#get rejected by your own wife idiot

[majosullivan]

While these panels may hurt, Annabel’s expressions simultaneously make them so damn funny to me. She really put on her flirtiest expression and was immediately (and rightfully) shot down so hard

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Try Again [2]

Pairing: assistant!Jongho x new maid!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary: Among the many staff members at General Park's estate, Jongho stood out for his dedication, leaving no room for personal indulgence. Convinced that love and marriage would detract from his commitment to serving the general, he had resigned himself to a life of solitude. But his conviction was challenged with the arrival of an annoyingly perfect Miss Kwon, a new maid whose kindness and efficiency began to make him rethink his life choices.

Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"Ugh, he's such an idiot," Seonghwa mumbled, rubbing a frustrated hand against his temple as he entered the House of Lotus that night. His wife smirked from her position on the bed. "Yeah, reminds me of you. Men become utter fools when they develop feelings for someone."

He pouted, shedding the outer layer of his hanbok before carefully joining her on the bed, mindful of her round belly. "Am not," he argued, but she raised a challenging brow. "Are too." He huffed but pulled her close regardless. "Am not."

She glared up at him. "Are too, General Park. You're being one right now." He couldn't resist the grin creeping onto his face at how adorable she was, despite being about to become a mother. "Yes, my love. You're always right. I'm just messing with you, you know that." She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "That's more like it," she said, melting into her husband's warm embrace.

"Let him be, Hwa. I know you're frustrated, but he's at a stage where nothing you say will get through. He'll learn on his own eventually." He nodded in defeat, sighing when she pressed her lips against his jaw.

"Now, let us sleep."

"Yes, ma'am."

On the other side of the estate, you lay awake in bed, the events of the afternoon replaying in your mind like a broken record. You tried to reevaluate your priorities here, but one memory stood out starkly.

"Don't think, Miss Kwon. Just do your job and leave me alone. And it's Assistant Choi to you."

Those words pierced your heart more deeply than he would ever know. After all those moments and progress, were you a fool to believe you were finally on good terms? Was it naive to assume you were now… friends? A small, hopeful part of you even dared to wish for something more.

But now, you understand.

You had grown up a people pleaser all your life. And if leaving Jongho alone was what he truly wanted, you would grant him your absence. The last thing you ever wanted was to be a bother or annoyance to anyone. You had tried your best, but even a saint has their limits, and you had reached yours.

Feeling a profound sense of betrayal, you replayed his harsh words over and over in your mind. Each repetition cut deeper, shattering the fragile hope you had nurtured. You had seen glimpses of a softer side in the assistant, moments where his stern exterior seemed to crack. Those moments had given you hope—hope that there was more to your relationship than a mere formality. But now, it was clear that those glimpses were just that—brief and fleeting.

You had spent your life striving to make others happy, always going the extra mile to please those around you, to earn their approval and affection. It was in your nature to help, to support, to be there for others. But now, faced with his cold rejection, you were once again reminded that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, it will never be enough. The weight of his words pressed down on you, and the sting of rejection was almost unbearable.

It was just like with my parents…

Determined to respect his wishes, you resolved to distance yourself from him. It wasn't easy. Every interaction, every shared moment, had left an indelible mark on your heart. But you had to protect yourself, to preserve whatever dignity you had left. You would focus on your duties, keeping your head down and your heart guarded.

As you moved through your days, you couldn't help but feel a profound sadness. You missed the camaraderie you thought you had built, the unspoken connection you felt. Yet, you reminded yourself that you deserved to be around people who appreciated you and valued your presence. If Jongho wanted distance, you would give it to him, even if it broke your heart in the process.

The assistant had initially been grateful that you had listened and left him alone. He remembered tensing up the first time he saw you after he had told you off so rudely the other day. He breathed a sigh of relief when you only nodded politely in acknowledgement before walking the other way. But as days passed, it became hard not to notice how you were beginning to avoid him like he had first done to you. Whenever he tried to speak to you regarding work, you would dismiss him and redirect him to someone else.

Today was another one of those days.

He straightened up, noticing you heading his way. He cleared his throat, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as he stepped in front of you, intentionally blocking your path.

"Miss Kwon, I'd hate to trouble you, but I'm going to need you to—"

You sighed, bowing. "Apologies, Assistant Choi, but I have more than enough on my plate as it is. If this does not concern maternity or relate to the mistress in any way, please seek assistance from someone else." Without waiting for his response, you walked away.

He blinked in surprise as he watched you go. The indifference in your voice and the quick dismissal stung more than he cared to admit. It was a stark contrast to the warmth and eagerness you had once shown him. His initial relief turned into an uncomfortable realisation that your absence, your avoidance, was affecting him more than he had anticipated.

Whatever, it's better this way.

Jongho tried to convince himself, but it was no use. This treatment affected him more than he liked to admit, yet his stubbornness prevented him from addressing it. Out of spite, he became even meaner to you, thinking that maintaining a cold front would help him regain control.

One day, as he passed by the House of Lotus, he saw you tidying up Lady Park's pavilion, now cluttered with various items. When you felt his gaze, you turned and found him staring. Flustered, he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd be careful not to break anything if I were you. Every single item here is worth more than you ever will be." He cursed himself internally after uttering those words, wondering why he had to be so cruel. His fists clenched in regret when you let out a shaky breath and nodded obediently.

"I am aware, Assistant Choi. Please do not worry; I will treat them with the utmost care."

Why didn't you fight back? he wondered. The way you did when he had questioned you and your skills before? He hated that you were giving him minimal reactions, as if speaking to him would kill you. The realisation hit him hard—he was the hypocrite, condemning your distance when he had been the one to push you away.

Jongho's frustration mounted as he realised that your avoidance was cutting deeper than he had anticipated. Despite his best efforts to distance himself from you, each time you turned away, it stirred a pang of regret within him. At the thought, he found himself arranging the books in the general's study with more force than usual.

"Woah, any harder and you'll have to replace them all with new ones. I'm not sure your salary can cover that expense, Jongho. What's gotten your panties in a knot?" Seonghwa's sudden appearance beside him startled the assistant into a cough and a bow.

In truth, the younger man struggled to pinpoint the source of his frustration—whether it was directed at himself, you, or both. He knew he had no right to be angry with you; after all, you had only done exactly what he asked. It was a constant war between his mind and heart, and he was sick of it.

"Nothing, sir. Just a bit... overwhelmed with work," he lied, avoiding the general's knowing gaze.

Seonghwa sighed, crossing his arms. "You know, you're a terrible liar. This wouldn't have anything to do with Miss Kwon, would it?"

Jongho's silence spoke volumes. He continued to arrange the books, each movement more agitated than the last. "It's just... she's avoiding me," he finally admitted, his voice laced with frustration.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Seonghwa asked, raising an eyebrow.

The younger man clenched his fists, his knuckles white. "I thought it was. But now... I don't know."

"Maybe you should figure out what you really want before you destroy everything around you," General Park advised, his tone gentle but firm. "Including your own peace of mind."

He nodded slowly, the weight of his employer's words sinking in. He realised he needed to stop this war within himself. The constant push and pull were tearing him apart, and he couldn't bear it any longer.

That night, the general returned to his wife's side with a triumphant grin. "Things between those two will be fine now. Just you wait, my love." Lady Park shook her head. "Are you sure? I wouldn't be so optimistic if I were you."

And once again, her intuition proved correct.

Despite Jongho's desire to mend the rift between you, his pride and reluctance eventually held him back. Much to Seonghwa's disappointment, nothing changed. The silent war between Assistant Choi and the new maid persisted, casting a palpable tension over the household, noticed by nearly everyone.

Eunsook sighed heavily as she noticed the usually alert assistant zoning out for what felt like the thousandth time during their weekly inventory check. "What's bothering you, Jongho-yah? You know you can talk to me, right?" the elderly woman asked gently.

The general's aide finally snapped out of his trance, his eyes drifting away from the window where you had been standing moments ago, discussing herbs for the mistress' tonic with another maid.

"I…" He hesitated, tempted to confide in her. Eunsook had been like a mother to him throughout his employment here. But he shook his head, recognising how unprofessional discussing personal matters during work hours would be. More importantly, his pride stood in the way. Admitting his feelings would make them real and expose his vulnerability. He was Choi Jongho, after all. The last thing he needed was to be seen as a lovesick fool.

With a firm shake of his head, he forced a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Eunsook. Maybe just a bit tired, nothing a good night's sleep can't fix. I'll rest earlier tonight, don't worry."

She shook her head in disbelief as she watched the stubborn young man return to work, his usual mask of nonchalance firmly back in place. She could see the turmoil beneath his facade, but he was determined to keep it hidden, even from himself.

These kids are hopeless, I swear...

"Good job, everyone. Go and get some rest for the night." The assistant nodded approvingly at the completed tasks for the day and dismissed the group of estate staff assigned under him.

He watched as the servants dispersed, heading towards their respective quarters. Giving the tidy inventory one last look, he dusted off his hands in satisfaction and began walking towards his own room, ready to retire for the night. All he could think about was the comfort of his mattress. He couldn’t wait to lie down and forget about everything, especially you. Thoughts of you had been making him restless, and he truly loathed it. He chastised himself for being caught by Eunsook earlier. This was bad, and he couldn't keep letting you affect him this way.

As if the world were adamant about ruining his plans, your familiar petite frame appeared in his vision. You were hunched over a basin, scrubbing one of the mistress' hanboks clean. What in the world were you doing out here in the cold of the night? Everyone else was either heading to bed or already asleep. And here you were, performing a chore that could very well make you sick in this weather.

He took a hesitant step towards you, wanting to lecture you, but then stepped back, remembering how awkward things were between you now. Yet, he didn't have the heart to walk away. With a huff, he pushed himself to approach you.

"Miss Kwon, shouldn't this be a task done during the day? Just because you're out here late doesn't mean you're hardworking. If anything, it shows you can't finish your tasks on time during work hours." He mentally cursed himself for always letting such harsh words slip, as if showing that he cared was such a horrendous thing.

You halted your actions momentarily at the sound of his voice before continuing. "Good evening, Assistant Choi," you said, turning slightly to eye him from the corner of your eye, not granting him the pleasure of your full attention. "I understand what you mean, but I hope you also understand that a heavily pregnant woman like the mistress might not always have full control of her bladder like the rest of us and that unplanned mishaps can happen. Do you suppose I should leave the lady in her wet garments? Is it wrong that I am getting things done on my own time? Please do not let me stop you from getting your rest. I am fully capable of managing my own time. Thank you very much. Now, if you'll excuse me," you answered firmly, not paying him any more mind.

Jongho stood there, feeling a mix of frustration and regret. He hated the way he spoke to you, but he couldn't seem to help it. Watching you continue your task, he realised that your dedication and resilience only made him admire you more, even if he was too stubborn to admit it. "Fine."

If he thought that would be the last time he found you out late, he was sorely mistaken. Over the next few days, he noticed a troubling pattern: you were working harder than ever, often staying up late to complete various chores long after the mistress had gone to bed. As if that wasn't concerning enough, you were already up and working by the time he started his day, which was unusually early. He began to wonder if you were getting any rest at all.

Despite his stubbornness, the assistant couldn't help but worry about your well-being. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the way you sometimes swayed on your feet from exhaustion and the quiet determination in your every movement. It bothered him more than he would like to admit, but he refused to acknowledge that he cared. The thought of you overworking yourself began to weigh heavily on his mind.

One evening, he stood by the window of the general's study, watching as you meticulously swept the courtyard. The sun had long set, and the estate was bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to go out there and tell you to stop. But his pride kept him rooted in place.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Why does she have to be so damn stubborn?" he muttered to himself.

Just then, the head maid entered the room with a tray of tea. She set it down on the desk and looked at him with a knowing expression. "Still worrying about her?"

Jongho stiffened, then tried to play it off with a nonchalant shrug. "I'm not worrying, Eunsook. It's just… She's working too hard. It's not good for her."

The elderly woman raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying his act. "You know, Jongho-yah, it's okay to care about someone. Even if it's hard to admit."

He scoffed, turning away from the window. "I'm not admitting anything. She's just… being reckless."

Eunsook shook her head with a soft chuckle. "You can keep telling yourself that, but everyone can see it. Just don't wait too long to do something about it."

As she left the room, Jongho's gaze drifted back to you. He knew she was right, but his pride and fear of vulnerability kept him silent. Yet, with each passing day, the thought of you overworking yourself increasingly bothered him, threatening to break through the walls he had built around his heart.

About to retire for the night, the assistant once again spotted you still busy at work. Tonight, you were by the furnace outside the House of Lotus, burning coals in an attempt to keep the mistress warm during the relentless cold weather. What an idiot, he thought to himself as he carefully approached you, not wanting to alert you to his presence. Here you were, busy keeping the lady warm while putting yourself in the cold. You were going to fall sick at this rate. He was amazed that you weren't already ill with the constant work and little rest you'd been getting lately.

He let out a small sigh of relief when he was close enough to see your head propped up on your fist, your elbow resting on your knee, your eyes closed. "You stubborn girl," he whispered to himself, feeling his heart ache as he observed the callouses on your free hand and the bags under your eyes. Your lips were dry and chapped, nearly turning blue from sitting out in the cold for god knows how long. He had to fight the urge to pull you close and carry you back to your quarters.

Instead, he sighed and crouched down beside you, lifting a hesitant hand to your face and gently moving a stray strand of hair. Noticing the slight shiver that ran through you, he quickly pulled off the outer layer of his hanbok and draped it around your shaking form. He froze when you seemed to wake up from the sudden warmth enveloping you.

"Hm— what? J-Jongho?" you muttered groggily before realising who was in front of you. Clearing your throat, you shot up from your seat and bowed. "Assistant Choi, wh-what were you…" you trailed off, noticing his outer layer on your shoulders.

Ignoring his disappointment when you corrected yourself and addressed him by his title instead of his name, he avoided your gaze, standing up as well. "Don't overthink it. I may be strict, but I'm not heartless. After all, who would care for the mistress if you fell sick? If you were responsible, you'd take good care of yourself too." He spoke in his usual icy tone, the mask of nonchalance returning as he turned to leave.

"Wait, your—" you started, looking down at the piece of clothing around your frame, but he cut you off.

"Keep it," he said firmly.

As he walked back to his room, he whispered to the wind, hoping it would somehow reach you, "You need it more than I do."

You stared after his retreating figure in confusion. He was so infuriating. If he wanted to be mean, why couldn't he be mean until the end? Why was he always making things more complicated than they should be? He constantly said one thing and did another. Why was he playing with your feelings like this?

You had been trying so hard to push all thoughts of him out of your mind, focusing on nothing but work, keeping yourself busy, and putting him at a distance just as he had wanted. You wanted to show him that you could be just as good at your job as he was—just as hardworking, dedicated, and capable—to prove him wrong about whatever prejudices he might have against you.

And just when you thought you could finally learn to hate him, he would go and do things like this, undoing all your efforts. You sighed, clutching the fabric around you, pulling it close as tears of frustration welled in your eyes. His scent was somehow… comforting.

"Stop doing this to me, Choi Jongho," you whispered to the night, feeling your resolve crumble once again.

The next day, the assistant resumed his work as usual, though his heart raced at the thought of running into you. Would you still be wearing the piece of clothing he had given you? Or had you already cleaned it and left it on his doorstep? The latter seemed more likely. He couldn't understand his internal dilemma: on the one hand, it felt oddly satisfying to imagine you walking around with his robe draped over you, as if you were his. On the other hand, he wanted to smack himself sober for having these mind-boggling thoughts. He was stuck between wanting to see you in it and knowing the impropriety of it all.

In his constant efforts to both avoid and keep an eye out for you, half the day had gone by, and he began to realise that you had been nowhere in sight the entire time. He told himself not to overthink it, but his mind raced with possibilities of where you could be, trying to regulate the escalating unease he felt.

While he could have simply asked around, he refused to inquire about your whereabouts, prioritising his pride over his concern. Yet, secretly, he was going insane with worry.

As he moved through his tasks, his frustration grew. Every room he entered, every corridor he walked down, he found himself hoping to catch a glimpse of you. The absence of your presence gnawed at him more than he cared to admit.

By the time the sun began to set, his anxiety had reached its peak. The thought of something happening to you while he stubbornly refused to show concern made him feel a pang of guilt. He clenched his fists, battling the urge to ask someone where you were.

Instead of carrying out his tasks, Jongho ended up spending nearly the entire day searching the estate for you. Every corner, every room, every possible hiding place—he checked them all, growing more distressed with each passing moment.

Where could she have possibly gone?

After what felt like an eternity, he finally found you alone in the Cold Palace. Your figure was hunched, and his heart clenched when he realised you were crying on one of the steps leading up to the vacant chambers. His heart picked up its speed again when he spotted his robe neatly folded beside you. So, you kept it. It was apparent you had come here for privacy, given that this place had been as good as abandoned ever since the mistress moved out.

A part of him told himself he was intruding on a personal moment and that he should leave you be now that he knew you were safe. But the bigger part of him couldn't take it anymore. He wanted— no, needed to know you were okay.

Annoyed yet concerned, Jongho moved to sit down beside you, his presence startling you slightly. "What's making you cry?" he asked, his tone a mix of irritation and genuine concern.

"Assistant Choi?" Blinking rapidly, you shook your head. "I-I'm fine..."

His stern gaze silenced you. "Just be honest with me… please."

You wiped your tears, taking a deep breath before responding. "Fine, if you insist. I'm just… I'm tired of constantly feeling as though I will never be enough for anyone and everyone. You think you're the only one who fought hard to get where you are?" you began, your voice trembling with emotion. "I've struggled, too. I've given everything to prove myself, to show that I'm just as capable, just as dedicated. You have no right to judge me or mistreat me."

The assistant's heart sank with each word. He had hoped, in some twisted way, that your tears were because of him, a testament to his impact on your life. But hearing your frustration, your own story of perseverance, shattered that notion.

When you finished, you stood up, ready to leave. But against his better judgement, he gently pulled you back, his mind racing for the right words. All his usual defences, his pride and stubbornness, seemed meaningless at this moment.

"I... I'm sorry," he muttered softly, his voice barely audible.

You looked at him, surprised by his uncharacteristic vulnerability. For a moment, the air between you was heavy with unspoken emotions. Jongho, struggling to find more words, simply held your gaze, hoping his apology was enough to convey his regret.

At those unexpected words, your tears flowed again as you allowed him to gently guide you back into the seat beside him. The chill of the air was gradually replaced by warmth as he once again draped his robe over your shoulders. He didn't say another word, but his actions spoke volumes, conveying his sincerity. This unexpected kindness only made you cry harder.

He moved closer until your shoulders touched, his presence a silent reassurance that you weren't alone. The two of you spent the rest of the evening sitting next to each other in silence. Though he could have left after offering his apology, he realised he didn't want to. There was an unspoken bond forming between you, a quiet understanding that both of you needed.

As the stars began to dot the sky, the silence between you became more comfortable, almost intimate. He felt a sense of peace he hadn't felt in a long time. He glanced at you, noticing the way your breathing had evened out, your tears finally subsiding.

"I'm sorry," he repeated softly, feeling the need to say it again.

You nodded, leaning slightly into his warmth, feeling a strange sense of relief. "Thank you," you whispered, grateful for his sincerity.

The two of you remained there, side by side, the Cold Palace no longer feeling so cold with the shared warmth of understanding and newfound camaraderie. The quiet intimacy of the moment made your hearts flutter, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.

The next day, Jongho eagerly looked forward to seeing you again. However, as he made his rounds, his anticipation turned to confusion and panic when he couldn't find you anywhere again, not even the Cold Palace. None of the servants had any answers for him, claiming not to know where you had gone.

Desperate for answers, he sought out the general, the head maid, and the mistress. Each of them gave him the same response: "She left, Jongho. She's gone home."

She... left? But why?

Panic gripped him. Hadn't everything been resolved after the previous night? He couldn't understand what was happening. He clearly recalled escorting you back to your quarters after a pleasant stop by the kitchen, where you treated yourselves to some leftover dishes from dinner. There had been laughter, shared stories, and a genuine connection. You had shyly handed his robe back to him at the end of the night, but he had insisted you keep it. Things were going well, weren't they? So, what went wrong?

His mind raced with questions. For once, he wasn't worried about the consequences Seonghwa mentioned he would face if you quit. All he could think about was why you had left and where you had gone. Was last night a goodbye? Why exactly were you crying? There had to be more to it, right?

He needed answers.

Holy crap, he needed you.

As he stood in the empty courtyard, grappling with his mounting frustration and confusion, the general approached, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Jongho...? You okay, buddy?"

The question snapped the assistant from his spiralling thoughts. He turned to face his employer, his face a mask of desperation and determination. The weight of the revelation that you had left, combined with the realisation of how deeply he had come to care for you, pushed him to the brink.

With a sudden surge of emotion, Jongho blurted out, "I need to know where she lives. I need her address—now!"

General Park's eyes widened in surprise. The head maid and the mistress exchanged concerned glances, their expressions reflecting the unexpected turn of events. His outburst revealed a side of him they had rarely seen—a side filled with raw vulnerability and an intensity that spoke of deep feelings.

"You... you were right, I can't be without her," he continued, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and resolve. "I didn't realise how much she meant to me until she was gone. I thought I could handle it, but I can't. I need to bring her back."

Took you long enough, you prideful idiot.

Seonghwa's hand remained on his shoulder, a silent gesture of support. The assistant's declaration of his feelings, so raw and exposed, left him feeling both embarrassed and liberated. He knew now that his emotions were undeniable, and he was willing to face whatever consequences lay ahead to be with you again.

Eunsook stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. "Jongho, are you sure about this? It's a long journey, and things might not be as simple as you think. Miss Kwon, she was uh... she seemed very troubled."

Jongho nodded, his eyes determined. "Then that's all the more reason for me to be there for her. I've never been more certain of anything in my life. I can't let her think that I don't care. I need to see her, to explain… to fix whatever I messed up."

The lady, witnessing his resolve, stepped in with a sympathetic smile. "Very well. We'll get you the address. But remember, you must be honest with her. Be clear about your feelings. No more saying things you don't mean."

He nodded firmly and took a deep breath, the weight of his decision settling in. He felt a rush of relief and fear, knowing that he was about to embark on a journey to find you and make things right. He had come to understand that his feelings for you were more than just fleeting emotions—they were real, and they mattered deeply.

As the information was given to him, the assistant clutched the piece of paper tightly, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety. He turned to Seonghwa, Eunsook, and the mistress, offering them a sincere thank you.

"I'll make sure she knows how much she means to me," Jongho said with resolve. "Thank you for your understanding."

With that, he set off, ready to face the world and do whatever it took to bring you back. The journey ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: he was no longer just an assistant doing his job—he was a man determined to fight for the love he had finally come to recognise.

Your heart felt heavy as you stepped out of the carriage, staring up at the estate you once called home, though it had never truly felt like one. No matter how many people filled its halls, it always remained a cold place, devoid of the warmth you craved. And yet, here you were again, returning after years away. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before entering the Kwon household for the first time in forever.

As you walked through the entrance, the servants bowed in recognition of your presence. "Welcome back, young miss," they murmured. You nodded emotionlessly, your eyes fixed on the altar straight ahead, which held the painting of a person whose affection you had fought hard to earn but never received.

Your brothers turned as your presence was announced. The second eldest furrowed his brows, a sneer forming on his lips. "Well, well, look who finally decides to show up? And here I was thinking Miss Ungrateful would never step foot in this house again. I'm afraid it's a little late to return, little sister. Mother's already dea—"

The eldest grabbed his arm, stopping him from finishing the sentence. "That's enough. Don't start anything. Show some respect. Mother would not want this."

You stood there, feeling a mix of sorrow and resentment. The coldness of the house and the harshness of your brother's words only served to remind you of why you had left in the first place. Yet, as you looked at the painting of the late Lady Kwon, you couldn't help but feel a pang of grief. Despite everything, a part of you had always hoped for reconciliation, for a family that would accept and love you.

Swallowing your emotions, you stepped forward, trying to find your voice. "I came to pay my respects," you said softly, your tone measured and controlled. "Whatever differences we had, she was still my mother."

The second eldest scoffed but remained silent, his gaze shifting away from you. You took another step closer to the altar, feeling the weight of the past and the unresolved emotions pressing down on you. It was difficult to be here, but you knew you had to face it, if not for your own sake, then for the memory of the woman whose portrait now watched over you.

As you stood there, the silence was heavy, filled with unspoken words and buried feelings. Your heart ached, but you remained resolute, determined to find closure in this place that had once been so unforgiving.

You settled on your knees before the altar, the flickering candlelight casting gentle shadows across your face. After lighting your own incense stick, you carefully placed it in the holder before your mother's resting place. Lowering your head, you clasped your hands together, the scent of the burning incense mingling with the bittersweet memories that flooded your mind.

The past few days had been a tumultuous sea of emotions. Upon receiving word of your mother's passing, you had been overwhelmed, retreating to the solitude of the Cold Palace to grapple with your feelings. The cold and empty chambers mirrored your own inner turmoil as you wrestled with the decision of whether or not to return to the place that had caused you so much pain.

As you knelt there, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, thoughts of a certain general's assistant suddenly entered your mind. The memory of his comforting presence the night before, his robe draped around your shoulders, and the sincerity in his voice as he apologised, filled your heart with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the coldness of your surroundings.

I wish you were here, Choi Jongho...

His steady presence, his silent strength—it would have been a balm to your aching soul. You longed for his reassuring touch, his quiet support. The thought of him brought a small measure of comfort amidst the sorrow.

Blinking back tears, you whispered a silent prayer, seeking peace and closure. You hoped that, somehow, your mother could hear you and understand the complex emotions you harboured. Despite the years of distance and the unresolved pain, you wished for forgiveness and reconciliation, even if it was now too late.

You took a deep breath, lifting your head to gaze at the portrait before you. "Mother," you whispered, your voice trembling, "I hope you find peace. I hope you know that despite everything, I loved you. And I hope… I hope you can forgive me."

The room was silent, the air thick with the scent of incense and the weight of unspoken words. You remained kneeling, feeling the presence of your elder brothers behind you, the tension still palpable. But in that moment, you felt a small sense of release, as if a part of the burden you had carried for so long had been lifted.

As you rose to your feet and turned, your breath hitched at the sight of your father standing there, your younger brothers by his side. His presence was imposing, yet there was something different in his eyes—a softness you hadn't seen before.

"You're really here… I didn't believe them when they told me you came," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You gulped and bowed deeply. "Yes, I've come, Father."

To your surprise, he broke into a smile, a genuine expression of warmth that took you aback. "Come, my dear, let us have some tea and catch up."

Your heart warmed at the semblance of pleasure on his face. Was he glad you returned? Could he have… regretted not treating you better after you left? The questions swirled in your mind, but the hint of hope blossomed in your chest.

The eldest gave you an encouraging nod. You took a deep breath and followed your father to the living hall, your footsteps echoing softly in the spacious corridors of the house where you spent your childhood.

The living hall was just as you remembered—lavishly decorated yet exuding a cold elegance. But today, the atmosphere felt different, almost welcoming. The elderly man gestured for you to sit, and soon a servant brought in a tray with a steaming teapot and delicate porcelain cups.

As the tea was poured, your father looked at you with a mixture of pride and regret. "I've been thinking, and I believe it's time for you to move back home," he said, his voice steady but with an undertone that made your blood run cold. "You don't have to work so hard anymore. I heard you're out there working as some servant to General Park. You're a lady from House Kwon; you can do so much better. I have a list of marriage candidates that could guarantee you a lavish life, my daughter."

In that moment, the warmth you had felt earlier was sucked out of your being. You should have known better than to believe he genuinely wanted you back for the sake of family. You saw through his motives right away. He only saw a use for you now—to marry and establish another powerful connection for his family. That was all you were ever good for in his eyes.

Your heart sank, and the chill of disappointment wrapped around you. "I see," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The tea, which moments ago had brought comfort, now tasted like ash in your mouth. "So that's why you want me back."

He frowned, clearly not expecting your reaction. "You misunderstand, my daughter. I only want what's best for you."

You stood, feeling a surge of defiance. "No, you want what's best for you and this house. But I am not a tool for your ambitions."

"That's right because she is so much more than that." You gasped, whipping around to find Jongho standing there, a confident grin on his face. "And Lord Kwon, this young lady is far more than just a mere servant for General Park. In case your informant wasn't thorough enough, she is a renowned obstetrician recommended by noblewomen all around Joseon. She is now a valued and cherished member of the Park household. So, it would be great if you could show her the respect she deserves."

Your father narrowed his eyes at the uninvited guest, standing up. "And who the hell are you? Her little secret admirer?"

Before you could turn to defend the assistant, Jongho stepped forward, his voice steady and unyielding. "If you must know, I'm Choi Jongho, General Park's most trusted aide and only assistant. And yes, I am also Miss Kwon's secret admirer, but I don't need your permission to court her. I've come to ask for hers, not yours."

Your jaw dropped as you stared at him with wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. Was this a confession?

With a final, stern glare, he took a step forward, placing his arm protectively around you, just as he had when you went to the market. "Now, if we're done here, Lord Kwon, I will be escorting the lady back to where she truly belongs, far away from here."

You let him lead you away, the shock slowly giving way to a warm, comforting certainty. For the first time in a long while, you felt valued, seen, and cared for. As you walked away from the place that never truly felt like home, you glanced up at Jongho, grateful for his unexpected presence and the boldness of his words.

"So, you're my secret admirer, huh?" you teased, biting your lip as you watched the assistant's face flush with a deep, embarrassed red. He blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure, and straightened in his seat across from you in the carriage.

"Yes, well… I suppose I am," the usually composed assistant stammered, his hands fidgeting nervously. "And I need to apologise for all the times I was mean to you."

You tilted your head, intrigued. "Oh? And why were you so mean to me, Assistant Choi?"

Jongho sighed deeply, his gaze falling to his lap. "I didn't mean any of it. I was bitter because I thought it was unfair that you seemed to have it easy while I had to work so hard. But now… now I see how hard you work and how much you deserve every bit of recognition you get. And your family, if you can even call them that— I... I was wrong about everything, and I'm truly sorry."

His eyes met yours, brimming with genuine regret and admiration. "Most importantly, I've come to realise how much I admire you and how much I enjoy being around you. It's been hard, and I have no one to blame but myself for pretending I didn't want to hold you close, feeling foolish for pushing you away when all I wanted was to be by your side."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his heartfelt words. "And that was why, when I found out you were gone, I had to get you back. I can't lose you without having you know how I feel. I promise that this time, you'll never have another reason to return to the Kwon estate. You'll always have a home here with us… with me."

You blinked, slightly confused. "As sweet as that is… you do know I was planning to return to the general's estate the next day, right?"

He went speechless, his eyes widening in surprise. "Y-you were…?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I was just going to attend the funeral. Besides, who would care for the mistress if I was gone? I promised I'd help her through it, and I intend to. Didn't Eunsook or the general tell you that?"

Jongho shook his head, a mix of relief and frustration washing over him. He silently cursed Seonghwa, his wife, and Eunsook for making him look like a fool.

You sighed, a light laugh escaping your lips. "And here I was, worried that the lady's water might have broken because of how suddenly you appeared to take me back."

He softened, a sheepish grin slowly replacing his earlier tension. "Well, I guess that makes me look a bit like an idiot. But I'm glad I could finally be honest with you and with myself. I promise I'll be good to you and make up for all my past mistakes… if you'll let me."

You reached out hesitantly for his hand, then nervously retreated, feeling unsure. But he was quick to hold onto your hand firmly, cradling it against his chest, letting you feel his heart racing for you. Heart fluttering in your chest, you smiled warmly. "Jongho, I never wanted anything more than for you to be honest with me. I forgive you. Let's... let us try again."

His eyes lit up with relief and joy, his grip on your hand tightening with earnestness. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning in slightly. "I won't let you down."

As the carriage continued its journey, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, a new bond beginning to weave itself between you. For the first time, you felt a deep sense of peace, knowing that the future held promise and that you had someone who truly cared by your side.

Arriving back at the general's estate, Seonghwa greeted you both with a teasing smile and a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Ah, Miss Kwon, you're back a day early!"

Jongho shot the older man a flat, unamused look but couldn't hide the blush and adoration in his eyes as he watched you. You suppressed a laugh, noting the general's knowing grin.

"Yes, sir," you replied with a grateful smile at Jongho. "Assistant Choi was kind enough to bring me back early. Now I should probably get to work—I'm sure the mistress could use my assistance."

Giving his hand a quick, reassuring squeeze, you turned to head towards the House of Lotus. The assistant stood there, rooted to the spot, his gaze following you with a lovesick grin, already missing you.

I can't believe she's really mine...

Observing the scene with amusement, Seonghwa clapped him on the shoulder. "I told you I'd help you find a wife. Perfect, isn't she? Just wait until I tell Miss Kwon all about your speech on how you'd be a terrible husband."

The younger man cleared his throat, irritation on his face. "Sir, need I remind you that you were once just as hopeless as I am?"

Seonghwa fell silent, his smile fading as he remembered his own awkward past.

"Look at you now, all grown up," the general teased. "Now get back to work if you're so free to stand around. It's not a honeymoon until you ask for her hand in marriage, and I expect that to happen soon!"

Jongho's face turned a deep shade of red. He stammered, "Y-yes, sir. I need to, um… get something done."

In a flurry of flustered haste, he dashed off, muttering about urgent tasks. Seonghwa chuckled, watching his dedicated assistant with a sense of satisfaction. It was heartening to see that even the stubborn Jongho had finally found love. General Park couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment, knowing that all his friends had found their own happiness. His thoughts then drifted to a certain fourth prince, wondering how he was faring these days.

Aaand we're finally done with baby bear's love story! Hope it was decent! Are y'all ready for Prince Yeo's spinoff? One last story to go before wrapping up this universe! I am, of course, open to doing more TWTHH bonus content but we'll see hehe~

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[singstaircase]

Can We Become We? (2)

Summary: 5 times Jude tried to show his love for his wife and failed and 1 time he succeed.

contains: fluff, references to marriage of convenience, Valverde and Brahim are as useful as always, Ancelotti makes another appearance. This is a definitive part two of can we became we?

*Mina is Valverde's partner, Luz is Brahim's girlfriend, Ana is Lunin's wife

1

Jude is proud of this plan.

It was his idea, definitely not something he picked up from the internet, Luka or Brahim–especially not Brahim.

And the best part? He's certain it's going to work.

Taking a deep breath, Jude tries to calm the fluttering of his heart once more and gather his thoughts together.

He can hear that melodic laughter getting clear and closer. With one last deep breath, he hurries into the lounge area with a bouquet in hand.

“(Name)!” Jude calls out.

(Name) looks up from her laptop, and a smile immediately spreads across her face when she sees her. His heart skips a beat– her smile still having that effect on him.

"What's this?" she asks, her eyes lighting up a bit as she takes the bouquet.

"Just a little something for you," Jude says, beaming with pride.

(Name)’s smile falters a bit as she looks at the flowers more closely. She lets out an awkward laugh, trying to mask her confusion. “Thanks, Jude. This is…interesting.”

Jude's own smile fades away, replaced by the same confusion as his wife. “What's wrong? You don't like them?”

(Name) bites her lips, trying to choose her next words carefully.

“No, no, they're lovely. Just...unexpected." She kisses him on the cheek and excuses herself, murmuring something about Mina and dinner.

Jude stands there, bewildered.

Just then, Ancelotti enters the lounge area with Fede and Brahim.

His coach takes one look at the flowers and shakes his head in disappointment. Fede and Brahim, on the other hand, immediately burst into laughter.

“What's so funny?” Jude demands.

Brahim nearly loses his balance and clings to Fede when Ancelotti smacks Jude lightly on the head.

“Idiot. You gave her yellow carnations. Do you realize what that means?”

Jude rubs the back of his head, still clueless. “No?”

“They mean disappointment and rejection. You basically told your wife you hate her.”

Jude's eyes widen in horror. “What?! I thought these were just pretty flowers!"

Without wasting another second, he bolts outside. "(Name)! Wait!"

Behind him, his coach sighs while Fede and Brahim continue to laugh in disbelief.

2

Jude is proud of his plan. And this time he's going to succeed, he is sure of it.

He's going to surprise (Name) and there's no possible way anything can go wrong.

The plan is perfect, except for one fact. Jude…. isn't the greatest when it comes to cooking.

In their Madrid home, Jude tries to remember the recipe as he gathers ingredients. He's seen it many times, how hard can it possibly be?

As he starts chopping vegetables, his confidence begins to waver.

The onions make his eyes sting, the garlic refuses to mince as finely as he was expecting and he can't quite remember if the vegetables need to be marinated or just tossed in the pan.

But Jude presses on, refusing to let minor failures discourage him.

Soon enough, the kitchen is filled with the smell of sizzling vegetables and herbs—though it is accompanied by the occasional scent of something burning.

He stirs, tastes, adds more salt, more pepper and at one point, dumps an entire jar of sauce, just to be safe.

By the time (Name) arrives home, the kitchen is in chaos. Pots and pans are all over the floor and a faint trail of smoke is seeping from the oven.

“Jude?” (Name) calls out as she enters their living room, the smell of something burnt hitting her immediately.

“In here!” Jude calls back, trying to keep his voice steady. “Just finishing up a little surprise for you!”

(Name) walks into the kitchen and freezes. The scene in front of her is both endearing and alarming.

Jude is surrounded by a culinary disaster– splash of sauce on the wall, flour on the counter and his hair, and a dish in front of him that looks like it just fought a losing battle against the stove.

“Jude….what is this?” She asks, her voice a mixture of confusion and concern. Jude turns to her, grinning proudly.

“I wanted to do something for you. You always do so much for me and now it’s my turn to spoil you.”

(Name)’s heart melts at the sight of her husband being proud of his efforts, despite the clear indication of his struggle.

“That's so sweet of you, Jude,” she softly says, stepping closer.

“Here, sit down,” Jude said, gesturing towards the dining table. “I’ll bring it to you.”

He awkwardly places the food as she watches, trying to arrange it in a way that doesn't look entirely like a mess.

(Name) stares at the dish.

It is…very different from what they usually eat, and the smell is… well, not exactly appetizing either. But she can see how much this means to Jude, and there’s no way she is going to let him down.

She picks up her fork and forces a smile. “It looks… interesting,” she says, trying to sound enthusiastic.

“Go on, try it!” Jude urges, taking a seat opposite of her and watching her intently.(Name) takes a deep breath and cuts a small piece of the dish.

The texture is tough, the seasoning is overwhelming and there is a strange taste of something burnt that lingers. It is, quite possibly, the worst thing she has ever eaten.

But she swallows it, determined not to hurt Jude's feelings.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, forcing another smile. “It’s… different.”

Jude beams. “I knew you’d love it! I’ll make this more often.”

(Name)’s smile falters, just for a second before she forces it back in place. “That’s… great, Jude.”

3

Ana’s birthday presents Jude with his next opportunity.

Surely he can't mess this up, right? It's just dancing– how hard can it possibly be?

(Name)’s heart skips a beat when Jude asks her for a dance, just like the first time.

It does so again, when he admits that he learned how to dance just for her.

To her astonishment, he is doing good—really good.

For a moment, the world melts away, and (Name)’s smile grows wider with each turn and twirl.

“Jude, you’re doing so good!” she exclaims, laughing as they spin around the room.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jude replies in a soft voice full of affection. “You deserve the best.”

Turns out, dancing isn't that hard.

But dancing with the love of your life? One of the hardest things ever and Jude discovers that in the most unfortunate way.

As the dance goes on, Jude becomes more and more captivated by (Name)’s smile, the way her eyes sparkle and how perfectly she fits in his arms.

He's so mesmerized that, for a split second, he loses focus.

***

It happens in an instant.

As he twirls her one last time, his grip loosens and (Name) spins out of his arms.

She gasps in surprise as she stumbles backward. But before she can fall, Fede and Mina, standing nearby, catch her just in time.

Jude's heart drops to the floor as he watches in horror. He rushes to her side, his face pale with worry.

“(Name)! Are you okay? I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—”

(Name), although startled, is quick to reassure him. She gives their friends a grateful smile as they help lift her up.

Turning to Jude, she places a hand on his arm. “I’m fine, Jude. Don't worry,” she says gently.

But even (Name)’s reassurance isn't enough to ease Jude.

He spends hours going over every detail, apologizing for his mistake. (Name) patiently listens, repeating over and over that she understands, that she isn't upset.

Once again, Jude's perfect plan failed.

4

This time it has to work, it has to.

Jude parks his car in front of (Name)’s workplace a good 20 minutes before her shift is supposed to end.

He checks the time and the address repeatedly. It's going to be perfect this time around. It has to.

But as minutes tick by, Jude starts to get anxious. He's been waiting for ten minutes and there seems to be no sign of (Name).

His eyes flick back and forth between the clock on the dashboard and the building’s entrance.

Another five minutes pass. Still nothing.

Jude's concern begins to grow. He reaches for his phone, only to find the screen completely dark. His phone is dead.

A wave of panic takes over him. What if she's stuck somewhere and can't reach me?

Jude glances around frantically, hoping to see (Name).

Just then, he spots Luz walking out of the building. Relief washes over him and he hurries out of the car to meet her.

“Luz!” Jude calls out. He takes a few seconds to steady himself. “Where's (Name)? I've been waiting for her but she's nowhere to be seen?”

Luz looks at him, confused. “(Name)?”

“Yeah. I came to pick her up,” he explains, “but it's almost been 20 minutes and I still haven't seen her.”

Luz’s puzzled expression softens once she realizes what's happened.

“Jude…she isn't here because this isn't her workplace.”

Jude blinks, trying to process her words. “What? But–but I thought…”

Luz shakes her head with a small smile. “No, she works on the building down the road. The names are pretty similar, I can see how you got confused.”

Jude's heart sinks. He can't believe he made such a silly mistake. “Shit…I’m such an idiot,” he mutters to himself, before looking back at Luz.

“Thank you, Luz.”

Without wasting another second, he rushes back to his car and drives off towards the correct location.

As he pulls up to the right building, he spots (Name) just as she’s stepping out of the entrance.

Relief washes over him once more. He quickly parks the car and hurries over to her.

“(Name)!” he calls out in an apologetic voice.

(Name) turns, surprised to see him. “Jude? What are you doing here?”

Jude reaches her, slightly out of breath. “I’m so sorry, (Name). I went to the wrong building. I got the names mixed up and then my phone died. And I was so worried when I didn’t see you…”

(Name)’s expression softens as she sees the genuine concern in his eyes. She offers him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Jude. Really, it’s fine.”

Back in the car, Jude glances at her, his face still clouded with regret.

“I'm so sorry, (Name). I wish I didn't mess up like this all the time.”

(Name) reaches out and touches his shoulder gently.

“You didn't mess up,” she says, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You are here and that's enough for me.”

Jude sighs. He tries to relax but the guilt of messing up still lingers around.

Jude 0 Misfortune 3*

5

For once, Jude isn't actually sure of the plan. But one thing he is certain of is that if he stays like this, he'll faint soon.

This was Brahim and Fede’s plan, needless to say he was skeptical from the start. But they’ve been relationships longer than him, so he decided to trust them.

Now, as the minutes drag on, he's starting to realize that it might have been a huge mistake.

***

This is ridiculous, Jude thinks, feeling the sweat start trickle down his back. This was a stupid idea that would only work in movies.

He shoots Fede hid eighth glare of the night and Brahim is probably hiding somewhere.

The midfielder gestures for Jude to relax but it only makes him more impatient.

A small sound from his phone ends up being Fede's saving grace. ‘Five more minutes’, the message from Brahim reads.

***

True to his words, five minutes later, Jude finally spots (Name) across the room.

With a deep breath, Jude walks over and without a word, drapes his jacket over her shoulders.

(Name) blinks in surprise, then looks up at him, puzzled.

“Jude… what are you doing? Are you okay? You’re sweating a lot.”

Jude tries to explain but his words come out in a jumbled mess. “I just… I thought you might be cold, so I… the jacket…”

Her confusion turns into a soft, amused smile. She removes the jacket off her shoulders and ties it around her waist instead.

“You’re sweet but I’m not cold,” she says, taking his hand. “Come on, let’s go for a walk. You look like you need some fresh air.”

***

As they head outside, Jude doesn’t miss the opportunity to shoot another death glare at Fede, who’s trying—and failing—not to laugh. Brahim is grinning like a Cheshire cat from across the room.

He's never listening to anything they ever say.

+1

Jude planned everything perfectly.

Or so he thought.

His grand plan was to surprise (Name) with a romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant. There was very little that could go wrong this time, right?

Unfortunately for Jude, everything that could go wrong, did go wrong and horribly so.

First, they are late thanks to him misplacing the car keys. Then, in his flustered state, Jude takes a wrong turn and gets stuck in the traffic for almost an hour.

By the time they finally arrive at the restaurant, they learn that their reservation has been given to another couple.

“We’re terribly sorry, sir,” the hostess said. “But your time ended and we had to give the table away.”

Jude's heart sinks. He can see the disappointment in (Name)’s eyes and it felt like another failure in a long list of them. He manages to put up a tight smile and nods, leading her back to the car in silence.

***

Once inside, Jude grips the steering wheel and stares ahead blankly. One look at (Name) a moment later and he's unable to stop himself.

“I’m so sorry, (Name),” he chokes out, unable to keep the frustration inside.

“I’ve been trying so hard to show you how much I love you. But I just keep screwing everything up. I wanted tonight to be perfect but I can’t even get that right.”

(Name) reaches over, gently placing her hand on his. “Jude, you don’t have to do anything grand to show me you love me.”

“But I want to,” he whispers, tears welling up in his eyes. “I want to make you happy, to do something special…”

She smiles softly, shaking her head. “You already do that, every day. It’s not about fancy dinners or big gestures.

It’s the way you always make sure my favorite mug is clean in the morning, the way you hold my hand when we’re watching a movie, even if it’s one you don’t like. It’s the way you look at me, like I’m the only person in the room.”

Jude looks at her, surprised by her words. “But those are just… little things.”

“Not to me,” she says, squeezing his hand. “Those are the things that matter. They’re the things that show me you care, every day. You don’t have to try so hard, Jude. I know you love me and that's enough for me.”

A tear slips down his cheek and (Name) gently wipes it away. “It’s okay,” she say softly. “We’re okay.”

They sit there for a moment, just holding hands and talking about everything and nothing.

This isn't as grand or big as Jude hoped for. But (Name)’s happy and laughing, and here with him.

And that's enough for now.

[rafesgoldrings]

Okay so we got jealous Rafe…but what about jealous trophy wife reader. Let’s say an older woman, one Rafe’s age, starts stopping by the office because she’s thinking about doing business with him. She starts getting a little too friendly with him and it makes reader a little upset since she’s so much younger. One day the woman and Rafe go into his office for a private meeting and reader goes in and drops to her knees and starts sucking Rafe off so the lady gets the hint

OH MY GOD?? The gasp I just gusped (I also hit the text limit writing this and if that doesn’t say anything about the obsession I have with trophy wife reader and Rafe, I don’t know what will😭)

 You didn’t like her. Didn’t even have to speak to her to know that she was an insufferable cunt who was up to no good, the way she stared you down with that irritating smirk and gave Rafe fuck me eyes told you what you needed to know. Part of you was already insecure enough being with Rafe, he was older, smarter, and a hell of a lot more successful and experienced than you, now this stupid older woman, closer in both his age and success, was here making moves on him. You had no doubt he loves you for who you are, despite the age gap and success level differences, but that didn’t stop you from seeing red each time they spoke. You really did try to keep yourself collected in order for him to secure this business deal, he’d told you how important it was to the company and you weren’t trying to fuck that up for him. But when she walked into his office alone, him following shortly after, that was your final straw. You’d stormed towards his door, red bottoms that your husband bought you echoing prominently in the room, before opening it and storming inside not bothering to close the door behind you. “Baby? What are you doing here?” Rafe asked with a nervous chuckle, he was so close to securing the deal and getting rid of the woman before you’d stormed in. The man wasn’t an idiot, in all his years of being alive and working in the business he’d seen women just like her. The ones that would flirt and sleep their way into a deal, that’s why he’d always reject her and remind her he was a happily married man, it just didn’t deter her at all. You said nothing to him, just walked over in front of him and sank to your knees, unbuckling his belt and undoing his business slacks before pulling his cock out and stroking it with your hand. You’d made it a point to exaggerate your wedding ring, all the diamonds shining brightly against the fluorescent lights above you. His hips would buck into your hand and you sent her a smirk from across the desk. A big look of ‘see how he responds to me. he’s mine, fucking back off’ loving the look of unease she gave you. Her jaw slightly clenched and breathing becoming increasingly more rapid as she grew more irritated. His hand instinctively flew to your hair and pulled it in a makeshift ponytail, moving your head so your mouth was lined up with his cock. You’d stick your tongue out and place it flat against his tip, slowly pushing more in until his cock was hitting the back of your throat before wrapping your lips around it and sucking. The small whimpers he was making mixed with the feeling of being watched made you more eager to keep going, hands moving to play with his balls and moaning around his cock like he loved you doing. Your fellow employees could easily see and hear everything, but nobody would say a word. You could have them fired within seconds if they dared, and they wouldn’t say a word to their boss knowing he could make their life hell, so they opted to mind their own business. The woman cleared her throat, alerting Rafe to her presence again, and raised her brows like she expected him to tell you to stop. To her surprise, he just mumbled a quick ‘sorry, where were we?’ you still on your knees sucking him off under the desk. Each time she’d speak to him, you sucked harder, squeezed his balls harder, so he’d let out a loud groan of your name and remind her of her place. The deal would quickly come to a close right as he came. Thick ropes of cum coating your tongue and throat, you kept sucking him dry. It wasn’t until he physically pulled you off that you stopped, turning your head to the side just in time to see her walk out of his office and shout “thanks for doing business with my husband! next time keep yourself in line yeah?” the taste of him still fresh on your tongue. He’d pull you up by your throat into a sloppy kiss. “That was so fucking hot baby, want to fuck you on my desk” he’d mumble on your lips, striding over to the door to close and lock it before returning to you, bending you in half over the desk and pushing your skirt up so that he could have his way with you

[marimbles]

Forgot to post my piece for Residents of the Wild, a zine focused on NPCs from BotW! This is basically my silly version of the sand boots side quest from BotW. (Shoutout to @botwdialogue for documenting all the dialogue for the entire quest—that was such a helpful reference! X)

Word count: 2k

These Boots Are Made for Jogging (in the Sand)

What’s the best way for a strapping single guy to show off his lady-catching sand boots?

Jog around on the sand. Duh.

So that’s what Bozai did, day after day, circling Gerudo Town like a fashionable, sporty hawk. Sure, it was exhausting. And sweet Hylia, it was hot—even when he downed chilly elixirs around the clock. But eventually, it would all be worth it, when he caught the eye of the perfect woman.

… Right?

Bozai slowed to a stop by the southern entrance of the town, where a pair of gorgeous yet imposing Gerudo guards flanked the doorway.

“Hey,” he panted. “Nice day, isn’t it, ladies?”

The guards glared down at him.

“Move along, voe,” one of them said gruffly. “If you loiter, we’ll assume ill intent.”

Bozai laughed. “Hey, I’m not trying to sneak in—I promise! I just want to chat. Care to join me on a jog?”

“We have no interest in chatting,” the other guard said, voice cold. “We must remain at our post. Besides, we would easily outpace you. Your legs are short and stumpy.”

“Come on, ladies, that’s not very—”

But then two sharp spears were pointed right at his chest, so he had no choice but to drop it.

Bozai sighed and jogged away, trying to ignore how sore he was. He had to keep jogging. His dream girl was waiting for him! (Probably.)

He rounded the corner, and someone nearly ran into him. Someone a full head shorter than him, with long, blonde hair and big, blue eyes, and—

“Oh.” Bozai blinked. “It’s just a guy.”

A Hylian guy, with a weirdly pretty face and a slew of weapons strapped to his back. He gazed silently up at Bozai, expressionless.

“Saw me running around, huh?” Bozai shifted his backpack. “See, I heard Gerudo women liked a guy in sand boots …”

(Of course, it was the shoe salesman who told him that, but that guy had a hot wife, so Bozai would have to be an idiot not to take his advice about women.)

The stranger looked down at Bozai’s feet. “Sand boots?”

“Yeah! They let you walk normally on sand,” Bozai said proudly. “What do you think? Jealous, right?”

Blondie’s face stayed blank, like he wasn’t even impressed with Bozai’s amazing, manly, one-of-a-kind sand boots. Did he somehow miss what Bozai said? Or was he just stupid?

“Gimme those boots,” the stranger demanded.

Bozai took a step back. Okay, apparently he impressed this weirdo too much.

“Not cool!” Bozai said. “Look, these are super rare. Mayyybe I’d consider giving them to you if you were a girl, but a guy? NO.”

Blondie did not look at all deterred by Bozai’s devastating rejection. In fact, he looked kind of determined. Or maybe … amused? It was hard to tell, with that weird, stoic face of his. He was starting to creep Bozai out.

Bozai cleared his throat. “I’m busy here. Get lost!”

He pushed past the guy and resumed his jog. Man, why did he have to run into a weirdo like that? Why was it never a cute girl waiting for him around the corner?

Bozai’s eyes locked on the approaching corner of the city wall. Maybe there would be a cute girl waiting for him. What would he say to her? He should plan it out, just in case.

’Sup, girl? Name’s Bozai. But you can just call me Dream Guy. Heh.

At that point, he would run his fingers through his dark, silky locks (which were not that silky, to be honest, since his bangs were perpetually plastered to his forehead).

Ugh. That wouldn’t work. He couldn’t be suave and sexy when he was all sweaty. But where was a guy supposed to take a bath in the middle of the desert?

Bozai turned the corner and stumbled to a stop. A figure stood in his path.

A female figure.

There was no mistaking it this time. She was Hylian, but she wore the delicate silk of the Gerudo, her stomach and shoulders bare. Even with a veil covering her lower face, Bozai could tell she was beautiful.

“Sa-sa-sa … sa’votta!” he stammered. (Was that the right word? Or should it have been sav’saaba?)

The girl did not reply. She just watched him over her veil, her eyes bright and piercing. Bozai’s heart did a strange little flip.

“The name’s Bozai,” he said quickly. “I’m thirty-five, single, and I love jogging. Especially on sand.”

Not the best intro in the world, but not bad either. It was nothing that couldn’t be saved by the power of The Boots. Bozai shuffled his feet for good measure, so the beautiful stranger would be sure to look down at them.

“Nice sand-jogging!” she said.

Gotcha.

“Ah, you noticed these old things?” Bozai attempted to sweep his bangs back in a cool, carefree way, but they just clumped together awkwardly instead. He launched into a description of The Boots before the girl could decide he was lame and walk away.

“So, anyway, if you want to check them out, we could grab a quiet corner and—”

“Gimme those boots,” the girl ordered.

Bozai blinked. He must have had sand in his ears, because for a moment, she sounded almost like that weirdo from before.

The girl stared him down. She even sort of looked like him now, with those intense blue eyes and that golden-blonde hair. But Bozai was surely coming down with some sort of heat sickness—because surely this desert goddess had nothing in common with that sulky creep! (Not to mention, she was a girl.)

Bozai squinted at her against the sunlight.

“Um … well … here’s the thing …” he began.

Wait. This is a golden chance to woo her!

“I mean—sure!” he said hastily. “I’d love to give them to you, you hungry little boot monster!”

It was a cute nickname, right? Maybe that’s what he’d call her when they were married, holding hands while they jogged across all kinds of surfaces—sand, snow, grass, rock. Maybe they’d even jog over water together. Or lava! That would be extra romantic. Someone had to invent lava boots, right?

Focus, Bozai!

He straightened, standing as tall as he could in his sand boots (which, unfortunately, was not very tall. The guards were right about his legs being short and stumpy).

“But first, a favor.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Ever heard of the legend of the eighth heroine?”

Immediately, the girl was captivated.

Gotcha again, Bozai thought.

A few minutes later, he’d handed over his trusty snow boots—which he hated to do, really, but it was all in the name of love. The girl would be back in a few days, anyway, because even in snow boots, the Gerudo Highlands were treacherous. No sane person would actually scale those cliffs and hike through all that snow just to see an old statue no one was sure even existed. Pretty soon, she’d realize that she’d much rather hang out with the handsome guy in the sand boots than freeze to death.

Bozai settled under the shade of the tent at the front of the town to wait.

“See you soon, Goldie,” he whispered to himself, and then he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of blue eyes and lava boots.

Goldie was not back in a few days.

A whole week went by, and there was no sign of her. Bozai fretted and frowned and fussed, and the nerves made him even sweatier than usual. But there was nothing he could do. Had Goldie fallen off a cliff? Or turned into a beautiful, tragic ice sculpture?

Or maybe she’d just taken his boots and run off, laughing at how stupid he was for thinking he ever had a chance with her. (That one made him so depressed that he tried flirting with the guards again, if only to give him a different rejection to brood over for an hour.)

Just when he’d almost lost hope completely, a familiar pair of eyes was blinking up at him.

Bozai gasped. “Oh, thank goodness! You made it back safely!”

He was so relieved that he couldn’t even think about acting cool. Instead, he found himself confessing the lie of the eighth heroine, apologizing, blabbing about his feelings—basically, rambling like an idiot. He was on the verge of getting on his knees and swearing his allegiance as her eternal protector when she held up a hand.

“Found it.”

She was trying to make him feel better. Which was sweet, but Bozai didn’t deserve that. He tried to tell her so, but she shoved a small, rectangular something in his face.

“Look at this!”

Bozai stared. There, on the rectangle, was an impossibly realistic image of what could only be the real eighth heroine.

“That—that’s amazing!” he spluttered. And then he was rambling again, nerding out about archaeology (his secret passion, other than boots). He had almost managed to bring the subject around to the subject of eternal love—in a subtle way, of course—but Goldie had a remarkably one-track mind.

“Sand boots, please!”

Bozai’s heart sank. But he was nothing if not a man of his word, so he dutifully took off the boots and relinquished them into her waiting hands.

“Could you be a lamb and return my snow boots?” he asked. “Otherwise ol’ Bozai’s going to be barefoot!”

She looked equally reluctant to hand them over, but she did, watching wistfully as he slipped them on. Or maybe that sad look was her way of telling him that she didn’t want to say goodbye either. Well, Bozai could take that hint.

“I’m pretty tired from my jogging regimen,” he said casually. “I think I’ll take five under the tent at the front of town. Care to join me?”

She didn’t. Bozai jogged dejectedly back to the shade, feet heavy in the wrong kind of boots.

The rest of the day crawled by. Bozai didn’t feel like jogging anymore. Not when he had to do it in snow boots, which were even clunkier in the sand than regular boots. Instead, he watched for Goldie under his tent. She had to come back, right? They were practically soulmates! (Or sole-mates. Heh.)

But alas, she was nowhere to be seen. The only golden hair he spotted belonged to the blank-faced weirdo—this time, practically shirtless, with a stupid-looking ponytail on top of his head. Bozai scoffed. What kind of outfit was that? Was he trying to invent some kind of Gerudo men’s wear? As if that was gonna get him into town. Idiot.

Blondie jogged toward a stray sand seal. It darted away before he could get close.

He jogged toward another one. He looked strangely light on his feet, like the sand wasn’t slowing him down at all. Almost like …

Bozai’s eyes widened. Blondie was wearing The Boots—the amazing, manly, one-of-a-kind sand boots he had just gifted to his true love.

Bozai jumped to his feet. “Hey! You!”

Blondie froze, panic on his normally stony face. Behind him, another seal dove beneath the sand.

“Those are my boots!” Bozai shouted, trudging clumsily toward him. “Or, I mean, they were! Where did you get them?”

Quickly, Blondie pulled something out of his pocket.

And then he started glowing.

Bozai stopped short, gaping. Blondie was glowing like a blue nightshade at midnight. And soon he was also floating, the toes of his stolen boots dangling above the sand. His body dissolved away in gleaming ribbons of light. And then he was gone.

Bozai stared at the spot where Blondie had disappeared, footprints still fresh in the sand.

“Did you see that too?” he asked a nearby sand seal.

“Arf!” said the seal.

Bozai shook his head. There was only one thing to do when your almost-girlfriend was robbed by a dead-eyed, weapon-loving freak who was apparently some kind of sorcerer.

He marched back to his tent and took a nap.

[asherloki]

Arranged marriage with Sherlock

Always by my side!

Bbc Sherlock

Warning:- arranged marriage, anxiety!

Otherwise fluff!

I'm writing these tropes! Here's the list!

It all started when my family became determined to marry me off to someone, literally anyone, as I failed to find myself a suitable groom they took it in their own hands. I was furious and rejected every men they presented. But it was my mistake, because the last guy whom they confirmed on my behalf looked a little suspicious. I didn't know how to get his information out so I thought to seek help from the best person in London. Yes, Sherlock Holmes and his assistant and friend John Watson. As I knocked, and finding the door open, I entered to find the two men arguing,

"Sherlock Holmes?" I called out loudly. Both of them looked at me and I told them everything. The detective listened and said, "I would've declined this case immediately but guess you're really in trouble." I was unsure of his remark.

"What ?"

"The way you described him, it says, he doesn't value anyone, he isn't going to value your opinion, I'm sorry but he is not someone who is... Suitable for you ".

"What do you mean by that?" I wanted a clear explanation.

"Look at you, you're young, posh, I believe educated and have own opinion, a little self centric perhaps but he, he's gonna treat you like you don't matter, so if it wasn't for you I would've turned it down but ...." He paused, "I'm not going to sit quietly and see your life getting ruined."

"What will you do?" John asked him.

"I'll find about this guy and see if he's fine for her."

Two days passed and I got his call,

"Yes?" I answered.

"I atleast expected a greeting" said the man from the other side. "Anyway come to Baker Street at once."

So I did and obviously that guy turned out to be a jerk, who disrespects everyone.

"So you better tell your family." He said.

"But that ain't gonna work." I replied.

"Why so?"

"You see, I don't wanna get married right now, and I have rejected 15 men they've chose".

"Fifteen?"

"Yes, and he's the sixteenth but my reason for rejecting them was, I... I wanna study Mr Holmes, more, I know I'm already a graduate but I want more, a good job too, I don't want to be my husband's house wife and as you've seen him, they won't let me work."

"Have you told your parents?"

"No use, they'll be marrying me off anyway, they're determined."

"That's illegal, you can simply..."

"They're my family Mr Holmes, I'd rather marry a jerk than letting them go through this legal trouble."

"But that'll ruin your life" he said with such power in his voice and that was the truth.

"I guess your work is done then, just the payment part is left".

"Are you going to marry him ?"

"Yes unfortunately."

"Then I'm unsuccessful in your case, I can't accept a penny."

"You did your job".

"I won't take a coin".

It was absolutely ridiculous to argue with him, so I greeted and went away although before leaving I just heard John's voice saying, "Sherlock, I have a plan."

I shrugged it off as I was genuinely in trouble. Later that evening, I found out that my marriage with that Jerk was called off because someone else, said to be better turned up to ask my hand in marriage, Sherlock Holmes. Can you believe it? What a ridiculous thing he has done honestly. I was furious. I couldn't help but enter my room and call him,

"Hello?"

"What are you ? A lunatic?" I was absolutely angry.

"See , you can't greet properly, what's wrong?"

"You asked my family to marry me ?"

"John and Mycroft did, it is arranged between our families."

"I asked help and you idiot, you took this opportunity to marry me? Does my parents know how older you are than me ?"

"Yes they do, yet they accepted and I'm still helping you".

"Exactly how?"

"If you marry me, you won't have to be with that Jerk, I won't stop you from studying and you can work as long as you want you can stay with us, and in the mean time, if you find someone whom you and I both find suitable for you, you are free to follow your heart."

"I need your approval now?"

"Oh yes you do"

"Fine but you can't force yourself on me, that's the fear I have in arranged marriage "

"I assure you I won't, now get ready for the wedding young lady."

That was the conversation we had before the wedding and we met on our wedding day again. Everyone were so happy but I was still trying to process everything. I myself did the rituals hesitated but look at the cold detective, he did everything so smoothly. I couldn't believe I had to live in that rusty dusty flat with him. But yet after all he was saving my life, it was true.

I became Mrs Sherlock Holmes. After the wedding we both went to the very famous 221b Baker Street. When I entered his flat, it was absolutely disaster, papers filled the floor, and his dining table was more like a chemistry lab.

"Uh, I know this isn't something you expected" he said, he seemed a little embarrassed, "but um give me some time I'll, I'll fix it". And offered me a smile. I stared with furrowed eye brow, I still can't believe I'm married. But I kept on reminding me, it's just a help, he helped me. Because of him that Jerk won't be forcing himself on you.

I smiled back to him too then wondered where should I keep my things, "my things?" I asked.

"Oh yes um that's my room you can put it there... I mean" he paused a little, "our room". He said, I didn't know what was happening, but it sounded good, 'our room'. I did as he said and saw him picking the papers from the ground. People said he's a junkie, he might be, but not he was extremely sweet, at least at this moment. No wait? What am I thinking, perhaps I was just hungry.

"May I open the fridge?" I asked impatiently, he was about to warn me to be careful but I already opened it and yes, there were human thumbs. I gave a light scream and closed the door.

"At least wait till I tell you" he said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't expect that."

"You okay?" He seemed a little concerned not gonna lie.

"No I was shocked, I'm fine don't worry. So you don't have food in there."

"Nope"

"You don't cook?"

"Nope"

"Who does?"

"Mrs Hudson, John"

"John? He lives here?"

"Yes with rosie his daughter."

"Oh"

"Is that a prob..."

"It's okay I can cook".

He forgot to blink perhaps.

"You want to cook? In my kitchen... I mean our.. I.. you can cook?"

"Do I look stupid? Ofcourse I can cook, just tell me what you have, I'll make something out of it,"

He walked towards the kitchen, still not blinking and took out every little thing he had but I already had in mind what I'm gonna cook.

"Cool, you have chicken and everything, looks like chicken tikka masala would be perfect. now you can clean while I see what I can make."

He stared as if his eyes said, 'bosy' . But he nodded and went back to his work.

After half an hour John came with Rosie. The first thing Rosie did was hug Sherlock. And he seemed really fond of her. It was so sweet I could stare at them if I weren't cooking. He's not that cold as he seems, perhaps these walls and John and Rosie could only see this side of him, and now me. Then Sherlock stood up and walked towards me while John and Rosie went to their room.

"Um I was thinking, perhaps we can order something, because we always eat together so.."

"I made for them too". This reply too seemed surprising to him.

"You did?"

"Yes I made for five people, you me John rosie and Mrs Hudson, what? You thought I'll only cook for myself?"

He stared and I almost wanted to hit him with my frying pan for being such an idiot.

"I... Thanks" he uttered.

"Okay um.. welcome maybe" that was the most awkward thanks and welcome I've ever been a part of.

Obviously my heart was in my hand when we sat to dine, what if they didn't like it?

"Why aren't you eating?" John asked.

"Oh no I want you three to eat first and tell me if you like it?"

I waited nervously as they took their first bite and then I saw their expression, enough to tell me it was good.

"It's soooo good" said little rosie, "really good" said John. And then I stared at the stupid man, also the most intelligent man as well actually, the man I was married to, "it's um.." he started,

"You can do better, be honest like you're always, harsh honest". Urged John.

"It's, better than anything I've ever had, I believe you know the secret of making good food, which is putting every spice in right amount and..."

"She doesn't need this, your intellectual explanation." John scolded him.

"Yeah right sorry."

I couldn't help but a soft giggle escaped from my mouth, "that's okay, glad you all liked it, now let us have our dinner."

After we four ate and Mrs Hudson also came to say it was so good. And surprisingly I saw Mr detective helping John with the dishes. I took this opportunity to roamed around the little flat. Rosie was already asleep and I stood by the window. After their work was done John went to sleep. And I could hear light footsteps of Sherlock approaching,

"That was very thoughtful of you". He said from behind. I turned to face him.

"Please, it was normal, atleast for me."

"If I'm being honest then I must say I deduced you wrong, I thought you were self centric."

No he wasn't wrong, I am self centric but how could I say, how could I confess? as standing by the window I realised I... I started to like his little family and him as well.

"I actually am, but I like when people praises my cooking so Maybe that's why. Anyway I am sleepy."

"Oh yes ofcourse, then we must ..." He looked at me and I gulped because things started to get pretty awkward at this point.

"Don't worry " he assured, "I'll keep my promise, I won't take advantage of you."

"Oh no I know, I trust you with it."

And sleeping beside him, didn't feel awkward at all. Even though when I woke up I saw my hand was on his chest and he was wide awake.

"Oh I'm sorry" I apologised taking away my hand.

"No it's fine, I believe you are used to sleep hugging a pillow isn't it?"

Again Mr detective deduces everything, "mm yes".

"So it's fine, don't worry about it." He got up saying so. Yet ofcourse it was awkward. But I tried to think nothing of it and replied,

"Yes I guess, are you going somewhere?"

"Yes cases, I'll take John with me too, will you be okay here?"

"Rosie will be here right?"

"Nope she'll be at school."

"When will you come?"

"Maybe before lunch."

That was okay, I could just go out and explore the place till then. And that's that, the two men went on their adventure and I went out to roam around Baker Street. I sat inside a cafe for an hour two, perhaps two until my phone rang and it was Sherlock, "yes?" I recieved it and said.

"Hey um.. when are you coming?" He asked from the other side.

"Are you two home already? I thought... Never mind, I thought it'd take you time, it's okay I'm coming."

And apparently I went to 221b, to find the two men already sat.

"There you are" said John.

"Yes, I am."

"He's never been this excited to get home before honestly."

"JOHN" snapped Sherlock at his comment.

"Uhhhh, okay" I said awkwardly and we three had lunch together. Later that evening both John and Sherlock were home, discussing about the case and Rosie went down to Mrs Hudson.

"So that's it, now I'm gonna go out get some air" said John and Sherlock and I nodded. We both sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Do you wanna walk outside too?" Sherlock asked me nervously.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind." I said smiling cause I really wanted to go out for walk.

We both walked aimlessly through the streets and some small talks were the entertainer for us. Many stores, cafe, restaurant passed and we walked together. It felt good surprisingly. He too felt good perhaps, his brows are always furrowed but now I see there's a twinkle in his eyes, brows relaxed and is that a little smile?

"You're staring" he snapped me out of my deduction.

"Oh yes , I was , trying to deduce you". I answered smartly or tried to do so.

"Oh really? So what did you get?"

Is he challenging me?

"Well, your case might've been well, you seem happy."

"Hmmm" he just hummed, but it was an acknowledging hum.

"Was I right?"

"Fifty percent".

"Now what does that mean?"

"Coffee or tea?" He literally shrugged it off and didn't explain, that's something new.

"Tea" I replied

"Same, let's get in here" he took me into a cafeteria. He ordered two English tea and some biscuits. It came in no time almost.

"It's actually good." I remarked as I took a bite of the biscuit.

"Ginger nuts" he said.

"I know your favourite. But mine is Bourbon."

"I know, I ordered those too, and if you'd like cakes , pastry you can get them too." He offered.

We had a good time there, just us, we got to know eachother more. It felt like he's very own. He talked of his past, his work, his friends. Perhaps he felt the same way about me. We made this evening date an everyday thing, even if he had work he'd take break for an hour and we'd try tea from different places. And I discovered he's and excellent violinist. He and I would even talk till we sleep. It's been many times we'd just talk stay awake at night and unknowingly drifted off between them.

But the other day as I layed down talking to him with my phone and giggling with him. He asked me, "you're quite likable to all aren't you, people must've been very fond of you since your childhood?"

I paused for a moment, as I remembered my horrible days, those horrible angry faces, those elders shouting at me saying things that hit me like dart, that pierced my heart, thess memories may have been burried under but, comes out time to time. I'm sure he saw my smile fading,

"Hey, what happened? Are you okay?" He said this a little louder as he held my hand. I remembered my horrible days and I felt tears falling down my cheeks. My phone fell from my hand as I looked at him and held his hand which hand my other palm in it and started crying. I bet he couldn't believe it, he told me his dark side smiling but I wasn't him, I wasn't strong. So I held him and cried, that was the first time he held me that close, he wrapped me in his arms tightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it'd cause you pain, forgive me".

I tried to control as I felt a little better after letting it all out, "no it wasn't your fault, you see Sherlock, I wasn't likable or something like that so I didn't have much people liking me. I was never upto the mark according to them, You've seen how vulnerable I am, Sherlock please don't leave me for this, I will do anything but don't abandon me for being weak."

"Shhh, no I can never leave you, how could I?who says you're weak, you survived every brick they threw at you from that young age, You're stronger than you think, and I? I won't ever leave you, and I think your parents have been harsh because they wanted good for you, even though creating trauma isn't the way but, it's okay, that was past, you're here now, you're looking for work and doing things you like, you'll see your family will understand you one day, for now, I'm not leaving."

He stroked my hair trying to calm me down. And I did perhaps, for that night, I hoped he knew what comes with me, hope he knows how to deal with this side of me. Bet he does, Sherlock Holmes knows everything. Since then I'd say we became good friends. And perhaps a little more as we're supposed to be, after all I shouldn't forget I married him.

A few months later as we were walking together from our evening tea date, and reached home we saw inspector lestrade at our doorstep.

"Sherlock".

"Lestrade? You look nervous, desparate... Well like as usual".

Should I laugh at him being this silly? Perhaps not now. We entered and he explained his case, it needed Sherlock and John to be investigating it right away but,

"You guys need to come to yorkshire with me, until the case solves." Said lestrade, and it was for a long time. I never felt like this. I felt as if without him, I forgot how deal with things. He felt the same I was sure, I looked at his face amd his expression was as similar to mine.

"But lestrade..." There wasn't any excuse but, Sherlock tried to form some kind of reason but there wasn't any.

"What?" The detective inspector snapped.

"Nothing" no he couldn't say it, "could you wait outside?"

"But I need to fetch you right now."

"I said outside, I need to talk to my wife." Sherlock yelled at these words. He yelled at lestrade for me. I felt safe, safe to be his wife. At that very moment I embraced my title and my marriage.

He went out and Sherlock looked at me, "listen I..."

"I know, I don't like being without you either, but I don't wanna be someone who drives you away from the thing you love, your work." I replied.

"What I meant to say is not this, look, it is true, these days since you've come, I was happy to be at home, I liked being here. As you deduced me smiling, it was half for case and half for being with you, I enjoy being here, with you. You are the best friend to whom I never feared of being judged and you are the one whom I stared at, when you cooked, when you try to play my violin, when you play with Rosie and even when you sleep. Yes and I know I promised you something but guess right now all I want for us is to do that one thing that is still left for us do as a married couple."

My heart leaped as I realised what he meant. But he needed to be at Yorkshire that moment than in our bedroom. I couldn't think more and placed my lips on his. He kissed me more passionately, hungrily, lovingly. After the kiss. As we breathed heavily I whispered, "perhaps after you come back from Yorkshire, we'll can be completely married then."

"so you won't go to anyone else?" He asked, our forheads touching one another's.

"no, where can I go, this is my home, you're my home Sherlock."

"And you're mine".

That was that and both the men went on their adventure. Molly would come sometimes to check on Rosie and we became good friends. Sherlock would call everyday and then after 2 and a half weeks. He came. We stood staring at eachother for a minute after his arrival. That distance between us was needed to know the value of eachother. And we valued us.

1 years later...

As we sat on the couch, he looking for cases and I was doing my work, he called out, "I must say it".

"What?" I was surprised, what now?

"I can't keep it, I haven't said this to you in a year". He was nervous again.

"What is it?"

"I love you" it took him a year to utter these words again to me.

"I know, thank goodness you said this again, after more than a year of our marriage, I believe you said this to me first time when you came from Yorkshire and kissed me isn't it Sherlock?". I said and got back to work.

"You didn't say it back?" He asked with his puppy eyes. Aww look at him. I put my laptop down and kissed his left cheek and said,

"I love you too Sherlock Holmes ".

Taglist:- @poetrypirate @astudyinlaura @peppiloll @callsign-sunshine @el-de-phi @druggedbyfiction @mysticwitchcraftco

[sarahjswift]

Emails I Can't Send-Rowaelin Fanfic

This is actually one of my favorite things I've ever written. It's based off of the song emails i can't send by Sabrina Carpenter. That whole album is so underrated - go listen to it! If you want, listen to the song while reading. The song is so so heartbreaking and I just had to write about it. :)

(I know I haven't posted in a while, so I thought this would be perfect because I love it so much. I wrote it back in August <33)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Language, some suggestive language

Tag List: @backtobl4ck, @aelinchocolatelover, @renxzs, @blue-bird17, @luell1q

__

The song had come from everything and nothing at the same time. She’d written it on a crumpled piece of paper, droplets of her tears weakening the page, at three in the morning. All of her hurt and pain and fear from that night put into a couple scrawling paragraphs. 

Now, standing backstage in the wings, Aelin took a deep breath. The crew buzzed around her, Lysandra last-minute checking her makeup, hair and outfit before she went onstage. “Are you going to be okay?” her friend asked, emerald eyes filled with concern. “I know it’s an emotional song for you to sing live, and…you know, Rowan’s out there…”

Aelin winced as the sound of her ex-boyfriend’s name sliced through her heart. It was a pain she was used but not invulnerable to. “I’ll be fine,” she said, more to herself than anything. Nevermind Rowan was seated somewhere in the audience with the rest of his band, and soon he’d be about to hear a breakup song about him…no, never mind that. 

__

Rowan was trying very hard not to think about what was coming next, about how the woman he loved with everything he had was about to be feet away from him. He’d never heard the song she was singing, very purposefully - whenever it came on the radio, which was every day, he’d cranked down the volume quickly. 

Rowan took a gulp of champagne and tried to think of other things. He and his band, The Cadre, had given a decent performance, performing their song K. It was a crowd-pleaser, one of their first hits about Gavriel’s wife, Krystal. He sat at the table with the band - his brothers, really - their partners, and Maeve, the band manager. 

Over the speakers, the host boomed; “Please put your hands together for Aelin Galathynius!”

__

Aelin took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage, immediately hit with the white-hot spotlight. She stood in front of the standing microphone and smiled as the audience cheered.

“Thank you,” she said, her own voice echoing back at her through the earpiece. “And thanks to all the fans who got me here, performing at the Grammys. This is my new single, emails I can’t send.”

She tuned out the clapping and focused on the instrumentals leaking into her left ear. Nodding to Aedion, her cousin on piano, she took a deep breath. 

__

“It’s times like these, wish I had a time machine so I could see what you did October 13th,” she sang. “At 10:15, were you really asleep or were you lying to me and the family?”

Rowan’s stomach emptied out. October 13th, the night of Aelin’s album release party and one of their biggest fights. The night he’d lied, saying he was with Lorcan when he’d been over at Lyria’s, comforting her while she cried. Comforting Lyria over the record label rejection, when he should’ve been with Aelin, celebrating with her. 

He gazed up at Aelin, who looked heartbreakingly beautiful in a simple white crop top with princess sleeves and low-rise jeans, that showed off her muscled body in a stupidly perfect way. He couldn’t help but think of how he would peel those clothes off her if he hadn’t been such an idiot…get a grip, man. Creep. 

“There’s no us in us when I’m lacking trust,” Aelin continued, and he forced his mind into the present - even worse. Her expression was reserved as her eyes floated over the audience, looking or not looking for one person. “You wanna discuss, ugh, you disgust me…”

The words sliced through him. You disgust me. 

__

Aelin couldn’t tell if she sounded good or not, but she was getting into the mood of the song now. “Don’t make me cuss you out, why’d you let me down? Don’t say sorry now.”

Her voice was rising as she got to the climax of the song, the part she’d truly poured out of the sobs that had wracked her body that night. “And thanks to you I, I can’t love right, I get nice guys and villainize him,” she crooned. “Read their texts like they're having sex right now, scared I’ll find out that it’s true..”

As she sang, she closed her eyes and unlocked the gates she’d built brick by brick over the past five months, the pain and despair from Rowan flowing out her heart and into her voice. “And if I do, then I blame you for every worst that I assume; when I’m 45 someone calls me their wife and he fucks,” at that word, her voice broke in the crooning sort of way that she loves, “our lives in one selfish night.” The lyric, the story, the truth. 

__

Rowan was in heaven because the subject of his every desire was standing in front of him singing with the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard, and he was in hell because she was singing a heartbreaking song about him. 

“Don’t think I’ll find forgiveness as fast as mom did,” Aelin said, and that was the moment when her beautiful, beautiful eyes rested on Rowan. Electricity coursed through him as she did, and he held her gaze as if her irises were his last lifeline. The most heartbreaking and despairing expression flickered across her exquisite face and it was all Rowan could do not to leap out of his chair and hold her as she pointed an accusing finger at him and cried; “And God, I love you, but you’re such a dipshit.”

__

“Please fucking fix this,” Aelin neared-whispered as the song crested, the instrumentals fading and becoming sadder, more mellow. She blinked away the tears blurring her vision, Rowan’s piercing green eyes sending sparks through her body, “‘Cause you were all I looked up to.” and Lyria placed a possessive hand on her boyfriend’s arm, placing a kiss to his muscled shoulder, “And now I can’t even look at you,” and Aelin looked away and lowered her arm as the roaring of the audience overwhelmed the room. 

[flansuki3]

Short fan fic about Makarov and his tattoos

Makarov liked to say that he had been saved by Imran Zakhaev, usually people would use phrases like "He helped me through my battles." or "He was a significant support for me." followed by quite a lot of praise for the person who helped them through their worst moments.But Makarov could talk for hours about how the hero of Russia saved him.

So Makarov had already met Zakhaev, lived in his house and was the family chauffeur. A boring job in his eyes, normally Victor preferred to drive his own car himself and the wife loved to go to places that made Makarov wait hours and hours in the car.

But all in all it was a job he was grateful for, he didn't earn much from it and most of the time he spent reading books in the car while the others went about their business, he was happy to be able to spend time with Imran Zakhaev to drive him to work. Sometimes it was long drives to faraway places, other times they didn't leave the city but it took them all day to go back and forth running errands.

For Makarov those were the happiest days.

"How did you sleep, Mr. Zakhaev?"

"The weather today is so hot, isn't it? Don't worry, I have bottles of water here if you're thirsty. And I also have your favorite snacks."

"I don't mind carrying your shopping for you. The truth is, I get a little bored in the car, I like accompanying you to the mall better than just waiting."

That were phrases that repeated like a loop of infinite bliss, in the quiet life of a human who in the past had not had a single hour of tranquility like this.

To say that he simply respected and loved Zakhaev was to belittle his feelings for him.

Makarov loved him, had fallen in love with him and instead of rejecting those feelings he had stored them in the chest of his heart like the precious treasure they were.

“So, what does that skull on your arm mean?” asked Victor as Makarov took the day's shopping out of the car.

“Nothing really, I just wanted to cause terror to the idiots in prison," Makarov answered frankly in his eccentric frog voice. But I like to show off my tattoos and see the reactions of "normal" people.”

“Father!” Victor caught the eye of Imran who was taking a break in the garden. “Do you think I would look good if I got a tattoo of a skull on my face?” Victor joked just to annoy his father.

Imran approached him trying to put on a calm face and placed his hand on his son's shoulder.

“Only vulgar and undesirable people would do such a thing. Tell me, if your future daughter's boyfriend had a striped body, would it make you happy? Have respect for this family, for your future family and for yourself and never do one of those ugly things to yourself. They are disgusting, I would never love, in any way, anyone so vulgar; normal people don't do that”

“You just gave me a whole lecture just for a joke, Dad.”

Young Victor just laughed and his father followed him in the laughter fest until Imran realized what he had done.

“I said all those things and I didn't even think about the fact that Vladimir was standing in front of me." Imran though.

And yes, Makarov was there with his hands full of vegetables and milk for dinner that night, just staring at him, mute. When Imran returned his gaze the young man set about his work.

Zakhaev caught up with him in the kitchen, stood there for a few seconds and sighed looking at the floor in embarrassment.

“You know well that even if Victor decided to get the ugliest scrawl on his forehead I would still love him, love him very much. You know that, don't you?”

Makarov nodded, nodding as he arranged the vegetables in the refrigerator, a regular maid's chore that ended up being his.

“I don't mind what you think of my tattoos, Mr. Zakhaev. You have no obligation to like me, I'm not your son. And I already knew what kind of image they give to others, I already knew that normal people don't do that.”

In all those years in prison, even in all those years committing crimes he had never felt as ashamed of himself as he did at that moment, he already knew that Imran would never reciprocate, he was married and a member of a traditional family but in his heart he harbored that stupid little hope that invited him to fantasize at night. Even now that childish fantasy felt even dirtier. He regretted every drop of ink that adorned his body as he tried to concentrate on making room for the new food in the lowest part of the refrigerator.

“I spoke without thinking, please forgive me.”

So unexpected, so sweet and warm. Imran the man he loved, the man many others admired had knelt down to Makarov's level to give him a hug.

“I don't think of you as vulgar men, much less as ugly. I think of you as the hardworking, kind young man who is also very intelligent. The boy I'm hugging is very dear to me, you know? Even though you have those tattoos that I don't like, even if you didn't have them I would love you just as much as I do now. I even think they look good on you.”

Makarov let himself be carried away by that brief fantasy that had been brought into the realm of reality and embraced him back.

From that moment you could believe that Makarov had accepted that part of his past, that he would continue to sport his tattoos with pride. But gradually his attire changed to one that covered his body completely, even using gloves to hide the tattoos in that area.

"I want to protect this man, I even want to protect his pride. I do not wish for anyone to feel disgust seeing him next to me. I want everything around him to be pristine and perfect as he deserves."That was what Vladimir Makarov thought as he reciprocated Imran's embrace.

Now he no longer works for the Zakhaev house, now people no longer look at him as that young delinquent that Imran helped out of pity and naivety.Now he can walk around in his elegant black suit and his position of power knowing that his distinguished presence adds even more prestige to the man he loves.

[sillylittlegay]

CoD Short story; GhostSoap Jealousy (Taking a real short break from AleRudy because yes)

Normally Ghost didn't care what others thought.

Normally he didn't care about others opinions.

Sadly he often had to remind himself that he also normally didn't fall for other men.

He also had to remind himself that he normally didn't meet men like Soap.

Ghost hadn't even noticed, he one day was just so sure that Soap was the one he wanted to spend his life with – a foolish idea of course. Soap probably had a family waiting for him at home, a wife, maybe kids. They never talked about that. Soap didn't bring it up, maybe because he knew how much it would hurt Ghost, maybe because that family didn't exist and Ghost was overthinking.

On special days they only had a few hours of training. Soap looked up at those days like they were sacred, Ghost hated them even more. Less training meant more time alone with his thoughts.

Normally Ghost would've just trained by himself, but again, rarely things had been normal in his life these last weeks. When Soap asked him if he wanted to go to a bar, he hurriedly said yes, immediately regretting it after while the other already glowed with happiness. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad, he thought to himself, letting Soap drag him to wherever he wanted to go.

Ghost was wrong.

The bar was loud, Soap didn't seem to mind but he sure as hell did. The music had lyrics he couldn't even understand because too many people sang them wrong and his drink – ordered by Soap – tasted like shit. But that wasn't even the worst.

The worst part was that Soap had been flirted with way too many times, like right now. Some chick with short brown hair flirted with Soap like it was nothing. Ghost tried his best to not tell her to fuck off, because if he did that Soap would know. And he didn't want him to know. The absolute Idiot had even been nice to her, even though Ghost could see that he wasn't quite comfortable.

Sure enough, he was right. One hurried side glance with a rather panicked looked made Ghost get up and walk over to the two. »You're making him uncomfortable.« He stated, looking down at the woman. Her eyes widened and she scrambled away, much to Soaps delight. »Thanks LT. She was real weird.« He grinned. »Learn how to reject people Johnny.« Ghost just answered, slightly cringing at Soap calling him by his rank. Not even outside of work Soap would call him by his name without wanting to tease him. Soap laughed in response. »Well maybe it was just a sign to leave. Isn't fun at all.« »Should've thought about that beforehand.« Ghost sighed as Soap made sure he still had all his belongings.

Once back at Base, both just wanted to get to bed. Ghost waited until Soap unlocked his door before walking to his own room, only stopped shortly by Soap calling after him. »Hey, Simon! Thanks for today, someone needed to make everyone that flirted with me uncomfortable! Your glares sure are something.« Soap chuckled while Ghost only turned around again and walked straight to his room.

Normally Ghost didn't care what others thought.

But once it was about Soap, Ghost was glad he could be of any help.

Even if that meant that the other found out how he felt.

Did wanna write more but I like keeping these things short, might make more parts of this who knows

[lady-of-ladies]

A long time ago, Crown Princess Rhaenyra visited the Riverlands looking for a possible husband. No man was chosen that day. Even though almost all men came to offer their own hand in marriage, Forrest was the one who left being known as "Fool Frey".

Sabitha saw Forrest from a distance, the opportunity to meet the Crown Princess was so rare that Sabitha accompanied her own brother to ask for the princess' hand and being rejected afterwards.

She never knew why they called Forrest a fool. He acted kindly and politely when the princess declined him.

She was surprised when her father announced Sabitha would become his wife instead. They got betrothed while she was eighteen, soon to marry after her nineteen name day.

On her wedding day she felt anxious but never scared. But once their wedding night passed she felt relief.

Their marriage wasn't proven fertile until two years later:

Birth is considered a woman's work. No-one expected Forrest to show up. Only her midwife and the maester were inside the room. But a murder attempt changed it really quickly.

— You are NOT killing me like an animal! —Sabitha said while she was holding on to the knife in her hand.

— Your hips are too narrow! It's necessary to cut so the babe can come out.

She screamed in pain. The contraptions came faster and stronger each time. After the maester proposed to cut her open and take the baby out, Sabitha grabbed the knife from his hands and tried to stab him, but a contraption stopped her before she could succeed.

Forrest entered the room, covered in sweat from running. And look at Sabitha covered in blood, being screamed at by the maester.

— Tell him he's crazy! Who would do that? You said the baby would come out easily! —Sabitha wasn't used to crying, yet she was pouring out.

— I know what's best for the babe! You're a mad woman. Now, obey and lay in bed!

— Silence! — Forrest finally interrupted. Sabitha never saw him so furious. She dropped the knife in shock.

« What's happening? » Forrest asked, the midwife was about to say something when Sabitha noticed the maester pushed her towards the bed and took the knife.

— Her body is too weak for childbirth. Her hips are too narrow. If I don't cut her now the child may die. The babe may be dead because of her indifference.

— He wants to kill me! — Sabitha screamed while hiding behind her midwife.

— Unfortunate, but necessary. You can remarry my Lord.

Forrest punched the maester in the face.

— You are not killing my wife over a child you said may not be even alive. Guards! Seized him! — Forrest arrested the maester for attempted murder and executed him three days later.

Her midwife helped her deliver a boy a few hours later. Both mother and son survived the evening, for the maester's indignation.

After such experience, Sabitha asked for no maester during any future birth. Forrest promised it wouldn't happen.

Driven by guilt, Forrest let her get away with a lot of things: she started riding on her own, she ruled a side of the Twins. Helping him with paperwork and hosting the several visitors that often crossed the Twins.

He even ignored the rumors about her and defended her in public.

« No, I'm not envious she has female friends. You are an idiot to look so much into it. »

Her kisses with Forrest tasted like duty. Yet women's lips were sweet and soft, and Sabitha discovered herself wishing to brush her lips against the many Ladies who came across the Crossing more often than not.

[having-conniptions]

Love In The Air episode 12 live reaction under the cut (long post)

I can't believe there's only one more episode left after this one (and then I'll move on to The Wedding Plan for their cameos obviously)

Awww Prapai is helping Sky again <3

"I'm not worried" baby you can drop the tsundere act fr

Sky getting startled and then annoyed every time Pai says "ouch" hahahaha

"You've become sillier since I last saw you" lmao

"He's a gentleboy in the streets, but a freak in the sheets" GENTLEBOY LMAO BYE

AAAWWW PRAPAI IS SO LOVESTRUCK (and Sky is being sneaky about how much he loves Pai but Pai notices awwwww)

Hahaha birthday immediately canceled bc baby wanna go shopping

THIS EPISODE IS CALLED WHEN THE SKY SURRENDERS TO THE WIND aaaaa will Sky finally admit his feelings??

Sky is such a sugar baby fr

Sky smiling like an idiot when Prapai is talking about couples t shirts but telling him "I think there's something wrong with your brain" hahahaha god I love him so much my sassy boiii

He's trying his best to be a tsundere

"People will misunderstand that you're my boyfriend" IS HE NOT?? SKY WTF ARE YOU ON ABOUT smh Mr Emotionally Unavailable better make up his mind

"This guy's my wife not my boyfriend" PAI PLEASE I'M WHEEZING

Aaaaa he brought Sky to his place and he's gonna bring him to the party Prapai is so ready to go official but Sky is not

Also can I just say PRAPAI IN THOSE PANTS

PAI'S CONFESSION 😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️ "When you tell me to stay away, I want you to admit that you want me to stay close. Or when you tell me to get bored, I wanna tell you that I won't." It captured their dynamic so perfectly - here's how I see it: Sky still doesn't believe this thing with Prapai is serious and long-term but he still gave in to his own feelings and desires. He doesn't see a point in going official and he can't admit his true feelings, maybe because if they're not together there won't be a breakup when things "inevitably" end and it won't hurt as much? He's trying to keep a bit of a barrier to protect himself while still indulging in this relationship. But Prapai knows what's behind that barrier and he's breaking it down with earnest feelings and a good amount of cheekiness. In conclusion: AAAAAAAAA

I'M GONNA COUNT THIS AS THEIR FIRST REAL ROMANTIC KISS I'm pretty sure this is the first time they kissed without a sexual context or the "excuse" of it being some sort of "payment". It's the first kiss that's honest and open, all cards on the table, no excuses or facades, no (faked) reluctance, just pure earnest emotion.

Not the mic making fart noises during the kiss tho omg talk about ruining the mood lol

Just rewinded... Sky's hopeful look before the kiss is everything 😭❤️😭❤️

"I want you to kiss me too. I want you to like me." HE SAID IT HE GOT OVER HIS TSUNDERE ACT AND ADMITTED IT AAAAAAA I LOVE THIS FOR THEM

I mean of course it was gonna lead to sex but still the kiss was not about that at all. THAT KISS. WAS EVERYTHING. THAT KISS WAS THE REAL VERSION OF THE ONE PRAPAI HAD IMAGINED. ROMANTIC. EARNEST. AAAAA IT WAS PERFECT

Huh I didn't expect them to actually make it to the party after Sky said he could skip morning classes lmao

The little peck aaaa so casual so sweet Sky still isn't used to this but he loves it

Oh no now he's freaking out about his own feelings again NO BABY DON'T OVERTHINK IT YOU WERE DOING AMAZING

Oh no ex-hookups and new boyfriends do not mix

The way Sky immediately forgot about having to pee lmao

Oh no what is he seeing- OH. The ex-hookup. SKY IS ALREADY TRAUMATIZED THIS HAS GOT TO HURT SO MUCH JUST AFTER HE FINALLY GAVE IN FUUUUUCKKKK

Oh no not another flashback NOT ANOTHER FLASHBACK NOT SKY CRYING MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS IT'S SHATTERING INTO A MILLION PIECES MY POOR BABY SKY

Meanwhile Pai is actually doing his best to get rid of the random boy clinging to him

Prapai is so smooth even when rejecting someone

Why is Sky not confronting him THEY NEED TO CLEAR THIS UP, COMMUNICATE YOU IDIOTS

"I saw your boy. The one you let me borrow. The one who said he loved you so much" FUCKKKK NOOOOO FUCKKKKKK and I can't believe I called that guy pretty, what a fucking asshole FUCK THE FUCK OFF

Meanwhile Sky is having a fucking breakdown in the car while trying to hide it from Pai

AND NOW HE KEEPS BRUSHING HIM OFF AND MAKING EXCUSES NOT TO SEE HIM THIS FUCKING HURTS SO MUCH DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THIS SHIT HURTS WHAT THE FUCKKKKK

Poor Pai poor Sky my poor babiesssss

Everyone is scared of Prapai lmao

TWO WEEKS????? Christ on a bicycle shoot me now I will never recover from this

And Sky's "I don't even like you" act is back up to 200% AND IT'S FUCKING HEARTBREAKING BECAUSE SKY IS BEING SO FUCKING HURTFUL AND MEAN BELIEVING IT'S JUSTIFIED AND PRAPAI IS HAVING HIS HEART SHATTERED INTO A MILLION PIECES WITH EVERY WORD I CAN'T KEEP WATCHING THIS just the thought of hearing that from someone you love - or saying that to someone you love(d) - freaking KILLS me

At least Pai doesn't really believe it. Though it hurts, he knows in his heart it's not true.

Sig is the fucking MVP

Sky is even gonna move dorms?? MY BABY IS HURTING SO MUCH I CAN'T FVKNG BREATHE OMG THE MEMORIES OF PAI WHEN HE GETS BACK TO HIS OLD DORM

Why did I kinda expect Prapai to be waiting in his room omg THE ANGST I'M GONNA IMPLODE

It's the book with all the notes he took 😭❤️ PROOF to Pai that Sky loves him

Which I guess is good for Pai but rn it's just making things worse for Sky because he still thinks Pai lied to him and used him and now that guy has proof that Sky loved him DID I MENTION THAT THIS HURTS??? BECAUSE IT SURE FUCKING DOES

Omg all of Sky's thoughts during their arc being revealed BUT AT WHAT COST aaaaa why couldn't they just have COMMUNICATED?!?! RIGHT AFTER THE FUCKING PARTY?!?!

"Can you not look for someone else? Can I be the only one for you?" 😭😭😭😭 SKYYYY BABYYYY he really wrote that aaaaa my heart

SKY WAS SO IN LOVE 😭❤️

In Pai's eyes he's proving to Sky there was no reason to break up. In Sky's eyes he's adding insult to injury and humiliating him for being stupid enough to fall for Pai. ARE YOU UNDERSTANDING I WANT TO SCRATCH MY EYES OUT

Ok what I don't like about the love confession is that it happens before they've talked it out so in that moment Sky still feels pathetic for admitting his feelings to a guy who has hurt him and will probably do so again

FINALLY they talked it out. I hope Prapai understands that Sky was not overreacting but actually acting the way anyone with that kind of trauma would act after getting triggered.

"I wonder where you get this idea that I'd get tired of you some day" *panicked look* oh no

But at least Sky is finally talking about it

"You can tell me when you're ready" PRAPAI MY LOVE LEMME GIVE YOU A BIG KISS FOR SAYING THAT MWAH

"Cause love makes me blind" AAAAAAA

Rain's reaction to PrapaiSky dating hahahaha

Sky's reaction to Rain calling Pai shameless ayyyyyy

"Can I kiss you?" PRAPAI DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH YOU MEAN TO ME RIGHT NOW

Bonus scene: WHY U GOTTA HURT ME LIKE THAT AGAIN --- HE WROTE THAT AFTER THE PARTY???? FUUUUCKKKKKK

[ace-angel-judas]

Yoongi and Estelle arranged marriage au?

Yoongi didn’t like getting married but Yoongi also couldn’t say no to his mother.

She had picked someone when he turned ten, when his father had started to train him to take over the family business. After all, this parents had been an arranged marriage and so had his grandparents and his great grandparents.

It was how things worked.

And this was his wedding.

“You should probably talk to your wife,” Hoseok snickered, sipping his drink.

“I met her today,” Yoongi huffed and downed his fifth whiskey, “I now have a stupid, trophy wife who is going to do nothing but have to push out babies,”

“She’s stupid?” Hoseok asked.

“Look at her,” Yoongi’s eyes wandered over to the women in questioned, “She’s the definition of stupid,”

The women his mother picked was beautiful but Yoongi doubted she had brains between her ears. She had wavy golden blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and a fit body.

“Well, you should probably stop her from talking to the Kim’s before they realise you’ve married an idiot,”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, placing down his glass and marching across the party. His wife was talking to the three brothers, the kings of the investment pools.

The words that left his wife’s mouth stunned him.

“Actually, I graduated top of my class at Harvard,” She spoke softly with a slight giggle.

The middle brother, Namjoon, his eyes seemed to light up at Estelle’s words. Yoongi couldn’t help the sense of jealousy in his gut.

He slipped an arm around his wife’s waist, pulling her close to his side.

“Harvard?” Namjoon spoke smoothly, “Even I was rejected, I’d love to know more-“

“Excuse us,” Yoongi hissed, “I think my wife has had too much too drink,”

Yoongi tugged her along, exhaling through his nose before they were stopped again. Only this time, it was by Estelle’s mother.

Yoongi had dealt with his fair share of mothers, they all treated their daughters like dolls, prettying them up and throwing them at the most eligible bachelor.

“Estelle,” This women sounded like a vindictive snake, “I trust your night is going well,”

He didn’t like the way she tensed and her eyes dropped to the floor.

“Yes, mother,” Estelle spoke softly, almost robotic.

“Remember,” Her mother grabbed her chin, pulling her head up, “You are a Min now,”

“Yes, mother,” Estelle spoke again, like clockwork.

“Yes, she’s a Min now,” Yoongi spoke up, grabbing this woman’s arm and pulling it away from Estelle’s face, “And I’d rather you don’t touch my wife’s face,”

“None the less,” Her mother almost snarled, “I’ll be seeing you in a month, we’ll have to arrange a medical exam, I’m expecting at least five grandchildren, all boys,”

“My wife isn’t some-“

“It’s alright, mother,” Estelle’s words stopped him, making him stare at her face, “I look forward to seeing you in a month,”

It was like clockwork again, a mask covering her features as she dealt with her own mother. The women turned and left them, shining with proudness.

The mask fell and tears began to fill Estelle’s eyes.

“I’d like some air, please,” Estelle spoke softly, calmly before she turned and walked away from him.

[pineapple-crow]

Alright, heres my rant for the night because I'm tired, cranky, and made the mistake of peeking at the #tradblr side of this hellscape.

I absolutely hate how the shitty alt right fascist conservative bullshit has permeated things that on face value are very much excellent.

Some examples, especially as they relate to me:

Pastel femininity - we're pretty familiar with this though I might be using the wrong term. It's all pastel colors (esp pink), pretty flowers, gold and marble, bows and ribbons, dresses, pretty hair, pretty makeup, and a soft cotton candy cloud aesthetic and shit that evoke the idea of a "soft," "gentle" feminine energy. I love that shit! I don't look like someone who does but I love this aesthetic so much. I think this aesthetic should be enjoyed by anyone regardless of their "usual" presentation or gender expression. AND YET you have these buffoons using it to push "tRaDiTiOnAl WoMaNhOoD" (that's often co-opted with cis whiteness and rejection of the idea that any gender, skin tone, or ethnicity can look gorgeous in pastel pink and roses). Which leads me to my next point...

Cottagecore - just like pastels, cottage core sparks joy in me and I also really love it's representation, especially when combined with the idea of being a homemaker (y'know in that near unobtainable fantasy where all bills are paid for and you can just make bread and weave yarn or whatever). Despite being the current breadwinner in my relationship, I also absolutely love the thought of staying in my own lil cottage and cleaning and doing house upkeep and just baking and shit. Vibing with nature and mindfulness. I DON'T love traditionalist religious nuts (mostly christians but, y'know) who use it to push tRaDiTiOnAl gender roles. No fuck you the moment that shit becomes forced, it's not fun anymore. Anybody should have the freedom to choose to be a homemaker, whether you're a wife/girlfriend, husband/boyfriend, spouse/partner, or That One Friend who has a knack for NOT accidentally making chloroform while cleaning the bathroom! Fuck traditional gender roles and forcing people to be pigeonholed into them without any choice! (And that's not even getting into how toxic it is when it comes to relationships, even hetero relationships! My husband and I realized he was taught how to be a husband (fix cars, fix the house, go to work for the entire day and drink beer/immediately unwind after getting home) but not how to be a partner (help with scheduling appointments, share a portion of the chores, do the chores without being told, other "" womanly"" tasks). That's terrible!)

Heathenry/paganism - SPEAKING OF RELIGION I hate hate hate that I have this constant concern of becoming involved/associated with/platforming white nationalists and Nazis. Fuck Nazis, fuck white nationalists, I have very violent thoughts about them. Heathenry in all its forms, to include Norse Heathenry, is open to all! Not to get too religious but the gods don't care where you or your family comes from! The gods don't care if you're able to stand outside for longer than 10 minutes without turning into a peeling lobster! To use the gods as a method of control or pushing your idiotic hate filled vitriol is to spit on Their image! To say the gods care about whether or not you have 0.01% German/Icelandic/Swiss heritage in your blood is a horribly restrictive box to put the gods in! Not to mention it ALSO gets used to push heteronormative gender roles! Get fucked! I hate that I have to be conscious of my presentation of my faith or else I'll be lumped in with half brain nitwits who smell like weeks old unwashed ass and think their pube face is on the same level as the viking warriors! Tho shit maybe it is who am I to know, fuck bro.

Let me make one point clear. I don't hate that I have to be mindful/critical of the information I absorb, and the actions/words I put out into the world to represent myself. That's okay! That's normal! That should be encouraged! What I DON'T like is the fact that Nazis made some shit up, slapped it on the face of paganism/Heathenry, and have made it so prominent that there is this CONSTANT concern of being lumped in with a group I Do Not Tolerate and, again, have Very Violent Thoughts towards.

Just...aakajsjdjfkgktkd there's so much more I could say on this but I'm really really tired. I didn't think I'd get this heated over it. Anyway I'll finish by saying tradwives/tradhusbands, white nationalists, homophobes, transphobes/TERFS, and Nazis can go shove a pineapple up their asses.

[rocorambles]

Jealousy

Pairing: Atsumu x Reader (Main), Osamu x Reader (Side)

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Rape/Non-Con, Misuse of Duct Tape, Non-Con Bondage, Forced Breeding, Forced Impregnation, Delusional Mindset

Summary: Atsumu is determined to prove that he’s the better twin for you.    

The first time Atsumu meets you he doesn’t remember you so much as he gets stuck on the fact that Osamu is dating someone. Osamu is fucking dating someone and Atsumu is still here single and alone in his late twenties, not a girl anywhere even in sight. It makes him livid as he stares at the identical face gently smiling at you, affectionately holding your hand, looking so damn happy and content. 

What does he have that Atsumu doesn’t? A successful food chain? Cool. But is he a pro-athlete? A medal winning Olympic athlete? One of the best setters in the country? In the world? It’s infuriating to think about and as much as Atsumu loves volleyball, even he dreams of love, marriage, a family of his own late at night when he’s alone on a hotel bed, only Sakusa’s breathing from the other bed in the room keeping him company. 

And those thoughts consume him long after he bids farewell to Osamu and you and suddenly the MSBY Jackals are in an uproar as every team member takes turns being sexiled by their blond setter when they’re off at their away games, as Atsumu nonchalantly strolls into the locker rooms to prep for practice, back littered with scratch marks that Bokuto tries to shield from Hinata’s eyes when the orange haired athlete curiously asks when Atsumu got a cat. 

Girl after girl walks in and out of his bed, his life. Most never lasting more than a night, a few returning for a couple more rounds in the bedsheets, one even manages to interest him enough to grab a cup of coffee with. But it’s the same verdict every time. He’s good enough to fool around with and he’s great in bed, but Miya Atsumu is not husband material, not when he’s already married to volleyball. 

The rejection only fuels his inner turmoil and the green eyed monster inside of him grows and grows, festering and spreading throughout him the more he stops attempting his futile attempts and instead turns his energy to loitering around Osamu and you, inviting himself over for dinners after practice, trying his hand at helping you in the kitchen for brunch on the weekends, crashing in your guest bedroom to the point that Osamu and you gift him a spare key to your shared home. 

Neither of you think much of it, Osamu joking to you privately that this is just Atsumu being the needy emotional brother he really is while you’re just glad to be able to get to know Osamu’s family better. So none of you notice how brown eyes inquisitively trail after the both of you, watching how the two of you seamlessly work out both your hectic lives, never letting the long hours at your job or Osamu’s restaurant get in the way of your relationship, always directing a warm smile or gaze at the other despite how obviously exhausted or far away from a good mood you’re in. 

And Atsumu lets himself believe that this could be his as he hungrily stares at the way you gently caress his brother’s hand, the affection in your gaze as you tenderly kiss him on the lips, the playful wink you give his twin when you tell him you’re getting ready for bed. He lets himself dream that it’s him who you direct those loving gazes to as you cheerfully greet him in the morning, handing him a coffee made just the way he likes it, placing a plate full of delicious piping hot food in front of him. He lets his hand wander down his shorts at night, straining to hear every detail, every decibel of your moans as Osamu and you make love at night, closing his eyes and stroking his cock as he imagines it’s him who’s forcing those beautiful cries from your mouth. 

But it’s not all a picture perfect paradise and Atsumu carefully listens in, alerted by the raising voices he hears through the walls as more and more time passes by. He’d noticed the growing tension in the house, noticed how the two of you were less affectionate, almost awkwardly shuffling around each other when both of you were home from work these past few months. But he couldn’t think of what could have caused both of you to act so strangely, so suddenly, when everything had seemed so swell. 

Curiosity has him placing his ear on the wall and he winces when he hears you shout, anger and hurt in your voice that makes his heart clench painfully, asking when Osamu was going to propose, telling his brother how you’re sick of waiting, how you want to get married and have kids soon. Something shattering inside of him when your voice becomes small and hesitant. 

“I thought that’s what you wanted too, Osamu. Isn’t that why we decided to start living together?”

He expects his brother to leap at the opportunity, to reassure you, yes, absolutely yes, we can get married right away. He knows that if their positions were switched, that’s what he would be doing. But his jaw drops in disbelief, morphing into a scowl when Osamu pleads for you to calm down, to be patient. 

“I do want that. But just not right now.”

“If not now, when? We’re not getting any younger, Osamu.” 

“But my chain is in talks of expanding and there’s so much going on. I just don’t have time-”

There’s a heavy silence as Osamu is quick to snap his mouth shut and Atsumu knows he’s cursing himself for the slip of his tongue, already knows the next words that are going to come out of your mouth, words he himself is all too familiar with from his own past failed relationships. 

“You just don’t have time for us? Me?” 

“That’s not what I meant…”

But it’s too late and Atsumu flinches when he hears loud angry movement, Osamu’s voice imploring you to calm down and stop what you’re doing to no avail as you stomp out of the house, slamming the front door behind you as you make your way to a friend’s house to spend the night apart. 

No one speaks of that night after you return to the house the next day and the three of you continue as normal. Or at least as normal as you can be after an unresolved disagreement that your relationship ultimately hinges around continues ticking like a time bomb in everyone’s minds. And it finally counts down to zero when Osamu packs his bags and plants a cold chaste kiss on your lips before heading to the airport and making his way to seal the deal on the restaurant expansion that’s taken over his entire life. 

Maybe it’s Atsumu’s fault that the two of you are drunk out of your minds, sprawled out on the living room floor. Scratch that. It’s definitely Atsumu’s fault and he drunkenly smiles at how out of it you are, heart warming at the giddy genuine smile spread across your face, happiness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen ever since that argument Osamu and you had. And oh, he didn’t mean to say that out loud and he panics, quickly sobering up when your smile falls at his words, eyes glazed in reminiscence as you think of that night. 

Atsumu isn’t known for his patience, but he waits, not uttering a single word, not moving an inch as you open yourself up to him, telling him your hopes and dreams that so closely match his own of a loving relationship, marriage, family, sharing about the argument Osamu and you had (unknowing of the fact that Atsumu already knows far more than he should). But when you frustratedly laugh at yourself, asking him rhetorically if you’re just being silly and naive, if you’re just a grown woman trying to fulfill a little girl’s childish dream, you’re stunned by the fierce denial from the blonde athlete determinedly staring at you.

“No. You’re not being silly or naive. ‘Samu’s being the idiot. Any man would be lucky and proud to have you as his wife and to create a family with you.”

Those words resonate with you, linger in your mind, further branded into your memory by the sheer sincerity Atsumu drowned them in. And maybe that’s why you find it impossible to play house anymore, find it impossible to live a forced and fake lie when you’re not truly happy anymore. It’s hard, heartbreakingly so, to part ways with the silver haired man when he still holds a part of your heart, but it’s for the best. Why continue when neither of you are on the same page in the long run? Why waste more precious years when you can actively work towards your desired future with someone else who wants the same things as you? 

It’s logical. It makes sense. And yet when you meet up with Atsumu at his apartment for dinner one night to catch up a few months or so after the break up you’re still doubting your decision. 

You had been surprised the blond setter had been so adamant about keeping in touch even after his brother and you separated, but if you’re honest, he’s surprisingly sweet and caring, someone you consider a true friend. So as awkward as it might seem to outsiders, the two of you remain in close contact and you happily agree to his invite when both your busy schedules finally match up. 

But as much as you like Atsumu, the two of you really need to stop drinking so much when you see each other and you let out a cry of frustration when your eyes immediately tear up when Atsumu casually asks how you’re doing as both of you sprawl out on his couch, trying to wave away his worried face as he hovers far too close to you, telling him it’s just the alcohol making you more emotional than usual. 

And you still blame all the drinks he had generously kept refilling for you for the way you sob and cling onto him as he wraps you in a tight hug, telling him how you worry all the time about whether or not you made the right decision to break up with Osamu, whether or not you’re ever going to find someone else, ever going to get married, ever going to have that dream romance you’ve always wanted, ever going to have the happy full family you’ve always yearned for. 

It all comes out of you so easily. But everything with Atsumu has always come easy and you don’t think much of it, finding comfort in his solid presence as he continues to hold you, letting him readjust and find a comfortable position-

You scramble to separate from him when lips tenderly meet yours, limbs flailing as you shove the man away from you, eyes comically wide open as you stare agape at Atsumu. 

“What are you- We can’t- No no no. All of this is wrong. This would KILL Osamu-”

Something inside of Atsumu snaps when he hears his brother’s name from your lips. Even after all this time, you’re still thinking of him? You still care about him? When the better twin is right in front of your fucking face? 

He doesn’t even register he’s shouting those questions in your face, barely registering your terrified eyes as you try to shrink away from him. But your movement of pulling away from him snaps him back to reality and reflexes has his hand twisting in your hair, grabbing you by your roots, fury making him numb to the way you desperately claw at his grip as he drags you to his bedroom. 

You’re too focused on soothing your aching skull when he finally releases you by throwing you onto his bed and pitiful tears stream down your face as you gingerly hold your head, ignorant of how the athlete is rummaging through his closet. In hindsight you’ll wonder why you didn’t try to run while his back was turned, although you already know the answer. This is just Atsumu in one of his moods. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He’ll apologize in just a second. Those are the thoughts fleeting through your mind amidst the sore ache Atsumu has left behind. 

But a warning bell rings relentlessly inside of you as you finally look up when you sense him approaching you, a thick roll of silver duct tape in his hands. 

Had Atsumu always looked so...intimidating?

You try to fight back as you’re suddenly pinned to the bed by a muscular body, flailing and thrashing as calloused hands hold your arms above your hand, tightly wrapping your wrists together, looping extra lengths of the tape around the headboard, securely fastening your arms up and out of the way. But it’s useless, pathetic really, although Atsumu thinks there’s something adorable about how hard you’re trying, only to be easily batted away by his much stronger body as he tears off your clothes and bends your knees, taping your calves to your thighs, one side at a time until both your legs are bound. 

And then there’s silence and stillness other than your wriggling tied form as Atsumu sits back and admires the view of your naked body, reality so much more lucious and gorgeous than he had ever imagined. You struggle against your tight restraints, recoiling as brown eyes leer at you, ravenously devouring the sight of your heaving breasts, raking down your figure before finally landing on your bare pussy on full display as his hands spread your bound legs on either side of you, palms searing your inner thighs with their unwanted warmth as he holds you open. 

One day he won’t need the resilient tape to hold you down and keep you still. One day you’ll let him have you of your own free will. One day you’ll see that he was always the one for you. But he can’t help but feel that there’s something breathtaking about how vulnerable and pretty you are, laid out for him like a wrapped present, something filthily attractive about how striking the silver stripes are against your skin. 

One day he won’t need the resilient tape...but that doesn’t mean he'll stop using it. 

You shudder as he trails his fingers over the duct tape, grinning at you all the while. 

“Can’t have you moving too much if I’m going to breed you. You’ll make all my cum spill out of you.”

He tsks when you frantically struggle at his words, pathetic begs and pleads spilling from your lips as dread fills you from learning exactly what Atsumu has planned for you and suddenly you’re all too aware of just how exposed you are, how tight the front of his pants look as his erection presses against the fabric, how far too close he is to your most intimate part. And you sob as he leans on top of you, pressing his toned body against yours, something hard pressing against your bare pussy as he captures your lips in a kiss to silence you. 

“I thought you would be more thankful considering how you were practically in my arms begging me for kids not even a hour ago. And now I’m here ready to give you what you want and you’re making such a fuss.” 

He rolls his eyes, scoffing as you only sob even harder, body shaking and trembling, sniveling as you stare up at him with teary eyes, begging him to stop. 

“Oh shut up. What? Are you worried about the order of things? Worried I’ll just knock you up and leave you alone? Don’t be stupid. I’ll make sure to put a ring on your finger and marry you after this. Who cares about the order of things when the end result is the same.” 

Your mouth opens and shuts a few times, unsure where to even begin telling him just how wrong his reasoning is, unsure how to even process his words. Ring? Marry? What-

But thoughts fly out of your head when a hungry mouth suddenly descends on your breasts, harshly sucking a nipple between wet lips, fingers roughly twisting and pulling at your other nipple and you wail at the jolt of sudden stimulation, too focused on the tongue lapping at your nipples and lances of arousal swirling inside of you to notice how his free hand is shoving his pants and boxers down and off. 

You hate how quick you are to melt into the delirious pleasure, body craving for the touch of another, to be brought to new heights by another after being left to your own devices for the past few months and you can feel your pussy clench and throb, feeling so exposed and empty, practically begging to be stuffed full as slick begins to form between your legs. And as if Atsumu can hear your body’s silent cry for more, he begins to push the tip of his cock inside of you and your back arches, mouth instinctively opening as he takes his time, pressing past your tight opening, slipping further and further inside of you until he’s finally fully sheathed inside of you, letting your body adjust to him as he continues licking and sucking on your breasts, groaning as he feels your tight walls clamp around him with every move of his mouth. 

Atsumu is not known for his patience, but he tries his damn best to take it as slow as he bearably can for you, dragging his cock back and forth against your gummy walls, constantly adjusting the angle of his hips with every stroke until you’re crying out, and he smirks triumphantly, memorizing the exact position and angle that has you seeing stars as he continuously hits that spongy spot inside of you. And all it takes is for his hand to slide between the two of you and gently circle your clit as he continues his steady assault to have you breaking to pieces underneath him, garbled versions of his name escaping your mouth as your orgasm washes over you in heavy tall waves, his own release joining with yours as your pussy convulses and milks him of his sticky white liquid. 

As post-coital bliss disintegrates, shame and relief flood through you, shame for enjoying it, relief that this ordeal is finally over and you wait. Wait for him to remove the tape. Wait for him to pull out of you. Grimacing as he affectionately nuzzles you and litters your face with kisses. But you panic, pure fear flooding through you when you feel his cock twitching inside of you once more, growing inside of you again. 

“You didn’t think we were done, did you? Need to make sure I fill you with so much cum that your body has no choice but to get pregnant.”

And he stays true to his words, fucking you over and over again, sometimes hard and rough, sometimes passionate and sensual, sometimes soft and gentle, but always finishing inside of you, adding to the splattered pooling mess inside of you. You feel disgusting, the increasingly wet noises as he thrusts in and out of the sticky wet mess inside of you permeating throughout the room, stomach feeling so bloated with cum that you swear you must be pregnant already. 

Quiet, relieved sobs wrack your body when the weight on top of you finally lifts, when he finally pulls out of you and your body slumps down, all the tension leaving it, discomfort taking its place as you feel a torrent of liquid move to rush out of your overfilled cunt, the beginnings of it already starting to trickle out. But despite your aching dry throat, you manage to let out a strangled cry of disbelief when your hips are uncomfortably raised up, upper body almost folded in half as Atsumu keeps your glistening pussy upright, not allowing even a single drop more to escape. 

And in this new position you have no choice but to watch, anxiety coursing through you when he tears off another piece of duct tape, chest hyperventilating as he places it over your gaping hole, effectively sealing you shut and despite the fact that you thought you had no more tears left to shed, new salty teardrops slide down your cheeks at the debauched site of your own pussy being treated as nothing more than an object, a receptacle for his seed, his beaming smug face between your legs only adding to your humiliation as he smiles down at his handiwork. 

All you can do is mindlessly stare when he directs his smile at you, verbally praising himself for how smart he is for finding a way to keep his cum inside of you and making sure all his hard work doesn’t go to waste, mind and body feeling numb and broken as he finally lets your body lay fully back on the bed, slumping down next to you in exhaustion and cuddling your listless and still bound figure. 

“We can go pick out rings together tomorrow, okay? Maybe try a few more times for some runts after. You think the more I cum in you, the better the chance that you’ll have twins?”

You don’t know, but you have a sinking feeling that you’ll soon be finding out.

[wri0thesley]

Nat😫😫😫 I'm just reading your naoya posts and I cant😫😫😫 why do I love this arrogant man😫 is it possible to write something of a connected fic to your arrangement story about how he feels jealous over a similarly docile reader (doesnt have to be connected if you dont want tho!!). like he hears about how the reader has been getting marriage proposals from other men since naoya hasnt given an affirmative to your family,,,, and now the reader is forced to consider other candidates (although she still cant atop thinking about our favourite princely asshole) and naoya cant handle this thought lol he deserves to know what angst and the pain of yearning tastes like😌 I hope this wasn't too confusing aaaa😭😭 I love your writing, and im glad youre in this jjk brain rot too🤧

patience - naoya x fem!reader (1.5k)

arrangement // patience // my jjk masterlist

warnings: naoya remains an asshole. submissive reader, arranged marriages, mentions of murder, talk of adultery. pining/angst. not sfw, minors dni!

naoya hates that he can’t stop thinking about you.

Naoya hates that he can’t stop thinking about you.

Oh, he’d meant it when he’d spat ‘pathetic’ and ‘useless’ and ‘worthless’ at you – your bloodline was unimpressive, your lack of cursed technique tragic, your clan elders absolutely idiotic for sending a nobody like you to tempt him. But . . . something about the look in your eyes, the meek little bow of your head, the way you’d listened to every one of his orders with a soft little gasp and a desire to follow them to the latter . . .

He hasn’t told your family that he’s not interested in you, but word gets around the jujutsu community when someone is looking for a spouse. After all, they’re determined to retain blood purity, to keep techniques in the bloodline – your family soon hear that Naoya is still considering all of his options. That other pretty young daughters from other bloodlines have been to see him.

(Naoya rejects them all, for frivolous reasons that he doesn’t want to admit are frivolous. He hadn’t liked the look in that one’s eyes. He didn’t want his children to inherit the colour of that one’s hair. That one had walked two steps behind him, not three--).

You haunt his thoughts. You and the bow of your head, the bite of your lip, the way you’d looked with tears brimming in your eyes. The suggestive curve of you beneath your kimono.

Ugh.

He hears, too, that your family have been exploring their other options. They’d seemed thrilled, at first, that Naoya hadn’t utterly swept you off the table – but six months have passed, and they want their daughter married and out of the house and fulfilling her duties.

He hears about your marriage proposals through that same grapevine. He hears that other men say you are pretty and quiet and obedient, that you will make a fine wife, that you will listen to commands and give soft smiles and raise children like you ought to--

And once, he smashes a glass from gripping it too hard as some nobody in the Kamo clan mentions that he’s going to ask your family for your hand in marriage.

You say no. He hears, too, that your elders are growing frustrated with your dismissals of proposals. They have left behind the thought of marrying you into the Zenin clan, but clearly you’re still clinging to the idea that Naoya might want you despite what he’d said.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, when he wraps his fist around his cock and pumps it and thinks about your look of surprise as his come splatters across your face.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, when he compares a young lady sent to entice him with you. When she looks him in the eye and he thinks that you would never do that, that you would keep your head bowed, that you’d be deferential as he needs you to be.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, as a servant cleans up the shards of glass that he shatters and he asks the Kamo clan member if perhaps he would like to spar, and he hits him just a little bit too hard so he ends up wheezing and doubled over on the training mats as Naoya stalks out of the room.

It’s not his style to pine. He has the pick of every eligible young lady in jujutsu society; he should not be hung up on such a worthless, pathetic little thing.

He hears of another proposal. This one, apparently, hasn’t been rejected straight-out – this one, you seem to be considering. Other members of the Zenin clan don’t understand why his jaw sets at the news.

“You didn’t want her, did you?” He asks. “You didn’t seem keen after the meeting.”

One of his other distant cousins, an upstart too big for his boots, grins.

“That was before she was hot property, though,” he leers at Naoya. “Our golden boy doesn’t like the idea of people coveting his trash--”

Naoya has struck him before he can think and stalked out of that room, too. Something about you has truly opened the can of worms that is Naoya’s violence, and he refuses to admit to himself that it’s because he wants you.

It’s not because you’re hot property – though, certainly, the way other men talk and laugh about you and the knowledge that you’re wanted serves to set a fire within him. It’s because he can’t stop thinking about you.

He tries courtesans. He chooses pretty, well-mannered ones who look a little like you – but their eyes when they look at him are glassy. They’re not the same as yours, brimming with life and want and confusion at the position you’ve found yourself in and the way your body responds to Naoya.

He doesn’t admit to his mistakes. He doesn’t think ‘I should have accepted the proposal, I should have joined the clans’ – instead, he thinks ‘I should have fucked them then and there. I should have made them scream my name until their reputation was ruined and everybody knew they came apart on my cock. It’s their fault that I can’t get them out of my brain.’

He walks with fists and teeth clenched and snaps at every servant who dare looks his way. Naoya has always been unpleasant, but he’s downright impossible with his spine in knots and his eyes narrowed.

He’s going to have to do it. He’s going to have to contact your family, ask for another audience, if only to get your fucking face out of his mind--

He’s not expecting to come across you before he’s even made the call, standing in one of the gardens of the Zenin estate. You’re wearing the same kimono you had first visited him in, and he hates that the sight of it makes a throb low in his belly as he remembers seeing it crumpled on his bedroom floor. He swallows as he stalks towards you and you turn, your pretty eyes widening – he sees the flash of memory, the flash of desire. He wonders if anybody would dare speak to him if he took you right here, in the garden--

An older man opens a door behind you.

Naoya recognises him only vaguely. The Zenin estate is swarming with various, less important Zenins; this one’s a great-uncle, perhaps? Or a cousin thrice removed? He’s someone unimportant in the grand scheme of things, save for the way that he walks up to you and wraps an arm around your waist.

“Ah,” the man with his hands on Naoya’s property says. “I see you’ve met my betrothed.”

His heart stops cold. He’s nobody. Unimportant. Nothing.

He’d called you the same thing; an ‘act of charity’. So why does the sight of an arm around you attached to a man too old and not powerful enough to be a threat make Naoya feel like he’s chewing rocks? Naoya manages to spit out a;

“Congratulations.”

“Yes,” the old man (great cousin? Naoya doesn’t make a habit to remember people he can’t use later on) says, pulling you closer, groping at your hip through the kimono as you keep a sedate, smile on your face without looking directly into Naoya’s eyes. “You’ll be seeing her around a lot. I hope she didn’t bother you.” A squeeze to your ass, this time, shameless. “Say hello to the future leader of the clan, sweetheart.”

(At least this man’s on Naoya’s side, he tries to console himself, but it doesn’t work.)

“H-hello, sir,” you say, and your voice is as tremulous as he remembers it. His cock stirs. He hates this.

“Sorry to bother you,” he inclines his head politely and tugs on your arm, pulling you away, leaving Naoya kissing his teeth and trying to not simply slit the man’s throat with the knife in his hakama and take you for his own.

What had the scum said? ‘You’ll be seeing her around a lot’. He supposes, then, that you’ll be sequestered in one of the other chambers in the Zenin estate--

A slow smile spreads across his face.

You wouldn’t say ‘no’ to your clan leader, would you? And . . . your future husband is old. Any Zenin is a Zenin, is it not? Even if a son is born with Naoya’s features, Naoya’s technique . . . nobody would say anything to him about it. And you’re in reach. Close to him.

He only needs to get you alone before the wedding to make sure he gets to take your maidenhead. He hates the thought of another man’s filthy hands on you, but accidents happen all of the time--

And then you’ll be a widow. You won’t be expected to marry for a while. And if you’ve already borne fruit and proved yourself – perhaps Naoya will even play the chivalrous leader and lower himself to take you for his own.

Yes. Just a little patience.

This is an arrangement he can get behind.

[gagethatcher]

NUNEZ, OLIVIA.

The nickname, although meant to be an affectionate gesture on his end, caused Liv to visibly cringe. She liked it. It’s just that, it reminded her of her mom before she passed. She used to call Liv her tiny dancer all the time, as Olivia curtsied around the house and their dining room table.

“So does yours.” Gage might’ve forgot but, Liv never did. The atomic bombshells loved him. They’d all try to drink with him after their shift ended or begged him for rides in his van ( and around his dick ). Some he indulged, others he rejected. He was hot commodity at the club until he got fired. But even the manager’s wife loved him and would probably hire him back.

“Don’t mind if I do.” The invite to pop a squat with him in his van was well received. Liv not only helped herself to the open spot next to him, but to one of the cold beers in his mobile cooler. “I’ll never say no to a bar crawl. But, you do realize that one of these days you’re going to have to pay me for all the free ink. Maybe my generosity is still the reason why I can’t quit the club.” She wanted to. But, she owned the owner a lot of money still and he refused to let her go until payment was fully received. “How are things? Aside from you getting your ass kicked by your friend?”

-

“Yeah, well.” His looks were the only thing he has. Living in Siesta Key was a constant reminder that he didn’t fit in with all the high rollers who were living in their big houses with their big families. It’s what Camila wanted too, but he couldn’t give that to her. One day, he’ll inevitably have to let her go, but today wouldn’t be that day. His plan to win her back was rocky thus far, but he believed in it. However, in the meantime, he wasn’t going to sit around like a virgin not getting laid. So if Liv wanted to go at it for old times’ sake, he would be down. 

“I’m paying you now, princess, you’re drinking my beer.” He smirked, keeping the brim of the bottle pressed against his lips. “If you supply the ink, I’ll tattoo you. ‘Locals only’ across your left ass cheek. That would be hot. Maybe, ‘liv and let die’ under your boob?” It was no surprise that he was naming all provocative body parts. When was he not horny? Maybe Cami was right and he’s just a dog forever chasing a bone. 

“Why would you quit? You’re like the hottest girl there. The Titty Twister won’t survive without its Santanico Pandemonium.” Giving her shoulder a nudge, he lights up another cigarette before passing it over. “—Red card, dude. I didn’t get my ass kicked. You should see the other guy.” Dante wasn’t as bad off. But Gage had too much pride to admit defeat. He’ll pay the big idiot back when he screws his sister in the back of his van without a condom. 

“Things are whatever, you know? I tried to get back with my ex but she wasn’t having it.” He’s talked about Camila a bunch of times to Olivia but never name-dropped. At first, Liv thought he made her up, but as time passed by she could see how torn up he was over this mystery woman. “She blue-balled me twice. Black and blue face and black and blue balls. Does God hate me or what?”