braxton x y/n #jen lindley #Audrey liddell #Sober Buddies #fanfic writing #fanfiction #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles #supernatural

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colormepurplex2 · 11 months ago

Text

In Memory of Him | It's Cold In Here

↳ Florist!Taehyung x Artist!f.Reader ⤜ Non-Idol, Late Husband's Best Friend ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 13,558 ⚠️ Mild language, death/loss of a loved one, deep depression, high anxiety, loads of guilt, hidden feelings, realizations, hurt feelings, repressed feelings, hurt/comfort

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon!) ◅ Back to story masterlist

With trembling fingers, you smooth out the letter that you found attached to a bundle of flowers on your doorstep.

To the love of my life, For after the funeral Take a deep breath, baby, I know it’s not easy. Even as I sit and write this, I can feel your energy in the next room. You’re always such a worrier, I’m sorry I’ve added to that. It’ll all be better soon, I promise. But, I know you and I know that you’ll pull away, you’ll cut yourself off…and we can’t have that, now can we? You have to keep going if we’re to stay connected even after I’m gone.

So, here’s the first of a collection of some things that you can hold and look back on when the storm starts to roll in. There are only so many words in existence to describe what you mean to me. So, instead of words, I want you to remember these feelings: Warmth - like the sun on your face while you read a great book Satisfaction - the way you sigh softly after a good, lazy day in bed Contentment - waking up with a smile on your face every morning Peace - that moment of quiet before the rain starts, when the scent of petrichor filters in These are all the things you’ve brought into my life the last seven years. I’ve never been able to look at the sun, sleeping, smiles, or storms the same. Never did I imagine I’d meet and marry such a beautiful, kind-hearted soul with a genuinely unique outlook on life. I never had to be reminded to smile because it just came so naturally whenever you were around. You have brought so much light into my world and gave me the best years of my life. You also gave me Sujin, the perfect little replica of myself even if you think he looks more like you than me (I secretly agree, but that’s not something I’ll admit outloud). When I look at our wonderful son, I’m reminded of the beauty that first drew me to you all those years ago. Being his father is the second greatest achievement of my life, the first being making you fall madly in love with me…don’t laugh, you know it’s true. Many people see things in black and white, a beginning and an end…but our life isn’t like that. We’re full of color and everything in between. You’ve supported me at my best and have loved me at my worst. Everything good in my life is because of you. I know you’ll always love me, and I know it won’t be easy once I’m gone, but I need you to promise me you’ll continue to wake up with that smile on your face and never forget how the sun feels or how beautiful the quiet before the storm is. I need my light, my girl, to keep going. Be that guiding light so I know exactly where you are in the world as I watch over you and Sujin. We knew forever wasn’t guaranteed, that’s just the way life is, right? This doesn’t mean it’s over, not by a long shot. You still have so much more to give, so much more love to offer. I know you’d never forget about me, that’s not what this letter is for—it’s not a reminder of me, it’s a reminder to live, love, and keep shining. There are more where this came from, Taehyung has them and knows what to do, but not until you’re ready for them. I love you so much, never stop living—for me, for Sujin…for you. Love forever, Your Yejun

The letter crumples in your fist, the bundle of hibiscus and lavender it was attached to forgotten on the step between your feet as you bury your face in the crook of your elbow and scream. It’s better that way—the symbolism of the hibiscus flower on a letter from Yejun is a punch to the gut when he’s no longer here. Eternity? Bullshit. The sound is muffled into the thick wool of your coat but no less filled with agony. As if the day wasn’t hard enough, everything went belly-up when you found the flowers and the letter on your door step. You choke on a breath of air as you try to control yourself.

“Yejun.” His name drips from your trembling lips, absorbed into your jacket sleeve like your cries. “I miss you so much. Why did you have to leave us?”

A hand on your shoulder makes you flinch, jerking away from the potential comfort, despite it being exactly what you need right now. You crowd against the wall, knees knocking into one another as you huddle in on yourself where you’re sitting in the stairwell outside your apartment door.

“Hey, hey, hey, come here,” a strong, soothing voice coos. Your limbs protest weakly for a moment, your heart raging with guilt at the prospect of finding solace in another man’s arms—even if that man is Taehyung, your now late husband's best friend—but the desperate need for someone to hold your pieces together wins out. You fear if you let yourself truly break, you’ll never be able to be made whole again. You frantically launch into those open arms, keening a wail into the solid chest between them. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

💔💔💔

Two years later

“Mommy, are we going to Uncle Tae’s house today?” Sujin asks from behind you, where he’s strapped into his booster seat.

You glance in the rearview mirror, angling yourself so you catch a glimpse of his smile as he stares out the window, patiently awaiting your answer. It’s gotten easier over the last two years to look at him without growing weepy. He looks like and reminds you so much of Yejun. They have the same chestnut-colored eyes and floppy midnight tresses. When he smiles, the tiny dimple on his left cheek is a near mirror to his father’s and something that your eyes seek out every time he flashes you a grin. Little pieces of his father that fill the gaps in your heart.

“Did you not want to stay at Grandma’s tonight? That’s what you said you wanted yesterday,” you remind him.

Sujin hums like he’s thinking hard about your question. “Well, I did want to go to Grandma’s, but I also want to see Uncle Tae, and plus, he always has good ice cream. All Grandma has is boring vanilla.”

“How about we see if Uncle Tae wants to hang out this weekend? I think Grandma would be sad if you decided not to stay with her tonight.”

In truth, you’d also be a bit disappointed if Sujin changed his mind. Being only four when his father passed, he doesn’t remember Yejun much, mostly knows him from photos and stories he’s heard. So, it’s not surprising he’s not able to put together that today is the second anniversary of his father’s passing. He doesn’t know that tonight isn’t just about your mom getting a visit. It’s also about you having an evening to grieve without being under your son's watchful and inquisitive eye.

Though maybe you’re wrong, perhaps he knows more than you think as he responds softly, “It’s okay, Mommy, I’ll stay with Grandma so you can go visit Daddy.”

If it wasn’t for tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you might have driven right off the highway. “You know what today is?” you ask hesitantly once your initial shock passes.

“Of course I do,” Sujin says with another smile, his dimple catching in the afternoon sunlight coming in through the car window. “I might not remember him, but I could never forget him.” It’s a wonder there aren’t more six-year-old poets, as what he just said is easily the most eloquent thing ever uttered by a child. Your heart swells, and you feel that telltale burn in the back of your nose and behind your eyes as you blink away the flood of emotions threatening to spill into the open.

You nod, taking a deep breath. “That’s right. He’d be so proud of you and how much you’ve grown.”

“He’d be proud of you, too, Mommy.”

It’s another blow, directly targeting the cracks already forming in your armor. Fissures zip and snap over the surface of the wall you’ve spent the last two years building. “Thank you, buddy. I love you,” you manage to get past the lump in your throat.

The rest of the car ride home is spent with Sujin telling you about his day at school and how one of his classmates snuck a salamander into the classroom after recess. You hum, haw, and laugh as he recounts the way the class reacted to the discovery of the amphibian.

It makes you feel lighter, listening to his words and hearing the clear whimsy his heart possesses as the salamander suddenly becomes a dragon and Sujin, the fearless knight that saved the teacher—the damsel in distress—by scooping it up and putting it in an empty lunch box.

“She said since I was so brave and such a good helper that I could go outside with Mr. Kim, the science teacher, and help him release it back into the wild,” he proudly proclaims. “Did you know salamanders like water? Mr. Kim said they’re kind of like frogs even though they look more like lizards.” Sujin continues on, spouting off facts he learned about the salamander from his science teacher.

It’s a short drive from the school to your apartment. You’ve often thought about moving, using some of the life insurance money from Yejun to buy you and Sujin a lovely place outside the city. But, your mom lives just a floor up, and it’s been convenient having someone so close to look after Sujin when you need them, like tonight.

Having your mom close by, not just as a babysitter but also as an emotional support outlet, has been a blessing and far outweighs the other feelings—the seemingly endless void that now lingers in place of your late husband. With that, though, you can’t help looking at your small apartment as more like a preservation of memories. It was the first place you and Yejun moved into after getting married. It’s the place you both brought Sujin home to when he was born. It’s still filled with so many memories…you’re not sure you want to leave—at least, not yet.

The building has no elevator, just several winding flights of steps right up the middle. “Go on up to Grandma’s. I’ll stop by with dinner before I leave. Remember, homework first before you play.”

Sujin gives you a beaming smile and nods his head in understanding before vaulting up the stairs, his strong six-year-old legs carrying him far faster than your own. You watch him disappear up the stairs—the last flash of his face so reminiscent of Yejun racing up those very same steps the day you moved in—followed by the familiar sound of your mother’s voice drifting out over and down the stairwell as she welcomes him into her space—a safe space, away from the looming cloud of darkness over you.

Knowing he’s occupied and cared for, you allow your mask to slip just a little. The weight on your shoulders eases as you let the emotional fatigue roll in and replace your typically calm and collected demeanor. Even after two years, it’s not gotten any easier when this particular day comes. The holidays are hard, sure. There are plenty of days where you find yourself feeling like it’s too much…but nothing truly compares to this day. It’s not filled with happy memories the way those other days are. It’s nothing but darkness. There is a constant ache in your chest, which is amplified when the calendar turns over, and you find yourself once again reliving that fateful day all over again.

You spent nearly every waking hour sitting beside Yejun, the uncomfortable, stiff hospital chair becoming your permanent perch. The ventilator was always loud, but the punching swoosh grew to be comforting because you knew that meant he was still there. All the lines and tubes hooked up to him made it look like a scene from one of those sci-fi films he enjoyed making you watch with him. Yejun was so full of life when you first met, many years before. But, the image stuck in your mind—the one you can’t seem to get rid of—is of him with sallow cheeks and pale, greyish lips, drained of life.

It’s weird to think of watching someone die. But that’s precisely what you did over the six months Yejun was in the hospital. The disease moved quickly, the cancer stealing your husband away bit by bit, and you were powerless to stop it. That’s probably one of the worst parts, the helpless feeling that no matter what you do, you can’t prevent it from happening. No amount of prayer, begging, or screaming would change it. He’d still die, just the same. Day by day, the best parts of the man you loved vanished, and by the end—you feel guilty even thinking the thoughts, so you push them out of your head.

After unlocking the door, you step into the quiet space of your apartment. Your shoes join the ones discarded by the door before you drop your purse on the small console table against the wall and make your way across the living room to the hall leading to the bedrooms. Sujin’s room is the first door. You peek inside to see that he had made up his bed before school this morning. You make a mental note to grab one of his chocolate popsicles from the freezer before dropping off dinner tonight. He deserves a little treat for being such a good kid.

The small single bathroom sits between Sujin’s room and the larger of the two bedrooms, the one you shared with Yejun for almost five years. You haven’t changed any of the decor. Everything is the same as it always has been, right down to the pillow on Yejun’s side of the bed. It took months before you mustered the courage to wash the pillow case and cried the entire time you stripped the pillow and plopped it in the washer.

The pillow was small fish compared to the closet. Going through all of Yejun’s clothes nearly took you out. Thankfully, Taehyung was there to help. You weren’t the only one that lost someone two years ago today. Taehyung and Yejun grew up together and worked together for the last dozen years, starting out as teens together at Taehyung’s parents' florist shop. They are—were—as close as brothers, and not just for the fact that Taehyung’s parents took Yejun in when his parents both passed, but because of their unbreakable bond—a bond nearly as strong as the one you had with Yejun.

Taehyung has been there for you whenever you’ve needed him since Yejun’s passing. All it takes is a phone call or a text message, and he drops everything for you. You try not to take advantage of it because you don’t want him sucked into your empty void any more than he already is. No grown man should be attached to a woman like that, especially when he has no obligation for it.

But, you must admit, it’s nice knowing he’s there…especially today. This is the one day of the year that you know you don’t have to text or call Taehyung for him to show up. His one promise to you. He’ll be there, waiting for you at the cemetery, just like he was last year.

You pull off your oversized t-shirt and worn jeans covered in splotches of paint from your time in the studio today. Once a well-known local artist, you haven’t been able to create anything worthwhile since Yejun passed. He would always joke about being your one true muse. It seems he wasn’t wrong. Everything you’ve been able to create in the last two years feels wrong, like it’s missing something.

The life insurance you received from Yejun has been more than enough to keep you and Sujin afloat. However, you feel like a failure having even to touch that money, even if it’s just to pay the bills. If you could just get your life together, you’d be able to provide for yourself and Sujin the way you once did—before everything happened. Shoving that line of thinking away, you focus on the here and now, just getting through the next handful of hours.

A quick shower later, and you’re dressed in a warm sweater and a clean pair of jeans with thick wool socks. It’s cold, winter having well and truly taken hold outside, but when the sun goes down, the bite from the wind grows more bitter. Grabbing the large, lidded bowl of beef stew you had cooking in the slow cooker all day. You wrap it in a dish towel to keep from burning your hands on the hot sides, snag a popsicle for Sujin, and make the short trip upstairs to your mom’s place.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your mom greets you when she opens the door. She’s gotten a lot more grey in her hair in the last year or so. The steel-colored strands stand out against her temples, framing her strong but still soft face. You used to think she looked too austere, but then you realized that was just the permanent mark of motherhood and time.

“Hi, Mom. Did Sujin get his homework done?” You follow your mom in, shutting and locking the door behind you as she ambles into the kitchen on the other side of the living room. Her apartment is a near mirror of your own, her second bedroom set up for Sujin as well.

“He finished a bit ago and wanted to break out the paints. Was nattering on about some sort of lizard, I think. He wanted to try to paint it,” she explains, putting the tea kettle on without needing to ask. Peppermint tea with a dollop of honey can fix even the worst of woes in her eyes. She’ll insist you have some just as she has any other time she can feel your darkness crowding in. You’ve grown to appreciate your mother's intuition, both for yourself and your son's sake.

“There was an incident involving a student bringing in a salamander at school, it seems. Sujin helped the teacher and was allowed to go out with Namjoon—Mr. Kim—to release it.” You recall the conversation in the car, your mother chuckling softly when you tell her about the salamander turning into a dragon.

She busies herself, packing the tea steeper with her own blend of mint tea. Tending the small garden of herbs and spices that she keeps on the fire escape off the living room, is how she spends most of her days since she retired a few years ago. Even in winter, she keeps a small plastic greenhouse over them, opening it just enough to care for them each day. “So, you’re on a first-name basis with that science teacher now?” she asks. You can tell she’s lightly probing, trying to figure out if there is anything more between you and ‘Mr. Kim’.

“I met him at the beginning of the year when we had parent-teacher meetings. He insisted I call him Namjoon, that’s all, Mom.”

Humming, she grabs the kettle just before it begins to whistle. “Still, he’s nice?” she asks, casting you a glance over her shoulder.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, wishing she’d not try to go down this path of questioning. You know she means well, but you’re just…you’re not ready to think about those things.

“He’s nice enough, Mom, I guess. It was just a slip of the tongue. I’m used to greeting him at drop-off in the mornings. It’s not—I don’t, it’s just being cordial, y’know? I’m not ready…” you trail off, hoping your mom picks up on what you’re trying to say so you don’t actually have to say it; not today.

Her free hand goes to her mouth, covering her frown. “Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean—you know I’d never, not like that. I’m sorry. Forgive an old fool for her loose words.”

“It’s okay, Mom, really,” you offer with a tight smile as you set the stew on the counter and pop the popsicle you brought for Sujin in the freezer.

She sets down the tea, the cup slightly trembling on the tiny saucer she serves it on. “I made some pajeon to go with the stew. It’s warming in the oven. Are you going to stay for dinner?” she asks, seeing that you need to move on from the previous subject.

You settle on one of the chairs at her small dining table, pick up the tiny teacup, and blow across the surface before taking a tentative sip. The mint is a cooling contrast to the heat of the liquid, coating your throat with a soothing sensation. The blooming sweetness of the honey lingers on your tongue, helping combat the intense punch of the minty flavor. It’s comforting. Reminds you of home.

“I’m not all that hungry. You and Sujin enjoy it. You’re sure you’re okay taking him to school tomorrow?” She gives you a fond smile and nods. “I’ll pick him up on my way home and we’ll come have dinner.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart.”

You finish off the tea, suppressing a grimace as it goes down a little too warm and nearly scalds your throat. The sun will be completely down soon, and you’d like to get to the cemetery before it’s too dark out. “I should get going. Just going to say hi to him real quick.”

Your mom watches you stand. Her eyes are hyper-focused on your face. “Okay, sweetheart,” she says slowly. It’s clear she wants to say more, but you’re glad she doesn’t push.

The room your mom has set up for Sujin has a small bed pushed into one corner, leaving the rest of the space for him to play—unlike his room at your place, which has a writing desk and dresser taking up the majority of the play space. He’s never complained, though, choosing to get creative with the small room he does have. “Hey, buddy, Grandma said you’re painting. Can I see?”

You lean on the door jamb, peering into the room. The easel Sujin is using is angled away from the door. All you can see is smears of bright color peeking around the edge of the canvas.

His bright eyes meet yours as he grins extra wide. “It’s not done yet, but of course you can see it.”

Stepping in and around the easel frame, you take in the canvas covered in paint. When your mom said he was going to paint the salamander, you knew there was a possibility of said ‘lizard’ being portrayed as a dragon as it was in Sujin’s story in the car. But what you didn’t expect were the characters surrounding the dragon. You count them, six in total. The brunette woman at the top of the castle tower is clearly Sujin’s teacher, Mrs. Min. Sujin himself is astride the dragon, and who you think is Namjoon stands in a corner near some trees, his large-frame glasses are what lead you to believe that’s who it is. The other three characters are where you’re a bit lost.

“Who are these people?” you ask, gesturing to the other feminine figure framed by two men; one with unruly black hair and the other with small angel wings extending from his shoulders. It dawns on you the moment you ask.

“That’s you, Daddy, and Uncle Tae, of course,” Sujin proudly states. “You were in the tower with Mrs. Min. I’m rescuing her, and Uncle Tae is rescuing you while Daddy guides him.”

You’re not sure what to say. But you can’t help looking at your son in a different light. He’s only six, but in moments like this, you feel like his soul is older and wiser than yours. “It’s lovely,” you finally say, because it truly is, and everything else you could say would definitely start the waterworks, and there will be enough of that later. “I’ll be back tomorrow to get you. Be good for Grandma. There’s a treat for you in the freezer, but only after dinner, okay?” You feel like you’re running away—and maybe you are, but the darkness creeps in just a little bit further the more you look at his painting.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sujin beams at you sweetly. He lifts his chin, angling a cheek in your direction for a kiss. You plant one there, throwing an arm around his back for a quick squeeze, too. “Love you, Mommy.”

“Love you, too, buddy,” you murmur, shoving down the suffocating feeling bubbling in your chest—just need to make it a few more hours.

💔💔💔

The cemetery is about an hour's drive from your place in the city. Yejun grew up in the countryside, and the columbarium where he’s interred is at the cemetery closest to his and Taehyung’s childhood home. It’s a quiet drive, a typical Tuesday evening if it were any other week. You don’t even bother with music, haven’t in the last two years, preferring to just soak in the quiet and try to center yourself.

As you pull into the parking area outside the gate to the grounds, you spot Taehyung’s black SUV. He’s standing beside it, leaning against the driver's side door with his chin tipped down below the line of the thick scarf wrapped around his neck. Your headlights swing across his vehicle, illuminating him in the process as you park.

You take your time climbing out of your car, casting fleeting glances in his direction while you gather your courage and resolve. He’s wearing a thick grey-colored tweed coat that covers him to the knees, and khaki slacks lead down to shiny brown loafers. His hair is windswept, the fluffy waves moving across his forehead with every gust of chilly air.

“Hey,” you say as you swing open your door and step out. He catches your eye over the roof of your car and gives you a soft smile.

“Good evening. Drive okay?”

You nod. “Not too much traffic, which is always nice.”

“You should have let me come and pick you up.” It’s the same thing he said last year, to which you decline politely just the same as well.

“Thanks, but I enjoy the drive. Gives me time to think.”

His eyes flick over you, taking you in from head to toe. There is understanding clear on his face. “Shall we?” He gestures toward the entrance gate. You notice a small bundle of flowers held in his other hand that’s hanging by his side. “Oh, this is for you.” It surprises you when Taehyung offers you the flowers, having thought he was bringing them to leave in Yejun’s vase.

You take the offered cluster, automatically bringing it to your nose and giving it a delicate sniff. It’s hard to smell the fragrance in the cold, but as you peer down at the flowers and take in the deep purple and soft pink, the scent of lavender and hibiscus filters through as if on a memory. It’s a combination that reminds you painfully of Yejun, as this was always his go-to whenever he would bring you home flowers from the shop after work.

“Thank y—“ your polite words cut off as you hear the distinct crackle of paper as you shift the bundle of flowers between your hands. “What’s this?” you ask, holding the flowers up until you see the small envelope attached to the hemp string holding the bunch together.

“A note,” Taehyung responds slowly as if he’s trying to decide if that’s all he’ll say. “Perhaps wait until we’re settled to read it?”

You finger the crisp fold of parchment, wondering. “Okay, yeah,” you agree, chalking it up to most likely being a grievance note from Taehyung, and it might be awkward for you to read it right now in front of him.

The cemetery typically closes at sundown, but Taehyung has access as the gardener. When he and Yejun took over Taehyung’s parents' floral shop, they expanded the business to include landscaping for local companies and establishments. The cemetery is one such establishment they took on. He produces a key from his pocket, unlocking the small pedestrian gate that must have been locked up not too long ago, judging by the sun barely having dipped below the horizon.

“Moojin left about ten minutes before you pulled up,” Taehyung explains casually, confirming the thought you just had. “It’ll just be us, so we can take as much time as we need.”

Maybe you should feel bad that Taehyung gives you preferential treatment and access to the cemetery after hours, but it’s hard to care about that when other, darker feelings have you clutched so tightly. The walk to the columbarium is relatively short, being one of the newer buildings erected within the grounds just some twenty years ago or so.

“The trees are doing well, even in the winter,” you note, nodding toward the row of young pines along the fence line. It was one of the last projects Yejun worked on with Taehyung before he became ill.

“He’d be able to tell you all the properties of the tree that make it sustainable during this time of the year,” Taehyung responds, his voice carrying notes of sadness. Yejun doesn’t come up much in conversation between the two of you, most things not needing to be said, merely understood without a spoken word. So, it’s surprising and endearing to actually hear Taehyung talk about him, especially now.

You smile, knowing he’s right. “With enough scientific jargon to make you go cross-eyed trying to keep up, too.”

That earns you a soft laugh from Taehyung. “And he wouldn’t even realize it until you’re so lost you can’t even pretend to have understood.”

“I miss that,” you whisper with a sigh, your warm breath misting lightly in the cold.

Taehyung slips his arm through yours, hooking his elbow around the crook of your arm. “Me, too.”

💔💔💔

Taehyung

It’s never easy, watching the way you suffer through your emotions. Taehyung knows you try to hide them, and sometimes you’re successful. But others…like right now, he can read you as clear as a bright spring sky. Only instead of pastel blues, pinks, and yellows, you’re a stark monochrome of Pantone grey. Just as clear, but decidedly less alive. He hates it. Knowing just how vibrant of a person you once were. When Yejun left your life, so, too, did the color, it seems. Leeched away with the slow death of your husband. It’s a cruel fate, Taehyung has decided, and it’s one you never deserved. Yejun also knew this. He saw this in the way you mourned at his bedside, even before he was gone. It’s why Yejun made Taehyung promise to take care of you, to never let you forget how to smile.

As more time passes, Taehyung isn’t sure whether or not he’s done a good job by Yejun’s request. Not when the dark circles around your eyes seem to get more permanent every time Taehyung sees you. It’s why he brought the letter—the next letter. He’s curious if you remember the first one, the one that came the day of Yejun’s funeral; the one that had you crawling into Taehyung’s arms for the first time, seeking the comfort you knew was there.

That’s happened a few times in the two years since Yejun now. Any time you begin to fray at the edges and unravel a bit too quickly, Taehyung’s been there, weaving you back together the best he can. It might not be pretty, but a patchwork quilt is better than shredded rags, he likes to think. He hopes, at least.

“Are you warm enough?” Taehyung asks, realizing your arm is trembling around his. The jacket you’re wearing is far too thin, meant more for warding off spring rain showers than winter chills. Your lips are formed into a thin, bloodless line as if you’re trying to keep your teeth from chattering, and your brow is pinched.

The lift of your shoulder is subtle, dismissive and nonchalant. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. Here,” Taehyung insists, pulling you to a halt on the walking path. “Take this.” He shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over the thinner trench you’re wearing over your sweater. You instantly relax, a soft sigh misting the air in front of your mouth.

“Thank you. I forget how cold it gets out here at night,” you mumble, encouraging Taehyung to continue walking toward the entrance to the columbarium, where Yejun’s memorial awaits. “Are you sure you’ll be okay without it?” Your eyes are round and glassy when you look up at him, the moonlight overhead reflecting in their depths.

The thick sweater Taehyung has on paired with his wool scarf is enough to stave off the wintery bite, but what warms him the most is seeing your eyes flash with a brief flicker of life when you snuggle into the depths of his jacket, bringing the tweed collar up around your neck after he assures you he’s fine without it.

Your feet shuffle, your stride slowing as you approach the columbarium. Taehyung can feel your hesitancy. The air around you is suffocating and full of static, something Taehyung wants desperately to help dispel.

“Come on. Together.” Taehyung offers you his hand, splaying his fingers wide in invitation. You lick your lips, eyes flicking between Taehyung’s face and his offered hand. Finally, you sag a little and slip your fingers in between his.

Your hand is soft and delicate in his. Taehyung has always admired your ability as an artist, being able to take your hands and a simple tool like a paintbrush and create something profound and breathtaking. Some might argue that what Taehyung does is also a form of art, but he swears it’s nothing compared to the pure magic you create. He’s found himself under your spell more than once, entranced by your art.

Even the works you’ve created in the last two years, the things you keep hidden away in your studio, are still quite beautiful—if more haunted. Taehyung knows you’re not selling any art and you haven’t hosted a gallery night in almost three years now. The few times he’s been inside your studio since Yejun, you’ve indulged his curiosity and let him look at the things you’ve worked on.

Taehyung cherishes those private moments you allow him within your space. He uses them as a time to reflect on what life has brought to you and to him. You have a shared experience of losing someone, but it’s clear you’re both working through your pain differently. Your studio, once a bright and vibrant space filled with inspiration and captured moments of love, is now more of a tomb, silent and full of the whisper of death.

Taehyung eases open the door to the columbarium. The motion-activated lights within flicker on and fill the space with a soft yellow glow. It’s better than the typical fluorescent white lights they used to use. Taehyung thinks the bright, sterile lighting is far too reminiscent of a morgue or hospital, not exactly places people should be reminded of when coming to visit their dead loved ones. So, he suggested the change when he took over doing the gardening for the cemetery.

Yejun’s niche is towards the back of the space, near the bottom. You separate yourself from Taehyung, letting the bundle of flowers droop upside down in your hand as you step lightly across the floor. You look like a specter, gliding across holy ground in search of what’s keeping you tied to this plane of existence. In many ways, Taehyung thinks that’s precisely what is happening with you. You’re suspended in time, stuck in a limbo of heartache.

In the two years since Yejun, you haven’t been able to move on, even though that’s exactly what Yejun wanted you to do. Yejun never wanted you to mourn him for long. He told Taehyung there was far too much love for you to give, and you had a heart big enough to love someone else while still holding true to Yejun. What Yejun failed to realize, Taehyung thinks, is that without Yejun, you didn’t want to love again.

Taehyung holds back a few steps, giving you some time to have a private moment as you kneel down in front of Yejun’s niche. The placard covering the niche is engraved with his name, birth and death dates, and a small metal frame that holds a glass engraved likeness of Yejun. It pains Taehyung to see the smiling face and crinkled eyes behind his wireframed glasses. Yejun was his brother in all ways, except for being born to the same parents. That didn’t matter to them, though—still doesn’t matter to Taehyung. They love—loved—each other just as fiercely as if they had been.

“Yejun,” you whimper his name, pressing a hand to the placard, head hanging low. Taehyung watches your shoulders shake with silent sobs, and he can’t take it anymore. He moves across the space and kneels down beside you, ignoring the cold that instantly leeches through the knees of his trousers. Before he can think better of it, he has his arms around you, trying to hold you together…trying to keep your seams from unraveling too fast.

Taehyung coos softly, murmuring as many words of encouragement and solace as can work past his quivering lips, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s going to be okay. I promise. He loved you so fiercely. I miss him, too. I’m here for you. Shh, it’s going to be okay.” Over and over again, Taehyung repeats it like a mantra until your sniffles subside, and you slump into his arms, feebly returning his embrace.

Feeling your arms around him is a comfort, one that helps him keep his own tears in check. “Thank you for being here,” you sniff before burying your face in his scarf and inhaling deeply.

“I’m always going to be here for you,” Taehyung offers, smoothing a hand over your hair in what he hopes is a soothing fashion. He watched Yejun console you enough times to have a good idea of what might help. After Sujin was born, you battled postpartum depression for a while, and Taehyung helped wherever he could, giving him those brief glimpses into your emotional turmoil. Yejun always petted your hair and let you ground yourself in his embrace. He never even had to say a word; just let you draw on his strength. So, Taehyung has always tried to emulate that for you whenever you’ve needed him.

You sigh, and Taehyung reluctantly lets you pull away to sit back on your heels. “I’m such a mess. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Taehyung says, capturing the side of your face in one of his hands. You sway on your knees; big, round, red-rimmed eyes locked onto his. “Never apologize to me. You’re human, not a mess. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, lips barely moving. You slowly turn, sitting with your back against Yejun’s niche.

“Okay,” Taehyung repeats, and settles in beside you. He barely notices the cold this time as it seeps through the seat of his pants. There are far too many fierce emotions rolling through him to be bothered by the chill.

“Is it okay if I read this now?” you ask after several moments of shared silence.

Taehyung looks over at you, fingering the small envelope attached to the bundle of fresh flowers he brought. He swallows past the thick knot in his throat, worried about you reading it but knowing you need to. Perhaps it’ll be best read when he’s around and not in the solitude of your apartment where you could fall apart without someone there to catch you; Taehyung knows Sujin is staying at your mother’s tonight.

He clears his throat. “Uh, sure, yeah.”

“They really are beautiful,” you say, voice so soft it barely carries to Taehyung. You admire the flowers for a moment, and the anxiety Taehyung had earlier in the shop when he was wrapping them goes away. He was worried that he got the flowers wrong. He knew Yejun always brought you fresh flowers, different types for different occasions. Yejun was all about the spiritual and emotional meaning of flowers, something that Taehyung hardly paid any mind to until after.

Finally, you tug the end of the string that attaches the envelope to the flowers, and you set them to the side. The flap is tucked into the envelope, so you slide it out and remove the tri-folded parchment from within. It looks the same as it did the day Yejun gave it to Taehyung a few weeks before he died. It’s the same as all the other letters waiting in a box under Taehyung’s bed—waiting for the right moment, waiting for you.

“If you need a moment—” Taehyung begins to say, but you hold up a hand to silence him. Slowly, you unfold the paper and smooth it over your thighs. Your eyes flick over the paper, snatching on random words until they hit the name signed at the bottom.

“What is this?” you whisper, yet your voice cuts like steel. “Is this a cruel joke?” You hold the paper up for Taehyung to see. At the top, it reads ‘For if you haven’t moved on’. Taehyung can understand why you might think so.

“N-no. It’s…there’s…” Taehyung pauses and takes a deep breath before trying again. “It’s not a joke. It’s from Yejun.” The look of hurt that ghosts across your face brings a prickling heat behind Taehyung's eyes, and he has to blink them several times to hold his emotions at bay as he explains. “The letter I gave you after the funeral?” He waits until you give him a subtle nod. “This is another he gave me…along with many others.”

“Many others?” you ask, incredulity seeping into your tone.

“He wanted to leave you something, something more than just your memories and heartache. So, he spent a few weeks, before he got bad, writing letters to you. He gave them to me and made me promise I’d give them to you when the time was right. This one—” Taehyung nods toward the letter held between your fingers “—was one I wasn’t sure if I’d have to give you or not. It was one Yejun specifically said to only give you if…well, if you hadn’t started living life again.”

“Hadn’t started living life again?” You balk at that, rearing back from him with an angry look pinching your face.

Taehyung feels like he’s botching this, not explaining it properly to you or something. “Just, just please read it.” Taehyung has no idea what the letter says. He never wanted to invade Yejun’s and your privacy. He’s hoping, though, that maybe the letter might hold some key information to help you understand…to help ease your anger in a way that Taehyung’s words can’t seem to.

You stare at Taehyung for a moment, and he’s certain you’re about to spit in his face and leave him sitting here alone. But, you finally shake your head and sigh, settling back into place and focusing on the paper. Taehyung is sorely tempted to try and read over your shoulder, but he doesn’t want to further your ire. So, he slides a few inches away, opening up a wide, cold gap between the two of you…and waits.

💔💔💔

To the love of my life, For if you haven’t moved on Hi, baby. I hope this is a letter Tae never has to give you, but if you’re reading this, then that means we’re not doing so well. I say ‘we’, because I’m still there with you. Just like I promised in my other letter. I told Tae to use his discretion on whether to ever give you this or not. He knows you nearly as well as I do, so I trust him. So, if you ever read this, know he doesn’t mean any harm by it…I don’t mean any harm by it. But, baby, you gotta start living again. At this point, I don’t know how much time will have passed since I had to go away, but I do know you can’t let much more time pass. I need you to live, my love. Live for me, live for Sujin…live for yourself. No more standing by while the world continues to spin, you have to spin with it, baby, let it carry you away, and on to better days. Please. Find something that makes you laugh, find something that makes you smile…even if it’s a someone. I know you’ll always love me. There is no doubt about that. But, don’t let that love stop you from living. Let someone in, let someone help…love again, for me. Show the world that it can’t tear you down. Go on a date, go skydiving, go to one of those fancy art galleries in Italy you used to fantasize about…just go, baby. Go and do, and be free. Don’t be afraid…please, don’t be afraid to live. Love forever, Your Yejun

The memory of the other letter, albeit a bit fuzzy, drifts through your mind as you sit and try to come to terms with how you feel at this moment. You absently trace the neat scrawl of Yejun’s handwriting covering the page. Don’t be afraid. Are you afraid? Is that it? You’ve never thought of it like that, in terms of being afraid to live. But, if you think about it, you suppose that’s the root of it. You are afraid. Afraid of moving on. What if you do find happiness? What if you do find someone else? Yejun is clear that he’s confident you’ll never forget him, but what if you do?

You don’t want to be sitting somewhere thirty years from now, with your head thrown back, laughing at the joke from some other guy, with Yejun having not crossed your mind in years. It’s not that you don’t want to be happy. You just…you don’t know.

Taehyung is sitting so quietly beside you that if you closed your eyes, you’d think you were alone. Guilt pricks against your heart at how badly you first reacted, the harsh tone and words you lashed at Taehyung where he didn’t deserve it. You clear your throat, drawing the flicker of Taehyung’s eyes in your direction.

“I’m sorry, Tae. I really am. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” The words are thick on your tongue as you work through the emotions threatening to obliterate your existence. You think you might cry, but give yourself an imaginary pat on the back when you manage to maintain eye contact with Taehyung while successfully blinking back the tears.

Taehyung is quiet for a moment, a muscle in his jaw working, flexing the dark stubble you can see shadowing along his jawline. It’s in this moment that you feel like you see Taehyung in a new light, with added clarity. He looks haggard, tired. You didn’t notice it before, the sunken circles around his eyes or the lack of a clean shave…until now. It’s not fair, you realize, that he has taken care of you so much the last two years when you haven’t even so much as bothered to check on how he is doing.

You’re just about to break the silence with another feeble apology when he smiles, it’s faint, but it’s there. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Yejun and I might have shared a different kind of bond than what you two had, but I have at least an inkling of the keen sting you’re feeling, the one that never quite goes away no matter what you do.” He brings a hand up and presses it to the center of his chest. “The one that slices a little deeper after the sun goes down and everyone else has gone about their lives.”

Chilled goosebumps pop up along your arms, despite the warmth from the added layer of Taehyung’s jacket. That is exactly what it feels like, a lingering sting that won’t go away, one that grows when you’re alone.

You lick your trembling lips, tearing your gaze away from his and focusing back on the letter clutched in your hand. “Yejun,” you whisper. “He—he wants…he wants me to move on.” A soft sob catches in your throat. “But, I can’t do that. How can I do that?”

Your shoulders heave as the emotions you were able to hold at bay before come crashing through the walls you managed to put up. It’s not like the weeping from earlier. That was simply the quiet cries of a mourning wife. This is bone-deep, soul-rending agony that shakes your entire body.

Taehyung pulls you into his arms, and you press your face into the cushioning of his scarf and scream. The sound is muffled, but you can still hear it echoing through the columbarium when all the air finally empties from your lungs. You try to replenish the air, sucking in stilted breaths, but it’s not enough. Panic ensues, your heart launching into a heavy, staccato rhythm as if trying to pound right out of your chest.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung soothes. “Slow down. Try to breathe slowly.” He pulls you firmly into his lap. You’re heedless to the intimate position your body falls into with your knees on either side of his hips. All you care about is getting air into your lungs. Taehyung holds you by the face, angling yours so you look up into his worried eyes. “Come on, slow. In…out…like that, come on, another one. In and then out.” He breathes with you, exaggerating the way he inhales air through his nose and pushes it back out through his mouth.

His warm breath puffs across your face with each exhale, carrying with it the faintest sharp tinge of mint and the earthy tones of tea. Something that instantly makes you think of home. It helps bring you back to reality, slowing your rampaging heart, and subsiding your shuddering cries.

“I can’t do it,” you mumble.

“You can. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“No, no. You don’t—I can’t. It’s…it’s cold in here,” you whisper, pressing a trembling hand over your heart. “No one wants that.”

A soft, sad smile forms on Taehyung’s face as he continues to stare down at you. “Good thing that I know a thing or two about keeping things warm.” He drops his hands from your face and grabs the lapels of his jacket that’s still draped over your shoulders and gives it a tug, pulling it tighter around you. You can’t help but smile, even if it’s a watery one.

“What would I do without you?” you ask, not expecting Taehyung to answer.

“You’d make it.” He sounds so sure. “I know you would, you’d do it. But, I am glad to be here, to help however I can.”

Taehyung doesn’t urge you off of his lap, just allows you to rest there with your cheek pressed over his softly beating heart, finding whatever comfort you can from the proximity of another source of warmth. His words linger there, filling the space between you with a comfortability that you know you’ll never find anywhere else. You don’t say anything else, as there isn’t much else to say. At least, not words you think you could say out loud. Not here, not now.

But, an hour later, as you’re driving home, you decide to try. So, you do something you haven’t done in a while and turn on the radio, letting the music fill the silence from before. It’s a small step, but a step nonetheless; the first of—you hope—many.

The next morning, with the light of a new day spilling through the gap between your bedroom curtains, you decide you feel…good. As you lay in bed last night, full of revelations about how you’re going to start making steps toward Yejun’s desire for you to be happy again, worry began to set in. Worry over whether or not you can do this. Now, though, you feel decidedly different—light, in a way—as you push back the blankets and climb out of bed.

With your mom having taken Sujin to school this morning, it afforded you some time to sleep in, which is something you haven’t done in years. You weren’t sure you were going to, considering how poorly you’ve been sleeping the last couple of years. It feels nice, stretching your arms over your head and not feeling as groggy for once.

There is one thing you want to do before heading to the studio, where you know you’ll probably just piddle around until it’s time to pick up Sujin, but it’s just baby steps for now. It’s not lost on you that your work, the art you create, no matter if you manage to move on or not, might still be something that you’re never able to recover. Yejun wasn’t far off when he joked about being your one true muse, but you try to remain hopeful that you can surprise yourself.

The box in the back of the closet is exactly where you left it almost two years ago. It holds some of your most treasured possessions. Things you’ve held on to dating back as far as your teen years and as recent as two years ago. You kneel in the bottom of your closet and slide the box out from behind the stack of empty shoe boxes you can’t seem to toss out.

It’s a bit faded, the blue exterior, once a brilliant navy, is now more denim in color. You’ve had the box since you were a child, given to you by your father the summer before he split from your mom. That really hurt your family, when he cut himself out of the picture without so much as an apology; he ran off with another woman. It was so hard for you to believe in love after that.

Lifting the small silvered latch, you ease open the box lid and sigh as your eyes land on the folded paper nestled on top. Yejun’s first letter. It’s the last thing you put in this box. The paper still feels crisp in your fingers as you delicately pluck it out and unfold it. You worry at your bottom lip a moment before letting your eyes devour the same words you read once before.

This time, they don’t hurt nearly as much. You still feel that piercing ache, but it’s accompanied by another, fresher feeling—one of hope. What stands out the most, now, though, is the confirmation that there are other letters waiting for you. Yejun says as much himself in this letter, you just hadn’t ever put the dots together, too distracted in your grief.

There are endless possibilities for what those other letters might be for. But, what’s clear is that you won't get another one until you do something to deserve it. Knowing Yejun, you have a few ideas of what those things might be. There is a thrill but also a sense of trepidation as you think about that. You want to move on and be happy again, and in doing so, you know you’ll get the other letters, but there’s also that sense of overwhelming dread.

Where do you begin?

You spent most of your day rearranging and organizing supplies at the studio. But, now that the sun is beyond its zenith and casting longer shadows across your paint-marked studio floor, you feel like you’ve done nothing but waste time. You still haven’t decided where to begin with Yejun’s letters and you’re no closer to coming up with an idea for your next project either.

With frustration coloring your thoughts, you lock up and welcome the reprieve of going and picking Sujin up from school. That’s one part of your life that you do know up from down with.

As you pull through the pick up line, you don’t see Sujin anywhere out front. You spot Mrs. Min ushering a few students to their cars, her friendly face sporting a smile as she does so. Her eye catches yours and she holds up a hand, rushing over to your passenger side window.

“Hi!” she says when you roll it down. “So glad I caught you before you waited too long. Sujin volunteered to help Mr. Kim with his terrarium and it’s taking a bit longer than expected. He should be out in the next fifteen minutes or so, feel free to park in the teacher’s lot or you can wait here if you’d like.”

“Mrs. Min!” a rambunctious gaggle of students call her name, requesting her assistance.

She gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry, duty calls. He shouldn’t be too long!” she calls over her shoulder as she jogs towards the cluster of students beckoning her over. One of the kids has what appears to be a large diorama that they’re having a hard time carrying to their car, even with the assistance of their friends.

“Well, great,” you mumble to yourself, checking your rearview mirror and seeing a long line of cars waiting behind you.

Pulling ahead, you slip around the side of the school and pull into one of the empty teacher spots and cut the engine. You haven’t been inside the school since the parent-teacher meeting at the beginning of the year, so it wouldn’t hurt if you went inside now, it would give you a chance to peek into Sujin’s classrooms and see what he’s been up to. If it’s one thing he loves, it’s learning.

Mr. Kim and Mrs. Min have adjoining classrooms at the end of the hall for Sujin’s grade, a storage and supply closet connecting the two rooms. The door to Mrs. Min’s room is closed but the light is still on inside. You take a quick peek through the view window on the door and see colorful drawings and paper projects hanging on the wall, books scattered across a few tables, and a large container of art supplies opened on her desk. She teaches English, Reading, Art, and History while Namjoon covers Math and Science.

The gym teacher, Mr. Jeon, startles you as he breezes through the double doors at the end of the hall that lead out to the playground. “Oh, hey! Sujin, your mom is here!” he calls, stepping back and propping the door open with the heel of his sneaker.

“Mom!” you hear Sujin’s voice sound from through the open door. “You gotta come see this!”

Mr. Jeon holds the door open for you, his face lit with a pleasant smile. “A future scientist, I’d bet,” Mr. Jeon stage-whispers as you pass him and that makes your own smile blossom further.

“What’s going on, buddy?” you ask, taking in the scene before you.

Namjoon is crouched down beside Sujin, helping him sort through a collection of rocks spread out on a sheet of plastic. There are dozens of them, all various shapes and colors.

Sujin excitedly points out a few of the large rocks. “These would be perfect to create a hiding space!” he loudly proclaims before turning his bright eyes up to you. “Mr. Kim is letting me help him choose the rocks to go into the terrarium. We’re going to get our very own class salamander! Isn’t that cool, Mom? A class dragon!”

A soft chuckle comes from Namjoon as he pivots on his heels and squints up at you, the sun catching on the thick-framed glasses that are slipping down his nose. “We had so much fun yesterday talking about the salamander that was brought into Mrs. Min’s class that I couldn’t resist. I’ve had this old aquarium sitting in my garage for years, it just seems perfect.”

“Wow, yeah, that’s really cool.”

“Sorry for keeping him,” Namjoon suddenly stands, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking contrite. “I didn’t realize the bell had rung until Jungkook said something.” He turns to Sujin who is happily stacking a few of the smaller rocks into a pile. “I think that’s all for today, Sujin. We’ll finish it up tomorrow during class.”

Sujin frowns, his warm brown eyes flicking to Namjoon. “Okay,” he sighs.

“I tell you what, for all your hard work today, how about I let you be creative director during assembly tomorrow? Does that sound okay?”

The frown is quickly replaced with another excited smile. Sujin gives a whoop of delight and slaps his hands together before dusting them off. “Thank you, Mr. Kim, that sounds amazing!”

Seeing the interaction between Namjoon and Sujin gives you an idea, one that you hope you won’t regret. “Go grab your backpack, buddy, I’ll meet you outside Mrs. Min’s room in a second.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sujin pulls open the door and scampers through, his sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor as he skips down the hall.

“Thank you for that, Namjoon, really. He was so excited about what happened yesterday and now this? He’s been wanting a turtle for a year now, so this will be a good test on whether or not we should get one.”

Namjoon pulls one of his hands out of his pocket and grips the back of his neck as he smiles shyly, his cheeks pinking slightly. “He’s a great kid, loves to learn. Though, turtles are a bit more needy than salamanders. It would also depend on the type of turtle. The standard box turtles are…” Namjoon trails off, his brow pinching as he throws furtive glances your way. “Sorry, you didn’t ask for a science lesson.”

That makes you laugh, which seems to ease the awkward tension in Namjoon. “Sujin isn’t the only one that likes learning.” You don’t intend the words to sound flirty, but they come out that way and you can distinctly tell that Namjoon keys into that.

“Yeah?” he asks, the shyness leeching away by the second.

“Um, yeah. Er, well, I should—” you jerk your thumb over your shoulder toward the door “—Sujin is probably waiting.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Namjoon sidesteps over the plastic sheet of rocks and fumbles with the door handle before yanking it open. “Have a good—”

“Are you free Friday night?” you blurt, wincing at the rudeness of interrupting him but knowing if you don’t ask now then you’ll lose your nerve.

“Friday?” he parrots back, eyes wide behind his glasses.

Panic slices through and you immediately want to take it back. “Sorry, that was—I didn’t, it’s not appropriate is it? I’m so sor—”

“I’m free,” he states, the words silencing your backpedaling.

“Oh.” Now that he’s confirmed, you’re not sure what else to say. It’s been so long since you’ve done this.

“Is there something you wanted to do?” Namjoon asks hesitantly, clearly picking up on your trepidation.

You swallow around the choking feeling in your throat, the one that’s ingrained with the idea that you’re still married and still madly in love with another man and this is akin to cheating. “Maybe dinner? Or a late coffee? Um, or…I’m sorry, it’s been so long since I’ve done this.”

Namjoon gives you an easy smile. “Dinner sounds great. Let’s say, seven?”

“Seven is good. How about that new pizza place that opened up near the park, do you know the one?”

“I’ve had my eye on that place for weeks! That sounds perfect.”

Are you really going on a date��with Sujin’s Science teacher? “Okay,” you say, chewing the inside of your cheek as you take a few steps down the hall. “Great.”

“Great,” Namjoon confirms with a smile, his deep dimples making an appearance. “See you then.”

All you can do is nod, not trusting yourself with any more words with the influx of emotions now swirling through you. Sujin bursts through Mrs. Min’s door, his backpack and lunchbox in tow.

“Let’s go!” he trumpets, thrusting his free hand into the air in a fist. “I’ve got some homework to do before I can work on my diagram for the terrarium!”

Namjoon’s soft chuckle carries to you from down the hall as you usher Sujin towards the exit. You can’t help casting one last glance behind you, taking in the way he’s lazily leaning against the doorframe of his classroom. He’s quite handsome, there’s no arguing that.

A giddy feeling adds itself to the uncertain emotions rolling through you. A fluttering in your tummy that you haven’t felt in over seven years. You can’t help but wonder, as you load Sujin into the car, if this is really what Yejun wants for you or are you making a mistake?

💔💔💔

Taehyung

It’s a weird sensation when you expect to feel one emotion but end up feeling another. That’s what Taehyung thinks anyway, as he reads the text message he received from you for the dozenth time. You have a date. With Namjoon.

Taehyung has never met the quirky Science teacher, but he’s heard plenty of stories about him from Sujin. Charming, educated, and completely and utterly perfect for you. And that should make Taehyung happy. Yet, all he can feel is mild annoyance when he thinks about Namjoon sitting across from you at a dinner table making you laugh and smile.

He wants to chalk it up to being overprotective in a brotherly sort of way, but Taehyung knows better. It’s no secret—well maybe it is to you—that Taehyung cares for you deeply. Even before Yejun, Taehyung always had a soft spot for his best friend’s wife. Something that he drunkenly confessed to Yejun once a few years ago. Yejun took it goodnaturedly, something that Taehyung still thinks about to this day, and simply told Taehyung he understood the attraction because hell, who could blame him?

They never talked about it again, until the day Yejun asked Taehyung to take care of you and Sujin—the day he was given a box of letters addressed to you. Yejun had given Taehyung a knowing smile and said something along the lines of fate knowing and that’s why Taehyung already had so much love for you.

He wasn’t sure, at first, if Yejun had ever shared Taehyung’s little secret with you. But, as time went on, it was clear that he hadn’t. That, or, so lost in your grief, you’ve been keenly uninterested in that prospect. But, now, you’re going on a date and Taehyung doesn’t know how to feel about it.

The twinge of jealousy in his chest doesn’t sit right with him. He has no right to feel this way. It’s just something that he can’t seem to shake, hasn’t been able to since you told him about it two days ago. So, instead of expressing that, he forces himself to try and share in your joy.

That’s great. Let me know when you’re home, I have something for you.

A letter perhaps??

Your eager reply makes him smile despite himself. If anything, that helps his mood to improve. The ‘first date’ letter is already sitting on his counter, waiting.

Perhaps. Now stop texting me and go have fun.

There is no reply to that. So, Taehyung waits patiently, phone in hand. Hours pass in a mindless, sluggish way. He’s far too wound up to do anything productive but also has nervous energy that needs to be released. So, Taehyung spends the four hours it takes for you to finally respond by squeaking out haphazard notes on the alto saxophone he’s taken to trying to learn to play.

His phone lights up where it sits on the coffee table and he nearly drops the instrument in his haste to snatch up the device.

I’m home.

That’s all it says and it makes Taehyung frown. Not that he expected you to tell him how the date went over text message, but he was anticipating something more than just those two words. He is startled to realize just how late it is, though, being past eleven already.

Is it too late? I can always just swing by tomorrow.

Sujin is staying with mom. It’s not too late.

Taehyung is contemplating his reply when another text from you pops up that makes him drop everything else and grab his car keys, not caring it’ll be close to midnight by the time he pulls up outside your apartment. It was a knee-jerk reaction to also grab the letter that was sitting beside his keys, but now he’s thinking about whether or not it’s a good idea.

Those thoughts quickly fade as he focuses on the road, intent on reaching your apartment in record time. His phone sits on the passenger seat, still open to your text thread, the single word might as well be an alarm blaring to Taehyung, urging him on faster.

Please.

💔💔💔

As soon as you send the last text message you want to take it back. Not only do you feel whiny, but you know Taehyung will drop everything and come over which makes you feel terrible and like you’re using him.

But, fuck. The date was so horrible all you want to do is crawl into familiar, comforting arms and cry yourself to sleep. You’re about to pour your third glass of wine when there is a sudden knock on the door, followed by it swinging open. Taehyung stands there with your spare key in his hand, eyes wide with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breathless as he clearly sprinted up the stairs to get here and now you feel infinitely worse for it.

You shake your head which earns you a pained sound from Taehyung but you hold up your hand, silencing him. “I’m not shaking my head no as in no I’m not fine, it’s more a I’m such a fool head shake. I’m sorry, Tae. I’m fine. I shouldn’t have said anything, I just—”

“I’m glad you said something. What happened? Do I need to go pay a certain science teacher a visit?” For all his bravado, you know he wouldn’t hesitate if you said yes.

“No, no. It’s not his fault. Well, not entirely. Look, I’m sorry you drove all the way over here.” You discard the empty wine glass in favor of taking a large glug directly from the bottle.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung says, deftly taking the bottle from your hands before you have the chance to take a second gulp from it. “Stop apologizing and tell me what’s wrong.”

“It was a fucking disaster.”

If Taehyung is surprised by your cussing, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he stills beside you, brow slowly pinching and forming deep furrows between them. “Did he hurt you?” he whispers, but his tone is cold and hard. “I’ll kill him.”

“What? What, oh no, Tae, no. He didn’t hurt me, god no.” You sigh, propping your hip against the lip of the counter and wrapping your arms around your middle. “He was lovely, actually. I was the disaster. Or maybe we were. I don’t know, it was just a terrible night. A terrible idea.”

“Talk to me about it,” Taehyung encourages, his hands landing lightly on your shoulders to steer you toward the couch in the living room.

So, you spend the next hour recounting all the horrid details for him. Everything from the way Namjoon wouldn’t stop talking about rocks and mineralized dirt to the way he tried to kiss you at the end of the night only for you to duck and him to lose his balance, effectively making him face plant into the brick wall of your apartment building.

“See, it was a terrible idea,” you lament, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Taehyung hums softly. “It doesn’t sound like a complete disaster to me. Namjoon was polite, even if he did nothing but talk about his own interests. Did you try changing the subject, or did he ask about you and you gave a dismissive answer?” You give Taehyung an annoyed look. “I’m just saying, you have the tendency to avoid things like that. So, it’s only meant as a means to try and understand. Maybe it can be better next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.” You throw up your hands in defeat. “He said he had a lovely time, but I could see it plain on his face, he was just trying to be nice. He left with a bloody napkin pressed against his mouth for crying out loud!”

“Well, maybe he really—”

“But, most of all,” you continue, speaking over Taehyung, “I didn’t have a good time. I don’t want to do it again. It didn’t make me happy.”

That seems to subdue Taehyung. “Oh,” he says, nodding slowly. “Well, okay, that’s different.”

“I’m broken, defective.”

Taehyung scoffs, giving you a withering look a moment before dragging you into his arms, squeezing you tightly. “You’re not defective. You’re human. All this proves is that maybe the science teacher isn’t the guy for you. Simply just a lack of…chemistry.”

You can’t help but laugh at his bad joke. “You’re terrible,” you say in a lighter tone, meant to tease more than chastise. “But, you’re right, I guess. I just…this was the first date I’ve been on in a long time and it all went so horribly. It’s hard not to think that I somehow messed up, that I’m just…not right, just broken, y’know?” Taehyung’s eyes are soft as you look up at him, trying hard not to let yourself grow too accustomed to the comforting feel of his arms around your shoulders.

“You are perfect, most certainly not broken,” he whispers. You watch from beneath your lashes as a small crease etches across his forehead and you can tell he’s warring with himself over something before he slowly presses a soft kiss against the side of your head. “You just have to give yourself grace. I’m proud of you.” As he says that last part, he gently pulls back, hands resting on your shoulders. His right hand trails down your arm and you feel the soft caress of paper against the back of your hand. “Yejun would be proud of you, too, taking as big of a step as you have, I just know it.”

The envelope is small, but you instantly recognize the shape and feel of the paper. It’s just like the one you got earlier this week—like the one from two years ago. “Should I wait to read it?” you ask, not really expecting an answer.

“I’ll leave if you’d like some privacy.”

And in that moment you realize that’s the last thing you want. “No, please stay. Umm, that is, unless you have something to do.” It’s after midnight, the sour twist of jealousy rears as you think of everything that could possibly take Taehyung away at this hour. You tamp it down, knowing you have no right to keep him here, regardless. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Taehyung’s lip twitches as you wait for him to answer. He shakes his head. “No, I have nothing else to do. I can’t promise I won’t end up crashing on your couch, though,” he says, stifling a yawn in his elbow before lacing his fingers behind his head and stretching out. “I’m here as long as you need me.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and spreading it out over Taehyung’s legs before curling up on the opposite end of the couch. Taehyung shifts around the blanket with his feet, making sure the other end covers your legs as well.

“Don’t have to thank me,” he sighs sleepily. “I just want to make you happy.”

You’re not sure if he misspoke, because surely he meant only that he wants to see you happy. Because, as it is, him saying he wants to make you happy…well, that does something funny to you. Though, you can probably blame that on the terrible date with Namjoon or the half a bottle of wine you drank. Either way, you can’t help but smile as you look at Taehyung laying on the other end of your couch, eyes closed, and chest rising and falling with deep, even breathing.

You take a moment, running back over the date with Namjoon in your head, fingers idly moving along the edge of the envelope. It started out so nicely, Namjoon standing outside your apartment with a bouquet of flowers. They made your nose itch and your eyes water a bit from how overly fragrant they were—clearly some mass grown clippings from a supermarket—but you smiled anyway, appreciating the gesture.

Dinner was lovely, the new restaurant proving to be worth the drive and money spent. It’s perhaps your own fault for thinking Namjoon might pay for the meal and it didn’t hurt you any to pay for your own, but it felt oddly…impersonal? Less like a date and more like a business meeting or something. You’re not too old to be naive in the sense that women are just as capable of paying for dinner as men, as well as the fact that men shouldn’t hold the complete burden of expense on dates. It’s just…it was unusual and he didn’t even bring it up, simply told the waiter to split the check before it was brought.

It’s not helped by the fact that Namjoon wouldn’t stop talking about work or soil deposits. And perhaps Taehyung was at least half right in the fact that you didn’t put forth a lot of effort to change the subject, but the way you see it, if Namjoon was interested in knowing about you, he would have asked. Though, is that expecting too much? Are you being too harsh? Maybe you’re projecting and Namjoon really wasn’t that bad.

Before you can continue to spiral any further, you force your thoughts to the letter in your hand. Hoping it’ll put your ill heart at ease, you extract the folded parchment and smooth it out.

To the love of my life, For after your first date Hi, baby. First, I want to say that I love you. Second, I hope he at least made you smile. If he didn’t bring you flowers or even those cheap ones from the supermarket, don’t think too much of it. I’ll let you in on a little guy secret, not all of us are well versed on flora and even less so on women. Even if it didn’t go so well, though I hope it did, you can’t give up. Go on another date, with the same person or someone else, you just can’t stop now. Take as many adventures as you can, do something spontaneous. You never did take that dance class you wanted to a few years ago. Paint, travel, explore the world. Take Sujin to places we never got to go. Just don’t stop, keep turning, even if it’s slowly. I’m so proud of you, you know? No matter what, I know you’re going to be okay. You’re going to make it. I can’t wait to see all you do. You’re going to be wonderful. You’re amazing, keep shining, baby. I love you so much. Forever With You, Your Yejun

Tucking the letter against your heart, you snuggle down in the couch, mind racing. You feel lighter somehow, like Yejun’s words have given you far more affirmation than you thought possible. The terrible date doesn’t seem so disastrous now.

“You okay?”

You startle at the soft question, thinking Taehyung was fast asleep. His eyes are barely cracked open, peering at you over his bent, blanket-covered knees.

“Mm, yeah. I think so,” you say after clearing your throat.

“Good…good,” Taehyung murmurs, his eyes falling shut once more.

“Hey, Tae?”

“Hmm?” His eyebrows raise but he doesn’t open his eyes. You take a moment to truly see him, the soft light from the stand lamp on the other side of the room illuminating him in profile. The soft curve of his cheek, the delicate slope of his nose, and the pouty bow of his lips aren’t new features, but you’re not sure you’ve ever truly paid attention to how breathtakingly handsome he is.

“Will you help me?”

Taehyung’s lips twitch as a mild frown turns down his lips. “Help you?”

“With whatever comes next.”

“Whatever you need, I’m yours,” he mumbles, a soft smile replacing his frown. You watch him for a moment longer, his lips going even softer as the smile fades with sleep. His chest rises and falls, your eyes tracking the motion in the dim lighting until you feel the pull of sleep yourself. Taehyung is the last thing you see before you close your eyes, and for the first time in over two years, you sleep peacefully; with a subtle warmth blooming in your chest where once there was only cold.

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon!) ◅ Back to story masterlist

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