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jojikawa · 3 years ago

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Mrs. Bucciarati | Bruno Bucciarati x Fem! Reader | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

┊❥ Part 6 - Down Time

MASTERLIST

✧『Fandom』: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

✧『Character』: Bruno Bucciarati

✧『Word Count』: 3,129 words 16,714 characters

✧『Summary』: The group kills time as they wait for Giorno and Mista to reach their destination.

The group quickly made its way back on the road to Venezia. Mista, Fugo, and Giorno were on the surface, driving the car while everyone else stayed inside to protect Trish as a second line of defense.

Inside the turtle, you had been sitting in between Narancia and Abbacchio. You had sat there first because Narancia wanted to show you something in the magazine he was reading but Abbacchio made it awkward by sitting next to you.

You had taken notice because previously, he was trying to avoid you.

Bruno was sitting on the other side of the table, his head tucked into the laptop that was used for communications. You wanted to talk but you felt like that would be distracting since he wanted to focus.

You didn’t know why but often, you would think of the first time the two of you met and the events that followed. You used to cringe at the memory of it but now that you were sure about your feelings towards him, it was wholesome.

One of your favorite memories with him was during a “charity” event your father held a few years ago. It wasn’t actually for anything charity-related.

Just another excuse to greet Italian capos. You hated it. You hated how corrupt your father was. He had a way of keeping investors while still doing dirty work.

Amongst them was Polpo from Passione in Italy and with him was a young Bruno Bucciarati. He was 17 at the time and you had just turned 16. Polpo agreed to take Bruno with him after much begging on his part. The boy just wanted to see you again.

That night, you were completely upset. Your father wanted you to sing since he and much of the staff agreed you had a nice singing voice. You were too nervous and honestly, you couldn’t even see yourself singing well at all. This upset him and he made you stay by him all night.

The ball was boring until Bruno had arrived. He found you quickly and wanted to talk. He figured that you were being held hostage by your father and wanted to help.

When we walked over, he cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” He said, grabbing your father’s attention. Your father had been speaking to a popular district attorney.

“It’s an honor to have been invited here, Mr. (l/n).” Bruno bowed, trying to seem as gentlemanly as possible.

Your father finished up his conversation before nodding the attorney away and taking a sip of his drink. “Oh, Bruno Bucciarati. I didn’t know Polpo was bringing you. I’m sure I only sent out one invitation.” Your father joked, even laughing when no one found it funny.

You just tried to tune him out, fiddling with your dress that was the same color as your father’s tuxedo.

Bruno humored him, laughing as well. “Well, you see, I couldn’t pass up the chance of hearing (y/n) sing so I had Polpo make room for one more.” His eyes lingered over to you. Bruno seemed so friendly and soft but he was tall for his age and it was almost intimidating…

You looked away, blushing after seeing the innocent twinkle in his eyes when he saw you were all dressed up. Normally, you were wearing loungewear since you were always inside. You looked so stunning!

“That’s too bad because little (y/n) over here decided that she didn’t want to help me pull any investors and she’s not singing at all tonight.” Your father lazily waved his hand in your direction, sipping more of his wine.

“I don’t believe I can sing. I’ve never had any lessons.” You spoke up for the first time. Your father narrowed his eyes at you. “Then after tonight, we’re getting you some.”

You sighed, looking away from your father and off to the side. This was so awkward… you wanted to leave.

Bruno saw what was unfolding and intervened before things could escalate.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Mr. (l/n). I’m sure (y/n) has an amazing voice. She’s just shy and there’s nothing wrong with that. Perhaps, I can help her build her confidence.” He offered his hand to you. You just stared at it.

Your father sighed. “I suppose so. I trust you, Bruno.”

Your father then let you spend the night with him and it was a lot better than just standing around.

All night, Bruno had been such a gentleman and even slow danced with you when no one was watching. You weren't very good and neither was he but you still found it enjoyable.

You had been reminiscing about the past when your thoughts were interrupted by Bruno who had been speaking to Abbacchio.

Bruno had gotten a message on the laptop asking Abbacchio to use his stand to reveal a message that was left behind.

Everyone had gathered around and you got up to look too.

Abbacchio decided to go back 15 hours. The person Moody Blues took the shape off was of the older man you had seen when you all first picked up Trish.

He explained more instructions for the team to follow. You felt so out of place. Everything about this was so bizarre. The moment you get to be with Bruno, you get wrapped up in some elaborate plan. You haven’t sat down with him since you arrived.

When you came to, you saw the image of Mr. Pericolo with a gun to his head. You had only zoned out for a moment! What happened?

Pericolo explained that because of his influence, the enemy knows that he’s helping Bruno deliver Trish. He isn’t a stand user so he doesn’t know how he could defend himself.

His only escape was killing himself before they got to him. It was tragic but these are things you sign up for in Passione.

He pulled the trigger and you saw red before Bruno hugged you to his chest and turned around to block the image of what you almost saw.

You tried to resist but he only held you tighter until the image of it was gone.

“Oh my god!!” You heard Narancia yell.

Trish and Abbacchio were speechless. You had wished that Bruno could’ve used his energy to protect the eyes of one of the children, especially Trish, but it was over now.

You wanted to cry but you were in so much shock. You felt like after everything was over, you would need some kind of therapy. It’s only been a few days and you’ve endured so much trauma. You were just a human.

“Bruno…” you tried to loosen his grip. “…let go.”

He squeezed you again when you had said his name but then without a word, he let go of you. He stood up to talk but his eyes were darkened and he was visibly sweating.

“Mr. Pericolo.”

You were dazed for a moment by his behavior but then you looked over at Trish who must have been traumatized.

You walked over and grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry that you had to see that. Are you okay?” You asked, sweetly. Her eyes darted over to you. She was shaking and sweating as well. It hurt you that she had to deal with all of this at such a young age.

“M-mhm.” She nodded and gave your hand a tight squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.” You told her.

You then realize that you would have to comfort Narancia, Fugo, and Giorno, as well. Being a mother figure wasn’t easy. You felt so obligated to be there for all of them but it was impossible.

You didn’t know how helpful Bruno was towards the younger members but you could only hope he took their mental health into account.

Before you could ask everyone about how they felt, Bruno had sent Mista and Giorno to drive while the rest of you stayed inside the turtle.

You couldn’t figure out why Bruno kept sheltering you. He wanted you by his side or inside the turtle at all times. You wanted to be able to help him protect everyone. You were tired of him acting like he could do everything on his own.

It was hard trying to get a good word in since everyone was in such close proximity. To everyone else, the way you and Bruno interacted was similar to parents. All of the kids had prominent parental issues so the two of you served as a support system when they needed it.

You were sitting next to Trish and you were unsure if you should give her space or make yourself available to speak to. You thought that maybe you should use this time to talk to Bruno but Trish had actually spoken first.

“Mrs. Bucciarati, what was your life like before you came here?” Her voice was pretty monotone as always but you could tell she was sad.

“My life? Well, I was pretty much a homebody. I just tended to my garden and practiced Italian.” You answered.

“Practicing Italian? Why?” She looked at you before realizing you weren’t a native Italian. It’s probably why your dialect sounded a bit different than most. You had a more formal way of speaking compared to the others.

“I’m from America and I know Bruno because I’m the daughter of a boss as well.” You explained with a smile. She didn’t reply to you. She just stared at you with her mouth opened a small bit. Maybe she could finally relate to someone.

You then turned your attention to Bruno who had been using the laptop. You were so worried about the boys. It didn’t feel right for you to send Mista and Giorno out on their own.

“Bruno.” You got up from your spot with Trish and went over to Bruno. You didn’t want to create a scene, so just in case things escalated, you spoke in English.

“I know you have faith in the boys, but is it really wise to send them out on their own? I could’ve gone with them.” You said down next to him, not really interested in what he was doing enough to look.

He just hummed before saying. “I don’t want you to be separated from me anymore. The last two times we got separated, you were hurt and every time we’ve been attacked, you were hurt.”

You huffed. “But you told me you were proud of me. You still don’t believe I can handle myself?”

“Cara mia, I know you can handle yourself but I just can’t have you hurt anymore. You were only taught to fight to a certain extent. If either of us makes a mistake then you could be killed.” His voice was firm. He’s never spoken to you in this tone before and it almost embarrassed you.

“But we have made mistakes. We both have. I’ve done my part in helping. I just still haven’t proven myself to you.” You turned away from him, upset that he was babying you and belittling the training you went through just for him.

Bruno look over at you who had been completely facing the other way. He reached over to your shoulder but you lightly jerked it away.

Why couldn’t you just understand that he was trying to protect you? Was it really wise to promise Giorno this ridiculous plan? Your first impression of Italy has just been filled with bloodshed. Although, if he didn’t then he never would have been Capo.

How long would it have taken him to reach the status of Capo normally?

Bruno pushed those thoughts out of his head. Maybe he was smothering you a little. It was just so hard not seeing you as a delicate flower anymore. He wished that he could’ve seen you more.

As an attempt to show affection, he reached out to your hand that has been free and resting on the sofa. The tips of his fingers brushed yours lightly but you had quickly curled them up, hiding them in a fist.

You didn’t seem to want to hold hands either.

Across the room, Fugo and Narancia were pondering on what you two could’ve been talking about. They didn’t know much English either. It was easy for the others to pay so much attention to you because of how new you were to them.

“Hey, Fugo, you know some English right? What do you think they’re talking about?” Narancia asked. “I’ve never seen Bucciarati so soft!” He hoarsely whispered into his ear.

Fugo, who was trying to rest his eyes, was getting annoyed at the boy. “No, Narancia, I don’t know what they’re saying. I’m not going to violate their privacy either. If it were meant for us to hear, then they wouldn’t have changed languages in the first place.” He explained. This made Narancia frown and retract himself.

You figured that maybe you should talk to Abbacchio for advice. You went over to the purple schemed man and Bruno’s eyes followed you curiously.

He watched as you talked to Leone with confidence and not anything at all like he expected. At first, when you first met them in Naples, he could sense your fear for that man but now you didn’t seem like you were at all.

“Leone,” You sighed and his head snapped over to you. You jumped at his reaction. “A-Abbacchio, I mean, sorry.” You raised your hands in defense and began to sweat. His neutral expression didn’t change. Deep down he didn’t mind your voice saying his name.

“As Bruno always called the shots this way? Sending the children out?” You asked softly.

This annoyed Abbacchio but still, his expression didn’t change. Of course, you would want to talk to him about Bruno of all people. Since you’ve been here, it’s just been about you and him and can’t even last 2 minutes apart when you’re just a foot away from him.

He knew that the only reason he felt this way was that he was jealous. He was probably just jealous of Bucciarati the whole time. What would it take for him to get a woman like you?

“Yeah. Always been that way.” He replied. “They know that they’re doing. Nothing new.”

A small gasp left your mouth. Everyone seemed so uncaring of the safety of the boys. But this didn’t have to mean the end.

You just had to be strong enough to protect them yourself. “I see.” That was all you had said. You didn’t care if it didn't seem like Bruno had faith in you or that there were so many children or how nonchalant Leone was about it. You had a stand too and you knew how to use it.

“Th-That’s all.” You smiled nervously before giving the man his space. You scooted further away, not wanting to move around too much and irritate everyone.

When you looked up, you saw that Bruno was just staring at you, watching. He looked upset but not angry. You wanted to comfort him but you were still upset with him. You’ve worked so hard and it’s like it doesn’t even matter to him.

For some hours, you occupied yourself with a magazine. You tested yourself by reading Italian fashion articles and keeping notes of things you wanted to buy with Bruno’s money. You made sure to bookmark pages with nice shoes and dresses you’d like to try on.

Your actions were interrupted by feeling a portion of the couch next to you sink. You looked to your left to see it was Bruno with the computer resting on his lap. He didn’t say a word and only shifted his weight so that his thigh was touching your exposed one.

This made you blush, so hard that physically acknowledged that he had done this when his goal was to be smooth with it.

“B-Bruno-” You whispered. Bruno ignored you, resting a free hand on the thigh closest to him. He leaned over, so close that the message you got was that he was trying to kiss you.

Really? In front of everyone? What’s gotten into him?

“Are you upset with me?” He whispered into your ear.

Your face heated up. You would feel his breath hitting your ear.

“N-No.” You replied, turning your head to him.

His eyes were narrowed and his face frowned. He leaned in further but he didn’t kiss you. He…licked your face?!

You yelped, breaking contact with him. What the hell was that!?

“To me, it seems like you’re lying.”

“Huh? Is this that lie detection thing you told me about? I thought that was a joke…” You wiped the faint sign of saliva on your face. “Warn me next time, okay?”

He chuckled before kissing you softly. “I thought it would cheer you up.” He said in between breaths.

You kissed back tenderly, your cheeks burning at his actions. Was this a dream?

Your minor make-out session was cut short when Narancia had brought you both back to reality.

Butterflies grew inside of you as you covered your face and turned away. You were always such a shy and delicate flower and now he knew that he could tease you with a public display of affection.

Narancia had been volunteering to be the one to go out to be on the surface so that he could use Aureo Smith to find Mista and Giorno.

You parted from Bruno, enjoying the remaining time just leaning against him. His body was warm and his cologne was faint with a hint of sweat from all the intense fighting.

You were an odd couple but the love was undeniable.

Mista and Giorno were found. Mista had sustained a lot of injuries, which the blonde male healed with his stand.

You played your role and scolded Mista at his lack of awareness to which he replied by calling you “Mom.”

“You should be more careful. You can’t always expect your wounds to be fixed. Giorno can’t help you forever!” You tapped his forehead aggressively.

“Hey, Hey! Yeah, I get it, okay, mom?” He swatted your hand away. This made you giggle.

“Mom? Where’d that come from?” You asked, chuckling to yourself.

“ ‘Cause, you’re annoying like one.” He yelled at you with faint pink dust on his cheeks.

You were the first female figure in his life that worried about him the way you did. It was very easy for them to get attached to you since they were all from broken homes.

It has only been a few days but with Bruno’s tough love and your soft and gentle nature, you two were scaffolding for what having parents was like. Minus the killing of the mafioso members pursuing you, of course.

It was unfortunate that such a cute “family” would come to an end.

#jjba part 5 #vento aureo #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #bruno x reader #bruno bucellati x reader #jojo x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #JoJo imagines #bruno bucciarati imagine #bruno imagine #golden wind #jojo bruno #anime x reader #JoJo no Kimyō na Bōken #jjba headcanons #jojo no kimyō na bōken

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kryptsune · 4 years ago

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World Building Wednesday!~ Etherium

🌼 I decided to share one of my AU worlds that is not Fell based. Yes... I know... what is the world coming to? Etherium in essence is my stab at an Outertale based universe though the story and the designs are very different. I really enjoy this one though I don’t talk about it too much. Let’s get started!

Etherium AU

Classification: Outertale Alternate “Nicknames” Info:

Sans: Nova- Nova is the trickster though he is mostly associated with that of Loki. Loki is described specifically as “Playful, malicious ( ok maybe not that one), helpful, and nihilistic.” He helps others in a kind of goofy over the top way. He just doesn’t take much seriously. Nova is one of the youngest. He acts very childish at times coming to question how long he has been among the pantheon. Some argue his many centuries gave him a nihilistic outlook on life or that he is too young to understand the true ways of the world.

Not to say that Nova can’t be serious but he is pretty laid back. It’s one of the reasons unlike the others he doesn’t really keep his cultural ties in his design. He should have more Norse in it but nah… varsity jackets are cozy right? I mean he is wearing star shorts for stars sake. When asked about his job he mentions, “Hey, there kiddo. Nice of ya to drop by. Been up to? Heh well got a “new” job which is pretty cool. Not as cool as Pollux but I help arrange stars. Ya know, like the ones you see in the sky you can make pictures out of? I think you humans call em… constellations. One time I made this giant whoopee cushion one. “Then I lost ma job. Got a second chance though. Andromeda's constantly watchin me. hehe no harm done though.” Both Pollux and Nova refer to each other as brothers but it is unclear if they are biologically related. Their abilities and strengths are nearly opposite and their mythos even more so.

Papyrus: Pollux- The presumed older brother of Nova. Pollux is associated with Egyptology specifically wisdom. Pollux tends to be the opposite of Nova in that he takes his job very seriously. Once on earth he was known as Thoth gracing humanity with a mechanical and architectural knowledge that astounded the world. His mind and intellect put him at the forefront of innovation making him one of Capricorn's best and most trusted advisors.

He enjoys testing the mental prowess of others using puzzles and riddles of his own design. Unlike canon Pap Pollux cares more about balance in life. Something his younger brother seems to lack. Not all work and not all play. He is kind, helpful, and willing to give advice to anyone that is looking for it. To the little human Frisk he is a good mentor and teacher. (Pollux has made it his pastime to create a series of challenges to prove a humans worth. If they pass then they are able to speak/ see them. No one has managed to prove themselves.)

(more characters and info below the cut)

Undyne: Andromeda- Andromeda is not different from canon Undyne as she embodies the Mayan mythology. She is mostly closely associated with the feathered serpent Quetzalcóatl. A deity of wind and rain. Also known as the life giver. Though Andromeda tends to harken back to her more aggressive roots she has a deep respect for the King and acts as his guard. Just like Pollux she too acts as an advisor, though more on matters of security than strategy or mechanics. Such a position is where she first met Elara and to this day the two are inseparable sharing their very different cultures. Her favorite kind of anime to watch are mech based.

Alphys: Elara- Very similar to canon Alphys just as this version of Undyne is. Alphys is based off of Sukuna-Biko-Na (少名毘古那) or the shinto god of medicine and rain. Elara is still very much a scientist and one that has a unique fascination with living things. Everything from the planets, to humans, animals, and plant life. She particularly enjoys spending time in her private greenhouse creating and taking care of all of the plant life. Before the monsters were forced to leave their place among the humans she was able to collect all the DNA of the plants and animals on the planet.

They are stored in a kind of ark in which to preserve them if anything threatens their existence. Elara is very traditional in her work as her medicines are derived from her magic as well as herbal substances. She is very curious however as she is not allowed to interact with the progress of humanity but rather watches from afar. This is where her love of anime takes hold. Her favorites are ones like Sailor Moon or any type of magical girl anime. She will sit with Andromeda and watch them for hours. Her demeanor is very shy at first but once she opens up she will be a friend for life.

Asgore: Capricorn- The head of the cosmic pantheon he is the King as he is in the original. He is associated with Celtic mythos though he has taken on many pantheon roles in his lifetime. Ambisagrus, a god of thunder and lightning, Ancestor God, Sky God, God of Wind, Rain & Hail is what he is based off of. One such role is that of Zeus who’s main symbol is that of lightning and thunder. Just like the Zeus of mythology Capricorn is constantly debating his involvement with humanity.

Whether that be to stop their technological advances or aiding in their lives. A large portion of his time was spent with his subjects not so much his wife Aurora who is the jealous type. Capricorn is not a ruthless leader but he does know that sometimes hard decisions must be made. Just like UT Asgore he is kind and benevolent, however, he has a temper if you make him angry enough. His magical abilities lean more toward lighting then fire but he has that ability as well. He tasked Elara to watch over human development should a problem arise.

Toriel: Aurora- The Queen to Capricorn she is known to be easily jealous. It would explain why Zeus wife Hera also shares these traits. Her Gaelic deity tie is that of Arianrhod a goddess of the moon and stars. She creates life from the stars she creates sometimes causing them to take a form of their own. They are almost like living constellations. Some say that the Queen made such life to combat her own loneliness which her Son and Husband spent time away. In addition to the stars she is also known for being a loving mother and caregiver. In her time on earth she used to watch over and protect children and their families. Aurora though previously jealous of her simple in the universe has come to accept and embrace it. She is kind but rather over protective. Anyone that forsakes life will feel her wrath.

Muffet: Umbra- Umbra is associated with Hindu mythology as a goddess of wealth and prosperity. Though earthly riches do not concern Umbra she still has a taste for the fine silks and gold that she once had on earth. A little about the goddess that she represents: Lakshmi's name comes from the Sanskrit word laksya, meaning an aim or goal. She is the goddess of wealth and prosperity, both material and spiritual. Unlike UT Muffet, Umbra also focuses on a spiritual wealth. A peace of mind.

She is ever the optimist even when things do not turn out to go her way. In times of need she is called those in the struggles of self worth trying to bring them into a different understanding. There have been many a time when Umbra calms Capricorns quick and rash judgements, much to Auroras displeasure. Just as with the rest of the pantheon she is kind and helpful even with her yearning to return to the people she so loved before they were forced to the outskirts of the galaxy.

Grillby: Helio- Helio derived from sun is my OT Grillby. He out of all the characters could care less about either being a deity or an observer. He is known to be at a middle ground. He would rather live his days running a social establishment but during his time on earth he was known for his magic. Originally he was the right hand of Capricorn being depicted as a war deity for his fiery nature. He was the general of grand armies. His armor is something he hung up long ago but if called into court he will wear it once again. It’s design is very reminiscent of Roman centurions.

Though depictions of him are curious since his name back then was referred to as Merlin. He was best known for him magic and alchemy and the concoctions he made during a period of time far lacking in imagination. Just like Nova, Helio, tended to interfere far too often in the affairs of man though noble in purpose. He tends to be outcast among the pantheon for his past conduct but he is content in his lab mixing crazy concoctions. Everything from love potions to disguises. His forte is all about alchemy and magic.

Asriel: Azicree (Azi)- Azicree or Azi for short is the Crown Prince. By monster standards Azi is still very young, however, he has lived for far longer than any human can fathom. His mother used to shelter him until he begged for his father to let him prove himself. He still acts like a child always curious and desiring some form of exploration. Much to Capricorns dismay Azi enjoys spending time with Nova and the two become pranksters in general. He tends to not do as he is told, which is why they are in this mess in the first place. His reckless behavior had him appearing to a human that begged for his salvation.

The matters of life and death are ones that are not to be messed with. Those that do find their souls being tainted for all eternity turning them into something other than just a monster. 9X is an example of such tampering. Azi does learn his lesson and begins to try and shape up to be a worthy successor to his father if such a thing ever did come to pass. He studies off of all those he knows especially Pollux who is more than happy to share such knowledge. His associations are non existent since he was born after the times of gods. His abilities seem to be mimic based.

He is able to learn about abilities and use them at will. It is rare that monsters have children and as such Azi is the little prodigy child even though there are many times he just wants to be a kid. He makes friends with Frisk very quickly and learn a lot from the human visitor.

Gaster: Nero is the Gaster of this universe. He is Capricorns pantheon counterpart. In essence the Hades to his Zeus. He is the monster that everyone thinks about when darkness takes hold. He is the one that associates with apocalyptic events such as ragnarok. He is however not evil by any stretch of the imagination. He would be better suited to be called a god of chaos. He tends to reject the laws placed upon the rest of the pantheon regardless of repercussions.

It’s speculated that both Pollux and Nova were a part of him and crafted into the monsters that are known today. Nova being his more devious side which Pollux is more his intellect and drive. He has been locked away for a very long time in a prison aptly named Tarturus. His abilities are space and time oriented very similar to Nova which makes him difficult to imprison. He of course has been in his cell for quite some time and it is unclear if he actually has had a change of heart or using it as a manipulation tactic.

The only one he speaks with on occasion is Azi wanting to learn more about this planet they all used to call home. It is information that the others tend to not speak of. His father more so as he is afraid it will instill a yearning in his son. Nero’s genius is on par with his godly abilities such as creating artificial intelligence. Something that is not considered life. He uses Azi as a template for this new program...

FLOWEY:

F- Friendly

L- Life-like

O- Operating system

W- With

E- Earthbound

Y- Yearning

F.L.O.W.E.Y was created by 9x and Nova with Azi as a template. He is a charismatic AI who was originally created as a helper as well as to teach the Prince about their planet of origin. Unfortunately Flowey does not have the same reservations about disobeying his father as Azi does. Even going so far as to integrate with key and vital systems in The Capital. He even manages to intercept a human vessel that he finds exploring. Flowey is not evil he just is driven to be the best help he can without regards to any type of consequences. He helps Frisk meet and learn more about their existence. He acts as a companion.

However when Frisk becomes friends with Azi Flowey's AI goes haywire. He begins to feel emotions he is not technically allowed to such as jealousy. This causes him to try and eliminate those threatening him which in this case would be all the monsters. Eventually Azi attempts to program himself into the interface changing it’s initial programming.

Blookie: Nebula

Riverperson: Omni

Gerson: Quasar

The Ursas: Ursa Major/Minor

Greater Dog/ Lesser Dog: Canis Major/Minor

MTT: Gigabit

Character Origin/Mythos:

Sans- Norse (Trickster) Papyrus- Egyptian Undyne- Mayan Alphys- Japanese (shinto) Asgore- Celtic Toriel- Celtic Muffet- Hindu Grillby- Medieval (Merlin) Asriel- Celtic through lineage Gaster- Greek/Roman Blookie- Western Guard dogs- Constellations (Native American) Riverperson- Greek (Charon) Gerson- Chinese (Divination/ wisdom)

Background and Context:

A long time ago there lived beings of great power. They could bend space and time with a simple thought and bring life to their creations. These were the gods. Ones of great benevolence but also great and terrifying power. Humanity, a primitive race just starting to understand life itself, became their focus. At first their interaction was very rare only occasionally appearing to help but as time went on those interactions became more drastic. Their assistance and knowledge was seen as godlike to this humans.

They would bring gifts and offerings to their new deities in hopes that they would look favorably upon them. That they would impart their wisdom and magic if they were pleased. In time this became more and more tradition. A religion built upon pleasing these deities so that their lives would be far improved but this became a conundrum for the beings. Some remained benevolent and helpful while others becomes greedy and wrathful. The power began to go to their minds corrupting their souls. These instances were written down in variation by the humans making up grandiose stories of fiery chariots and jealous gods. Thus mythology came into being for humanity. A way to explain the things in which they did not understand.

As with each religion and deity the monsters each became associated with a specific culture or mythos. Some being pinnacles of their pantheon and others being lesser deities molded to suit a specific task. These monsters rarely interacted with ones of their own kind but as power shifted some of them took on roles of others. One monster could have been the god of war in Greek mythos but end up also as the god of thunder in Norse. There were no limitations to their influence. One such “deity” was that of the trickster. A monster that tended to be rather childish in his ambitions jumping from pantheon to pantheon looking to lighten up his other “deities” stern demeanors.

The monsters began to pull away leaving their presences in name only and occasional help but this was short lived. It caused problems, war, destruction, and feuding powers sadly began to use their civilizations as almost pawns. Their meddling almost destroyed that which they wanted to originally protect. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. The “gods” faded from existence only being remembered in myths and legends. The great prophecy of the Norse. The architectural marvels of the Egyptians. Now they reside in the furthest reaches of the galaxy. They spread out among the stars but a group of them resided in a Capital of sorts. A station at the edge of the Universe. One which no human could ever reach.

The Humans Impressions:

When the monsters left the humans to their own devices they worship continued long after. Eventually the magic and the miracles that had once been performed faded into history. The monsters were all but forgotten unless mentioned in mythology or scary stories. The humans never harbored any animosity toward them since they no longer believed in their existence in any form. They only understand what their ancestors depicted them as. The monsters as well don’t really have anything against humans either. All in all, they just go about their jobs and enjoy the universe, helping from time to time discreetly if need be but never showing their faces.

Main Plot Synop:

The plot to Outertale is very simple as it is more based around the world than it is the actual plot. It is very similar to that of the regular UT timeline with some notable differences. Once the humans reach an age of technological advancement they begin to spread out and search the stars. Some of them encounter monsters which they mistake for aliens (hilarious enough. I mean Jerry looks like an alien.) They begin to build colonies living more and more outside the reach of their own galaxy. Humans however tend to turn on their own creating factions within the space colonies. Some more prosperous than others.

Frisk’s colony was one such beast being cut off from the other colonies as a drifter. Unfortunately Frisk’s family was nearly non existent and being stuck on a space colony was little to be desired. After seeing a streak of fire slamming into the outskirts of the colony. Frisk decides to investigate. They have always been the curious type disobeying orders and questioning everything. The colonies outer and more dangerous regions became their playground finding old pieces of technology. Eventually they stumble upon a crashed ship. One that It seems to damaged to be used but it’s nothing like they have ever seen before. Everyone else on the colony consider it to be cursed.

The strange runic language is confusing but Frisk finds that there is one lone computer onboard that seems to still function. It flickers with a bright yellow light showing an almost pixelated Flower with a =) face on the screen. Over the next few days Frisk returns to decipher the runes with the help of their new friend which they find out is called Flowey. It is a project that the curious human enjoys and for once it is nice to have a friend. Eventually the runes are deciphered claiming some sort teleportation capability. Once Frisk is close enough the system fires up on its own sending the human straight to the monster Capital on the farthest reaches of the universe. A place that no human has ever been.

The rest of the story is an exploration of this new environment. Frisk befriends the monsters who don’t attack first. They actually mostly want to engage with the human showing off their ability a little bit. A part of them misses the previous worship. Nova seems to take a particular interest in this new human especially when they befriend Azi. They work to help shut Flowey down only for Azi to impart his knowledge on the interface helping it understand. Frisk has nothing to return to so they stay with the monster and become Azi’s human tutor so that one day maybe the monsters can return and live side by side the humans once again. Both Azi and Frisk are almost like siblings coined the star children.

#undertale #sans #outertale #Etherium AU #undertale au #kits multiverse #friskys multiverse #concepts #my au #pollux #nova #mythology #WBW #Worldbuilding Wednesday AU edition #fun fun

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lukealvezhimboextraordinaire · 3 years ago

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I don’t like the drama either and I didn’t have a negative reaction to Edwina when I watched the season because I’m an older sister and her behavior is very reminiscent of my younger sister as a teen. As you age you mature so an age gap of a few years creates a huge discrepancy in maturity between a teen and someone in their twenties which to me meant Edwina’s tantrum was forgivable. I didn’t think of her as Kate’s peer but still a child. She showcased real immaturity in ep6-7 and parts of it made me laugh because I thought it was intentionally written to show her as behaving like a child, and also because, I’ve forgiven worse. However, the willful attempts to vilify Kate by Edwina fans is too much and has made it hard for me to be chill about Edwina’s treatment of Kate. It’s one thing if we can all see the girl is lashing out and hurting people because she’s in pain, it’s a whole other thing to say Kate deserved any of that and that’s basically where they’ve gone. Long way of saying I agree with you and I appreciate you sharing your thoughts. 💜

I'm an only child but I'm surrounded by older sisters and I do know you are all saints that forgive way too much. And tbh everything you said makes a lot of sense and me myself had a similar reaction with other characters so I totally get you. As I said, I don't think Edwina is a bad person, she is a young and selfish girl who has been taught the world revolves around her and suddenly finds in a rather shocking way that it's not the case.

I have discussed it with some friends and I actually felt for her in the Pall Mall scene to the point I couldn't quite completely enjoy because her being so blatantly out of place made me a bit uncomfortable. But she was aware she was out of place and the next scene she brushes it off and goes on thinking it was great?? The writing here makes no sense to me.

This is one of the reasons I can't understand how anyone tries to use Edwina to vilify Kate when she convinced herself over and over again that things were fine when they clearly were not. Even the way all the Bridgertons clicked with Kate while merely being polite with Edwina was ignored by her to the point it was painful. She really was blind, to answer her own question.

I guess with all this rant what I'm trying to say is that I understand Edwina has a right to react (she wouldn't be human if she did not) but by no means that justifies hating Kate. Because Edwina made mistakes too.

#asks and answers

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thebadboyfanclub · 4 years ago

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Protect The Queen Pt.1 (Geralt x Reader)

This is just becoming addictive at this point, I love writing about this cause there are so many different scenarios and possibilities you could write about. Also there might be a part two for this so please let me know if you would be interested in it. Enjoy!

She looked at herself in the mirror once more, it was almost time for her to take her future in her own hands, to rise to the occasion and take back her life. Her gaze fell to the ring she was wearing, it was passed on to her when she married the king of Orkney, she barely had taken a step into womanhood at the time her parents announced her marriage to her, such a shame that she spend such youthful years in a castle with a man that didn't even think about her, it was pure and also embarrassing for (y/n) to look back at her naive and selfless younger self.

“Oh, you are awake”

“I was waiting for you my dear”

She answered to her husband, her voice dripping honey for the first time in years. Their marriage was far from happy, (Y/n) had thought since she was to become his wife he would treat her with kindness, unfortunately that was not the case, he saw her just as a vessel for his children, when that seemed to not happen he fell to the arms of concubines and commoners, making her become this cold, distant wife he deserved. Sometimes she would wonder if maybe she had given him the heir he craved that maybe his behavior would change, that however was crushed by gratefulness she felt for her womb for not bring a child in this loveless household. She would have never forgiven herself if she raised a child that did not see their parents share at least one hug.

“What’s the cause of you lingering in our room (y/n)?”

“To celebrate, here my king”

She offered him the glass of wine she was holding on her left hand, it was filled with his favorite wine. Her husband took it and gave her a puzzled look, whenever he would sleep in the same room with her- which wasn’t often- he would find her asleep.

“What are we celebrating?”

“My birthday dear”

He was left confused at her smile and statement. It couldn’t be, they held a public celebration for her birthday every year, it was protocol for the queen to allow the public in the castle for her special day. The clink of the glasses echoed around the room, she brought the glass to her lips and took a light sip

“Come on dear, drink up. You were never one to shy away from a glass of wine”

She pushed the glass from the bottom up to his lips. He did not understand the cause of all this, yet whatever the case was she was right, the moment he tasted the delicious wine he took three gulps and the glass went from full to half empty.

“Excellent, I’m glad you enjoyed the wine my king, careful,.. the choking will probably start any minute now”

“My queen, we have been waiting for you to... rise for so long”

“Perfection takes time”

She answered to her most trusted confident,her coronation was something that would remain in history for centuries, she was adored by the public so when she inherited the crown after her last husband, everyone knew they were in safe hands. That does not mean the rumors did not arise to the situation, the late king was a healthy young man, it was very suspicious how he fell to darkness overnight.

She meant what she told him when she mentioned her birthday, that day she shed away her foolish acts and was reborn, a woman that stood strong in the field of womanhood, ready to take what’s hers whether people liked it or not.

She looked around the room, seeing her people enjoy their night and drink to her name felt so natural to her, she was meant to lead.

“Excuse me just for a moment, I want to get closer to my people”

“As you wish my queen”

As she started going around at a slow pace she did her best to observe her people, they seemed to enjoy themselves, they acted like the king never existed, like the soil on top of him had been thrown decades ago, she smiled at herself while thinking that she acted in a way her people wanted, pleasing them and herself with just a few drops of that special liquid.

It was then that she noticed the back of a tall man, his long white hair and his armor stood out from the others, she also took note that he was accompanied by a much smaller and probably younger man that was holding a lute. It couldn’t be? The infamous white wolf and his barb at her coronation?

“What are we doing here Jaskier?”

“Celebrating the queen officially getting the crown after her husbands oh so sudden death”

Jaskier was fascinated by her history, a princess known for her noble nature and beauty, he reminisced of the song he had heard about her, she was the master of horses, the late king had met her when she rode the most stubborn and difficult horse in the royal stable, married to the king at her prime and failing at giving him an heir.

He was surprised she got to kill him first before the late king did, not only that but she is now the one sitting on the thrown after the kings death under some suspicious circumstances.

“sudden death? hmm, I believe the king found out that his destiny was a woman in a harsh way”

“Every mans destiny is a woman.... Witcher”

As he heard the voice from behind him he turned around to see to whom it belonged to. Jaskier’s mouth formed a big “O” when he was met with the queen, Geralt figured out who she was by the crown sitting on her head. The first thing she noticed was his yellow eyes, she found them so captivating, unique, she had never seen a witcher from up close, it was also just her luck that brought her the most handsome one.

Geralt didn’t know what to say, he was at her celebration, talking badly about the queen herself, he knew the consequences he just didn’t know if the queen would choose torture or immediate death as the penalty

“Queen (y/n), my apologies, Geralt has had a bit too much to drink, please spare him”

Jaskier might be a bit overly giddy at the wrong time, however that did not mean that what Geralt ha implied could make the queen want his head right then and there. As Jaskier bowed at her, she only let a small smile appear on her lips, softening her features towards the men that both looked distressed, she had to admire that she felt a bit of pride of making the witcher eat his words, judging by his reputation that did not happen every day.

“It’s alright, I know what the people are saying about me, it’s understandable”

“Understandable? Shouldn’t the queen rush to protect her reputation?”

“That’s what kings do when they feel their ego getting bruised, look around you Geralt, what do you see? The same people that have spread those accusations are dancing and yelling “long live the queen”, if anything my new found reputation is more promising”

Geralt was immediately interested, it wasn’t often that a queen would be alright with rumors and of such kind being passed around, as well as taking it as an advantage and being pleased about it.

“Elaborate please”

“The kings of other towns will hear those rumors, now who would dare come and threaten the woman that killed her own husband for power? Only a mad man would risk coming to my home”

She was smart, cunning. Geralt had met people of royalty and understood exactly what she meant when she talked about fragile egos. On the contrary, she stood tall and proud, took advantage of the people that gave her a new source of power without them even knowing it. The essence of her as a human being could only be described as being royal, a woman of luxury that men would probably kill for just a glimpse of her naked skin

It only made him question the late king, how could he have wronged such a woman? was maybe her standards that were two high? or was it an act of revenge? Geralt felt the need to puff out his chest as an act of bravery, she was a quite tall woman and if you match that with the way she carried herself, it was a death mix, the late king was already one of the victims of it

“You mean that you are going to become other kings destiny?”

“I don’t believe in destiny, what destiny is varies depending on the people you ask, for my parents my destiny was to become an obedient queen and give birth to the heir, a child that shared the same blood with my late husband”

She said mildly disgusted, as a widower she would probably have to grieve, linger in her room and cry behind close doors at the loss of her love. It seems like nobody even noticed how she did none of that, like it was normal for her to through a celebration a few weeks after his death in her name, not only that but the people seemed to love it. Geralt gave her a smirk at her smart and a bit intriguing answer.

“Then what do you think is your destiny”

“To be in charge of my and my peoples future, destiny and fate are nothing in front of the power of a woman”

The way she talked about destiny showed how she truly embodied confidence and stability, she feared nothing, not even her future self, she only relied on her power. As she talked to him he couldn’t help but let his eyes look mostly towards her lips, her painted lips that moved in such hypnotic way, he felt compelled by her.

Jaskier just stood there watching the two people talk like they are long lost friends. The queen so many people felt uneasy just by her presence was now having a casual conversation with the witcher. Geralt was slowly but surely gaining respect for her, she was a woman of power, a woman that used her brain and situations to her advantages and held herself accountable for her future, she was a true queen.

Geralt smiled at her genuinely, he had met her late husband in the past, he recalled him being stubborn and stuck up, raising his nose at others that he thought were less than him. If he was alive there was no way he would find him walking around commoners

“hmmm, Well queen (y/n), I am sure your people will be safe with you leading this land”

“I hope that in the future I can count on you for aid”

“About what?”

“Danger of course”

She took one step closer to him, still keeping eye contact with Geralt. As he took in a deep breath he could smell the scent of lavender off of her, her hair shined underneath the light of the flames and her eyes glistered with confidence and pride, she was the definition of strength, just her look brought Geralt into defense mode, waiting for her words and thinking how should he respond correctly to her before she even opened her mouth.

The skill of demanding attention and respect so silently was one that the very few of people that did had it were considered blessed, even though he was aware of that skill, still he had yet to meet one... until he met her.

“Loneliness can be an awfully dangerous thing”

She whispered just loud enough for only him to hear, as the other villagers laughed and sang around them, not even noticing that their queen was standing a few inches away from them, as well as being promiscuous to a witcher.

“I would be honored to protect the queen”

“I’m glad you feel that way, I’m sure you could be a great ally for me, geralt of rivia”

PART 2

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phantomato · 3 years ago

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Five Tom Riddle Crossover Fics to Read

Tom Riddle is a difficult character to ship. For those of us who want to see pairings beyond the Big Two (Tomarry and Tomione), canonical options peter out relatively quickly. Sure, we can invent our own pairings by fleshing out side characters, but sometimes, the itch is best scratched by borrowing from another canon.

And it makes sense for Tom more than nearly anyone else in HP. Tom was born into an era that is the subject of so much literature, so it’s easy to find another person kicking around postwar Europe if that’s your goal. He’s an archetypal character, the villain seeking immortality, and can be matched against other villains with the same aims. Hell, even his quest to recover lost artifacts turns into the basis for two of these works—Tom Riddle has the perfect combination of a recognizable context and character model, plus the ambiguity of his canon timeline, to slot him alongside so many other fictional figures.

I want to pause on some of these themes for a second. Immortality or relationship to age, for one, is something that comes up in three of these pairings: the Darkling and Koschei the Deathless are both immortal characters in their own canons, and Edmund Pevensie is not immortal but has aged and de-aged repeatedly in his travels to and from Narnia. The HP series doesn’t give us nearly this wealth of different perspectives on age and immortality, which is fair—HP makes it clear that immortality is unnatural and undesirable, and Flamel is notably a ‘good person’ because of his willingness to accept his own death—but for a character as obsessed with the idea as Tom, some emotions can only be explored when you match him with another character who has a complicated relationship to aging. Even someone like Indiana Jones, not immortal and not trying to be, has an interesting perspective to bring to a story because he has seen so many other quests for power gone terribly awry.

Of course, the other thing we get from crossover pairings is the ability to match Tom with a villainous character. And whether you’re a fan of conflict at the start of a relationship or not, I think there’s something to be found in putting two villains together: moral arguments, when they exist, are rarely about whether death is necessary but about what kinds of death are best used when; the entire concept of either a redemption arc or a breaking bad arc can be thrown out a window. It’s a space wherein our two villains are allowed to be themselves, and the reveal of the extent of each character’s villainy becomes a strange form of celebration. This is challenging to achieve if one sticks to HP canon alone, whereas crossovers are a fruitful space.

My selection methodology was to read every crossover fic with a clear focus on Tom Riddle or Voldemort on AO3. I found crossover pairings by visiting the meta pages for the Tom Riddle, Voldemort, and Tom Riddle | Voldemort tags—I may have missed some pairings for Tom Riddle, as the character has over 300 child relationship tags and AO3 cuts off at 300 displayed. If you know of any ships I missed and should check out, do tell! I’ll also make a note here that one of these fics is my own—if self-recs bother you, skip Bluebird.

The following five fics are ordered by wordcount. Let me know what you think!

Neurotic Virtuosi, by skazka

Crossover: Hannibal Rising (movie version). The wizarding world exists, and Tom and Hannibal encounter each other in non-magical Eastern Europe.

Summary: Tom and Hannibal ride the same train when Tom is hunting down the diadem. Tom shares an apple and thinks about keeping Hannibal.

Mature, <1k, Graphic Torture Fantasies

Why?: This is one of those pairings that I wouldn’t have thought to do when the characters were both young, but it’s so much better for that choice! The length of this fic means we only get a taste of their interactions, but what a taste it is. Tom’s internal fantasies are horrifying and described in a very erotic way, which fits both characters.

This also serves as an interesting vision of what Tom might have experienced during his world tour to find the diadem, a period we rarely get to see. I particularly like that the author chose to write it as frustrating and mostly fruitless; a Tom who is stymied and unsuccessful is a particular weakness of mine.

Two Sides of the Same Coin, by Anonymous

Crossover: Chronicles of Narnia. Both Hogwarts and Narnia are real, and the characters meet in Britain. The magic isn’t the same, but there’s mutual recognition.

Summary: Tom tries to use sex to seduce secrets out of Edmund. Edmund sees something reminiscent of his younger self, the version of him who could join the White Witch, in Tom Riddle.

Explicit, 2k

Why?: Edmund and Tom are a pairing made in crossover heaven, both boys of a similar age born into war in the same country and whose discoveries of magical worlds help them escape it. Both lust for power and make poor choices; Edmund canonically recovers and finds redemption from his actions, and Tom does not.

This fic wears the hat of something pure smut, starting in the middle of a sex scene and tagged with top/bottom roles, etc., and it is that and does that well. But give it a shot for Edmund’s reflection at the end, his hopeful musings that he can apply the lessons learned from Aslan to help Tom before Tom’s utterly lost. It’s a crossover ship with unbelievable potential for both characters, and this fic makes me want so much more.

Shedding Skin, by electric_typewriter

Crossover: Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente. Both the wizarding world and the magic of Deathless exist.

Summary: Tom meets Koschei before splitting his soul. They keep meeting, and Tom keeps attempting to match Koschei’s immortality.

Not Rated, 2k

Why?: Immortality via relocation or storage of souls is an idea that easily predates Harry Potter as a series, and seeing two different versions of the some core idea interacting with one another is precisely what crossovers exist to enable. Koschei as an immortal being that found his immortality in a way he considers superior is a fascinating concept, because it creates a power imbalance between them that leaves Tom always running to catch up. And Tom, poor Tom, feels like a desperate man, finding sensation only when he’s around Koschei and feeling nothing at any other time.

This reads a bit like you’re dissociating. The author uses descriptive language to keep the reader a little distant from the grounded reality of the events happening, which has the effect of keeping you focused on the metaphysical question of what it means to have part of a soul.

Bluebird, by Phantomato

Crossover: Shadow and Bone. S&B summoning powers instead of HP magic, set in the real world, with characters’ histories preserved.

Summary: Tom is the second sun summoner to exist, born long after the first gave up her powers and lived out her natural life. He tracks down the Darkling, the shadow summoner who never really died.

Explicit, 17k

Why?: Tom is an immortal being for at least part of his life, and his character arc is about pursuit of immortality, but he is fundamentally a young immortal, and is killed before he can graduate to old immortality. Aleksander, the Darkling, is canonically an old immortal, and his character arc is about the burden of living with the knowledge that you will likely always be alone. That loneliness sets the scene for the relationship between Tom and Aleksander, driving Aleksander’s behavior—he fundamentally believes he will always be alone, even an immortal like Tom passes through his life.

There is a high proportion of smut in this, serving in place of the emotional honesty that neither character can muster, and I recommend it for that. But the story also relies on investment in quiet everyday moments shared between the characters. It’s a fic told through behavior because both men are so cautious around one another, where they nevertheless manage to find sympathy for the other.

Riddles of the Dead, by Maeglin_Yedi

Crossover: Indiana Jones. Blends together the wizarding world and the mysticism present in Indiana Jones films.

Summary: Tom Riddle hires an expert archaeologist and gentleman adventurer, Dr. Indiana Jones, to help him pursue an artifact that might grant him immortality. There’s fucking, fighting, magic, snakes, and some difficult choices in store for our leading men.

Explicit, 18k, Angst

Why?: Maeglin Yedi has been a mainstay of the Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort ficspace for nearly two decades, but an old crossover like this can unfortunately slip through the cracks. It shouldn’t! With an original publishing date in early 2005, this predates the concept of horcruxes, the knowledge of Tom’s early years at Wool’s orphanage, and, well, so much of what we would eventually learn about Tom Riddle as a person. It’s a testament to the author that the story manages to capture Tom’s character in such a way that he’s still fully recognizable to a current-day reader, despite working with so much less canon.

This fic is fun. It’s an adventure, featuring hazards and traps and assassination attempts that you would expect from an Indiana Jones film, but the magic and mystery never overwhelms the relationship at the core of this story. It’s set up beautifully, with a mirrored structure between the front and back halves of the fic that foreshadows the inevitable end of the story. Watching older, confident Indy seduce young, hungry Tom is a delight. One (possible) mark of a great Tom-centric fic, imo, is to be able to portray Tom enjoying the exchange of power, giving it to someone as well as taking it from them, and this Tom is able to revel in giving up some perceived power as he practices being vulnerable with Indy. The romance is quite sweet, especially considering that ‘angst’ tag at the top of the fic!

#tom riddle #tomato fic rec

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iamnightduchess · 4 years ago

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SnK 139 (A personal thought on Reiner & Mikasa's ending)

We have finally reached the end. For those who began this fandom since 2010, it's been 11 years of happiness, tears and heartbreak, on top of character discourse with our respective favorites. This manga is rich with amazing life values that requires more than just a quick zip through of every chapter. It requires a thorough, repeat reading. Hajime Isayama weaved his universe in a way that never cease to blow all of his readers' minds away but still touched our hearts in an emotional way.

(Special thanks to @pethellhounds for the key pointers for this post!)

No doubt, I love all of the characters, each of their flaws, strengths and growth but my two favorites have always been Mikasa and Reiner, individually.

Upon the first two reads, I was saddened, I was devastated and I allowed my emotions to filter the absolute value of the final chapter; in particularly to my most favorites. All thanks to the discourse we had in our RK discord, my brethren offered me a different perspective on how we could truly perceive ch.139 for what it truly is: a bittersweet farewell which only leads to new beginnings.

Reiner Braun

Armin was destined to save humanity, Eren confided on that himself. Even if it was Mikasa's personal choice on ch.123 that is the ultimatum that had saved humanity by eradicating the power of the Titans from the world for good. As referenced on this post, it has been Mikasa that was destined to free Ymir all along through her selflessness.

Upon first read, the following panel seemed to portray the remaining alliance members in a different light. Everyone looked amazing, happy as they exchanged banter just like how old friends with shared traumatizing experiences do. After all they're all celebrated world heroes - living with possibly an upgraded lifestyle, fame and wealth even within those 3 years. But upon several more reads and deeper observation, one could not entirely disregard the rather dark and gloomy atmosphere beyond the bright surface. In particular Jean and Reiner, who seemed to be a bit more noticeable.

Jean somehow is putting on a front as a skirt-chaser (having preference for younger girls) while Reiner seemed to be simping over his old crush (who's already married & has a child in Paradis).

The above panel seemed comical because the actions & lines seemed a bit "out of nowhere", but beyond the surface - everyone's hurting secretly from within, some are masking their pain, though some remained unaffected because they all shared a heavy burden of guilt towards Eren's death & Mikasa's withdrawal from the group to lay their friend in his final resting place all the way in Paradis. Jean and Reiner both are putting on a front.

Do remember that during the Marley arc, not even once was Reiner shown to reminisce about Historia very specifically. Not even in a fleeting thought, thus why it could also be deduced that she did not actually have a huge impact on his memory or his genuine affections beyond just a fleeting crush to hide his tormented mental state from within. How could someone who has been shown to have tremendous emotional growth and a consistent, albeit shaky psychological regulation during his primary arc was reduced to a typical simp archetype in the final chapter? This is not, a "Reiner can finally be his real self who's free of his burdens & he is someone who's enjoying his new life" moment.

The last time he portrayed this "simping" behavior? When he was 17 years old during the 104th's first SC excursion and when his psyche was almost teetering on its edges as his Warrior!alter is wrestling control against his soldier personality in Utgard Castle.

Reiner's simping (which was an intended joke) was also an indicator of a bleak truth: his DID regressed, from his regulated state and his psyche was completely torn apart from that day. In Marley, he had been extremely depressed but he was a loyal, strong and steadfast soldier who had only his duties in mind. To see him do a complete 360 & reverted to a creepy old behaviour, is truly saddening. He's been masking his pain with this front. Even Pieck could be seen sending him a silent, understanding look of concern for his letter-sniffing action.

In 139, despite having a new chance at life, having his mother's genuine love and acceptance & achieved his original dream in becoming a respected hero who is recorded in history, one could not entirely rule out the possibility that Reiner's DID has regressed to the point that either he reverted back to his soldier persona as a facąde or he'd might have developed a new alter altogether after having to experience Survivor's Guilt for the second turn. Yet this time, with no known time limit since the Curse of Ymir had been eradicated. DID is a lifelong condition. It does not go away, it cannot be healed even with modern medicine but yes, could be managed. That letter, the mentioning of Eren's name and their impending arrival on Paradis - the place he felt the happiest of his life - could be his trigger to put on that front. He, (along with the rest of the alliance on that ship) had to live with the fact that his and his family's new life and future had been at the expense of two people's livelihood; Eren & Mikasa. Eren sacrificed his life. Mikasa chose to bury Eren at his final resting place in Shinganshina and remain there to honor his memories on her own, without anyone by her side despite having fought together & almost on the verge of dying together.

(Thank you @lancerofdarkness for pointing this out!) We can see the banter between Reiner and Jean is very reminiscent of Reiner and Bertolt, where the latter cautioned the former on "not getting too carried away". Where Bertolt had a filtered approach, Jean had a more direct, head-on snipe. This dynamic had been initially observed much earlier in this post.

The alliance members could possibly have made a silent pact between them on not mentioning either Eren or Mikasa's name out of respect for that 3 years. Or if they, as well as the others, were not divulged of the real truth by Armin. With or without this knowledge, Eren's death and Mikasa's silent departure from the alliance do affect everyone. Some are more obvious than the others.

Once again, I feel compelled to share an unpopular perception that Reiner's simping is not his true self's behavior. It is a mask. A fake persona. It is a front to hide the real pain from within.

He cared about both Eren and Mikasa respectively, as much as the others do.

Mikasa Ackerman

Upon first reading, I was initially devastated for Mikasa's conclusion. It was her decision and selfless act that had saved all of humanity and won Ymir over, which completely destroys the Paths as well as removing the titan powers together with its curse. The woman who had been at the frontlines, placing her life at stake, almost dying first to protect the men in the alliance; she who had sacrificed everything ended up with nothing but only memories of the one who could never be and loneliness.

To throw salt into the wound, we saw Eren uttering in Paths on how he refused to accept the notion of Mikasa being with another man, he wanted her to only love him and have him in her heart even 10 years after his death. It was indeed a last spur of the moment declaration that ironically contradicted his plea in 138.

Their relationship was never meant to take off by riding into the sunset together, they are not destined to be with each other, even if their feelings are mutual. Despite my personal observation of their relationship as a form of enslavement in itself: Mikasa still sees it as her devotion & commitment to Eren. I have to respect her perspective on this.

Ymir mistaken Stockholm Syndrome as love, she perceives enslavement as love. Being used as a tool of war and breeding, surrendering all her will to her captor, yearning for his validation - she saw those as love. Now the glaring parallel between Ymir and Mikasa are truly obvious. Because of love, Ymir tethered herself to Paths or purgatory for 2,000 years and in exchange of Mikasa's decision & action, Mikasa remained tethered to her love for Eren & his memories for at least another 10 years if not for the rest of her life on earth. That is truly heartbreaking.

I was devastated. I personally believe she deserves better. She too deserves to have her happy end, to be loved and have a family of her own.

When Armin had dreams of seeing the world beyond the walls, Mikasa has always been a simple girl with simple dreams: i) to go back home within that forest in Shinganshina and ii) to be by Eren's side forever. Once we realised this, Mikasa actually had everything she ever desired after all. She's back home in Shinganshina, living in solitude and in peace with no burden of world peace, diplomatic affairs on her shoulder and has no need to put on a facąde. She's been grieving and she still cried for her yearning to see Eren's face again even after 3 years that she might not stop shedding tears in the next 7 years just like Eren wanted. That is how psychologically and emotionally affected she is with Eren's words, actions and death. She chose to remember Eren and keep her in her heart that it is almost seen as an imprisonment but she's also free from other wordly responsibilities unlike the rest of the alliance members.

Did I wish she would have a better ending than this? Absolutely. This young woman has never been on her own ever since she was born, it's heartbreaking to see her having to process her grief alone without even a single companion by her side. She lost all of her incredible physical strength and had to learn how to fortify her emotional strength through her grieving process. She has only learn on how to love and be loved by Eren, which has major missing components left to be desired. Mikasa deserves to be loved, to receive that affection openly in return from someone who would be ideal, respectful, trustworthy, expressive, equally devoted, the raindrop to her seed, the sun to her cold days and loving towards her and maybe one day, eventually would be able to grow a real family from that genuine love.

The last two bottom panel above we can actually observe the innocent kid!Mikasa just like Isayama promised. She is ready and curious to once again, learn more about the beautiful but cruel world. She is ready to leave the forest upon realizing that no matter where she goes, Eren will always be inside her heart.

She is at peace. Even if she looks way thinner, fragile that she should be and could be seen collapsing as she was hit by another wave of strong grief. But since the members of the alliance are coming to Paradis for a potential negotiation, it is been stated by Mikasa that they are also coming to see Eren's final resting place to pay their respects. She will be meeting her friends after 3 years for the first time and I could really hope that they can be the support that each other needed for true healing. I am holding on to the possibility of her being ready to move on and start living again after putting the course of her life on hold by mourning for Eren the moment she is reunited again with Armin, Annie, Reiner, Jean and Connie.

The bird flew over the ship carrying the alliance as it is heading towards Paradis before heading towards Mikasa's location, giving his answer to her "You're happy right?" question by wrapping that scarf around her neck for one last time. He wanted her to be free after 3 years of grief. He wanted her to move on when she meets their friends again because she does not deserve to be consumed in her grief not even another day. Not even for another 7 years. Not even for the rest of her life.

Anything that we envision happening after 139 is valid in this universe. I believe Mikasa will begin living her life to the fullest as the end of the series is also the beginning of her next journey. But this time, she will be doing it in the company of her loved ones. Together.

#snk spoilers #snk 139 #snk meta #snk thoughts #snk opinion #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk #aot #reiner braun #mikasa ackerman #snk manga

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jingabitch · 5 years ago

Text

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell ch.1

Summary: When you were ten, Taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. Now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.

Pairing: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)

Word count: 10.5k

A/N: here it is!! I hope you enjoy it and tell me what you think; I was really unsure about writing this, especially at the beginning. Edit: I will not be doing a taglist, so please don't ask. Thank you!

Series index

“Hyung –” Taehyung whined as he sulked on the couch of the dorm.

Yoongi sighed, looking over at his team member. “What is it, Taehyung-ie?”

“I’m bored,” Taehyung replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he slid down on the couch, his usually perky ears drooping.

The snow leopard hybrid just grunted, flicking one of his ears in irritation. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Hyung, come play with me, please?”

Namjoon, who was lying on the adjacent couch, stifled a snicker. Taehyung had been more needy than usual in the past few weeks, and he was working Yoongi’s last nerve. The older man had inherited his animal counterpart’s solitary tendencies, and while he was, for the most part, happy to socialize and hang out with the rest of them, Taehyung had been cutting into his alone time a little too much lately with his neediness, and the grey-haired hybrid was Not Happy.

Jin, their resident spotted hyena hybrid, laughed, a sound very reminiscent of his animal counterpart’s trademark sound. “Yoongi, just play with him. He’s lonely.”

Yoongi scowled. “Why do I have to do it?! Isn’t this why you got a pet in the first place, to keep you company?”

Taehyung’s frown deepened. “It is, but as you can clearly see,” he bit out, upset now, “Yeontan isn’t here.”

Hoseok, seeing the snow leopard hybrid taking in a deep breath to begin ranting, cut into the conversation to save the wolf hybrid from a scolding. “Hyung, you know how Tae is. He misses the company, is all.”

“Why don’t you just get another pet, then?” Yoongi asked.

“Because the same thing would happen, hyung,” Taehyung responded drolly, unable to hide his irritation at what he clearly thought was a ridiculous suggestion. “I don’t want to get attached to another pet, and then have to palm it off onto my parents again.”

Namjoon, ever the problem solver, lit up in that way that happened only when he had a eureka moment. “Get a human, then!”

The rest of them gawked at him. “A human?!” Jin asked skeptically.

“Yah, if he didn’t have time for a dog, how’s he going to care for a human baby? They’re even more high maintenance, and for way longer!” Yoongi snapped.

Namjoon made a rude noise. “Don’t get a baby, then! There’s lots of children and adolescents in shelters that need good homes. You can get one of those; they’re more self-sufficient.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open in shock. “That’s genius!”

Jungkook and Jimin, who had until now remained out of the conversation, immediately leapt up excitedly. “Yes, yes, can we adopt a human, pleaaaase,” Jimin pleaded. The black-footed cat hybrid, already small in stature and adorable because of his animal genes, opened his eyes wider and pouted up at the others.

Taehyung and Jungkook, seeing him, followed suit, and before long, the other members conceded, and they’d agreed to get a human pet. Taehyung, excited now that he was going to have a new little pack member to take care of and keep him company, immediately ran to get his laptop so he could research human shelters in Seoul.

Two hundred years ago, humans created hybrids in science labs. Splicing human genes with animals was supposed to create the perfect servant, companion and soldier – with the intelligence and capacity for emotional connection of humans and the superior physical capabilities of other animals, these new creations were supposed to make life better for humans.

What the scientists hadn’t realized, in their hubris, was that it was extraordinarily likely that the hybrids wouldn’t be content merely taking orders and serving the whims of humans, who were, after all, genetically inferior to their artificial perfection. A revolution and reordering of society occurred, and now humans were the pets, bred for the sole purpose of being the best possible companions for their hybrid owners.

You understood this history well enough, thanks to the kindly old hybrid who adopted you as a baby to soothe her empty nest syndrome after her grown-up children moved out and began their own lives, and her husband sadly passed away. She’d given you far more than she was obliged to as an owner, even ensuring that you had a basic education.

It had been a couple of years since she’d unfortunately passed away suddenly from a massive heart attack, landing you in a shelter when none of her family members wanted to take you in. Now that you were ten, you understood that the likelihood of you staying in the shelter for the rest of your childhood grew exponentially each day, as most families wanted babies or toddlers that would be more attached to their adopted families.

Plus, everyone loves babies.

You sighed as you pushed the covers off yourself. You’d finally managed to get a coveted bottom bunk bed after one of the girls in your room was adopted out, and you felt like you should be happier about it.

If only it wasn’t so sad to be happy about getting a bottom bunk in a shelter, after years of waiting your turn. You hoped against all hope that you wouldn’t spend much time in this bunk, that you’d be going home with another family soon, and you promised yourself there and then that if you ever got adopted, you’d do whatever it took to make your new family happy for saving you from this drudgery.

As you made your way to the cafeteria for breakfast, you noticed that there seemed to be a lot more… buzzing than usual. You shrugged it off – you’d been here long enough to know that it just meant a high-profile visit was scheduled for the day, and all of the children were told to dress up and be on their best behavior.

Picking up a tray and lining up for your breakfast, you held in a sigh. Most people are looking for babies and toddlers, and it’s rare that anyone wants to adopt at a shelter. Even when they do, they go for younger children, who are still cute and cuddly.

Well, not that you weren’t cuddly. It was literally in your genetic makeup to crave physical affection because hybrids like to snuggle with their pets, but you’d lost that cute doe-eyed helplessness that hybrid clients like in their pets. With a sigh, you took your tray and sat in a corner to eat, unwilling to listen to the excited chatter of the younger children. You weren’t that hopeful anymore, and it hurt too much after the first few times to get all excited and put in effort, only to not be chosen at the end of the day.

Finishing your breakfast, the same porridge with kimchi and laver that you have every morning, you went back to your room to wait. It’s standard procedure – every child has to remain by their bed in their room when the prospective client arrives and takes a tour to find the child they want to bring home.

With a sigh, you sat on your bed, propping the pillow up against the metal frame of your bunk bed, to continue reading the book you’d begged off from one of the caretakers. Most of the human children couldn’t read, because it wasn’t mandatory to teach them and many of them were rescued off the streets, but the grandmother who owned you before had taught you the basics.

You were still engrossed in the story – a classic from hundreds of years ago about a boy who found out he was a wizard and went to a school called Hogwarts – when Taehyung arrives, flanked by Namjoon on one side and Jimin on the other. The leader had accompanied Taehyung to restrain him and keep him from getting every child in the shelter, and Jimin had just wanted to see cute human children and give his two cents’ worth on the human they eventually adopted.

Because, as he said, he was Taehyung’s best friend so a pet Taehyung adopted would naturally be his business. The others didn’t quite buy it, but Taehyung seemed okay with him tagging along, so he cleared his schedule and came.

The matronly caretaker at the shelter, a middle-aged dog hybrid, came out to greet them excitedly when they arrived, gushing about all the cute children they had in the shelter, and how she hoped they would find their perfect match today.

They nodded and listened politely as she ushered them into her office, where she went over the ground rules for today. No pictures, no yelling, disturbing the children, et cetera. If there was a child they were interested in, they had to ask for permission before they were allowed to approach the child, and at all times children’s safety was paramount – if they indicated that they were uncomfortable, they could be removed from the situation without any repercussions. It was all aimed at ensuring that the humans were prioritized and felt safe in their home, and this was why Taehyung had chosen to support this shelter.

Namjoon, ever the responsible one, and Taehyung, who was dedicated to becoming a good pet owner, listened carefully as the hybrid caretaker explained what the challenges were in taking care of a human child, especially one that had lived in the shelter. Older children would be harder to train, she said, less malleable, and depending on what their circumstances had been before coming to live in the shelter, may have trauma or other psychological scars.

Jimin impatiently bounced around, aware that this was important stuff, but just excited to see some cute children and hopefully take one home today. When they finally stood up to leave the office and go to the dorm rooms where the children were waiting, Jimin could hardly keep the wide grin splitting his face under control, and Taehyung was similarly excited, the muscles under his shirt periodically tensing up as he resisted the urge to bounce along behind the caretaker. She was hardly likely to be impressed with him if he couldn’t demonstrate that he was a mature adult able to take care of a human child.

Because Taehyung had made it clear that he wanted an older, more self-sufficient human pet, the caretaker skipped the first two rooms, where the young children were, and the nursery, heading straight to your room. You were still reading your book, and she tutted as she saw you sitting there.

“Y/N, sweetie, would you like to come say hello to these nice hybrids?” she asked patiently, and you looked up from your story, surprised to see that there were indeed three men clustered behind her. Most hybrids decided on the child they wanted to bring home after seeing the younger children, so it was uncommon for you to see visitors.

You were tempted to reject the offer, but remembered your earlier promise to yourself, and smiled graciously, putting your bookmark back in and leaving your book on the bed. “Yes, ma’am,” you said sweetly, standing up and brushing imaginary lint off your skirt. “Good morning, sirs. My name is Y/N. I’m ten years old, and I’m very pleased to meet you,” you recited dutifully, remembering the spiel they taught all the children to say to visitors.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N-ah,” the tall wolf hybrid said, kneeling down so he could look you in the eye. His ears twitched slightly as he looked up at you slightly, and you smiled back. He had such a friendly demeanor that you couldn’t help but feel comfortable around him immediately. “My name is Taehyung, and these are my friends Jimin and Namjoon,” he said, pointing at the other two hybrids. You weren’t certain what kind they were, although you deduced that Namjoon was some kind of canine hybrid and Jimin, based on the cute rounded ears on top of his head, was a large cat.

“It’s a pleasure you meet you all,” you said politely, looking up at them. Your speech was crisp, delicate and refined from years of being the prized companion of a wealthy old lady.

“Likewise,” Namjoon said with a nod, and Jimin said nothing, but smiled so widely that his eyes all but disappeared. You smiled back, liking them already, and hoping that they would choose you to go home with them.

“What are you reading, Y/N-ah?” Taehyung asked, and you took his hand excitedly, bringing him to the bed where you’d left your book. He trailed after you, looking back at the other two members with a wide grin. It was so cute, how you lit up when he expressed interest in what you were reading, and how at ease you seemed to be, even initiating contact with him. You didn’t seem aware of who they were, which he supposed was to be expected, since he didn’t think humans really kept up with pop culture, and it wasn’t like you were walking around the streets of Seoul where BTS music was playing all over and their photos were plastered on every available surface in the city.

Sitting down next to you, he listened, his chin in his hand, as you chattered away excitedly about the book. Namjoon and Jimin came to squat on either side of you, and you basked in the undivided attention that you hadn’t had since your previous owner passed away.

“Who taught you how to read, Y/N-ah?” Namjoon asked when you wound down, his ears sticking out of the black hair on his head flicking slightly.

“My previous owner,” you replied.

“She seems nice,” Jimin said carefully, and young as you were, you picked up the unspoken question.

“She was,” was all you said, a little quietly and sadly. You missed her, the woman who’d asked you to call her ‘mom’ and really had acted like a mother to you.

At least, you think so – you were bred by a breeder to be a pet, and you didn’t remember your own mother, having been too young when you were separated from her.

After talking for a little while more, they excused themselves and you smiled as graciously as you knew how, returning to your book as they left the room to go back to the office to discuss things further.

“Hyung, she’s so precious,” Taehyung fairly sang, spinning around in circles with his arms spread out wide.

Namjoon was more reserved, but he agreed internally. She wasn’t rambunctious in the way that Yeontan was, but adorable all the same, in the way she’d lit up while talking about her book and how easily she’d accepted their touch, clearly happy to have the physical affection.

Jimin, way more exuberant than Namjoon, grabbed Taehyung’s hands and bounced around with him. “We’re getting a human!” he cried out in excitement as they jumped like children up and down.

The wild dog hybrid just shook his head at his two younger bandmates, before leading the way into the caretaker’s office to settle the adoption paperwork.

You returned home with them that day, to your surprise and pleasure. You hadn’t allowed yourself to hope until the caretaker came back to let you know to pack your meagre possessions, and sends you off with them. Taehyung gives you a hug when you walk out of the building with your bag to join them, and straps you safely into his car before they take off, back to his apartment.

As you were travelling there, they chattered away, filling you in on what their home will be like. You found out that they were part of a boyband that live together, and you would be moving in with all seven of them. Apart from the three hybrids in the car with you – Taehyung, who bought you, the wolf hybrid; Namjoon, the serious-looking African wild dog; and Jimin, the adorable-looking black footed cat who was sitting in the back with you – there were another four. They were all predator hybrids, something Taehyung noted with some pride, beaming at your reflection in the rearview mirror.

You smiled back uncertainly at him, apprehensive about how different the new arrangement was from your previous one but still certain that no matter what, it would still be better than living at the shelter. It hadn’t been awful – it wasn’t like you’d been abused or anything while you were there – but with how stretched thin the resources at the shelter were, it had been impossible for you to get the care and attention that you required to be emotionally and mentally healthy after all this time.

Carrying yourself as stiffly as you could, in order to leave the best first impression possible, you hugged your bag tightly to your chest and stood ramrod straight in the elevator, resisting the urge to look around curiously. Your previous owner had been wealthy, but she hadn’t been this wealthy, and you’d never been in a lift that was so opulent before.

Taehyung tugged the bag out of your arms insistently, and you relinquished it after a brief struggle for control over it. You didn’t want to put him out, feeling that he’s already done enough, adopting you and giving you what looked like it would be an amazing home, but he was stronger than you and you were also concerned that he would think you were too stubborn or headstrong if you continued fighting him, so you let it go.

When they ushered you into your new home, though, your jaw dropped and you couldn’t hold back your reaction that time. The apartment was so nice and spacious, worlds away from the shared room you’d lived in at the shelter. Taehyung laughed at your expression and whisked you off to his bedroom, which was now a shared bedroom for the two of you, showing you where everything you would need was. After getting you settled in, he led you back out by the hand to the living room, where the other boys were gathered, eagerly waiting to meet you.

And that’s how you became part of the BTS family.

Your new home was very different from the one you had spent your early childhood in. Living with seven young and energetic hybrid men meant you suddenly had companions and playmates to indulge your more rambunctious impulses, whereas before you’d always had to be calm and docile, since there was no way your previous owner would have been able to keep up with a screaming and running child on the playground. It wasn’t like it had been bad – you were naturally a quieter child, but all children need space to run and play, to expend their excess energy, and as hard as she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to offer you that.

On the other hand, you played so much with your new family that you were completely exhausted every night, and Taehyung had to prod you to get ready for bed properly, instead of just collapsing in whatever you were wearing. He didn’t mind, though, pleased that you were having so much fun every day. Besides, having you around to dote on made all of them happy, especially Taehyung, who missed his young cousins and was still slightly bitter about how much of his siblings’ and cousins’ childhoods he hadn’t been around for, and later, his nieces and nephews.

And so you spent your adolescence in their company, making a home for yourself. It wasn’t just BTS that seemed to have adopted you – Big Hit as a whole did. The stylist noonas were utterly thrilled to finally have a little girl around on the regular, and treated you alternately like a little sister and a doll, dressing you up in all the cute girlish trends they privately sighed over but couldn’t experiment with.

Another benefit of having a human as a pet was that it was far easier to transport a person – humans were allowed on planes and buses, so you could travel with the boys. Your calming presence helped soothe frayed nerves and mediated fights, and ARMY loved watching the tender interactions between the boys, who were all predator hybrids, and the wide-eyed human child, claiming that it showed how nurturing the boys were despite their natural inclination, and how they would be good fathers someday. You even had your own little fanclub, like Yeontan had before you.

Speaking of Yeontan – the little dog had gone to live with Taehyung’s parents, so you didn’t get to see each other that often, but when you did, the two of you got along like a house on fire. Taehyung had to keep an eye on you at mealtimes to make sure most of the food on your plate wasn’t finding its way down to Yeontan, who lay casually across your feet at the dining table, while the dog was so excited to see you that he basically ignored Taehyung whenever the both of you arrived together.

The vlive of you and Yeontan taking a nap on the couch after Chuseok dinner with his family, curled up together as you whined about your tummy hurting while Taehyung, behind the camera, laughed as he teased you about being such a glutton but then went to rub your aching belly, became the most watched vlive ever, spawning a million GIFs.

It also became common for you to be somewhere in the background of Namjoon’s vlives, reading a book on his couch, while he chatted with fans. After many requests for you to appear on Eat Jin, you did eventually do an episode with him, although he spent the whole time comparing the food to meals he’d cooked for you in the past.

One might think that growing up the lone female around seven men might be awkward at times, especially with you going through adolescence and getting your period and all that, but they made it normal. Hybrids were far more open about normal bodily functions than human societies had been, and it would have been stranger for them to get squeamish about their pet’s bodily functions. There was no hiding from them when you got your period or anything like that, but they were so nonchalant about it that you were too, even warning you beforehand when you were going to start because they could smell the changes in your scent.

It was all fine – at least, until the boys went to the military.

All of them enlisted together when you were sixteen, and you went to live with Taehyung’s parents while they were serving. Living in Geochang was a change of pace from Seoul, but it was nice nevertheless. You helped out at his parents’ farm, got to play a lot more with Yeontan and the other animals running around, and had a lot more freedom since his parents were too busy to micromanage you.

During this time, you really grew into your own – enrolling in an online GED course, using the Internet and the enormous resources at your disposal to figure your personal style out, even finding human friends and a boyfriend. Who would have thought that Geochang had such a thriving human community?

Needless to say, by the time the two years had passed and you went back to live with Taehyung, you were a vastly different person, in both temperament and appearance, than you’d been the day he dropped you off.

Still, you’d missed being in Seoul with him, and you were excited to go with his parents to pick him up from the military base. You’d never been to visit him when his family members went, because they’d needed someone to stay home and tend to the crops and take care of the animals, and ever eager to please, you’d volunteered to do it even though you really wanted to see Taehyung too.

This time, though, you had to go, because everyone was going to Seoul to spend the night, and then you would stay with Taehyung. Although you hadn’t seen each other in two years, you’d kept in contact via text messages and video calls whenever he was free, and you knew that he’d decided to move into an apartment in Seoul without the other boys. It was about time – Seokjin was pushing thirty and planning to propose to his longtime girlfriend, and it was a little weird for seven men in their thirties to be living together anyway.

So you packed your things and prepared to move out of Geochang and back to Seoul. It wasn’t difficult – with technology it was easy for you to keep in contact with your friends in Geochang, and you’d broken up with your boyfriend a couple months ago on amicable terms. The most difficult thing for you had been saying goodbye to Tannie, who was getting on in years now and had relied on you more and more each day.

But move out you did, and you bounced in your seat all the way to the military base where Taehyung had been living for the past two years. When you first saw him walk out of the compound, still in his uniform, your excitement got the better of you and you flew towards him, perhaps uncharacteristically for you given how taken aback his parents were, but you didn’t care.

“Taehyung-oppa!” you screamed as you ran. To his credit, he didn’t waste any time processing the missile currently hurtling towards him, and just opened his arms for you to leap into.

“Hello, Y/N,” he laughed as he hugged you close. He’d missed you too, his cute little human, and after so long away from him, you didn’t smell anything like him anymore, something he was determined to change as he started rubbing his cheek on the top of your head. Used to it after living with him for so many years, you just stood still and let him do it.

Fansite photographers and more zealous fans who’d come to see him cooed and sighed at the cute picture you two made. You were still tucked under his arm, clinging to his shirt, as he greeted the people who were gathered, thanking them for coming all this way, and thanking his commanding officers and platoon mates for being there for him for the past few years.

Then it was over, and he was in the van with his family for a more private reunion. You were still clinging to him, not that he minded as he stroked your hair softly as he chatted with his family. He’d seen them when they’d come to visit, or during his breaks – it was just you that hadn’t had the chance to see him since he’d gone away.

During the drive back to Seoul, you tucked your face into his neck and took a nap, tired from all the excitement. While you were asleep, Taehyung asked his mother how you’d been. “Did she give you a lot of trouble?” he asked.

She chuckled. “No, she was an absolute angel. So good with the children and the animals, always eager to help out.”

He smiled. “Yeah? That tracks. The lady at the shelter told me she has an amazing pedigree.”

“It was a real joy having her, Taehyung-ah. You’re lucky to have such a sweet human in your life.”

“I am. I hope she had a good time in Geochang, too.”

Taehyung’s mother laughed at that. “Oh, did she ever!”

His curiosity piqued, his ears perked. “Sounds like you have some good stories to share.”

“The girl had the time of her life these past two years,” his mother snickered. “She had a lot more freedom in Geochang than in Seoul because it’s smaller and safer, so we let her go out on her own a lot more, and she’s really sociable. She even found a boyfriend.”

He raised a brow. “She did? Sounds like she had lots of fun in Geochang, then.”

He wanted to find out more about what you’d been up to, but since they were arriving in Seoul and would be at the restaurant for dinner, he couldn’t, instead waking you up since you always took a little while to be functional.

You untangled yourself from him sleepily and almost fell out of the car as you tried to get out, and it was only his father’s superior hybrid reflexes that saved you from eating asphalt as he caught you and put you back on your feet. Murmuring your thanks, you waited for Taehyung to climb out of the van and lead you into the restaurant by the hand.

Tonight, you were dining at a Korean barbeque restaurant, which was always a winner for the hybrid wolf family. Usually they just ate meat, not even bothering with lettuce wraps, but they were still nice enough to order some vegetables and king oyster mushrooms for you. You were in charge of grilling, of course, not that you minded, and hearing the praise from everyone else at the table made you glow a little every time.

Taehyung was the center of attention that evening, of course, as he regaled his family with tales of his time in the military. He was the first member of BTS to be discharged, although since they’d all enlisted at around the same time, the others were due to be discharged in the coming few months, so unfortunately there weren’t funny stories of his bandmates coming to visit him, but Bang PD had, and so had some stylist noonas.

There were also stories about silly punishments and shenanigans, water parades, being made to hold the wall and shout, “Help, help! The wall is falling,” because he’d been caught leaning against it once, that made everyone crack up and you almost drop the tongs right on the grill.

Eventually, though, he started asking about how everyone had been, which turned, perhaps inevitably, into everyone ganging up on you and trying to tell the most embarrassing story they could think of. You sighed and whined as one by one, they all took turns rehashing your various mishaps to Taehyung – you trying to climb a tree and getting stuck like a cat, your various fashion disasters as you tried to ‘find yourself’ – complete with pictures, of course, and worst of all, your theatrics when your GED certificate came in the mail.

Well, you were really proud of that last one, but did they really have to describe your joyful outburst as helpless histrionics?

Still, though, the way Taehyung squeezed your hand as he told you how proud he was of you made everything better.

Soon enough, dinner was over and all of you piled back into the van to go to Taehyung’s new apartment. It had already been set up by the multitude of assistants that BigHit had, with some input from his parents, so it was basically already liveable. With so many people helping, it wasn’t long before all your things were moved into the apartment too, and then the two of you were left alone, for the first time in two years.

Since you had so much spare room in the apartment, you had your own bedroom, and it was beautifully decorated just how you’d pictured it, with a very pretty queen-sized bed in one corner with a white cushioned headboard and pink-and-grey patterned sheets, a reading nook in front of floor-to-ceiling windows with an overstuffed chair and foot rest, a lamp, and a large bookshelf with a ladder occupying the adjacent wall, and a little coffee table with a scented candle already on it next to the chair. Fluffy rugs were strewn across the room, and a wooden dressing table sat on the opposite side of the room. It was beautiful and comfortable, everything you’d dreamed of, but when you got ready for bed, you found yourself missing Taehyung.

Which led to you in your pajamas, all scrubbed down and ready for bed, knocking plaintively on Taehyung’s bedroom door. He seemed to know that you would be there even before opening the door, which he probably had, with his enhanced senses (and the fact that there was no one else in the apartment).

When he opened the door for you, clad in just his pajama pants, all you had to do was pout up at him and he was standing aside to let you in. Generally, he indulged your every whim, because according to his life philosophy, why have pets if you weren’t going to spoil them rotten? Making a beeline for his bed, you made yourself comfortable by burrowing under his sheets and fluffing up one of his pillows.

Shaking his head at you, Taehyung followed you back to the bed, getting into the other side with an indulgent huff. “You know, I paid a lot of money for your bedroom,” he said drolly. Ignoring his remark, you cuddled close to him and shut your eyes stubbornly, and he capitulated with a sigh, stroking your head as you drifted off to sleep.

Somehow, you smelled different than he remembered. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and it wasn’t bad by any means, but it was just… different. And he didn’t quite know what to do about it.

For some reason he’d been reluctant to ask his parents, even though they’d been the ones living with you for the past two years, if they’d sensed anything different about you. He’d rationalized it to himself at the point – since they’d been with you every day it was likely that they wouldn’t notice anything different if your scent had changed gradually, and if it had been sudden and enough to cause worry, they would already have let him know about it.

Still, his mind wouldn’t stop racing with the possibilities as he leaned in closer to take a good whiff. He could still smell the base notes of your scent, which had always been somewhat citrusy, but now it was slightly… earthier, with a musky, deeper aroma threaded through it. Was it vanilla? Perhaps cinnamon?

Whatever it was, it was nice, and he shut his eyes to allow himself to drift off after deciding to do research on humans’ scent changes tomorrow. He didn’t think it was anything to worry about – any illness would definitely have a sharper, less pleasant scent – but he didn’t know why your scent would suddenly change again. It had changed gradually once before, as you went through puberty, but based on what he’d read about humans, it shouldn’t change again for many years yet.

No harm finding out more about what could be causing it, he thought as he slipped after you into slumber. Maybe he would take you to a doctor, too, if it became necessary.

Morning dawned, and Taehyung woke up leisurely for the first time in too long, slowly blinking his eyes against the morning sunlight streaming in from the windows. As he slowly became conscious of his surroundings, he became aware that he was the most comfortable he’d ever been, probably in his life, and he nuzzled closer behind your ear.

Wait a minute. A second later, he drew back. He didn’t remember going to sleep with a lover, and he definitely hadn’t had a girlfriend since his last one broke up with him while he was in the army. So who was he currently wrapped around…?

When it dawned on him, he recoiled in horror, and almost crab scuttled away from you. Thankfully, you were still asleep and hadn’t noticed his morning boner pressed against you, because it was beyond inappropriate for him to feel that way about you, his pet.

Unfortunately, his abrupt movements pulled on the duvet that you were sharing, and jostled you awake. He froze, wide-eyed, as you stirred. “Taehyung-oppa?” you said, voice raspy with sleep.

“Shh, I’m just going to pee,” he lied. “Go back to sleep, sweetie, it’s still early.”

You hummed wordlessly as you burrowed back into the covers, and despite his own inner turmoil, he smiled at you as he straightened the duvet over you before he left the bedroom.

He darted into the bathroom, where he sat on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands. God, what the hell was wrong with him? You weren’t a hybrid, and he didn’t understand how this could have happened. In that moment before he’d woken up fully and realized what was happening, his instinct had been to treat you like a… lover. He shuddered at the thought.

Okay, he thought, getting up. He was going to take a shower, rub one out, and then pretend like everything was fine. This was an aberration, just a weird fluke. You were warm and in his bed, and it had been a really long time since he had any action, since military service tended to inhibit such activities.

He just needed to get laid, and get used to your new scent, and then everything would be fine. No one would need to know about this embarrassing little slip-up.

With renewed determination, he started stripping off his clothes to get into the shower. All soaped up, he started sliding a hand down his body to grasp his erection firmly, which had never really gone away. Biting his lip, he started stroking it slowly, running his thumb over the head on the upstroke. His mind, however, remained unfocused, flitting between various memories and porn he’d watched, never able to focus on anything long enough to immerse himself.

That is, until his enhanced wolf hearing picked up the rustling sounds in the bedroom. He could hear, even over the sound of the shower, so clearly what you were doing that his mind had no problem filling in the blanks. The rustle of the sheets meant you were pushing the covers back; the soft thud on the ground meant you’d sat up and put your feet down. Then you stretched, and he definitely had no problem imagining it – or an overly erotic version of what actually transpired. Your soft moan of satisfaction as you cracked your spine sent a shiver running through him.

After that, it was basically a race to the finish line, as he fisted himself as hard as he could, leaning forward to brace his free hand against the wall in front of him. Usually it took a little longer, and he would play with his balls more, but it wasn’t going to be necessary this time, he could feel it. Remembering how good you’d smelled this morning was enough to push him over the edge, and he muffled his groan in his shoulder as he came all over the wall of his shower, the hand on the wall curling into a fist.

“Fuck,” he panted as he washed the cum off himself and the wall. Needless to say, he didn’t feel any cleaner after that shower.

When he came out of the shower, you were already getting breakfast ready. Another perk of having a team of assistants dedicated to making your life easier – the fridge came fully stocked. You’d washed up and pulled a sweatshirt on over the cami and pajama pants, and he couldn’t help but smile when he saw that it was a BTS merchandise from several years ago.

“Good morning,” you chirped, flipping the bacon. “I didn’t know what you wanted for breakfast, but I remember how much you love bacon, so I figured this would be safe.”

He leaned his elbows on the island and watched you warily from a distance. “Are you sure you should be cooking?”

“I got better,” you shot back defensively. “You shouldn’t have let me take cooking lessons from Namjoon-oppa in the first place.”

“No, I really shouldn’t have,” he agreed absently. You really had improved in your cooking, he thought, watching how easily you moved around the kitchen. It wasn’t long before a giant helping of bacon was sitting in front of him, with a more modest, human-sized portion on your plate, and some toast.

“You really should have let me make you breakfast,” he sighed, even as he started to tuck in. “I miss spoiling you.”

You shot him a cheeky grin. “Not to worry, you spoiled me plenty while you were in the military,” you sassed him.

He huffed out a laugh. “I know, I saw the credit card statements.”

Giggling, you eat another bite of your breakfast and smile at him with your cheeks stuffed, and his heart clenches with fondness. How could someone so plainly adorable drive him so crazy this morning? It must have been a fluke; his instincts misfiring. He just needed to get laid, and then everything would be fine.

Update: everything was not fine.

Things got progressively worse over the next couple of weeks, until Taehyung was honestly filled with dread every night when you came into his room and slid under the sheets on the side of the bed you’d claimed as yours.

It was getting to the point that all you had to do was sidle up to him for some cuddles and he would start getting sidetracked from having your scent invading his personal space. And yet it wasn’t like he could ask you to dial it back – it was in your nature to be physically affectionate and needy; it was literally what you’d been bred for. What could he possibly say, anyway? “Sorry, but can you stop touching me, it turns me on”? You’d be horrified, and rightly so. You trusted him, he could see it every time you smiled up at him like the sun, looked at him with complete adoration in your eyes, came to sit on his lap for cuddles. His reaction was a complete betrayal of that trust.

There was definitely something wrong with him. It was sick for a hybrid to be thinking about his human pet in this way. Maybe he should be the one to see a doctor, but he’d probably be arrested.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, if it guaranteed your safety from him.

Amidst all the angst and worrying about whether he was a danger to his own pet human, there were some bright moments. All of his brothers were discharged from the military, and after Jungkook, the last to be discharged, was released, they’d all gone for a massive reunion/celebration. You’d wanted to join, but he’d said no, knowing that there would definitely be plenty of alcohol that night, which meant that firstly, he wouldn’t be in any position to look after you and/or resist your charms, and secondly, your underage self was definitely not going to see how depraved your precious oppas were going to get.

The night started off well enough, with a nice dinner at an exclusive new restaurant in Seoul. The wine flowed freely, and by the time they were done, everyone was more than a little tipsy. They then moved to a club – again, exclusive and new – where they were automatically ushered to the mezzanine. A bottle of whisky was brought to their table, but soon enough, several of them had left to hit the dance floor – Jungkook, that brat, was of course looking for someone to spend the night with, and Hoseok and Jimin just wanted to tear up the dance floor.

“How have you been spending your time off?” Namjoon asked. Taehyung had been a little off all night, quieter than usual and when he thought no one was watching, he had a little frown perpetually affixed to his face.

Taehyung forced a nonchalant shrug – or at least, what he hoped passed for nonchalance. “Just hanging around,” he said vaguely, hoping to fend off any more probing into his life. “What about you?”

Namjoon looked amused. “Tae, I was discharged three days ago. I spent it sleeping and fixing up my apartment.”

“Right, right,” he said, staring studiously into his glass of whisky as if the amber-coloured liquid could tell him the secrets of life.

“How’s Y/N?” Yoongi piped up. Of course, he would be the one to bring you up first. For all his bitching and moaning when Taehyung adopted you, he quickly grew the most attached, and the feeling was mutual. He was your very favourite oppa after Taehyung, and sometimes – like when Taehyung has no choice but to discipline you – he was pretty sure Yoongi was your favourite.

“She’s fine,” Taehyung said, aiming for the innocent enthusiasm he used to have when talking about you, but from the way Namjoon’s eyebrow went up, he knew he’d failed.

“Is everything okay?” Namjoon asked slowly.

Taehyung gulped. The jig was up. Curse his inability to hide his feelings. Well, no matter. If pretending like everything was okay at home wasn’t going to work, there was always good old avoidance.

“Yes, everything’s fine!” he exclaimed a little manically, knocking back the rest of his drink in one gulp. “I’m going to hit the dance floor,” he said, making his escape quickly.

The others, a little surprised, didn’t react, letting him leave, although they exchanged suspicious glances. Something was up with Taehyung; he’d made that obvious enough.

Stepping onto the dance floor, he saw Jungkook in one corner getting hot and heavy against a wall with his chosen companion for the night, and he sighed enviously. He wished he could still do that. It wasn’t that they were afraid someone would go to the press – this club really was exclusive, and only celebrities and the ultra-wealthy (read: chaebol relatives) could even enter the club, so discretion would be guaranteed by both parties.

Instead, it seemed that as his attraction for you grew, his ability to find other, more suitable hybrid women attractive… diminished. Which was another pretty significant part of the problem that he didn’t even know how to address. He’d tried hooking up with hybrids over the past couple of weeks, but none of them ever smelled right. There was always something that felt a little bit off that prevented him from taking things further with them, no matter how much he might want to.

He was going crazy, he was sure of it. How could his sexual attraction be focused completely on one human woman? There was no way that this was okay.

He just had to hide it from others. He didn’t know what he was going to do about it yet, and it wasn’t like he didn’t trust his brothers, but this was a little different, and as much as he wouldn’t blame them, he couldn’t imagine the judging or pitying looks they would direct at him if he told them what was going on with his life.

No, better to keep it to himself for the time being.

His resolve seemed, unfortunately, alcohol-soluble. When the night ended, Taehyung returned to his apartment, saw that his bed was empty and immediately turned around to go to your room, where you’d settled in for the night since you weren’t sure what time he would come back, if he came back at all – hey, you weren’t one to judge. Spotting the human-shaped lump under the covers of your bed in the darkness, he stumbled over to the bed and lifted the covers to slide in.

It was then that Taehyung discovered that those cute camis and pajama pants that shouldn’t drive him crazy but did were you dressing more modestly than usual for bed, out of consideration for him. Because tonight, you weren’t wearing pants.

His brain seemed to short-circuit as he stared at your panty-clad ass, but he must have lifted the covers for too long because the cold started to make you stir as you turned over, patting the area around you looking for the blanket. Not finding anything to grab on to, your eyes opened slowly, and you squinted up at Taehyung.

“Oppa?” you croaked. “You’re back.” Clearing your throat, you reached for your phone on the bedside table. “What time is it?”

He groaned as he watched the way your body stretched out as you turned away from him. “You smell so good,” he whined, flopping down on the other side of the bed, and squirming close to you.

You allowed him to press himself against you, knowing that he was a needy drunk. This wasn’t exactly new for you – Taehyung didn’t get drunk as often as his other members did, but he still did occasionally, and you’d been with him for so many years now that you had a routine by now.

“Oppa… are you still dressed?” you whined as your bare skin came into contact with his jeans. You hissed in displeasure as the cold metal on his belt buckle pressed against your thigh.

“…No,” he said unconvincingly after a moment.

You squirmed out of his grasp, and he let out a forlorn whine that reminded you of his animal half. “Come on, you should get changed at least, you won’t sleep well in your clothes. I’ll go get your pajamas, okay?”

“Nooo,” he made grabby hands at you. “Don’t leave.” He pulled you back into his embrace, pressing his face into your throat. “You smell so good,” he slurred, rubbing his face against you.

You giggled at the ticklish sensation, resisting the urge to push him away. “At least take your pants off, okay?” you negotiated. “I have some water here, you should have some before you go to sleep…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for the bottle you always kept on your bedside table, and his head fell to the pillow with a soft thump as you pulled away. His eyesight was far better than yours, and he took the opportunity to stare at you while you weren’t able to notice it.

While he drank, you wriggled yourself back into the bed, blinking sleepily in the dark as you listened to the rhythmic sound of him gulping down the water. When he’d had enough, he started to lay down, and you quickly intervened. “No, you can’t sleep in your clothes!”

He laughed in response. “You’re very eager to take my pants off, love,” he teased.

Your whole body flushed with heat and you drew back, sulking. “Fine, sleep in your clothes, then. Just don’t complain in the morning,” you snapped, turning over to go to sleep.

Instead of doing the same, Taehyung scooched closer and threw an arm around you. “Don’t be like that, baby,” he purred. “I was just teasing. I’ll take off whatever you want me to,” he promised.

Hearing him speak to you in that tone, though, had you all kinds of worked up. It wasn’t unusual for him to call you baby – he’d always used that pet name on you, and Yeontan and all his other pets as well. It was just the way he’d said it… it reminded you of the way your ex back in Geochang used to talk to you when he was horny. And you found, to your shame, that you’d reacted to it with a small shiver.

That couldn’t be right, though. Humans and hybrids weren’t compatible in that way. You’d just been reminded of Jong-in in that moment – even though you’d broken up, it had been amicable, and you’d always enjoyed physical intimacy with him; it was a natural reaction.

While you were busy rationalizing it to yourself, though, the scent of your arousal hit Taehyung and he pressed himself closer with a groan. “Why do you smell so amazing, Y/N-ie?” he asked, pushing his nose insistently into the crook behind your ear. Unfortunately, his belt buckle pressed into the strip of skin on your lower back exposed by the way your camisole rode up.

“Agh,” you cried out in displeasure, squirming away from him. “It’s cold!”

“What? What’s cold, baby?”

“Your belt,” you heaved out, and his hands immediately went to it.

“Okay, it’s going,” Taehyung responded placatingly, undoing it and throwing it onto the ground beside the bed. Now that he’d gotten started, his pants were quick to follow, being scrunched into the corner of the bed under the covers where he’d kicked them, and his button-down shirt. Finally, clad in just his boxers and undershirt, he relaxed into the mattress, and you cuddled close, satisfied now.

“Good night, oppa,” you murmured as you slotted yourself into your usual spot in his side, your eyes drifting shut as you clutched his shirt in your fist.

He mumbled something indistinct in response, but you could feel his hand resting on your back, and you went to sleep peacefully.

(line break)

Taehyung woke up in a bed that wasn’t his own, half-dressed, and was confused for a moment, wracking his brain for memories of last night. Had he finally managed to get some?

Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, he propped himself up on his elbow and peered around, realizing that it was your room. So he hadn’t broken his dry spell, then. Damn.

Pushing the covers away, he meandered out of your bedroom to the kitchen, where you were already working on some hangover breakfast for him. “Good morning,” you chirped, turning away from the stove to point at the glass of water and hybrid painkillers you’d laid out for him. “In case you feel bad,” you explained.

He sat down and downed the water, ignoring the painkillers – he didn’t feel that bad – as he took you in. You’d put some pants on, and a cardigan over the camisole you’d worn to bed, and tied your hair back in a messy ponytail. As a hybrid, he naturally ran warmer than you, so during winters you made sure to pile the layers on to remain warm.

This line of thinking triggered a memory of you squealing in protest at the cold metal of his belt buckle touching your skin last night, and he paled as he remembered how inappropriately he’d acted with you. He watched you carefully, but you seemed the same as always, and he wasn’t sure if he should just pretend it never happened or apologize for it.

When you deemed the yukgaejang ready and took it off the stove to serve together with two bowls of freshly cooked rice, his guilt at how boorishly he’d treated you last night overwhelmed him and he blurted, “About last night – ”

You looked up from the drawer where you were picking the utensils out. “Yeah?”

“Um… about what I said…” he trailed off awkwardly.

“Oh, you mean the scent thing? Don’t worry, I get it,” you laughed it off, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “It’s because of the pack bond, right?”

“The what?” Completely confused, he just stared at you as you poured some soup into your rice.

“The pack bond? I read about it, that some hybrids can form pack bonds with the people around them. Like you did with the other members, or your pets, I guess,” you said, shrugging.

Instead of responding immediately, Taehyung chose to shovel a huge mouthful of stew and rice into his mouth to give him more time to think about how to respond. You’d given him the perfect cop-out for any overly affectionate behavior he might display. He was sure you didn’t know enough about hybrid pack behaviours to actually call him out on his lies.

“Y- yeah, that’s it,” he said, the visible relief on his face making you smile at him cheerily, your triumph at guessing correctly written all over your face.

As you both went back to eating, you felt something that had tensed up inside you last night unclench. It was just the pack bond. You could stop thinking about it, and you wouldn’t misinterpret anything anymore.

Returning to the studio to work on their comeback was a relief for Taehyung. For one thing, it meant that he would be spending most of his time away from you and your maddening scent. For another, he’d worried (perhaps needlessly, given the outpouring of support and congratulations on their social media when they were each discharged) that they wouldn’t be relevant anymore and he would be out of a job.

He’d also really missed his brothers, and was excited to work with them again.

However, what he hadn’t anticipated was that they’d missed you just as much as him, and you felt the same way. Every evening when he came home you were there, waiting for fun stories about the other members, and they pestered him incessantly for updates about you or, better yet, pictures or videos, or best of all, bringing you to the studio.

Since you basically begged for the same thing, he’d pretty much had no choice.

You chattered on excitedly from the front seat of his car as he drove to the studio. It was unbearably early, but that didn’t seem to deter you. Most mornings you were the one who woke him up anyway, since you were by far the most patient out of the members and producers. Even without you being there most days, the members knew that any time Taehyung showed up for practice on time and awake it was because of your efforts.

You fairly skipped from the carpark all the way to the studio where the boys were supposed to be working today, dragging Taehyung along in your wake. You knew the building like the back of your hand by now, having spent much of the time you’d been with Taehyung here. Even the boys from TXT knew you, and often kept snacks and things in their studios for you when you dropped by.

Reaching the corridor where the studio was located, you ran down it and burst into the studio, a ball of almost frenzied energy. “Hi!” you cried exuberantly, causing the current occupants of the room to look up at you. Almost all the members were there, sans Yoongi and, of course, Taehyung, who was following you at a more sedate pace, and they grinned at you.

“Y/N!” Jungkook leapt up from his seat and rushed over to you, and as you hugged him he picked you clean off the floor to swing you around, giggling. The tiger hybrid’s ears flicked excitedly as he took you in. “Don’t you look pretty today?” he cooed, rubbing his cheek over the top of your head. You stood still to let him, used to all the members attempting to scent you since it was basically an affectionate gesture.

“Thank you, Kookie-oppa,” you said politely, smiling up at him.

“You’re such a polite girl,” Seokjin complimented you, pulling a Tupperware of your favourite spicy baby octopus out of his bag. When Taehyung had texted them last night that you would be coming today, he’d immediately gotten to work preparing some of your favourite snacks.

“Ooh, thank you, Seokjin-oppa!” you sang as you stood to take it from him – with both hands, of course, and accompanied by a deep bow.

“Don’t you mean Seokjin-samchoon?” Jungkook ribbed, causing the hyena hybrid to snarl at him.

By the time Taehyung entered the room, you were sandwiched between Namjoon and Jimin, happily sharing your food with them, while Jungkook and Seokjin were playfighting, Hoseok egging both of them on. He sighed as he headed to the last empty couch and dropped down on it heavily, used to the chaos of his members.

“Where’s Suga-hyung?” Taehyung asked, looking around.

You shrugged. “Probably still in bed,” you responded to the amusement of everyone in the room.

Unfortunately for you, the man in question walked through the doors just in time to hear your remark, and he scowled. “For your information,” he bit out acerbically, “I was in my studio. I’m not Jimin,” he said, rolling his eyes, even as he bent down in front of you and opened his mouth for the proffered mouthful of food you were holding in your chopsticks for him.

“Hey!” Jimin protested. “I thought we were past that.”

“Never,” Taehyung promised, and you giggled. To ease the sting of his members teasing him, Jimin aggressively scented you, and you leaned into him to facilitate it.

Taehyung, observing your interaction with the other hybrid, tried not to show his irritation on his face, mostly because he knew it was ridiculous to feel that way. When you’d first come to live with them, the others had been cautious about getting their scents on you, just in case it was something that bothered him, but he’d made sure to assure them that he didn’t mind. After all, all of them were pack. It made sense for them to smell like each other, and it had even comforted him sometimes when you came to him drenched in the scents of his members.

Now that your scent was different, though, he didn’t like it as much when the other members rubbed up against you. It was a shameful, terrible feeling to be possessive over you like that, and he noted somewhat wryly that he could add it to the list. He really hadn’t been a paragon of virtue when it came to you recently.

When the boys started working, you pulled out the book you were currently reading and settled in. By now, you knew how to entertain yourself when at the studio, and tuned them out for the most part. As a result, you didn’t notice the way Taehyung’s attention would drift over to you instead of his members, but Namjoon did.

The older man raised his brow as Taehyung stared at you, sitting on a couch in the corner of the studio, instead of listening to the melody that Yoongi had just been working on. This was uncharacteristic of Taehyung, to say the least, and though as a leader he was somewhat annoyed at Taehyung’s inattention, he was also worried, remembering how strangely the wolf hybrid had acted the other night. He was still watching Taehyung out of his peripheral vision when he saw Taehyung catch himself staring, shake his head and frown.

He followed Taehyung’s gaze to you, wondering what it was that had captured Taehyung’s attention. You seemed unaware of it, turning the page on your book and continuing to read with a soft, relaxed expression, eagerly devouring the page. He couldn’t detect any differences, either – aside from the fact that you’d grown a little and carried yourself differently, you were much the same as you were when they’d left for the army.

Still, there must be some explanation for Taehyung’s sudden change in behavior, and he ran his eyes over your face more closely, watching for any hints.

Unfortunately, Taehyung, looking up from his notes, saw Namjoon staring at you, and before he could stop it, he growled at the wild dog hybrid. A second later, he realized what he’d just done, and shame flooded him. He got up so suddenly that the chair he was sitting in rolled away, bumping against the studio board, and fled the room.

Immediately, you put your book down and got up, ready to follow him to ask what had gotten him so upset, but Namjoon stopped you. “I’ll go talk to him,” he assured you, and looking up at the serious set of his jaw, you nodded, knowing that Taehyung was in good hands.

Namjoon found Taehyung in the restroom, bracing himself against the sinks with his head bowed. Hearing the door open and able to identify his leader by his scent, Taehyung’s hands tightened.

“You doing okay?” Namjoon asked mildly, leaning against the restroom door.

“Go away,” Taehyung grumped without moving.

“Tae, I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting weird since we came back from the military. Tell me what’s going on, please?”

“Nothing’s going on, everything’s fine,” Taehyung denied, his voice becoming increasingly whiny.

“Tae, come on. We’re brothers, you can tell me what’s up.” Namjoon went over to the wolf hybrid and rested his hand on his shoulder.

Resolutely, Taehyung stayed silent.

Left with no other recourse, Namjoon started guessing. “Is it because your heat is coming soon?”

Taehyung’s head shot up, and he stared at Namjoon in the mirror. “My what?”

Namjoon quirked his brow at the younger man. “Your heat?” he prompted. “The one you’ve had once a year for about ten years now?”

Taehyung paled. With all that had been going on with you, he’d totally forgotten about it. Fuck. He was not going to get through this heat alive.

#kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts #bts fic #bts hybrid au #hybrid bts #taehyung smut #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #jeon jungkook #bts future au

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joontier · 4 years ago

Text

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

series rating: R(18+) | genre: angst, forbidden love, longing, immense pining

warnings: none to note

word count: 6.6k

g/n: HAHGFJFIE FINALLY!!!!!!!! that is all. ((also painfully and regrettably unedited)) thank you. THIS IS THE MOMENT WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR ASJDFOAWJEFI SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE?

The King’s Guard - Masterlist || navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 7

“Hoseok.”

Yoongi keeps his voice low as he attempts to poke the general awake, vigorously, yet with the right amount of caution so as not to wake the naked sleeping court lady in his arms. Chaeyoung, was it? The southern king ponders on wistfully as he pulls the blanket up again to maintain the modesty in the room - if there was any left, that is.

The young king of the south had already sensed the tension between the pair when they were first acquainted with each other. Yoongi, not a stranger to the wants of the flesh, already knew this was coming. If it only weren’t for the places they hold in the palace, they would have made a great couple.

Surely though, the two were old enough to know that clothes were still warranted even after what Yoongi could only assume to have been a steamy evening between the two. It wasn’t appropriate to just go sleeping in the nude especially when one could easily barge in at any time of the day, just as Yoongi had done.

The blonde-haired king continues poking at the general by the ribs, cursing when the latter won’t respond and instead rolls over to the other side, pulling Chaeyoung closer in his arms.

Good heavens. Why does this have to be so hard?

For one, he’d already wasted time this morning trying to locate Hoseok, who he reckons no longer enjoys sleeping in his own quarters; finding more comfort in the danger that lies with sleeping in the court ladies’ quarters instead. He makes a mental note to address this to Hoseok later as this was going to be a major headache later on.

Should this relationship of theirs proceed with its imminent direction, not only the general will be facing the grave consequences of their actions, but the poor court lady will have to take responsibility as well.

“Hoseok.” The young king of the south nudges him once more, this time stronger than the last. Yoongi hears the general groan in response, and lets himself sit back against the wall in relief. At least this reaction was better than the log he was trying to wake just moments ago.

That is, until he realizes he spoke too soon.

Hoseok rolls over and proceeds to lie on his stomach. Yoongi cards his fingers through his temple, jaw clenched as he tries to figure out a more effective way to get the general up on his feet.

He spots a vessel on top of Chaeyoung’s dresser, and Yoongi smirks as an unorthodox idea of waking up someone pops in his head. Quietly creeping up from the floor, he grabs the clay container by its neck and tilts the vessel, pouring the water onto Hoseok’s bare back. This ought to do the job. Just as expected, the liquid had the southern general scrambling to his feet.

Squinting his eyes as he looks around, Hoseok comes face to face with his king, eyes trained on him like a tiger waiting on his prey. Hoseok immediately sits up, cowering under the king’s daunting gaze, “M-my king…”

Yoongi promptly gets up, not wanting to bother himself with another look at Hoseok’s naked form. “Get up. Meet me by the stables,” the king orders, sliding the door open, “and next time, please maintain some dignity and remember to put clothes on before sleeping.”

The general clambers from the court lady’s yo, taking his discarded clothes by the corner of the room as the southern king heads to the stables first.

“Did she really knock you out that bad that you were harder to wake than a sleeping cow?”

Even at dawn when the sun hasn’t risen yet, Yoongi sees the general blush under the sky’s soft shade of purple. “If I could say so for myself, she was quite flexible, your Highness…” Hoseok whispers shyly as he chews on his lip. Yoongi’s mouth falls agape at his general’s confession, grimacing at the awful mental images it brought to his mind this early in the morning.

“General.” Hoseok straightens himself atop his steed, knowing that the king meant business when he calls him by his official title. “You should know that what I had said was a question I needed not answered.”

“My apologies, my King.” Hoseok says, expression unchanging when he whispers under his breath. “It’s not like I’m the only one who’s getting frisky with the women of the palace.” Yoongi’s eyes narrow as he glares at the general, guiding his horse nearer to Hoseok’s, seemingly taunting the latter to say more. “Ah yes,” the general gets the message and bows, but Yoongi doesn’t miss the small smirk playing on the younger man’s lips, “this is the part where I keep my mouth shut.”

Bored out of his wits (and disrupted from his very lovely sleep), the general turns to his king, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, jeonha, but where exactly are we headed to at this time of the day?”

“We’re already here.” Hoseok, with his question answered in the most unexpected manner, gives an awkward nod as a reply to the southern king. He studies the place where Yoongi had led him to in this early morning and in recognition, his would seemingly winces at him as he remembers the day they’ve faced death in the eyes, and luckily got away with it.

In subconscious reminiscence, Yoongi flexes his shoulders, a short tinge of pain stings through the breadth of his back. Hoseok, in similar thought, does the same, reaching over to his side to feel the slowly healing wound.

The small clearing was not as ghastly as it had been when they had first arrived at this part of the forest. The previously horrific scenery was no more; the doltap shrine, formerly made from dead bodies toppled over each other was now replaced by actual rocks and other mementos of the deceased.

Yoongi dismounts from his horse, a small cloud of dust appearing as he lands on the ground. Just like that, he’s taken back to the same night he’d met Seokjin – the same night he and Hoseok had narrowly escaped the hands of death. The southern king closes his eyes, reliving the scene like it was just yesterday.

“Forgive me, jeonha, but why are we here? If I should say so myself, my king, we we’re lucky enough to get away last time…if we stay here any longer, I’m not particularly sure what or who could be waiting for us this time.”

“We have to look for something.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not sure too. Just… I don’t think Seokjin is dead yet.”

Hoseok looks at him, worry painting all over his features. Yoongi had never concerned himself with the capitol, all the more with its king. The southern general couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet, but he is sure that there is a missing piece of the puzzle he has yet to discover. It won’t be long before he does.

Jungkook watches you from the shade of another nearby tree, indulging himself with an apple he picked earlier on the way to the gardens. You’ve just finished teaching five new characters to the class, and as a reward for their exemplary behavior, you decided to treat them with a story – one you’re telling with such animation right now.

He joins the children in laughter when you imitate a creature: an elephant, he reckons, though he’s never seen one in real life. Subsequently, you use your arm as a trunk and even start to make the strangest sounds to mimic the animal. Peels of the sound of amusement resonate throughout the open space. Even the court ladies you’d initially came with join soon afterwards, making their best impressions of different animals.

The sight was most endearing. You’re a natural when it comes to children, Jungkook attests to himself. You were patient, caring, and kind – all the traits of a good mother already inherent in you. It was no question that you child will grow up to be just as wonderful as you are.

Being a widow though? Not so much.

Despite the bountiful radiance brought about by these children, he could still see the sadness in your eyes. Gone are your usually bright orbs, mirth and brilliance swimming freely in your pupils.

It’s only been a week since the news of Seokjin’s passing and the announcement of your pregnancy. You’d maintained your cheeriness but Jungkook fears it all might have been just a façade because your smiles never reached your eyes unlike before.

Jungkook knew you were strong. Even the whole palace would agree on that fact. You were stronger than anyone could ever admit and you were far stronger than you think you were. It was a trait of yours that even only the bravest could only hope to be bestowed with. Your resilience was one of your many characteristics that Jungkook admired so much.

But at the same time, he fears this mask of courage you put on was going to be the same thing that was going to destroy you slowly from the inside.

Jungkook understood where you were coming from. Truly, he did. He’s dealt with enough royals all his life to know that a simple display of weakness could be perceived for something far greater than it is. Royals are groomed and nurtured to perfection from the moment they are born, and in their lifetime, they are only afforded a specific set of standards they had to live by strictly, else they lose the respect of the council and subsequently, their people.

It was madness at the least, to think that royals are supposed to be as stiff as their forefathers now commemorated by figures made of stone or some precious mineral. How strangely ironic.

Crown aside, you are but a human being, a woman, who had just lost her husband, and is now burdened with having to deal with your pregnancy alone. On top of all the responsibilities of a queen, including those of which Seokjin had left you.

Jungkook knew he was a mere soldier in your eyes, but he wanted to help you in the hopes to alleviate the pain you were going through; he wanted you to know that he feels your pain and he knows the suffering of one who has likewise lost a loved one.

He knows you’re constantly pre-occupying yourself with these things, always looking for a distraction to forget your personal sentiments. Jungkook could only imagine what struggles you’re going through right now and how badly he wishes he could hold you in his arms and tell you it’s going to be alright and he’s going to be there for you no matter what.

“Jungkook? Captain?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook scrambles to his feet as he sees you looking down on him as he rested by the bark of the tree. “Jungjeon-mama!”

Chuckling, you remove a stray leaf that stuck itself to his pants. Jungkook’s heart flutters at the small gesture. “Are you alright, captain? I’ve been calling for you but you seem busy staring off into the distance…” He gulps.

“Alright. Will you accompany me to the doltap shrine then?”

“Of course, Mama.”

Just like before, the two of you walk in comfortable silence, although the captain beside you looks more tense than ever. “Jungkook. Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re unwell, I can just go on my own. You can head back to your quarters.”

The captain quickly shakes his head, but when you meet his eyes, there’s a heavy weight in his stare that you wish to mention, but you don’t want to push his boundaries any further, especially when the two of you had been closer than any of you would have imagined.

You look away as you reach the top of the tiny slope, the dock finally in view. Jungkook immediately offers his elbow for your support, and you place a hand on the same with much gratitude.

He steps into the tiny boat first, readying the oars where he can reach them easily for later. Extending a hand out, he beckons you over to the canoe. Due to an unknown factor, you miss the gap between the boat and the dock, tripping slightly as you get inside. “Mama! Our– the baby!” You laugh at your own clumsiness before placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine! I’m fine… stop acting like I’m a porcelain doll…” you joke, settling yourself on the seat.

“I’m just concerned about your well-being,” Jungkook mumbles, not meeting your eyes as he fixes the oars with a pout on his face. What a big baby. Gently, you put a hand on his knee, urging him to look at you, “I know,” you give him a warm smile, “and I’m very thankful to have you nearby all the time.”

It was the whole truth. Ever since Minho came barging in with your husband’s clothes and until the announcement of your pregnancy with the council, Jungkook has always been there. Since then, you’d opted to stay inside your hanok most of the day, unless you had to come out for your official duties.

He’d always be there, waiting outside your hanok as you’re about to leave for your responsibilities. You’d even suggested having Yunho come with you instead but the stubborn captain insisted, telling you it is his greatest honor to be your personal guard.

The boat pushes forward and you tilt your head back slightly, enjoying the cool, crisp air. “It’s a beautiful day today isn’t it?”. Jungkook smiles this time, “Certainly, wangbi.”

You decide to leave the shrine late in the afternoon as Jungkook wasn’t able to bring a lamp with him. The sky is becoming a lovely purple, and as the captain manages to safely bring you both back across the river, you make your final request of the day from him. “Why don’t we sit here a while longer? Enjoy the sunset perhaps?” You’re already patting the grass beside you, leaving Jungkook no choice.

Jungkook finally gathers up the courage to ask you this time, “How about you, Mama? Are you alright?” Jungkook doesn’t know what kind of response to expect but he hopes that you will be able to recognize the true depth of his sudden inquiry.

You don’t answer at first. It seemed as if you were trying to gather your thoughts before you reply. “I’m alright,” you retort with a smile. There it is again – the ingenuine grin. “Taehyung had just visited me yesterday to recommend meals I could have prepared that will give me and the baby enough nutrition.”

Right, you were also pregnant. He almost forgot that for a moment. That was another reason he couldn’t sleep at night – could he possibly be a fath-

“How I wish my child’s father was still here to witness him or her grow up.”

Oh. Right. Jungkook chokes back a sob.

This was only one of the many times he’d realized he’d been a fool all along, but this realization had been the most painful yet.

Just as if on cue, Jungkook feels something cold hit his cheek from above. There’s a grey cloud reigning over them, like it’s giving a warning signal of the storm that’s about to come.

He turns to you, worry apparent in his features once more. “Mama, we have to go back!” Just then, there’s a downpour of water, evidently drenching you both. He extends his arm out, even offering you a ride back home on his back. You stand up on your own though, but you don’t take his hand, nor did you follow him back to the palace.

“Mama?”

“Let’s stay for a little while longer.”

“But you might catch a cold, mama.”

“Since when was a cold fatal?” The smile on your face is almost devilish and Jungkook finds himself powerless to say no. “Come on!” you urge, clapping excitedly. “When was the last time you played under the rain?”

“When I was a kid?”

“All the more reason to have fun then!”

The last time he purposefully stayed under the rain was with you, and he promised himself that he would never do it again if you weren’t going to be with him.

You were both young and your rendezvous at the southern forest were nothing short of cherished moments. There were days when the downpour was ultimately unavoidable, especially when you’re playing in the middle of the forest. Rain hadn’t stopped you both from meeting nonetheless. There were also days when he just waited at your designated meeting place, only accompanied by the angry clouds while his body shivered from the cold.

When the years had passed by, Jungkook didn’t find anything enjoyable with staying under the rain so he stayed indoors most of the time, unless it was part of his official duties. Besides, everything else seemed to lose its purpose if you weren’t in it.

Life for him was a storm he was waiting to pass, but since he’d met you that day in the forest all muddy, he learned that life was about learning how to dance in the rain. Ironically enough, you were also the sun that brought light to his life, providing him with enough energy to last for centuries.

You feel something by your feet, prompting you to jump into Jungkook’s arms in fright. The captain gets surprised by your actions, causing him to almost lose his footing. Jungkook looks down to see any damage and sees a brown slimy creature camouflaging with the grass, “Mama, it’s just a frog…”

You frown adorably, giving him a hard time with an irresistible pout. How he wishes he could just kiss you right now. “I’m not particularly fond of these creatures…” You gasp when another one croaks, tightening your grip around the captain’s arms. Jungkook’s mouth twitches in silent celebration at your touch. He may or may not have flexed his muscles too on purpose – but that was most likely a primary instinct when the woman of your dreams encourages physical contact, albeit subconsciously.

Jungkook’s jubilation is cut short when more frogs start to appear out of nowhere, causing you to squeeze even tighter, your grip bordering on pain. For some unknown, you’ve managed to latch on his back with your constant avoidance of the tiny, slimy creatures. “Jung!” you shout, now relentlessly slapping his arm; Jungkook huffs - so much for his fantasies. “We have to get out of here Jungkook!!”

The quick-witted captain crouches low enough, telling you to jump on his back. He didn’t need to actually tell you though, because the moment he’d turned around you already had your hands hooked over his shoulders, trying to get him to hurry. Because of all the movements and the noise, the frogs share the same level of alarm as you – one even manages to fasten itself on your shoe. You flail your foot about, subsequently making it fly about a few feet away and thus, making Jungkook burst into laughter.

He remembers the time he’d surprised you with a frog inside a box in front of the whole class, and now you’d managed to get a whole army of frogs chasing you both. It was a living nightmare – for you at least, Jungkook on the contrary though, is positive that he’s having the time of his life watching frogs terrify you.

Just as expected, Jungkook loses his breath from laughter, setting you down gently as you go over the slope. You’re a little bit too hesitant to let go though, that even when Jungkook has turned to face you, you’re still clinging onto his jeogori as if your life depended on it. It’s a relief when he hears you giggle in his chest, assuring him that you were no longer frightened.

Only silence remained as the laughter dies down. There’s the muted croaking of the frogs in the distance, but other than that, you’re left standing in his arms, quiet as ever. “Is it alright if I hold you like this for a while?”

Your sudden request throws the captain off guard. He’s powerless to say no, not when this is the moment he’d been waiting and imagining for years. “Can we just stay like this for a moment longer, Mama?” His voice almost breaks, pleading at the least.

“Of course, Jungkook.”

It seems like a hug is what you both just need.

Just as the rain pours over them, Jungkook feels his own tears rolling down hotly against his cheeks, contrasting the cold droplets of rainwater. His heart hurts. He’s crying.

Actually, you both are.

You find Yoongi lounging extremely close by the doors of your hanok two days later.

The proximity of the southern king startles you and as a gust of wind blows by, some of his bright yellowish hair fly straight into your mouth, “Yoongi!” He fumbles as he pushes his hair back over his shoulder. “Apologies my queen.” There are at least two strands left in your face and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to reach out his hand, taking out the strands with such tenderness, shivering when you feel the cold pads of his fingers against your cheek.

It takes you a moment before you realize what’s happening and you pull away, turning on your heel. “What are you doing here anyways?” you ask, sliding your doors close. You’re meant to wake a lot earlier than you did today and if you don’t hurry, you might just miss your music class with the village kids.

Yoongi hurries after you, trying to keep up with your pace, “I was…um…wondering if I could come to your class today?”

“You?” you think out loud, not sparing him a glance. You don’t put much thought to it with your haste to make it in time, and you tell him he’s free to do whatever he wants. He doesn’t say anything else after that, so you quicken your pace towards the palace gardens.

You reach the reserved spot in no time, with the children already settled in, chatting and playing among themselves. Just as you’d requested the night prior, your gayageum has been assembled just underneath the oak tree.

“Jungjeon-mama, who is that ahjussi behind you?” Turning to see who the child was pertaining to, you come to see Yoongi standing behind you, seemingly offended at how he’d been perceived to be way older than he actually is.

“Ahjussi?!” Yoongi exclaims, face twisted into a grimace, “Who are you calling ahjussi, kid?”

The children are taken aback by the tone of his voice, unaware that he hadn’t taken any offense with the child’s question. The poor boy’s lips quiver in fear. You give the southern king a quick glare before calling the boy over and letting him sit on your lap. While Yoongi approaches the both of you with a softened gaze, the boy nuzzles his head by the crook of your neck, murmuring his fright over the man’s temper.

“Hey little bud,” Yoongi crouches, tapping the boy’s shoulder twice to get the latter to face him. The boy peeks slowly from your neck, eyeing the blonde-haired man warily. “I’m sorry about earlier son. I was just surprised because no one had ever called me that –“

He wasn’t actually going to explain it is he? You clear your throat, interrupting him. Yoongi’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“Right. Say, could you tell me your name?”

“It’s Jinseo.”

“Hello, Jinseo. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Yoongi. Could I make it up to you by playing a song?”

Jinseo paused, head titled slightly to the right as if in deep thought. “It isn’t mine to give you permission. You should ask Mama,” he says smartly, pointing at you. Kids are getting smarter these days.

“Jungjeon-mama?” Yoongi asks with an expectant look. With the other children following suit, you are left with no other choice but to say yes. Reluctantly, you lift yourself up together with Jinseo and taking a spot next to the other children.

“Let me just try to…” Yoongi adjusts himself on the seat, plucking the strings in an uncoordinated manner, “remember…” All of a sudden, he claps like he’d just produced gold from thin air, startling everyone around. “I got it! I got it now, don’t worry.”

You and Jinseo share a look.

If there was any discipline of the arts you could take pride for in yourself, it would have been music. Your father, King Daesin of the south, aside from occasionally practicing medicine, also had the ear for music. He had taught you how to play the gayageum, an instrument you’ve been acquainted with for as long as you could remember. Because of fair years of playing, you could freely boast to anyone that you’re quite exceptional at it, but now with Yoongi and his hands on your beloved instrument... Yoongi was tremendously better at it than you probably ever will be.

A smile creeps onto your face when you realize his acting earlier, pretending to be a beginner with the instrument when he could totally be mistaken for a musical prodigy. What a humble bragger. Yoongi had his eyes closed, pouring his emotion and soul onto the instrument, and even without having to enunciate lyrics to get the message across, it was clear to everyone that the song conveyed sadness in all forms. Each vibration of the string – every sound it made spoke in volumes, moving everyone present in class. By the time he’d finished, all the children were as silent as mice, rigid as statues. This was the first time you’ve seen them all well-behaved.

It also dawns on you that this was the first time any of you were deeply moved by music.

The rest of the class stay silent moments later, all in deep contemplation despite the differences in your ages. From your side, you hear a child sigh to the girl in front of her, “I came to class happy this morning. Now I’m sad.” All of a sudden, Jinseo scrambles out of your lap and rushes to Yoongi, hugging the older man’s side in an awkward manner. Yoongi is caught off guard by the gesture, patting the little boy’s head in a similarly awkward manner.

“Ahjussi,” Jinseo calls once more, maintaining his hold on Yoongi’s waist. The southern king heaves a deep sigh, knowing he’s going to have to deal with that a lot longer than he intended to be. “Why are you sad? You played sad music for us. Now we’re all sad too.” Yoongi is rendered speechless and looks at you with wide eyes, seeking for your help. “Uh...Jinseo, why don’t you ask your Yoongi-hyungnim to play us a happy song then?”

“A happy song!” Sheepishly, Yoongi cheers, clapping his hands in an attempt to get everyone back in high spirits. Thankfully, the children seem to enjoy the idea, so they goad the ahjussi on, wanting to see if he’s just as talented with cheery songs as he is with sorrowful ones.

With a small smile, Yoongi mouths a ‘thank you’ in your direction before placing his hands on the gayageum once more.

“Thank you for saving me a few times earlier during your class,” the southern king says, leaning towards you while he mimics your movements as you wave goodbye to the children. “You haven’t had much experience with children, haven’t you?” you raise a brow at him while a laugh escapes your lips.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Yoongi replies, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good practice though, what you did earlier. One day, you’re going to be a father as well.”

Yoongi eyes you slowly from the side, checking if you realize the gravity of your words. His eyes lower down to your stomach, imagining if the baby growing inside of it was his own blood. Perhaps it was? Perhaps it wasn’t?

He’d been especially concerned about your well-being since last week when shocking news had been continuously delivered right to your arms. He wanted to approach you badly during those rough days, but you were far too pre-occupied to even spare him a second glance. The young king wonders how much of a difficulty it might be for you, but all he wanted was to show you that he was willing to support you in any way that he can.

Yoongi sees Hoseok approach with the jumeoni he’d personally prepared early in the morning. He sees his brother trail not far behind, studying the silk bag in Hoseok’s hands. The southern king had been nervous since last night, continuously practicing his lines to the point where he’s not sure why he’s doing it in the first place. It’s now or never.

“Jungjeon-mama?”

Yoongi winces inwardly as he hears his own voice wavering. Heavens. Why was he so nervous around you? You turn to him with a warm smile. Ah yes – that’s why.

“May I invite you for a walk?” The southern king asks as he beckons his general over who hands him the silk bag. “And lunch perhaps?”

You pause for a moment, recalling your thoughts if you had anything else planned after your music class with the children. Yoongi tries hard to not show too much excitement when he hears your yes. Extending his arm out, he motions for you to walk with him. He feels Jungkook follow you both, and he leans to your side a little, whispering, “I was wondering if we could perhaps…go alone?”

You look at him, as if studying his facial expressions. Turning around, you tell Jungkook to stay put. The captain’s eyes dart back and forth, giving his own older brother a steely gaze before nodding his head and bowing to you. “Don’t worry captain. I’ll scream loudly if anything bad happens,” you tell him as a reassurance.

“In all seriousness, Mama…” Yoongi says, putting on a stern face, even though you are both experiencing clear difficulty with keeping a straight face after hearing Yoongi’s stories. “…do I seriously look like an ahjussi to you?”

You place a hand over your mouth, ineffectively hiding your giggles. Yoongi grimaces, clutching his chest to express his hurt over your reaction. “We can’t blame the kids though. And besides, Jinseo had a valid point.” The young king gives you a playful glare.

Yoongi had been expressing his sentiments over the whole ‘ahjussi’ situation earlier, arguing that he didn’t have enough wrinkles on his face to be even considered one. In Jinseo’s earlier defense though, he stated that only old people had white hair, and if he wasn’t old – why would he even have white hair in the first place. To which, of course, an agitated Yoongi replies: “It’s not white. It’s yellow…ish. And it’s bleach! It’s something I discovered during an overseas travel! A lot of people have this kind of hair color…”

“How are you feeling? Is your pregnancy going well?”

“How did you know about my pregnancy?” Yoongi shrugs as he replies, “Walls are never thick enough to hide news like that.” “Oh.” ‘Oh’ is an appropriate reaction, Yoongi reckons, as he’s had the same sort of response when he’d heard of the news.

“Well, for one, our royal physician Taehyung had scheduled regular visits to keep my condition in check. So there’s that. He advises that as long as keep a stress-free environment, my pregnancy will be just fine.”

Using your chopsticks, you fiddle with the mandu he’s made hours prior, deep in thought as you stare into the distance.

Yoongi hopes that the apparent death of your husband isn’t conducive of stress of a stress-free environment. He makes an inward scoff – as if that’s most likely going to happen. If he’s already thorned by occurrences that seem insignificant to those of the capitol’s then he could only imagine the sort of struggle you have to go through, especially when the backbone of your government is composed of vile men who are strongly displeased by the thought of having a woman on the throne.

The young man lies on his back, stretching out his legs to get rid of the tingling on his soles due to their prolonged sitting. With a long exhale, he closes his eyes, letting his thoughts drift along with the steady breeze.

He knows he’s neglecting his duties as the king of the south by prolonging his stay here, but Seokjin’s death won't settle with him nicely. He has to get to the bottom of this. Even if he’s still holding a grudge against Seokjin for taking you away from the south (and had even secretly wished him dead at some point) he could never plunge a sword to another king, much more to the same one who had taken care of the woman he wanted to call his wife.

He hears rustling from your side, and Yoongi opens his eyes a little to check on you. He watches you clean the bowls and reorganize them back onto the bag he’d brought. You slowly start to turn to face him and Yoongi quickly shuts his eyes, solely relying on his other sense to figure out what’s happening.

“Oh? You must’ve fallen asleep huh?” Yoongi hears more rustling around. “Maybe you could still listen to me even during slumber…” You inhale deeply, “You know…Seokjin was always good with children.”

Yes. Of course, speaking of the spirit.

“Jinseo was one of his favorite students. Jinseo was actually really shy and quiet at first – yet for some inexplicable reason, Seokjin had successfully helped him to come out of his shell and the little boy has been brighter since. Seokjin was always so playful yet so gentle at the same time that whenever he’d visit our classes the children would go crazy over him.”

Well, that’s nice to hear, especially when he’d made a particularly bad first impression with the children earlier.

There’s momentary silence. Yoongi hears a sniff – and a shaky exhale afterwards.

“I miss him Yoongi.” Another sniff. “I miss him so much that it hurts every day. Everything reminds me of him.” The sound of your silent crying rings throughout his ears, yet he can't bring himself to get up and wipe them away, fearing it might cause you to stop pouring your heart out.

Mourning was part of healing. You’d feel lighter after crying. At least that’s what he’d learned from having lost his mother too.

At the same time, Yoongi feels his chest constrict at your words. While you pour your fears out to his sleeping form, he struggles with maintaining a stoic face to keep his act up. His empathy is fighting to register in his features, and when he can no longer hold it in, he turns his back to you, swallowing back his emotions that threaten to pour out after years of hiding.

“Jeonha, I can't seem to find any sign of him anywhere.”

Hoseok slowly and carefully gets back up from his crouching position, groaning in relief as he hears his joints cracking as he twists his torso from side to side. Yoongi does the same, shaking his legs one at a time to get rid of the numbness.

It’s been a few hours since they’ve arrived and Yoongi is getting more hopeless with every passing moment. They have searched everywhere for anything – any sign that he’s still alive.

He’d promised you he’d find your husband and bring him back. Even though you hadn’t exactly heard the silent vow of the southern king, he was a man of his word and he’ll be sure to do everything in his capacity to do it.

Yoongi couldn’t even find the reason why he was going to do it or why he should do it in the first place – whether it be for his own peace of mind, for your happiness, or for the future of the country.

He knew they’d left Seokjin that night and the chances that his fellow ruler was still alive was almost slim to none. He knows that trying to look for a clue and actually succeeding was going to be a long shot, especially when it has already been quite some time Yoongi had returned this morning to make sure but after hours of looking, the place was clean and empty, thus pushing down that gut feeling that maybe, just maybe, your husband was still alive.

Else he’d be forced to prolong his stay and resort to more meddling to protect you from harm.

They’ve already gone through this area, Yoongi thinks, recognizing the same stump he’d seen earlier. He settles himself on the tree remainder and picks up a fallen leaf. Just then, something glimmers from the ground and the curious king bends over once more, picking it up. It’s a bracelet.

Yoongi scoffs to himself: an even more shocking discovery. It’s not just any bracelet – it’s the kind of bracelet only royals can have. And if that isn’t the most astounding part of it yet, etched in the gold pendant is the emblem of the south.

Besides you, there could only be one other person who’d be wearing the same. If he’s still alive that is.

The man’s wife places a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder, massaging them gently to ease the tension on his muscles. She’s never seen him his distraught since…since they left their previous home. Eunkyung is unsure how to give her husband the least solace, not when the circumstances only allow them to hope for the best.

For a moment, they stay like that, quiet and observant. In fact, they had been for almost a full moon, just watching the man they had taken into their home. The man had been looking for firewood that early morning, and he’d found this severely wounded man barely alive in the woods.

He’d carried the man on his back and hurried back home, his initial quest and the pains that came with old age completely forgotten. He had closed off one of his rooms reserved for his patients to tend to this not-so-stranger and had let his wife tend to his other patients while he carefully worked this man back to life for weeks.

“Do you think he will still wake?”

The man is unable to answer promptly as he tenderly takes the sick man’s hand in his and says a short prayer to his ancestors, as well as incorporating a lesson he’d learned back when he was still an apprentice – that human touch was an integral part of the art of medicinal healing.

The physician faces his wife and pulls her closer, likewise placing her hand on top of his and letting her join in his silent prayer. His thumb runs over the ring on the man’s finger, remembering a similar one of his own possession quite a few years back.

“He will. That is what I believe and that is what we are also praying for,” the man replies, checking the temperature of the cloth he’d laid on his patient’s forehead. It’s warm when he takes it, and he makes a mental note to cite this observation in his notes.

“Daesin,” Eunkyung calls, touching her husband’s now bare wrists, “your bracelet…where is it?”

The man sighs heavily, deflated as he rests his weight on his calves. “I…I don’t know, really. I must have lost it when I carried him home.”

It was the only thing reminding him of his past, of you, especially. Now it’s gone – but it really doesn’t matter anymore, not when something, or someone else rather had come into his life so easily. His patient was far more important than any bracelet that proved his previous rule over the southern city.

“I really hope he will get better soon.”

“He has to,” Daesin reiterates, hoping they’d eventually come true, “He has to get better because he’s my son-in-law.”

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hey-lady · 3 years ago

Text

Always To Be Loved

Started off as a headcanon and it became this. Enjoy!

Dr. Turner reminisces on the ones he has lost around the time of the birth of Baby Teddy. He recollects the birth of his first son, Timothy, and his relationship with his first wife and the barriers they faced. Marianne had made her wishes clear for her son early on, but what about her husband?

Read it on ff.net!

Read it on A03!

—

Patrick was surprised when he found himself quite sad at the prospect of Sister Julienne helping his wife through labor and subsequent delivery of his child. It was never because he doubted her skills,—in fact, he could not have chosen someone better for his wife—but rather it was because of Sister Evangelina.

Timothy and Marianne had been under the care of Sister Evangelina back in 1948. Marianne had had a difficult pregnancy filled with a bundle of prospective complications. They quickly came to the conclusion that if they could help it, Timothy would be their only child for the sake of Marianne. She had taken to this situation very poorly and quickly fell into a deep, unresponsive depression. Patrick found himself badly equipped at handling this situation. Her own struggle only reminded him of his pain during the time following the war which no one other than him and his doctors knew about.

Sister Evangelina was the one who noticed their struggle and quickly—and rather unorthodoxly—assigned herself to their case. She spent extra time with Marianne pushing her to continue in her life for her husband and baby's sake. Everyone was astounded by the amount of personal care that she put into the Turner case.

Sister Evangelina never told anyone, but it was because she noticed some distinctive behaviors in Dr. Turner; he would flinch at the mention of any possibility of death, his face would drop instantaneously when someone expressed mental distress due to the war, and he held an obsessive, perfectionist desire for care that if it faltered in any way would cause him to spend the next several days scrutinizing and berating himself.

It became wildly apparent to the Sister that Dr. Turner saw one of the soldiers he was unable to save in his own pregnant wife. In her eyes, it was clear that Dr. Turner had experience some sort of mental instability following his service in the war.

'What if I can not save her?'

This was question that flooded his mind each time Marianne slipped into one of her episodes or her or the baby's health took a turn.

Sister Evangelina saw her place to help and made sure to do so. When the time came for Baby Turner to make their appearance, Sister Evangelina took up her call to action.

Labor had begun close to dawn on a frosty November morning.

—

"Patrick. Patrick, wake up!"

Patrick awoke to find his sheets properly soaked in clear in amniotic fluid, and a terrified wife in the midst of them. Much to his concern, contractions did not arrive until about 2 hours afterwards, but luckily picked up quickly once they did finally begin. Nonnatus House was rung once the pains hit 5 minutes apart, and Marianne could no longer keep silent.

Patrick was frightfully uncomfortable. This certainly was not his first time seeing a laboring woman, but when it is your own wife. Well, it changes things. Nevertheless, he tried his best to coach her through the contractions the best he could with his stereotypical, well-practiced dialogue he said to all his mothers.

But she wasn't all of his mothers. She was his wife.

Although he rarely prayed and did not even know if he believed in God, he prayed today, and prayed that the midwife would hurry up already and take it from here. He was not strong enough for this. After what felt like eternity, but was more likely no more than 20 minutes, Sister Evangelina came knocking on their door, bag and dictating attitude in hand. In true character, he was promptly removed from the bedroom to allow for the women to do their work.

It was a grueling 18 hours of groans, whimpers, screams, and sobs before Sister Evangelina began to question if this baby would come without help. Sister Evangelina had let this labor go on much longer then she normally would ever allow, but she knew that a transport to hospital or even the maternity home would be traumatic for mother, baby, and father.

Baby was refusing to budge despite exhausting the list of solutions. Marianne was at her wits end and was no longer listening to Sister Evangelina or the back up midwife who had arrived several hours before for support. Every time they spoke to her she would thrash her head far back into the pillows refusing to listen to their words of encouragement or instruction. Patrick had stood post and been pacing outside the bedroom door for hours now smoking a countless number of Henleys.

He could not stand it any longer.

It had been hours. Many more hours than Sister Evangelina would ever allow. Enough was enough.

Patrick unceremoniously barged through the door making a beeline for his laboring wife.

"Out! Out! Out! Right now, Doctor!"

Sister Evangelina whipped her head around to see the doctor and was astounded at just how unkempt he looked. His usually pomaded hair was now loose and freed into its natural waved state. It was strewn in all ways across his head with several stubborn pieces falling directly in his face. His eyes were puffed and red and cheeks stained and flushed. All pointing to the conclusion that he had been crying for quite some time now and sleep had completely evaded him. Gone was his coat, tie, and vest, leaving him in a set of wrinkled trousers and a crumpled shirt that was missing cufflinks which forced him to roll it up his forearms. A small glimpse of his chest was provided due to the open buttons and loosened collar around his neck.

In a moment of exasperation and out of character, he pointed his finger towards Sister Evangelina and demanded,

"Absolutely not. You know better than I that she has had an extremely long second stage, and baby is not properly descending into the birth canal. It is in everybody's best interest that a doctor be present."

Even Sister Evangelina could not argue with that. Marianne's blood pressure had been wildly fluctuating, but with her skill and experience had managed to keep it stable enough.

"Pat…Pat? Are you really here?" Marianne whimpered from the mattress. Her hand weakly wavered up from the bed to reach out towards the direction of his voice.

"Of course, dearest. I'm afraid you and baby are having a little bit of trouble. I'm going to be here just to make sure nothing goes amiss."

All doubts of him being unable to handle this situation were out the window. He had to help. He had to.

"I trust you."

"I know you do."

It was at least another painful 45 minutes of breathing, panting, and pushing before Sister Evangelina announced Baby Turner's beautiful vertex was in view and carried an absolute head-full of dark brown hair to prove it.

Patrick was kneeling next to the bed face-to-face with Marianne as she was on her left side with her leg flopped over the Sister's shoulder. One hand was fervently stroking her sweat coated hair out of her face and the other was gripping her hand harder than she was as he coached,

"Breath, Mar, breath. Slowly does it, slowly does it. That's the stuff. You're doing so, so well, my darling." Insisted the 'doctor-who-was-present-only-in-a-completely-medical-capacity. "Let baby do the work. Let baby do all the work now. You've done so well."

"Crowning now, dear Marianne, your baby's head is crowning! Slow push now. Slow, slow push for us." Sister Evangelina coached. "Slowly! Slowly! Slowly! Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, marvelous work, my girl, marvelous work. Next one will do it for us. One more big push for us!"

Patrick looked up. His brown eyes were shining with unshed tears. He never anticipated to ever personally be in this situation. He had always doubted the institution of marriage after seeing the unfaithfulness and violence of his father. Discovering he had no interest in marriage or fatherhood throughout his younger years, he never sought it out. He did not necessarily turn his nose up at the possibility of one day experiencing it, but he had no expectations for it to ever come to him.

Patrick had met Marianne shortly after his release from the psychiatric hospital. She had taken quickly to him, and in desperation for stability, he followed suit. He was ashamed to admit that for the first year or so of their relationship, he did not love her. He used her. She was eager. Cheerful. Did not pry. And bluntly put, a distraction. Marianne knew this but did not mind it. She loved him and truly believed that he would one day as well. Believing this was his one chance, Patrick took the plunge and proposed after a long, yet stable, three year relationship. Patrick had grown to love her in his own way and was genuinely fond of her. It was not the sweeping romance shown in the pictures, but it was happy, and it was stable. Just what he needed.

They were married on a sunny July day in 1947 in the presence of all her family and friends and the small group of his. He was happy, but both of them were naive. They both ignorantly ignored the barriers between them. One of their most obvious barriers was physical.

He had become quite distant in their engagement. He never touched her—really. Only a hand on the small of her back guide her through a crowd. His hand to help her out of a vehicle or off a bus. Occasionally, when publicly necessary, an arm to walk with. Other than that, nothing.

Looking back, he realized that his past self instinctually knew that he was in the wrong. What he was doing to Marianne was not right. She deserved better. He had even tried to let her leave him. He was in no way worthy of Marianne. She was far, far too good for him.

"Marianne, I care for you. I do. Really. Which is why I'm telling you this. I am too much for you. To ask you to bear me and all of my burdens would be far too much to ask. If you want out, I won't be upset with you."

"Patrick…I…I am afraid I do not know what you want me to say. Do you want…out? As you so kindly put it."

"No….," He was lying, "I…I, Marianne, I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy. With you…Patrick," she sighed, "I have to marry you. I have to. Even if I did not want to, and I do! I am over 30 years old and unmarried. Forgive me, but you have no idea what it is like to woman who is unmarried in this society. I am so ashamed. My mother has made sure to tell me that unless I marry you now, I'll never have another chance." She dryly chuckled, "Apparently, I'm far too vocal than what men want. I'm afraid that the war changed me. I always have been, but the war made me quite independent, and I've had trouble letting go of that. You have been wonderful with allowing me that freedom. Patrick, you are a good man. A kind one. You're doctor and will be able to provide for me."

She became too choked up to speak , and tears that had been welling in her eyes began to fall. She moved to sit on the settee in her mother's living room. He slowly joined her; awkwardly, sitting on opposite ends of the piece of furniture. The silence was frightfully loud. Neither one could say how long the sat drenched in stillness.

He hesitated, "Marianne," it was his turn to sigh, "you're right. Certainly you are. I am sorry. It was wrong of me to bring this up."

Marianne shifted to look at him and scooted every so slightly closer to him.

"No! No, Patrick. I am happy you did. I do not expect for you to confess everything of your past. You are nearly a 38 year old bachelor. I am sure you have some things you may not to speak about, and I can respect that."

He moved to sit next to her reached to grab her hands.

"Mar, there is so much that you do not know about me. Things that I am not sure if I will be able to say out loud. I do not want you have to be exposed to that."

He never made eye contact and kept his vision on their now intertwined hands griping each other's.

"Pat…oh Pat…you need not speak about those things if you do not wish. But we can happy. The two of us. We can. Please believe me."

She pressed her forehead into his shoulder and breathed in his scent. He lowered own head to rest a top hers.

The engagement proceeded, and the wedding took place.

—

The physical barrier did not lower once they were wed. He had obviously touched her at their wedding: Offered his arm, held her hand, put his arm around her waist. And even at the end of the night as they prepared for bed, pulled her against his body, brought his hands up to cup her cheeks, licked his lips, and placed a solid kiss on her's. Nothing else happened after that though. Their marriage was not consummated.

They shared a bed. Only occasionally touching each other. He would kiss her cheek each time he left and returned from work. If they ever kissed on the lips, it was Marianne who pulled him down to her level, and it was never more than a swift peck.

Marianne was not a prude. She had worked during the war. Her friends made sure to provide detailed accounts of their liaisons. Her mother had had conversations with her before the wedding. She knew that Patrick was ignoring a vital part of their union.

One night she broached the subject to him. Her seated on the settee mending a sweater and him in his chair smoking a Henley while reading the latest Lancet. He had not always smoked Henleys. It started after his release after he had not been allowed cigarettes out of fear he might hurt himself. When he walked out the doors, the first stop he made was to shop to buy some cigarettes. He grabbed the first pack he could which happened to be Henleys. He never stopped after that; uncharacteristically believing perhaps it brought him some sort of luck.

"Patrick, may I ask you something?" She asked not looking up from her mending.

"Of course, dearest." He responded in the same distant fashion with his eyes not leaving the page as he took a long drag.

"Are you intimate with other women?" She asked finally lifting her eyes from the sweater to gauge his reaction.

His head shot up from the page. Eyes alight with fury and confusion. His body now visibly rigid.

"Marianne. What?" He tightly hushed.

"Are you sleeping with other women?" She repeated her query with insistence.

"Marianne, why would ask that? Do…do you believe that?"

He was angry. He smashed the small remnants of the cigarette he had been smoking into the ashtray on the table next to him.

"Not necessarily. But Patrick, I know that men have needs, and you never once sought relief from me. I know that perhaps I am not as attractive as other women around us, but I won't not lie to you, it is hurtful to think that you would throw your vows away over something like physical attraction. I thought you better than that. Besides I have never been…well…I have never partook in that side of things. I thought you might like that."

Patrick was almost physically sickened by the thought that Marianne believed that he cared about her purity. He had concluded long ago that that sort of thing did not impact his feelings, and he had absolutely no right or business to be passing judgement on what a woman chooses to do with their body.

"First of all, I will have you know that even if you had come having 'partaken' it would not change my view of you. Secondly, Marianne, I would never break my vow to you. Ever. I think and feel far too much for you to ever bring you close to a position like that. I obviously can not deny having not sought relief, as you put it, because of my own insecurities. I will spare the details, but all of my experiences were out of desperation during my younger years. I took…physical…pleasure of out them but the psychological toll was too much for me. I am afraid it has clouded my view of that side of things. I have learned to manage it. I-I-I am sorry, Marianne. I can not talk about this anymore.'

He quickly pushed himself out of his chair, moved across the room, and next thing she heard was the front door opening and loudly slamming shut. He spent the night in his office at his surgery.

—

Patrick returned the next evening with flowers in his hand.

Marianne was sitting at the kitchen table nervously moving her hands around each other. When she heard the door open, her anxiety only rose. His footsteps grew closer to her residing place, and as he came into view, his heart broke at her face. His wife. His young, darling wife thought she was in the wrong for inquiring about the obvious absence in their marriage. She had every right to know why he refused to consummate their union.

She rose from her seated position and they were standing an awkward distance from each other in the kitchen.

"Patrick. Oh Patrick. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. Forgive me. I had no reason to pry you about that. It was completely my fault." Marianne sputtered out quickly before he could say anything. She began shaking with silent sobs and moved to cover her face.

Patrick laid the bouquet down on the counter and intercepted her rising arms and pulled them to wrap around his torso. He wrapped his around her shoulders and tucked her head under his cheek as she cried even harder.

"Marianne, I will hear no such apology from you. The only one who needs to be apologizing and is at fault is me. I have been terribly selfish and ignored your own feelings and needs. You have absolutely every right to ask about the intimate side of our relationship. And even though you do not need it, I give you outright permission to pry about how I am fulfilling my desires."

She hesitantly moved her head from under his and moved to look up into his face. Her eyes were frightfully swollen and red. Much more so than if this would have been the first time she had cried. Brownish, purple rings under her eyes testified to the fact that she did not rest well, if at all, the previous night. She sniffled before she quietly spoke.

"Patrick, I never meant to upset you. It's just that I want to make you happy, and I know that you're not like other men, but you are still a man. And…it's just that…ah…my mother…how do I say this?" She had lowered her gaze to look at his lapels. She squared her shoulders and moved to remake eye contact before saying. "She told me that you would most certainly seek my body as a release and that I should be amenable. I want to help you. Please."

Patrick sighed. His heart broke even more than it already was at the thought that this magnificent woman believed that their intimacy would be a chore for her. It was exactly what he was afraid of.

"My dear, it is my hope that if and when we do become intimate," she shivered in his arms as his voice lowered in his register and became graveled, "that you will derive as much satisfaction as I will."

"That's possible?" She was practically red and uncomfortably shifting in arms from embarrassment. "I am afraid I do not even know what you will get out it. I am terribly unaware of these things."

He cracked a rather sensual smile before lowering it his forehead to rest on hers and said, "Oh it most certainly is."

She sheepishly smiled back and pressed further into the embrace before began moving her gaze to his lips. Patrick noticed shift and took initiative.

He moved his face so that his lips pressed firmly against her smooth, rosy ones. His knees practically buckled when she gently moaned into his. He parted her lips and tongues briefly caressed each other before he pulled away, breathed shakily and rasped, "Marianne, dearest, as wonderful as this is, I am not quite ready to go there. I am sorry. It is completely me. Not you in any way."

She a bit disappointedly looked downwards before looking back up with a wry but gentle smile and said, "Of course. When you are, you know who to ask."

They both softly chuckled at her jab.

—

Their marriage was consummated 7 months after their ceremony. It had been unexpected when it did finally happen and had in no way been planned or anticipated. Since that evening shared the kitchen, the couple had gotten more comfortable and frequent in sharing kisses. In the weeks leading up to the main event, Patrick had begun to let his hands wander—not too far, but enough to be suggestive.

It had begun in the same way and simply put, it did not stop.

Patrick slowly pulled back to break their passionate embrace.

"Oh Pat…Pat, please…Pat, please, no." Marianne muttered. She moved to pulled him back to her lips.

"Marianne, are you sure? Are you ready?" Patrick was taking no chances with this and wanted a clear answer.

"Patrick! Am I ready? Of course I am. I believe the question is, are you?" She breathed out.

He was.

Things naturally progressed from there.

It was difficult for them. Marianne quickly discovered that certain parts of their marital relations caused her a fairly great deal of discomfort despite her desire to experience and provide it. Patrick was wonderfully patient and sought to make her as comfortable and satisfied as possible. It was disheartening for her regardless of Patrick's insistence that she was completely blameless in all of this, and he was still happy with their marriage both inside and outside of their marital bed.

Patrick had his suspicions of whether or not there was a medical explanation for this, and his hypothesis was only confirmed as her pregnancy progressed.

Somehow the thought and prospect of children had never crossed his mind until she started to become quite unwell in spring of 1948. She would be awoken almost every morning by nausea and vomiting that would return in the evenings, and would often return home to her squatted in the kitchen or living room experiencing dizziness or lying on their bed with a headache. It embarrassingly took him several days to put it together.

He glanced over his shoulder find the empty spot in his bed that normally occupied his wife. Before he could question her absence, he heard it: vomiting. As a doctor, he was all too familiar with the sounds of gagging, dry heaving, and vomiting to the point that he found himself barely phased.

Patrick rose from the bed and made his way into their bathroom to find Marianne hunched over the toilet trying to empty her stomach—except there was nothing to empty. He lowered himself on the ground next to her before gathering the hair that was grazing her face. She eventually shifted her face so that her flushed, yet pale, cheek rested of the cold seat of the toilet.

"Nothing is coming out," she croaked, "I honestly wish that something would come out. Maybe I would feel somewhat better."

Patrick only pushed her damp hair behind her ear and began to stroke her cheek before asking, "Would you like me to make an appointment for you to se if there is a problem?"

Marianne's now closed eyes slowly opened before she raised her head and gently smiled at her husband. She could not help but be a little amused at the sight of her dear husband seated on the tiled floor of their bathroom with his wavy mop of a hair wildly askew looking worried and unconvincingly confused.

'Mmm it never does seem to want to corporate, does it? Somehow it fits him though.' She indulged herself with the thought.

She stared at him and murmured, "Patrick, don't act like that. You know what's wrong with me. Don't think I don't see you looking at me differently. You've known for weeks. You probably knew before I did!"

He bashfully averted his eyes down to the tile floor before querying, "How long have you known?"

"A week. I have wondered for about 3 though."

"A baby."

"Yes."

"I suppose they're right. Only takes several times—once really."

"You would know better than I." She countered. "Pat," she reached to caress and stroke his cheek with her thumb, "I hope this is alright."

"We don't have much choice do we?"

"I'm afraid not." She whispered to him. Marianne hesitated, "But this could be good. This could be really good. Yes?"

"Of course it can," He was surprised to feel himself grinning, "As long as the baby is like you."

"No! I want him to look and act just like you."

"Him?"

"Yes. Him."

—

And now they were here. Patrick stared at the midwife who just announced that his baby's head was resting in her hand. His baby was about to enter the madness of the world that they called home.

Patrick snapped back and turned to his laboring wife who was whimpering into the pillow absolutely exhausted.

"Mar. Marianne. Marianne, darling. Baby is about to be born. Our little baby is about to be here." He was so proud. "We only need one more big, big push from you." Patrick was practically begging before the next contraction arrived, "I am so proud of you. So, so proud."

Unsure if she even heard him, he looked back down to the end of the bed where Sister Evangelina resided. She looked conflicted.

"Sister?"

"If you utter a single word to a single soul about what I am about to do, you will live to disdain the very day you were born."

Patrick bewilderedly started at her before she motioned for him to join her. He glanced at his wife and realized she was so exhausted she would not even notice the absence of his hand. He quickly shuffled down.

"Finish us off then."

Sister Evangelina backed away leaving him to handle to rest of the birth on his own. Her contraction began as her whimpers turned to groans. With no time to waste, Patrick became Dr. Turner.

"Marianne, big push for us. One more." Tears were pouring down his cheeks as she encouraged her. "Come on. Yes! Yes! Bit more. Little bit more! That's it! Oh…oh…oh Marianne!"

His baby.

His son.

His son was now wailing in his arms making it abundantly clear that he was not pleased with the harsh change in temperatures upon his arrival into his father's arms. Patrick was weeping. Absolutely, positively, completely weeping over his son that was held in his hands. Tears poured down his cheeks and slid down his chin onto his neck. Several probably landed somewhere on the baby.

He was tiny. So very, very tiny. He was a normal size for a newborn baby, but Patrick could not help but be struck by the fact that this small creature was encased in his two hands.

'What a privilege.' He thought.

And then he remembered his wife. His wife. His wonderful, brilliant, magnificent wife who had carried, nurtured, and birthed this child. How could he forget?

"Marianne, we have a son! He is so, so beautiful!" His voice was thick with tears.

Marianne had suddenly been revitalized at the sound of her baby's crying. She had flopped over onto back. Nightgown hiked up around her waist soaked with sweat, fluid, and blood. Legs wide open. It mattered very little to her as she reached for her son. Her arms were aching to hold him.

"The cord, Doctor." Sister Evangelina intervened the touching moment. He chuckled at his forgetfulness and glanced up at the Nun to find tears filling her own eyes. As she leaned in to take over from him, she moved so that her face was directly in line with his grinning profile. She warned into his ear.

"Just so we're clear, Doctor, everyone outside of this room will be under the impression I delivered this baby."

He only smiled wider and grabbed the clamps she was offering and swiftly cut the tie between mother and baby that had sustained and formed his son.

He quickly swaddled baby up in a towel that was placed on the bed for that very purpose and moved to place their son on his mother's chest. Her arms were outstretched and an absolutely beaming and glowing smile plastered her face as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Had he ever seen a more beautiful sight?

His wife holding his son.

If he had doubted it in the past, now he was certain: he was hopelessly in love with that woman.

He had just watched her become the mother of his child.

How could he not love her?

"Oh my dear. Oh my darling." Marianne was crying over her baby as she tried to soften his own. "I want you always to be loved."

He would.

—

Patrick sat back as he remembered that moment. One of the happiest moments of his life. Timothy was his saving grace after Marianne died. A gift from her.

It was when Timothy was around 4 years old when she first began to have issues. Her cycles became longer and more painful. Timothy had to start going to nursery daily for about a week and half as she became incapacitated.

She never really opened up to him about it. He often later blamed himself for not prying more and possibly intervening sooner. He obviously knew something was awry and begged her to go and see a specialist. She refused to even let him examine her and certainly had little desire to inquire further.

For 3 long years, Marianne suffered in agonizing pain often undermining her discomfort for the sake of her husband and son. Timothy knew no different and simply understood that Mummy was sometimes quite poorly. In those times, he would go to nursery, with Daddy to the surgery to play in his office, sometimes even to Nonnatus House to spend time with the nurses and nuns, and to Granny Parker's to be showered with love and cakes.

Her diagnosis was clear and obvious once she finally relented to help after the insistence of Sister Evangelina.

"You are hurting your son by not caring for yourself. You know better than this."

Uterine Cancer.

It was a result and explanation of a slew of issues she had experienced throughout her late 20s and 30s.

Patrick was absolutely ashamed to not have noticed it sooner. Perhaps he had, but just did not want to accept it.

He did not want to think about her death. Not right now. His current wife, his darling, darling, darling, Shelagh, was about to give birth to their third baby any day now.

He could not help but be reminded of his first wife though. Sometimes he wondered if Marianne was watching over them. Ironically, he had always called Shelagh his "Angel" and not Marianne. The latter would make more sense technically. Yet, he had occasionally pondered if Marianne had actually sent Shelagh to him and Timothy.

Marianne had made her requests clearly known during her departure.

She had been sleeping almost constantly, likely due to the large quantities of morphine coursing through her cancer-ridden body. The end was very much near.

Patrick refused to leave her side. Clinging to her hand. Holding it to his face and heart. He knew she was leaving him and yet he refused to accept it. He could barely fathom that there had been a point in his life where he was with her and not utterly in love with her. As soon as he recognized it, she was leaving him.

"Patrick?" She rasped, barely audible "Pat…Pat? Are you really here?" Marianne gripped his hand with the most strength she could muster.

"Of course, dearest. I'm afraid you're having a bit of trouble. I'm going to be here just to make sure nothing goes amiss." His face crumbled into pieces as his sickeningly remembered the last time they had said those words to each other. There would certainly be no baby at the end of all this. He clung tighter to hand and pressed his fervently to his wet cheek.

"Patrick." Her eyes were surprisingly cognizant and fierce. "Patrick, you must promise me something. Please. For my sake. So I can rest easily."

"Marianne. Oh, Marianne…Mar…please don't say that."

"We both know it's true. You know better than I." She managed a wry smile remembering yet another moment they shared.

"Find her."

"What?…Who?…Marianne, who are you talking about? Your mother? She's looking after Timmy. I can get her." He began to rise from the chair to summon his mother-in-law.

"No, Patrick." She forced him to stay and somehow managed to grip even tighter to his hand.

"Find her. The one who you're meant to be with. The love of your life. Your soulmate if you believe in all that."

"Marianne, what are you talking about? You're right here—"

"No. Oh no, Patrick. No, Patrick. We both know I'm not that woman. Perhaps you're mine, but I'm not your's. I can see it. I can feel it. I always could."

Deciding an argument would most definitely not be a good use of the little time they had, Patrick made an attempt at a joke through his tear coated voice.

"You'll have to help me then. You know how bad I am at missing the obvious when it comes to my personal life." He choked out with a wet smile. Her hand was now covered in his salty tears.

She smirked.

"Oh. Oh, I will." She looked up at the ceiling that was behind his head convivially, deep in thought.

"Maybe I'll make her fall. Injure herself." Marianne was beginning to wheeze but managed to continue. "Nothing too serious. No, that would be wrong of me. Enough for her to need your medical expertise. Knowing you though, that would not be enough." She moved her head back to establish eye contact with him before whispering. "Perhaps I can arrange a reason for her to be sent away as soon as you realize and cause you to spend your days and nights pining and longing for her. Mmm…yes, I think that will do best."

They managed to share a small laugh.

"And where will Timmy be in all of this?" He humored her.

"Oh he'll be painfully aware of what's happening." Her face fell as it became serious. "She's going adore him. My little Tim. Oh." Tears of joy begin to rain on her cheeks "Oh. She'll love him so much. I'll make her forget sometimes that he's not her's…He'll never forget me though. I know it."

"No. He won't. I won't let him."

"Good. Good." She smiled again. "And I think I'll see if I can't find some siblings for Tim."

"Siblings? As in more than one?"

"Oh yes. A whole brood of children." She held her eye contact with his tear glistened brown ones.

"Promise me, Patrick. Find her. Promise me right now."

"Marianne—"

"Patrick, promise me. Cross your heart right now."

"Alright. Just for you." He put his right hand over his heart. "I promise."

"Thank you."

—

Sister Evangelina had been there with him as Marianne left the world. Just as she had been when his son entered the world. Once again she had been there to help guide him through the waters he had never anticipated in drowning in. It was ironic, poetic really, the two of them sparred more than any other midwife he had ever worked with. And yet, there she was, by his side.

When he had proposed to Shelagh and word spread through Nonnatus, he avoided her. Out of complete and utter fear.

One day though, she called him out to a delivery. Classic case of forceps. All ended well and as they were cleaning up and leaving, the inevitable arrived.

"So. Dr. Turner, how is Shelagh?"

"She is quite well. I'll be sure to tell her you asked after her. She will appreciate it."

She pursed her lips. He feared for his survival.

"Doctor…I need know only one thing."

"Yes?"

"Do you love her?"

"She's the love the of my life, Sister."

She cocked an eyebrow, smirked, nodded, and moved on with her day. She did not let him off the hook. Oh no. She took every chance she got to make a comment about the doctor taking one of her sisters.

—

Patrick brooded over his cup of tea as he remembered several other memories with Sister Evangelina. His discovery that she spoke to Shelagh about her infertility, her first visit to meet their Angela, his hearing about her health issues, her stroke, and most difficult of all—having to be the one to pronounce her death. The only one harder than that one was Marianne.

That was a memory for another day. Sister Evangelina would most certainly not be pleased with him spending this much time remembering her. She might condone his late wife's memory, but her certainly not her own.

Instead, he smiled down at ring that now was housed on his left hand.

'Yes.

Sister Julienne is a most appropriate choice for my Shelagh.'

15 notes · View notes

choco-mark · 5 years ago

Text

A Marriage of Inconvenience (3)

overall pairing: mafia!jeno x mafia!oc

overall genre: angst | smut | fluff

warnings: language, mentions of violence + death, oppression of women, murder/homicide, forced (?) kissing but it’s implied that she likes it, mentions of drugs + drug use + drugging someone else, emotional blackmail (kinda)

summary: when two mafia gangs decide to end their family feud after decades, your mother decides to give your hand away to marriage of their son, lee jeno. he seemed to hate you from the moment he laid his eyes on you, but could the resolution lead to something much more than a bride and groom?

words: 5.2k

masterlist

requested by 🤡 anon

18 April

You felt yourself wake up with a haze in your brain, feeling like you were fogged from heat as you opened your eyes with a few blinks. Your body felt like it was on fire, and just as you let out a groan, you tried to bring your hands to your face to rub it a bit, but you couldn’t. Your vision blurred, you tugged at your arms again, now hearing the chains that were coming from the cuffs around your wrists and ankles, anchoring you to the ground.

What happened? It was like someone had read your thoughts when you heard a bright, yet deep laugh in front of you, startling you as you struggled to look up from where you were. I was at the hideout, in the hallway, a smoke bomb went off, and—

Your memory blanked out from there, the last words in your brain being those from your darling fiancee. The entire world is a game, Park. We’re all just a bunch of players. But nothing seemed to come after that, a complete wipe out of everything that could have happened after that smoke bomb went off. “Who’s there?”

A figure came closer to you, your vision clearing slowly with each move it made until it was in the front, kneeling down to the level you were at. The ‘it’ was rather a man, and a very beautiful one in your perspective. His face inched closer to yours, eyes darting all over your face before the ends of his lips darted up in a twisted smile, painting his face gorgeously. “He was right, baby, you’re a pretty one.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the motion was cut off harshly, the man’s lips coming crashing down on your own as you attempted to push him away. The jingle of the chains was a loud echo in the room, making the man giggle as he dodged your teeth, pressing his tongue into your mouth instead. His mouth was warm, so sweet and inviting as his tongue molded against yours, urging you to give in—to kiss him back for just a moment.

He pulled away from you, the dyed silver hair falling over his eyes as he pushed it back in one motion, licking his lips as if he had just tasted something. “I could just ruin you, Park—” A hand went to your jaw as you opened your mouth again in the slightest, grasping it tightly in his palm as he pulled you closer to him once again.

In all your years of experience in fighting, never did you think you would go so weak in the knees for such dominance like this. Whoever this mysterious man was, he was making your heart jump in less than a second, making you wonder how you were being so affected by this. I’m drugged, aren’t I? That’s why I’m so weak.

You weren’t wrong about that, but it wasn’t the drugs that let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed across your neck, hoping that he wouldn’t hear. He did, however, the darkness of his eyes focusing back on you as a smirk plastered his face again. “So impatient, you are a Park indeed, sweetheart. Say—”

The man’s words were cut off short with a bang coming from the end of the room, making you jump as a door had flown open, a man coming in storming hastily towards the two of you. He let go of the grasp around your jaw, sighing deeply as he stood back up, licking his lips once again as his eyes never left yours. God, why is that so hot? What the fuck? What’s wrong with me?

He turned away from you, facing where the opening of the door was, the people coming into closer view as your eyes focused on the one in the front, his eyes narrow and full of pierced anger. A wave of exhaustion took over you as you recognized the person, the one with the familiar sound of his jeans and black polished boots.

“I told you to watch her, bastard!” he snarled as he took a hold of the other’s man’s collar, pulling it closer to him with a force that made it seem like he would destroy. “Not taint her with your foul blood.”

“Shut up, Taeyong,” the silver-haired man pushed him away with a palm, dusting off his clothing like it was nothing. He looked back up at him, rolling his eyes with another step closer. “All I did was kiss her, brother.”

Taeyong didn’t look at you, his eyes only angrily shaking at the man in front of him as you tried to connect the dots. Your brain was failing to cooperate, however, because with every mental move you tried to make, you felt like you were going to pass out. Taeyong. Lee Taeyong. Where am I, then?

“And you know what,” he continued, looking down at you to where he had just previously stuck his tongue down the wet walls of your throat. “My blood is your blood, you know that. Can’t you lend the girl to me? She’s a Park after all, how can I resist?”

Taeyong seemed to be annoyed with his answer, waving him away for his behavior as the anger dissipated from his face in an instant, looking down at you instead. In his eyes, you looked perfect, just where you belonged as you were locked down to the ground by his own handmade chains wrapped around your shimmering skin.

It was exactly what you had thought when he just smiled at you, scanning your entire body as your completely wrecked figure overtook his vision. No, Taeyong wasn’t here to save you, you didn’t think he would be the type to do so. He leaned down closer to you, the other man watching as he came down to your level, raising a hand to stroke your hair softly.

“D-Don’t touch me,” you tried to get out, but it was weak, falling from your lips as a desperate whisper that almost pleaded ‘please, touch me’ as they both chuckled, the argument that had taken place merely seconds ago no longer seeming to be an issue. He’s the one who drugged me, isn’t he?

“You’re so much better like this,” his thumb brushed over your lips, the lingering kiss from the silver-haired man still sugary on the edges as he pressed past them, slipping it into your mouth for a brief second before pulling it out. It was filthy, the way your saliva coated his finger until he traced your jawline with the wetness, the liquid drying onto your skin uncomfortably. “So much prettier, pure and hmm—beautiful. Aren’t you just a work of art?”

He didn’t just drug me, he kidnapped me too. His hand trailed to the back of your neck, coldness meeting your hot skin as he chuckled at your heat, eyes darkening from how messy you were getting. Your eyes faltered, looking from Taeyong to the other man, and then back to him; you tried at the chains again, feeling so out of control.

And I think I know exactly why.

Jeno’s hands ran through his now dirtied blond hair for about the hundred time, ruffling it madly as he made his way through the hallway. It had been only a few hours since he had—just lost you from his grasp, and it was already taking a toll on him. Not only did his father just threaten to kill him, he also had held Mark with a knife at his throat, his own son’s throat, threatening to him that he would kill his brother if he didn’t bring you back in one piece.

It didn’t matter how much he reminisced over the events that took place earlier, because your presence was gone almost as quickly as it was there. He had one thing to do, and he fucked that one thing up; if he wasn’t able to find you before the two of you were supposed to have your ‘formal’ engagement, your family would probably wage war against the Lees. Well, it was inevitable at this point, though, since everything that just happened seemed so intricately planned out leading to your disappearance. It wasn’t normal.

Mark walked beside the younger man, scrolling through his tablet on something related to illegal hacking, seeming deeply focused on whatever it was until Jeno reached his room. He looked up from the screen, his eyes shining as he bid him a short goodbye and a promise to inform him if he found anything related to your whereabouts.

It was obvious that Jeno was beyond frustrated: frustrated with himself for being able to lose his hold on you so quickly, and with his father, who didn’t even offer an ounce of help in order to locate you. It was all up to him, and if you weren’t found and brought back to the Lees, other things with happen, things that included your family and his.

He was halfway through stripping his dirty clothing from his body when Mark came bursting into his room, a laptop covering his face as he slammed the door and walked over to his brother, shoving it towards. “I found something—”

The screen reflected a large map of the city, with a point fixated in the middle, marking familiar looking coordinates. Jeno couldn’t quite pinpoint what was so oddly familiar about it, and the longer he looked at the numbers, the more confused he got. He looked up at Mark, blinking a few times. “I don’t get it.”

“Doesn’t it look familiar?” He used his fingers to zoom in on the touchpad, tapping again to show the numbers of the coordinates. “Remember when Father first took us out for a battle, maybe when we were like—thirteen or fourteen? He made us memorize the coordinates.”

Of course Jeno remembered his first battle, the first time he had ever held a gun in his hand away from the training room and the first time he had shot a bullet into a living breathing person. He had earned one of his very rarely occurring praises from his father that day, but it had easy been taken away when he had overestimated himself, ending up with a broken shinbone for a few weeks. It was also the first time he had gotten hurt in battle, and the first time he had lost one.

“Y/N had a phone,” Mark continued, making Jeno perk up from the words. He hadn’t seen you using a phone, not that you were necessarily allowed anyway. “I saw her take one with her before she left, so I traced it down from a few networks to see what was actually on the phone. Whoever kidnapped her had tried to erase everything from the net, but I was able to scavenge the last message sent from her phone.”

With a few taps, he pulled up a encrypted file, typing a few more things to show the actual message. “It was sent from her phone, almost right after we got back home. I couldn’t find who the message was sent to, but it was to a contact that was frequently called in the past few days. But, I was also able to scavenge her last call.”

He pulled up an audio file, pressing it a few times before it played. Your voice came ringing from the device, a voice softer than what Jeno had ever heard from his time with you. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay without me.” The second voice was deep, and Jeno was obviously not expecting it to be a—male.

“But I miss you,” he could hear the slow burn of the other’s voice, the very slight crack that he was able to hear. “Will you come to see me after? Will you visit me soon?” There was a pause, and for a moment Jeno thought that the clip was over, but your soft chuckle was vibrant, startling him a bit; he hadn’t heard you laugh purely before, only in sarcasm or annoyance.

“Maybe one day, Sungie, I’ll see you.”

Jeno couldn’t help but feel like he was eavesdropping on a conversation that he clearly was not supposed to hear, but he continued listening intently, listening to the male let out a dry chuckle. “But you won’t be with me anymore.”

“Shh, I’m always with you, Jisungie.” The audio broke, your voice being the last ringing noise in Jeno and Mark’s ears as Jeno looked over to his older brother, confusion spreading across his face. Who was she talking to?

“It’s her younger brother,” Mark seemed to have read his mind, taking the laptop back into his hands as he plopped down on the bed, starting to type rapidly. “I tracked him down too, Park Jisung, eighteen. Lives in the Park mansion on the other side of the city, where Y/N used to live. I’m assuming that these coordinates were also sent to his contact, which means whoever kidnapped her also wanted to tie in her family with this.”

It was all a sudden blur to Jeno, it didn’t even seem like it was real as he thought about how coincidental the entire situation was. You were kidnapped, apparently last tracked down at the exact coordinates that he had his first battle at, along with a message sent to your brother basically asking him to come there. It didn’t even seem a little bit right.

After a little more blanking out, it hit him. He clapped his hands together loudly, startling Mark as he sat down next to him. “Remember what Father said on that day? He said that one day we wouldn’t be part of NCT Lee anymore, because we would have evolved into our own people.”

Mark scrunched up his face, nodding for him to continue. “He told us that all of our skills would go use eventually, and it wouldn’t be for the Lees, it wouldn’t be for the family anymore because fighting isn’t about family. Winning isn’t about family.”

“I don’t get it, where—are you going with this?”

“Listen!” Jeno threw up his hands in slight frustration. “He told us that clans never lasted for as long as they thought they would, and that NCT would have to be reorganized once again with all of us included. That’s what the coordinates are for, he wanted us to memorize them because that’s where the beginning of the new clan would be. Or—rather, group.”

He pointed straight at the longitudinal coordinate, the numbers flashing on the screen brightly as he did so.

“NCT 127.”

There was a silky blindfold drawn over your eyes when you woke up again, the initial haze draining your body once again as you sat up, the chains having been removed from your body. But you were tied together now, ropes enclosed your wrists together behind your back, making you struggle.

A hand yanked off the ribbon around your eyes, bright light finally filling your vision. You could feel your head spinning, probably from whatever they had given you previously. “Aw, pretty Y/N is finally awake—”

It was the same sweet voice as before, and you watched as a figure appeared in front of you. You were on some kind of couch now, no longer in the same white room full of painful looking chains, and there was someone sitting across from you. The silver-haired man leaned down to your level, clicking his tongue in mock pity.

“Who are you?” The words came out groggy, almost as if you had been dehydrated for days as your mouth involuntary salivated, making you press your dry lips together. “Who—”

“You can call me Haechan,” he cut you off, his hand moving to your jaw as he forced your face upwards, his own face inching closer to yours. “Oh, baby, it’s so sad that you can’t be mine. Look at you, you’re gorgeous, hmm. I even brought you a gift, darling.” His last words came out as a low hiss, sending shivers through your body as he moved away, letting the person in front of you come into view.

You could’ve sworn your heart stopped in your chest as you saw the familiar dyed hair masking the dark eyes of your younger brother; his eyes were closed, probably dozed off from the way his stance was relaxed, though he had the same ropes around his wrists and ankles. How did he get here? Why did they take him too?

As you opened your mouth to speak, Haechan leaned over to you, untying your wrists just to yank one towards him, a syringe shining in his hands as you tried wriggling away. No wonder you were feeling so out of reality, dozing in and out so quickly, your heart rate faltering as you could barely even keep your breathing normal. “Heroin,” you whispered as you gave up against his grip, wincing slightly as he injected you with it.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he answered softly, contrasting from how he had just given you some of the most dangerously addictive stuff on the planet, pushing you down against the couch as he retied your wrists. “You’re starting to love it, sweetheart, and I’ll keep giving it to you if you continue behaving like a good girl. Hmm?”

Haechan’s hand stroked your hair as he leaned you against the soft cushions, wandering his eyes over your face as he saw you fall into the drug, being thrown into a pleasurable rush, resulting in you letting out a quiet sound. “Feels good, hmm? You like it?”

You couldn’t answer him, your mind being thrown into another reality as you foggily saw him moving over to Jisung, pulling out his arm in the same fashion. “No,” you cried out, launching yourself forward until you were on the ground, your knees grazing painfully against the wooden surface as Haechan looked down at you in awe, his hand drawing back. “Don’t—” He saw your look of desperation, a look that said ‘please, don’t drug my baby brother’ as you struggled against the ties, trying to stand up in your position.

“You don’t want me to give him some too?” He threw the syringe on the other couch, pulling you up by the waist and throwing you back across from your brother. His fingers lingered on your body for a second longer before he pulled away, tucking a hair away behind your ear as he watched your eyes flutter shut, and then you force them open. “Don’t be selfish, baby, let him have some too.”

“N-No, don’t—please,” you choked out as he took a step back, hooking your legs around his to keep him in place. “Don’t—give him any, please. Don’t touch him—please...”

Haechan wished he could’ve given into your pleads, seeing your eyes turn glossy with each move he made. He glanced over to where the door was, knowing that his older brother would come in at any second to see if he was doing his job properly. All he had to do was put you in a position where you wouldn’t be able to refuse him, and Taeyong was smart enough to know that you could bare the pain against yourself.

But if it was your family, that was a different situation. Parks did everything for their family, fought for pride and not victory, that was something he learned at a very young age. Family was the last sacrifice that a Park would make, the last sacrifice after themselves. “Please don’t drug him, H-Haechan—”

You weren’t sure if using his name would have convinced him not to, already having seen that he was hesitating from the way you were looking so sincere and affected by just the idea of Jisung being drugged. It wasn’t fake, for once, the emotion was just as real as you showed him, because no, you didn’t want your brother to be harshly drugged the way he had just done you.

But he didn’t speak, only pulling your legs off of him and smoothing it down to the ground, wondering if he should tie your ankles together. You watched as he let his hand wander, rubbing your thighs in a slow fashion, making you believe that he was focusing on you instead of him. It was working, but only for a second until he pushed your body back against the couch with a hard force, knocking the air out of your lungs as he grabbed the syringe again.

“I have to.”

April 19

Jeno knew that he shouldn’t have waited the next morning to go after his lead on you, but his father had refused to send him out on the same day, which seemed contradictory from his words before. He expected that he would’ve agreed immediately, considering he wanted you back that much before, but it just seemed to change in the matter of a few hours.

There was something off about the whole situation, and Jeno didn’t know if it was just his inner self telling him that something was wrong, or if he was overthinking it all. Maybe your entire disappearance was a whole mystery, which was right, it just seemed all too perfect for it to be real. There was no way that Mark would have been able to track you down that easily, usually if someone went missing from the Lee crew, it would take weeks for them to be tracked down, where they were usually found dead.

What was even more confusing was that someone had knowingly kidnapped you, which was what Jeno still couldn’t wrap his head around. They had contacted your brother from the Park household, so was there a possibility that this was a feud between the mysterious 127 gang that was only a myth from his father’s old stories. Yet they had kidnapped you under his own nose, right beside him with the knowledge that you were taken along with the Lees for a mission, which was something that no one but his team and his father knew.

“Have you seen Donghyuck?” Mark snapped him out of his thoughts, making him look up from his spot in the lobby. “He said he was going underground for dealing before we went out, but I don’t think he ever came back. I just called him like four times, he’s not picking up and I can’t trace his phone—”

Jeno sighed, shaking his head from his thoughts at the mention of his younger brother as he stood up. “Just hope he didn’t knock up some girl again; are you ready? Shouldn’t we have left like—ten minutes ago?” Mark nodded, looking down at his phone before stuffing it in his pocket.

“Yeah, the rest of the guys are in the van already. Also, Father only gave us one today, I asked him for two but he said we wouldn’t need that many people.” He rolled his eyes slightly at his own words, gesturing Jeno towards the door. “Whatever, I think he wants us to find her because we technically lost her, so we only got five other guys. Don’t tell him I said this but, I think he’s kind of crazy.”

“Like, Y/N just got kidnapped and she’s one of the highest ranked soldiers in all of NCT, shouldn’t that like—ring some warning bells? Shouldn’t that mean we should bring more men? Unless he’s wishing us death.” Mark sounded fed up as he spoke, opening the doorway to the large garage, making his way to the van with Jeno following suit.

“I wouldn’t really be surprised if he wanted us to die,” Jeno mumbled in response, running a hand through his head as he climbed into the back of the—not very large vehicle, sitting beside Mark and his technical gadgets. “But he’s obviously expecting us to bring her back before some war breaks out or something.”

It was true, there would be an easy war started with a small match if the Parks found out that the Lees had lost you, their literal prized soldier. And the worst part was that it be completely in the hands of Jeno, the person who was supposed to fucking marry you. He let out a strangled sigh, placing his head in his hands as the van started its engine, driving off to the destination.

At this point, Jeno wished that he was married to you, rather than looking for you all over the city while having his head, and his brother’s head, on the death toll basically waiting to be chopped off if you weren’t brought back in one piece. Wait, no, why would I want to marry her? She’s a bitch.

He glanced up to Mark, who was hastily working on his laptop with something. Mark liked you, at least from what Jeno was able to perceive, he had seen the way you had calmly talked to him the day before him, in a van similar to this one. You didn’t look like you wanted to kill him, not the way you usually snarled at Jeno whenever he spoke. Mark even called you by your first name, which was weird hearing, considering you and him usually just addressed each other on a last name basis.

It had hit him earlier that day that you certainly didn’t want to be inside of his house as much as he didn’t want you in his house, especially from how you talked so highly about your family as if they were the only thing that mattered on the planet. Well, to you, family was everything. Loyalty was everything, just like you had said.

“She’s not as bad as you think she is,” a voice came from beside him, startling Jeno as he looked over at Mark, whose eyes never left his screen. “I know what you’re thinking. You’ve just been a complete ass to her, even though you’re the one she’s marrying. You know that she was supposed to marry Taeyong, right?”

“Yeah, I—wait, what?”

“I assumed that Father didn’t tell you, clearly from the way that you were, uh, behaving around her. Taeyong was the one who saw Y/N on a mission and told Father he—wanted her, I think? And you know Father, well, he’d do anything for his oldest son. So, he sent a letter of engagement. But Y/N is five years younger than him, so the Parks declined. I mean, they declined but not really, they still wanted the peace treaty, so they said they would give her hand to someone who was the same age as her. And, well it went down to you, since Donghyuck wasn’t, well—considered pure blood.”

So that’s why Taeyong was always lingering near her hallway, so he wasn’t fucking one of the servants. Jeno scratched his head confusedly. “Why didn’t I know this? Wait, how do you know this?”

“Donghyuck told me everything, yesterday actually. Taeyong was kind of—the first person Y/N when she got to the palace, and I swear he looked like he was gonna eat her or something. I knew that he was the one who wanted her in the first place, but he didn’t really seem to care that you were engaged to her, so I didn’t think it was really that big of a deal. He kept trying to go into her room, apparently according to some of the servants, and I even saw him once. But, I haven’t seen him since yesterday. I don’t think he knows that she’s gone...”

Something didn’t feel right, for about maybe the third time in the same day. So Taeyong was the one who wanted to marry you, that explained why you had kept saying you were here because of the Lees. She said it on the first day, that someone in the house wanted her here because they saw her during a battle or something. I thought she was lying—

The van came to an abrupt stop, making everyone lurch forward with a combined yelp. “What the fuck happened?” Jeno called for the driver, who had just survived some serious whiplash. “Hey! Why’d you stop? There’s nothing—”

The backdoor of the van slid open with a quick motion, making Jeno and Mark turn tense up, with Jeno aiming his gun straight at the now open door. His hands loosened as he saw who it was, the familiar man he had known so well taking a step up into the van, kneeling to avoid hitting his head against the top. The rest of the men lowered their guns, looking at each other in confusion as he turned to Jeno, a smirk on his face.

“I knew you would come, brother.”

“Y/N, Y/N, wake up,” you felt cool hands on your cheeks, contrasting from the warmth coming from your body as you heard the recognizable deep voice. Your eyes fluttered a little, opening enough for you to see Jisung, his eyes wide and concentrated on you. “Are you okay? Y/N, wait, wait, no don’t close your eyes!”

You took in a short breath, feeling at your wrists to see that they were free, your arms moving slowly as you tried to control your movements. The memories from earlier surged through your head in one motion, making you force your eyes open at your brother. “Did he inject you? Sungie—did he—”

You let your hand slide down his arm, your eyes falling on the puncture mark in the middle, making you let out a painful sigh. He only gave him one dose, right? That’s why he’s still cold. It wasn’t that much. Right? More means he would end up like me. “Inject me? What—what do you mean?”

As he hoisted you up, you looked around the room, scanning it to see no trace of both Taeyong or that—Haechan guy. With another sharp breath, you let yourself lean against the cushions, feeling completely drained out. “Do you know how you got here? Where were you? H-How did they find you? Did you leave the house for a mission, what happened?”

Jisung shook his head, his hair bouncing around with him as he looked at you worriedly and then looked to the ground. “I—You texted me. I mean, I don’t think it was you anymore, but it was from your number. There were coordinates, and it said that you would meet me—there. I told Mom that I was going underground, and I—took a car. It was the center of Seoul. I went into one of the parking garages, and that’s all I remember until—now.”

You hummed, brushing your hair away from your face as you stood up slowly, seeing the broken ropes on the ground and glancing back at your brother. “You got out of the ties, like I taught you?” He nodded, a small smile on his face as you couldn’t help but feel a little proud, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

You knew how much he hated when you did that, but he received it with a soft expression. It hadn’t even been too long since you had actually seen him, but it had felt like too long of a time, and even though this wasn’t the most ideal reunion, it was better than nothing. You had really thought you wouldn’t see him for a long time.

“How about we get out of here, hmm?”

previous | next

hi guys, here’s the third chapter! it’s gonna get wow very spicy in the fourth part like VERY SPICY, and i won’t make you guys wait as long this time!! expect the fourth part before the dreamies comeback?!?! i hope this chapter wasn’t too boring because there’s no...action between y/n and jeno but this is important for future chapters!! :) love y’all, stay safe and healthy ♡

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scoundrels-in-love · 4 years ago

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Almost 300 years a week later, here are some of my thoughts on Dan Ah and her actions through ep 11 and 12. I will try not to repeat too much of the points I made here, or elsewhere in my rambles, but if it happens, it happens. + I won’t operate on mindset that you’ve read it.

First, I think her saying ‘apologies are meaningless, I can’t take back things I said, only make up for it’ is incredibly telling of her as person and the kind of environment she grew up in - the high society and family where apologies are dished out hollowly and never followed through with intention of changing something for the better or your behavior. Time and how you spend it is very important to her. She even says as much in her confession and I think it only outlines how much her time is the one thing she tries to have control of, and exert it (over herself as well). Considering the concept of possibly terminal illness that she suffers from, it makes sense. She doesn’t have time to be patient, no one will wait for her, including her own health. Yeong Hwa is the one immovable object that forces her to slow down and readjust her whole approach to life and it’s been... Not comfortable, necessarily, but it’s been functional, so she struggles to redefine it, especially without real example.

Second, there’s lot of parallels to be drawn between her and Mi Joo. And I ended up writing this all backwards, so I am not sure if I’ll manage to include it, but in some ways, Mi Joo’s line about ‘I value myself more than anyone else’ both in the sense that she’s the most important to herself and that no one else values her truly highly is very reminiscent of Dan Ah’s attitude and the way she admitted she isn’t in control of her life entirely o Mi Joo.

And there’s. of course, that moment when Mi Joo responded sarcastically to Seun Gyeom, later to apologize for it, which he took in a stride (much as he had said that he had never felt Dan Ah walked over him unjustly), because he does understand where they come from and how they work, on a certain level (even if he underestimated just how his father would strike and manage to hurt Mi Joo). I think Dan Ah isn’t at place where she cay say that yet, but I do believe sentiment is within her.

If someone asked what motivates Dan Ah, her answer could be similar to Mi Joo’s - fear and obsession, rather than Seun Gyeom’s regret. Fear of being controlled, of being weak and sick, obsession of having and exerting certain power and keeping yourself safe. Now, this point altogether is purely speculation on my part, of course, but that’s my read on the character, but also her anxiety has been mentioned several times and anxiety is basically that - fear, especially of things going wrong/being out of control, if we wish to trivialize it.

And although Dan Ah merely adds that whatever she had, got taken away from her, she basically used same method as Mi Joo - set her goals and opted for the best ‘fake’ that she could get, in this case her company, rather than being football player or the gallery. Both, in the same way, would rather put up walls to not lose what little they have but the men in their lives just... Bypassed them.

It’s interesting to note that similarly as Mi Joo is currently trying to sort ouf what is real and to go for, instead of relying on having a ‘fake’, so does Dan Ah - it’s likely she is planning to expose the illegitimate status of both her brothers to gain what is technically rightfully hers (hence asking her younger brother to side with her even when it will not be comfortable for him).

Third, I think the way she’s seeking out Mi Joo and her opinion is very interesting. And it does loop back to Yeong Hwa as well!

From the very start, we see that Dan Ah actually cares to listen to other people to an extent (she asks her secretary what she did wrong to upset Seun Gyeom, even if she ends the conversation how much simpler it’d be if all of us thought were similar, which is strongly undermined by all of her interactions with Mi Joo and even Yeong Hwa essentially). She is interested in experiencing being opposed and challenged in a way that is not downright demeaning as she does in her family. She finds their view on world interesting, if somewhat incomprehensible, and listens to it, processes it inwardly, even if her initial reaction might be defensive. (Also, it shows from start she’s willing to admit she doesn’t have all answers, same as she does with Yeong Hwa telling him that she doesn’t know what answer he wants - as she would need to know in business deal which is what most of her world consists of.)

But in some ways, I also think she is interested in what Seun Gyeom and Mi Joo have created and how. She basically instantly could tell Seun Gyeom is interested in Mi Joo which is implied as rare occurrence (or perhaps even the only time since she says she’s the last woman he liked and he debunks the theory), she asks several times what Mi Joo sees in Seun Gyeom that makes her so protective of him (which I think is both a way to see how deeply Mi Joo cares for him and to see more of Seun Gyeom). But also in some way, although it is her own act to let Seun Gyeom, she “loses” him to his own path and Mi Joo both. Because I do think she cares for him as a friend, perhaps only one she has.

Although she puts Seun Gyeom’s picture by the trash, it’s actually not taken out for several days and it’s definitely not because the secretary or the cleaner are neglecting their duties. Rather, same way as he didn’t throw away the honey but handed it back to Yeong Hwa, the secretary is aware she’s not really emotionally throwing him away. Because once she likes something, she never really stops, as per her own admission.

So there’s this certain feeling of loss that she can’t quite admit to herself and want to know both what Mi Joo saw and supported in Seun Gyeom and how and a yearning for something similar, because this is basically the first friendship/not work based relationship of the kind that she sees. (The same way she marvels is this how full-blood siblings are supposed to be when Eun Bi is upset about Seun Gyeom’s picture and how she defends her brother and then, Dan Ah actually ‘tattles’ on her so he can protect her, which can be covered up with excuse it was over the schedule, but was it really?)

In fact, she seems to be somewhat envious of relationship her brother has with her secretary, saying he still cares for her brother more and also the way she wanted to be included in the whole cat talk. She is upset when he doesn’t say he’s her person, but employed by the company, she protects him the way she knows how to (regarding revenge kick) and generally cares for him. She just wants someone truly and personally on her side, even though she probably has a hard time admitting it to herself which results in these odd and halfway there and nowhere attempts, especially paired with the fact she doesn’t really know how to establish not-work-related connection on a deeper level.

I will add point fourth here, although it’s still technically third. It’s safer, far more practical and logical to stay detached. But the heart wants what it wants and it’s friendship, connection, being liked for who she is and being challenged but not seen as lesser, with someone who won’t smile because she’s his boss, although that sort of control is precious and hard fought to be had in part of her life.

Caring for something or someone is relinquishing this control, basically inviting the same result Seun Gyeom got taste of at ep of 12, the result she already experienced with her dreams of being football player crushed. Except if it involves another person, it increases the chances of being hurt by them exponentially. And it’s also worth considering that if her relationship with mother was close, she’s also already experienced abandonment and grief of losing someone dear and close. (Which, of the leads, only Mi Joo knows and even then it’s more the absence of reflection what other people around her have which hurts, but in a different way, as per my experience.)

Concept of Mi Joo’s friendship, and Yeong Hwa as a whole, become very images of these unsaid wish fulfillment because they’re not trying to be.

They’re themselves, argumentative and challenging, and teasing, despite her being ‘above them’ in power hierarchy, leveling the field by merely ignoring it, and, initially, she doesn’t even try to get Yeong Hwa sign a contract, it’s only when her own yearning for his work (and for him), and him denying her any of it becomes a problem that she ‘admits’ it was her own fault for not drawing the sort of lines she’s used to with everyone else, and even then she’s not really thrilled about him agreeing to it, because it’s not really what she wants from him, although it’s what would be the safest and make the most actual sense within her world.

Even then, as her employee, he refuses to follow her orders and tells her plainly - if she wants something, she is to be vulnerable and invest herself into it (she actually tries, by smiling because he had said it was cute) and she has to admit to herself and to him, that he has grown onto her, not as a ‘vending machine’ or ‘employee’, but person whose opinion and feelings toward her are very important to her.

Also, it’s very telling how she tells him she belongs to herself, of course, and that he, too, can still belong to himself. She wants him as individual separate from herself, but the thought that he is firmly on her side obviously makes her very happy. In some ways, it’s also upgrade from ‘my person’ claim she makes toward her secretary, a learning curve.

Fifth, I suppose. While I rewatched some scenes to make sure I wasn’t actually misremembering, I started to think of another motif that repeats through her conversations.

Dan Ah repeatedly tells him not to have expectations, sentiments, disappointments toward her. From one side, it’s to draw a clear line of employee/employer and view each other in a detached way (that she tries again and again herself, but fails to), but from other, is it that simple?

She is almost crying when she asks him if he’s really stopped liking her and from preview, we learn that no one has asked her out before, seemingly? Probably because she was too much of a boss ass bitch, but still possibly left with a certain sense of inadequacy and that ‘when I am being apologetically me and I will always be that, I am not likeable although I do not entirely understand why’, as per her wondering why people always think she’s mean when by most of her society’s standards, she is rather thoughtful.

Her want of gallery has been brought up several times, her older half brother often says her pick of artist will never be good enough, her father still sees her as a tool to marry off. She as person with her goals and dreams and what she has achieved, just isn’t good enough for people around her at large.

The moment he cares for her, the moment she inherently becomes capable of disappointing him. The moment she cares for him, the moment she becomes capable of disappointing him. And that thought, of doing that and not enough to Yeong Hwa who has sneakily smiled his way into her heart, the growing awareness she truly doesn’t know how to be in some aspects, is overwhelming and painful and she tries to shut the door to it.

Also, he tells her he likes her no matter what he does, but he hates it, which I imagine is double the punch and she tries to find a solution that would make him happy and stop hating it - the perfect answer, as she would in a business deal, but she can’t, until she commits to the truly mortifying ordeal of being known (as suggested by Mi Joo).

Sixth, I really liked that she (or the narrative) didn’t make fun of Yeong Hwa crying. In fact, she’s eyerolled about her younger brother’s temper, but not really in the present made fun of him for apparently being a ‘crybaby’ in the past. I think that in a sense shows her actual streak of empathy and maybe the fact that she’s familiar with need to cry herself and doesn’t find it ‘weak’ as most ‘tougher’ characters would. Also perhaps that she cares for her younger brother more than she has admitted to herself, similarly as she kept denying she cared for Yeong Hwa and went rather far to hurt him.

#run on #jtbc run on #kdrama #rainy watches kdrama #it's only midnight and I've been writing this on and off for two hours...#and it's 1 of 4 rambles #and I don't even know if it makes sense

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dexiao · 4 years ago

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Reminiscence (m) | Lee Taeyong and Kim Doyoung

Synopsis: Doyoung and Y/N have been dating for some time and just moved in together on the day they ocasionaly met Taeyong, Doyoung’s old fuck buddy at a café. Doyoung just didn’t expect to still have feelings for him.

Pairing: Kim Doyoung x female reader x Lee Taeyong

Words: ~3.3k

Genre: non idol!au, a little bit of angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: polyamorous relationship, dom!Doyoung, sub!Taeyong, handjob (male receiving), oral sex (male receiving)

This is a work of fiction. It does not portray the real personality of any of the members.

The day Y/N accidentally first met Taeyong, she and Doyoung had been dating for almost a year.

She and Doyoung had just moved in together into a new apartment, close to Doyoung’s office, and were still getting to know the neighborhood – at least the parts you don’t get to see when you visit a district with work purposes only.

The couple entered a café, not so small, with something between half a dozen and ten tables, not to mention the seemingly enormous variety of sweets of all different colors that were displayed in the glass counters. They chose a more reserved table, close to a wall, and sat facing each other and holding hands on top of the wooden piece of furniture.

After deciding to order a mocha, Y/N lifted her gaze up to meet her boyfriend’s face, noticing his attention focused on a point behind herself. His eyes and mouth were open, eyebrows lifted in what Y/N interpreted as a surprise expression.

Since there were only a couple of tables taken besides yours, it was easy to discover what Doyoung stared at – a pale man with bright red hair, a slit in his left eyebrow and ears full of piercings, heading towards the counter with a soft expression after shyly smiling at an employee. His outfit was all black.

“Lee Taeyong?” Doyoung spoke loudly, standing up from his chair. At his call, the man turned his face towards their table, ears and face going immediately as red as his hair.

“Kim Dongyoung?” the man asked. His voice wasn’t as rasp as Y/N imagined based on his appearance. He approached the table as Doyoung reached out for a handshake. He shyly bowed at Y/N as Doyoung introduced the woman.

“This is Y/N, she’s my girlfriend Y/N, this is Taeyong, an… old friend of mine.”

“It’s nice to meet you” I said with an open smile. His expression made his discomfort evident.

“Nice to meet you too. You two are a beautiful couple.”

From his posture, it seemed to Y/N that things couldn’t become weirder, but then Doyoung sat down again and invited Taeyong to stay and have a coffee with them. He promptly refused to, due to a supposed appointment he had within a few minutes.

“Oh, so do you work nearby?” Doyoung asked.

“Yes, my studio is just a block away. Why do you ask?”

“Y/N and I just moved to an apartment a few blocks from here. Maybe we’ll see you around.”

“Sure” Taeyong responded, holding a closed smile. “But I really do have to go now, I’m sorry. It was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

That night, Doyoung told Y/N about his past with Taeyong.

Of course she knew about his bisexuality even before they started dating, but they never really talked about past relationships. At least not mentioning names.

Just as Y/N experienced while dating Doyoung, he was more on the dominant side with Taeyong as well. Both the boys went to the same college and lived in the same floor of a building, eventually meeting in the hallway and the elevator. Their relationship, however, wasn’t serious.

They were obviously attracted to each other, to the point Taeyong broke up with his girlfriend straight because of the guilt he felt from having a crush on Doyoung, his neighbor.

As weeks passed by, they got into a friends with benefits-like situation. Casual one night stands, in an agreement to not nurture feelings towards each other.

And it worked pretty well.

Taeyong was really submissive to Doyoung, leading him to explore dominance and to experience having an amount of control over someone else he didn’t think of having before. Both of them discovered a lot about themselves during this time.

As the semester ended, Taeyong graduated and moved out to the UK for specialization, and Doyoung stayed in South Korea. They lost touch. It was natural, as each of them continued busy with their own stuff, not wanting to disturb the other in his pursue of success.

Three years later, here they were. Taeyong apparently still hadn’t gotten over what Doyoung used to call ‘a phase’ of constantly changing his hair color – though Doyoung had never seen him with red hair before.

Also, now Doyoung had a serious commitment with Y/N and their relationship.

But it didn’t stop him from getting butterflies in his stomach at the sight of Taeyong becoming so flustered in front of him. As shy and softhearted as before. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander to whether Taeyong would still have the same behavior under his touch.

About a month ahead, the couple managed to meet Taeyong again at the same café more than a dozen times before he finally gave into their persistence of having him over for dinner.

Y/N and Doyoung had an amazing homemade Italian style pasta almost done by the time Taeyong arrived. His hair was now a light tone of brown and he wore a black turtleneck with black pants, a brown coat hanging over his shoulders. Doyoung dressed pretty similar to him – black pants and gray sweater – while Y/N had a long sleeved bright yellow dress.

The three began drinking the wine Taeyong brought from the moment he stepped inside. All of them were noticeably nervous, but Y/N and Doyoung tried their best to not make Taeyong feel left alone. Y/N asked him about his work, college and personal life, since she didn’t know him besides what her boyfriend chose to say about the older man.

At first he seemed uncomfortable, releasing nervous laughs until the wine started making effect and relaxing him up, letting him be more spontaneous.

After they ate the pasta Taeyong had complimented a thousand times during the meal, a long silence settled as each of them stared at the empty plates and half empty glasses. The table was round, so they sat in a triangular shape.

Y/N’s hand reached for Doyoung’s on top of the table. The move didn’t go unnoticed by Taeyong, who didn’t have the self-awareness to not look at Y/N.

He was so confused.

It couldn’t be possible to like so much the person who literally dated the person he secretly wanted to date. Y/N’s personality was so captivating and bright, but still as caring and nurturing as Doyoung’s. And she was pretty. Of course she was.

And she noticed as the older man absentmindedly gazed at her, fingers playing at the edge of his glass.

Y/N pressed her boyfriend’s hand tightly before standing up, removing Taeyong from his daydream.

“I guess it’s my cue now” she stated, smiling softly.

The woman leaned and left a chaste kiss on Doyoung’s lips, to which Taeyong felt guilty to but watched happen nonetheless. Then she turned to Taeyong, whose face and ears were red (it was impossible to know if due to the wine of to the scene he just witnessed). The older’s eyes followed her movements as she leaned and pressed a kiss on his cheek before heading to her and Doyoung’s shared bedroom.

After a few steps, she stopped and turned to Taeyong again.

“It was great having you here. I really wish you can come more often.”

Then she left her boyfriend and his old crush alone, drunk, mildly turned on and facing each other.

That night, Taeyong and Doyoung had a long and drunk talk. Doyoung explained how things were different from college, how he and Y/N started dating and what they expected for the future. Taeyong couldn’t understand why Doyoung was telling him all this, after all, he owed him nothing.

That went on until the younger spilled out how he felt about Taeyong. That he wanted to become close again and that it was okay if Taeyong did not want to, but Y/N felt just the same way as him and if he wasn’t committed to anyone, what's wrong with trying?

The matter was that Taeyong’s mind was slowed down from all the wine and nothing Doyoung said from that point on made sense to him. He left the apartment without giving Doyoung an answer and thinking he could just avoid the subject if they met again.

Doyoung, whose mind was clearer, noticed how he scared the shit out of Taeyong. Of course that was not the way he hoped the night would end, but he and Y/N came to an agreement before on Taeyong being fully aware on the ground he was stepping onto if he actually accepted to try this thing.

From that night on, the couple changed their approach.

They stopped going together to the café. Instead, since that was the only place they were sure they could meet Taeyong, they decided it was best to not see him together, in an attempt to make him feel less pressured.

The dinner night was never mentioned again and they avoided talking about each other with Taeyong.

Eventually Taeyong accepted to sit and have a coffee with Y/N, then with Doyoung. And then again with Y/N and so on.

He got more and more responsive to subtle touches on his skin, becoming confident to do the same as time passed on. Fingers brushing as he passed the menu, light touches on arms in the middle of a conversation.

Y/N invited Taeyong to a date in the park, and that was the first time they kissed.

It started so slow, as if they were afraid from one another, lips touching very lightly. After a few seconds, Y/N noticed the man release a heavy breath, which was enough to convince her it was okay to go on, that Taeyong did enjoy it. So Y/N pressed her lips harder against his, sliding the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip and deepening the kiss. Her hands cupped Taeyong’s face and determined the pace, while Taeyong used his only as support for his body.

Y/N found him to be a lot different from her boyfriend. While Doyoung was more dominant, Taeyong was the complete opposite. Even when it was clear as water that he wanted it, he wouldn’t make the move. She enjoyed being in that position and taking the lead, though they did nothing but kiss for hours, until both had lips so swollen they actually hurt.

The following day, Doyoung casually met the older at a flower shop. It was a surprise for both, and Doyoung felt afraid of Taeyong trying to avoid him or feel ashamed because of what happened between Y/N and him. Nevertheless, Taeyong was completely in his normal self.

Doyoung walked him back to his studio and asked if he could give him a kiss before going back, which Taeyong didn’t even reply with words. The older just closed his eyes and nodded, opening his mouth in expectation. Watching the scene, Doyoung couldn’t help but feel as he needed Taeyong in his life again. He was so innocent and precious Doyoung wanted to keep him in his pocket and protect him from the world.

For Taeyong, the man’s kiss tasted different. Not only different from Y/N’s, but also different from the past they had together. Doyoung’s lips were still has soft, his mouth still as warm; still, he could sense the carefulness irradiating from the younger man.

Other times he’d meet either Y/N or Doyoung at the café, they would greet him with a kiss so close to his mouth (still not on his mouth) it was frustrating. Taeyong tried his best to show them with touches and gazes that he wanted more, but it seemed to him that neither of them noticed his effort, and voicing it out was a big challenge.

The trigger was the day he sat down with Doyoung and ordered a cappuccino.

As Taeyong rambled about something that happened at work, the flow of his words was suddenly interrupted by the realization Doyoung was bringing a hand to his face. The younger brushed his thumb over Taeyong’s bottom lip, wiping a little cream spot. Taeyong closed his eyes at the sensation and tried to not react, but it was impossible when his heart beat so hard and fast as if wanting to break his chest. He wanted to lean his head and suck Doyoung’s finger into his mouth, to show him how needy he was, to make Doyoung feel pity for putting him in this situation.

However, he waited some more seconds to open his eyes again and start breathing again as well. Doyoung stared at him seeming worried and asked if everything was okay. Of course things weren’t okay.

As they walked out of the café some minutes later, Taeyong closed his eyes to expect the torture of Doyoung’s kiss on his cheek, but it was his lips that felt the touch.

This time he wasn’t able to contain a sigh as Doyoung distanced himself. When Taeyong opened his eyes again, his vision was blurred and he felt a lump in his throat preventing his voice to come out normally.

“Please, Doyoung” he begged. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Doyoung brought one hand up to caress the older’s left cheek.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to push you” he said softly.

But that wasn’t what Taeyong meant and he got more frustrated, tears unwillingly escaping his eyes.

“It’s not that” he spoke, looking down.

Doyoung calmly asked what was the problem, gently making Taeyong face him again and wiping his tears away.

“I want you, Doyoung. And Y/N as well” he said in one breath. “I want you both to take care of me, make me feel good. It has been a while now” tears kept rushing down his face, even when Doyoung kissed him and told him he and Y/N would be more than happy to do whatever he asked for.

Four months after that episode, Taeyong woke up in the middle of the night with an uncomfortable feeling between his legs. Involuntarily, he ran his right hand through his clothed crotch, realizing he had an erection.

Though he tried to for some long minutes, Taeyong was unable to go back to sleep, so he sat restless and leaned his back against the headboard of the enormous bed. The dim light from the street allowed him to observe Doyoung peacefully asleep in a white t-shirt on the other side of the bed, as well as Y/N in a nightgown in the middle of them.

Taeyong was getting more used to sleep in their bed than his own. He was getting used to be their baby.

It’s not that the man couldn’t take care of himself. Not only he could, but he did it for a long time. He wasn’t a child. He knew his body, he was able to recognize his necessities. Taeyong was an intense person, and that was noticeable at first sight. He was used to commit seriously to whatever he proposed to do, especially when it came to work; he worked hard to be the best, to do the best job.

But at the moment, he just felt helpless as his cock began hurting from the erection while the people he loved slept right next to him. He needed relief, and still couldn’t avoid the thought that jerking off right now to the amazing sex they had last night was wrong.

Mindlessly, the man reached for his phallus inside his clothes, bringing it out and just holding it, feeling the warmth of his palm against the pulsating member. Taeyong was decided to not jerk off, though he couldn’t keep his hips totally still, slightly thrusting into his fist, eyes closed to make the most of any sensation he could get, biting his lip to avoid releasing any noises.

And since he closed his eyes, he wasn’t able to realize the moment Doyoung woke up and watched the older quietly whimper for a few seconds before waking Y/N with a kiss at the nape of her neck, squeezing her waist with his right hand.

Y/N woke up with low hum that went unnoticed by Taeyong, who remained focused in the sort of failed attempt to please himself in silent. Doyoung’s body pressed against Y/N’s back and she suddenly became conscious of his hip upon hers.

The woman brought her right hand to Taeyong’s thigh and gently squeezed it, making him immediately open his teary eyes in surprise. His gaze shifted between Y/N and Doyoung, seeming desperate for help.

“Shh… Do you want help, baby?” Y/N whispered.

As Taeyong nodded and mouthed an almost inaudible “please”, she moved to Taeyong’s left, kneeling by his side, leaving him in the middle of her and Doyoung. The other man also moved closer to Taeyong, with a caring look in his dark eyes and a soft smile.

Y/N’s head rested on Taeyong’s shoulder for a moment, caressing his thigh and gazing at the hard cock, red tip glistening. She turned her head to face him, guiding his face towards hers with her left hand.

“Can I kiss you, baby?” she asked.

Taeyong hummed and closed his eyes, leaning in to reach her lips. The kiss was gentle as Y/N rushed her hands over his torso.

After watching the view for a while, Doyoung decided to join the couple, kissing Taeyong’s right thigh without getting up. His right hand reached for the other man’s erection, pumping it softly, taking whimpers from Taeyong’s lips into Y/N’s mouth.

One of her hands went under his t-shirt to play with his sensitive nipples, squeezing them one at a time; her kiss dropped to his jaw and neck, freeing Taeyong’s moans and needy whimpers.

Doyoung removed the man’s hand from his own member in order to properly please him, tightening his grip over the flesh. Taeyong was already so aroused that even small touches made him feel like tumbling down, which was perfectly visible for the other two.

“Y/N, spit” Doyoung demanded.

The oldest growled as Y/N’s kisses abruptly stopped, opening his eyes to watch as the woman let a long string of saliva drip from her tongue onto his pulsating shaft. Y/N knew it wasn’t necessary since Taeyong’s cock was already wet from the pre-cum oozing from his tip, but her boys loved it messy.

She kept just watching as Doyoung started jerking Taeyong again, as the man closed his eyes again and made small hip trusts into the younger’s touch.

Then he reached Doyoung’s busy arm with her left hand, signaling him with her eyes to stop movements and let go of Taeyong’s dick. As he felt the touch vanish, Taeyong opened his eyes in despair, right in the moment Y/N bent in front of him and took the head of his member inside her hot mouth, sucking it lightly before pulling off to look at Taeyong’s face.

Doyoung raised himself and supported his torso in one elbow, the other hand still resting against the other’s leg.

When Y/N leaned in to lick at Taeyong’s cock again, Doyoung went in as well, both sticking their tongues out and licking it up and down repeatedly.

Taeyong whined and bucked his hip up, the sensation and the scene in front of him triggering his orgasm. His eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as spurts of cum trailed out of his cock. Y/N and Doyoung alternated the leaking member into their mouths, both eager to taste Taeyong’s seed.

As his climax ended, Taeyong squirmed in overstimulation as Y/N kissed the head of his softening cock before dropping it and kissing Doyoung, mixing the cum in their mouths. The couple moved to allow Taeyong into the kiss, having him taste himself.

“Now let’s go back to sleep, huh? You were so good to us, love” Doyoung whispered, kissing the other’s cheek and laying down again. By the time Taeyong recovered his breath and laid down again, dick back into his clothes, Y/N and Doyoung were drifting into sleep, caring to cuddle the oldest who laid in the middle of them. Doyoung rested his head by Taeyong’s, and Y/N positioned herself in the curve between his shoulders and neck. Taeyong mumbled a "thank you so much", and feeling Y/N's warm breath hitting his skin, he finally went back to sleep again.

A/N: I chose to put this by the end of the fic since there is a huge spoiler lol this is the first of all poly fics I worked on that I feel confident on posting (even though it does not involve a threesome or more than one person being pleasured). Also, about the disclaimer about not portraying their personalities - can you imagine Taeyong, as the cleaning maniac he is, just going back to sleep? LOL Feedback is always welcome!

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tenderlyrenjun · 4 years ago

Text

[spring and winter]

Your favorite time, or one of, to stare at Renjun is when nature falls by his sides (him below you is a comparably pretty sight). He just has this magnetism about himself, even without his compulsion ability, though you assume that it does nothing but aid the mysticism. And the very first time when you met him, peach blossoms began flowering into his hair. Your Mom held a springtime viewing party to watch the petals’ initial bloom on the first day, but you missed it. Since then, you have continued missing the first bloom of spring - which is saying something, considering that a few millennia have passed.

“Hurry, Handong!” you shout over your shoulder, carelessly adding an honorific after your older sister’s name as an after thought. You brush past a handmaiden carrying soul, and she spills a few drops on your tunic and sash, clutching the clattering tray tightly above her abdomen. The gravel you cut through spins under your feet, causing you to stumble, briefly, into the wet cement being assembled for the Third Consort’s new spa house. You regain footing and fix your ties, acting as if nothing happened, then look for your sister. She is still catching up. “We’ll miss it!”

This path is meant to be a shortcut into the east garden, crossing through the courtyard rather than walking along the smooth concrete pathways, yet Handong almost takes an equal (re: slow) amount of time. You stop running to see why she takes so long, shaking your arms to a halt. And your chest almost heaves breathlessly when you see her: she is barely adjusting the beads on her hairpins.

“Why are you going through there?” Handong scolds, shaking her head. A pearl falls out of place, making you roll your eyes. You cross back to the cement and grab her hand, dragging her through the loose stone paths. Your half-brother returned earlier this week with new shoes from his expeditions in the South - shoes that are suitable for play and running around, yet Handong seems to insist on her straw slippers, which easily get pebbles stuck between the blades. Both of you ignore each other’s complaints and she ultimately complies with the way you sweep her into the viewing party, guests stopping to stare at your wrinkled states.

Handong tries to calm your robes before hers, but you dive under a tree branch to catch a peach bud before it falls on the ground. The winds are strong today, you notice, cautiously turning over one of the damaged leaves. It is late in the afternoon, according to the skies, yet the temperature reverts back to winter and you shiver, when another breeze brushes through your hair. You have not cut it since your last birthday ceremony, which is another reason why Handong keeps trailing after you, constantly fixing your image, especially around the nobles.

A gong goes off in the far corner, and you spin around to hear it better, already knowing that your Mother is going to make an announcement about the impending blooming - it will start in seconds, so the speech will be brief. You hear something about good fortune and prosperity, but everything washes away when you drop the peach bud. Its frosted cover was too much to hold, so you let it melt through your fingers. Unfortunately, it rolls down the small hill that the trees are built upon, bouncing into the son of your father’s associate. He looks down, dubiously turning his head, scanning a quarter circle to his left. You are torn over whether to want to see his full face; his eyes, or at least the one you can see, are perfectly shaped, like a phoenix’s, his lashes curtained over the pretty brown irises. And his nose is gorgeous too, charming and strong. The temptation to see him shrouds Handong, and you slowly step away from her, captivated by this mysterious stranger. Sure, you know that your father often has ministers, princes, officials, high ranking people stay at the estate, their families too, occasionally, but you never entertain them like one of your older siblings. Now, you wish you did, or at least, you wish that you talked to your sisters more so that you know who he is. The stranger picks up your peach bud with his robe’s sleeve - smart - and turns it over with his fingers. He touches the frosted leaves first then cracks it open a little bit more. You giggle when someone at the front screams at the tree, broadcasting its bloom, because he jumps, crossing his hand over his heart. His smaller friend, slightly younger, laughs at him too, making the ambience less formal than you felt.

You reach him just as everyone turns around. He is mid-laugh, throwing back his head into the newest breeze. And that is when Nature picks up - the sun overshadowing the skies with a soft orange hue, the winds rough housing amidst relaxed petals. One lands on his shoulder, then immediately falls to the ground as he casts his eyes on top of the tree, craning his neck taller than his own height. You follow his gaze circling over the horizon of headpieces and robes until finding the opened flowers and pinkening fruits.

“Wow,” he breathes. His next statements is so awe-stricken that you look at him again, visibly curious as to what he has to say. He meets your eye, blinking slowly, and you match his speed, not wanting to miss his beat. “It’s beautiful.” You’re beautiful.

“Yes,” you agree, and bow your head slightly, more timidly than you had been earlier, suddenly conforming to traditional respects. You peek above, through your lashes, feeling a few petals join your aquamarines. He holds out his hand, waving the formalities, and you stand straighter, making no moves to point at the main event. “It is.” You are, too.

Renjun holds up the fallen bud, within his fingers, looking from it to you, lingering more on your face. “Is this yours?” You nod slowly, anticipatorily. He grabs your wrist gently, bringing your palm Heavens-facing, between your bodies. You unravel the nervous fist, and he places the flower back in your hand. “Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t,” you swear impulsively.

“Don’t lose it,” he repeats, curling your hand into another cage for the seed, like reburying it for a new spring. “Or I will have to bring you a new one.”

“Your presence sounds like a gift. What do I get for keeping this safe?”

“Must all things need gain?”

You tilt your head to the side, your smile incapable of settling down. “Only when it is enjoyed.”

“And my presence is enjoyed?” he asks, eyebrows raised. His companion stares between the two of you, amused but rolling his eyes. You neglect it though, completely forgetting about any other person, behaving as if your father handpicked you to entertain this guest. “Is my presence enjoyed?” he repeats, hearing nothing (but seeing everything). You nod your head, hesitantly, only becoming more enthusiastic after his tension increases. “Well, then, I will have to bring you more peaches.”

Renjun’s favorite time to look at you occurred after that moment in the spring, but it precedes yours by one season: winter. He no longer sees the first snowfall of the year, barely catching the reflection in your eye, if he is lucky, when you extend your hands to catch raining snowflakes. However, unlike you, he actively tries to view the first snowfall, purposefully sitting on a porch or stairs, always with the same small cup warmed by tea. The original time that he missed the precipitation, he had just returned from the matchmaker’s manor with your half-brother. He strained a small kettle of tea, then went to sit outside, at a small table set up by a servant.

Renjun stirs a small lemon slice as he reclines into a wooden chair. He hovers a hand above the metal fire pit, spreading warmth through his fingers before transferring it into a blanket that he lays across his lap. During his stay at your family’s main estate, over the last year, he has seen snow exclusively fall during the winter. And although the previous season does not indicate its next’s behavior, he fell into a routine that loves the outdoors.

You enjoy it too, he reminisces fondly, a smile on his face as he recalls this morning when you met him at the Western Bridge just to hear the whistling of a monal. It was a good way - the best way - to begin his morning, laughing when you (poorly) tried to recreate the songs. Your siblings are far better musicians than you, yet he always prefers to hear your voice; it does not matter whether you speak or sing, everything he feels so deeply for.

As he finishes a cup, wondering why the sky has still not given him his request, you run through the gates adjacent from his room, exhaling boisterously and inhaling shakily, to keep laughing with your sisters. Renjun relinquishes his cup to the cold, leaving it on the table to go see all the noise you make.

“Shh, shh,” Handong giggles. It is a rare sight to see your older sister break the rules with you; he figures that she must be drunk but her cheeks are not twinged by alcohol, nor does she sway so easily in the air. Although, the mask of night is worn on all your faces, and Renjun desperately wishes to see yours.

You swing a picnic basket by your side, one of your sisters mirroring you on the side of your interlocked arms. He feels a bit deviant, creepy. His position makes it look like he hides behind a tree, spying on you lot, and he does not do much to alleviate that assumption, crouching smaller and closer as you begin to speak:

“Ah, Mother should have a viewing party for the snowfall tomorrow morning. It would be fun to run, fun to play -”

“In the cold?” Feifei scoffs, draping herself behind Handong’s robes.

“It would be pretty to see the snow in the morning light,” Xiaoyun comments beside you, giving an argument that you nod at your sister.

You break out of her grip, dropping the basked on the freshly dewy grass to spin around outside, picking up your robes so that your feet can roam freely. Your arms stick out, as if expecting to catch snow. Seeing nothing fall, you tilt your head back to your amused sisters. “What? It’s fun! I’m excited for winter. Winter means the solstice; solstice means a break from studying; a break from studying means festivals; festivals mean -”

“That you get to spend time with a certain chancellor's son?” Handon interrupts. Your face tightens as your sisters ‘ooh’ and giggle knowingly, and Renjun wonders if he shall hear more or speak at this - surely, by now you must know where his room is located; you spend enough time walking around the compound with him to know it. But you never budge, just enduring the teasing as your sisters get closer, shaking your shoulders into reality. He hopes that you know he likes you too, likes you more and more everyday in fact.

“I heard that he went to the matchmaker’s house this afternoon.”

You push Handong’s shoulder, as a stop it gesture, though the half-embarrassed smile on your face says that this is all in jest, that you might appreciate the validation, even if it comes from your sister, not him.

Renjun takes a step forward, beyond the tree, intending to make himself known, but one of your sisters interrupt him.

“Look!”

Her voice is neither malicious nor suspicious, so he keeps his eyes focused on you, subconsciously walking backward when you spin around to look at her. Anything Renjun might have said or thought gets choked by his brain, tongue twisting so tightly that he drops his jaw. He watches your hair twirl with you, the top catching a crown of snow. Wow. Perhaps, if the matchmaker grants his proposal, his first gift to you will be a real crown. Renjun thinks this may be a dream, because he can almost hear a fleet of flutes accompany your excited laughter as you run into the circle formed by your sisters.

Renjun smiles widely, quietly tapping a couple times on the tree. His eyes capture the second layer of snow on the ground, then dare to glance at you one last time before retiring to his room. You catch him, in that moment, when he leans suavely on his arm for support, just staring, fondly. He waves a little bit and you do too, raising your hand slightly until he retires, walking backwards to burn this instant in his memory. You break the gaze first, Handong excitedly whispering something that Renjun cannot hear. He stays a second longer, trying to hear what has you screeching with giggles. You are loud, but he hopes to keep you that way, intending to make you as equally happy for as long as you will let him.

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