#hes more amicable i guess? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skzdarlings · 9 months ago

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birthday girl ; skz ; seungmin x reader

requested by anonymous: “You keep your hands where they are or I’ll tie them up” with Seungmin + requested by anonymous: ❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜ is SO seungmin I can’t 😭 + requested by @sealovesbts : ❛ is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them? ❜ x Seungmin djjdjjdjd 🫣

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: friends to lovers. boy next door!seungmin, stripper!seungmin. reader is kinda vanilla but gets a couple kinks unlocked: stripping, some power play, seungmin giving orders and her following it, having sex in privacy but a public venue overall. word count: 4100 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

You open the door and jump, startled to find Seungmin already standing there with his hand raised to knock. He also looks surprised but he doesn’t shriek like you do. You were already jittery before the jump-scare.

“Seungmin! Sorry!” You put a hand over your heart. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I can see that.” He speaks in his usual dry tone but smiles a lopsided smile.

Kim Seungmin lives in your neighbourhood. You have been amicable a long time so you like to consider him a friend as well. He is an admittedly private person and his personality can be brash, but you find charm in his quirky cheekiness. He is reliable whenever you need a hand.

He is dressed in a hoodie and jeans which is not unusual; he is not very flashy. His bangs sweep his forehead and he smiles a wide, boxy smile as he hands you a gift bag.

“Happy birthday, neighbour,” he says.

“Oh my goodness,” you say, flustered. “Seungmin! You didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m the greatest,” he quips. While you open the present, he asks, “I guess you’re going out? You’re all dressed up.”

“Oh, um, yes.” You feel shy as he looks at you.

“You look good,” he says.

It makes you even more flustered. You are dressed a little sleeker and sexier than usual. Your sister has arranged your birthday party but you do not know where, only that she said to dress for fun. You are not great with surprises and your sister is a little wild, hence your nerves, but you have decided to leave your comfort zone for one night.

You were not expecting to run into your neighbour, friend, and crush.

Because, yes, you like Seungmin. A lot. Seungmin is very modest, low-key, and hard-working. You know he is at law school and works a few jobs to pay for it. You are not sure where, but he is intelligent and you can imagine him doing anything. His snark is amusing but his dependability and steadfastness is a sexy combination. Your sister has never met him but has often teased you for your so-called boring infatuation, but you disregard the thought. You like Seungmin, shaggy bangs and law school textbooks and all.

A flirtation has been subtly brewing over the last few months. You think the unexpected birthday gift is a step in that direction. Especially when you unwrap a recipe book you off-handedly mentioned a few weeks ago, touched he remembered it at all.

“Oh, thank you, Seungmin,” you say, gushing and sweet. You go to hug him but falter nervously and end up giggling.

He brushes some hair out of his eyes. They seem to sparkle with mirth, or maybe you are just ridiculously head-over-heels.

“You’re kinda goofy, you know that?” he says, but smiles. “I like it.”

“Oh gosh,” you say.

It makes him laugh. Then he says, “I’ll let you get to your party.”

“Oh, it’s just my sister and some girl friends,” you say. “I don’t even know where we’re going. Probably just some food and stuff. You know me. I’m very simple.”

“I do,” he says. “I’d like to know you better, though. Maybe you can make me one of those recipes some time. I like the one on page fifteen.”

You burst out laughing at his audacity, making him laugh too. His teasing successively obliterates your nerves.

“I will,” you say, smiling so big. “Page fifteen. Noted.”

“It’s a date,” he says. “I’ll let you go now. Enjoy your birthday dinner.”

“You too,” you say, then realize that response made no sense so you stutter through a retraction. You stop when he leans in and kisses your cheek, a quick peck that makes your eyes go wide.

“Goofball,” he says and bops your nose while smiling. “See you around, neighbour.”

“Bye, neighbour,” you say, giggling helplessly.

He smiles as he walks away, hands in his pockets, and you are still hugging your book and smiling.

The conversation with Seungmin is your last wholesome birthday moment. You meet your sister and friends only to get whisked off to a placeof complete and utter depravity.

Otherwise known as a club full of male strippers.

You are sitting at a little table, astounded at the room around you. You hold no judgements whatsoever, but between the flashing lights and loud music and, um, prominent bare chests and even more prominent bulges, you are sufficiently overawed.

You cannot help but gawk, mouth open as you look around at everything. It makes your sister and friends laugh. It is not mean but they are undoubtedly amused. Your shy character is the opposite of… this.

“You guys are crazy,” you say, only making them erupt into more giggles.

“You like logic and traditions so consider it a rite of passage, baby sister,” your sister says, slinging her arm around your shoulder and squeezing. “Or, hm, an act of feminism! It’s about equality. We need to objectify and ogle the sexy men on behalf of womankind.”

“How noble of us,” you say dryly, setting off another round of giggles. You shake your head, smiling with amusement too. You are a little embarrassed but it is quite funny, and there is a part of you enjoying something so opposite of your usual quiet scenes.

Amusing is the best word for it, though. None of the men are remotely your type and the relentless hip-thrusting is a bit much. You find yourself laughing into your drink and swaying to music as a few choreographed routines are performed. Some of the more elaborate dances are entertaining.

“The birthday girl likes a pretty boy,” your sister says, conspiring with your friends to find the perfect man to entertain you.

“No, I don’t,” you say. You roll your eyes and playfully shove her shoulder.

“Well,” she says, “there are no boring lawyers on that stage, so a pretty face will have to suffice.”

They proceed to point out a few of the prettier dancers while you shake your head. You turn to watch the stage where a different set of men are in the middle of a routine. There is a very rowdy bachelorette party in front of your table, occasionally blocking the view of one side of the stage. You are sipping you drink when a few girls move, opening the view.

You promptly spit your drink everywhere. Your friends squeal while you choke and there is enough chaos at your table for one of the dancers to look directly at you.

Not just any dancer.

Kim Seungmin.

You have seen that face twice a day every day for months and you still barely recognize him. It is no wonder that even a slightly obstructed view warped him entirely.

Your modest, low-key friend is dazzling under the stage lights, face lightly made-up and his usual shaggy hair pushed back off his face. Is it possible for a glimpse of forehead to so drastically change the composition of a familiar face? He looks like a new man, his features striking on his bright, open face, all framed by neatly styled dark hair. The familiar sparkle in his dark eyes is accentuated by the gleam of something shining around his neck. Necklace? Choker? Collar?

He is in a white dress shirt and blue jeans, ripped at the knee, but everything about him seems illuminated. He is the bold, blazoned fantasy version of the boy next door. Very literally in your case, which is maybe why you think it, watching him cross the stage with more verve and confidence than you knew he possessed. Your Seungmin walks in a casual shuffle, hands in his pockets. He does not stride.

He certainly does not… gyrate. Which is what he is doing when he catches your eye. There is a moment of shared recognition and subsequent surprise, wide-eyed as you hold gazes across a noisy room.

Seungmin, a seemingly consummate professional, blinks the surprise off his face and goes back to his routine.

You are not so practiced. Your surprise stays plastered there, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him. The dance that seemed so exaggerated and ridiculous on the other performers is something else on Seungmin. Maybe it is his character, the boy next door with his ripped jeans and smirking grin. Or maybe it is because he is your boy next door.

He is not ridiculous. Quite the opposite. He makes it look natural, fluid and unhurried with the swivel of his hips and teasing grin. He seems to somehow make eye contact with everyone in the room.

You remind yourself that is his job when his eyes wander back to you. It does not slow the race of your heart.

He sits on a chair and opens his shirt. Some of the other dancers are more than half-naked, but he has a captive audience with the simplest action. Keeping each step to the beat of the music, he reclines and undoes his belt, which makes your lips part. Then he lets his shirt drop down his arms and reveals his shoulders, which makes you gasp. Then he cups a hand between his legs, curving his palm over the not-insubstantial bulge in his jeans. Heat fills the core of you.

He looks right at you with a tilt of his head and a lazy smile, the subtle sort of smirk that does not need to exaggerate. He knows he has you.

“Oh my god,” your friend says. “Not birthday girl eye-fucking a stripper.”

“What!” You rip your attention away all at once, flushed hot from head to toe. “I am not!”

“Well, he was eye-fucking you.”

You take a gigantic gulp of water, though it does not to quell the heat inside. Until today, the most you dared to fantasize about Seungmin was a prolonged kiss on the porch. Seungmin is polite. He does not eye-fuck.

Except you glance over the rim of your cup. He is still looking at you. It is not the way he looks at everyone else, who he skims with a cursory glance and flirtatious wink. It is a lingering, penetrating stare, like he is calling you to him with his eyes alone.

Oh. Gosh. He is eye-fucking you.

“I think,” your sister says, “we found a pretty boy for the birthday girl.”

And that is how you find yourself sitting in a small private room, barely bigger than a coat closet and washed in a dark purple light. You are perched on a plush little seat, holding your handbag so tightly your knuckles start to hurt. You let go and clear your throat, embarrassed even though you are alone. You place the bag on the floor and smooth your hands down the skirt of your dress.

You squeak like a frightened little mouse, jumping when Kim Seungmin startles you for the third time tonight. Once on your doorstep. Once on stage. And now in this little room, silhouetted by the hall lights until he closes the divider. He is still in his ripped jeans and dress shirt, neatly buttoned and composed again.

He runs a hand through his hair which makes your heart skip beats. You feel a little preposterous, scandalized by a forehead, but it makes his gaze so direct. You melt under the intensity of his stare.

“I hear it’s your birthday,” he says.

You imagine yourself as a stranger to him, the same line recited with the same confidence. For some reason, it is just as tantalizing. You like abrasive, quirky law student Kim Seungmin in his hoodie and jeans. But you find yourself irrevocably spellbound by this other version of him, who is so seductive it has women drawing money out of their purses.

“Yes,” is what you say, instead of all that.

He tilts his head, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. He is always clever but his open face makes his scrutiny more apparent. You swallow when he approaches, when he sinks down on one knee while holding your gaze in thrall.

“Breathe,” he says. “That’s not a request.” He rests his hands on the seat, framing your body between them. He does not touch you. He does not need to. Your breath spills free in a rush and he smirks. “Good. All right. So… neighbour… Should we talk?”

You think a thousand thoughts. Yes, a conversation. No, your friends paid for this room. They think you will get a lap dance or something, then return quickly. You want to ask when he is free for dinner. You want to ask how long he has worked here. You want to know him. You really, really want to kiss him.

You say instead, “I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”

He looks at you for another moment, still studious. You swallow again. Then he smiles that dastardly grin, wide and a little mean.

“And you want to?” he asks. “Do this sort of thing?”

“Only if it’s you,” you say, then avert your gaze out of embarrassment. Maybe that was too much cringe-worthy honesty.

He touches your chin, drawing your gaze back to him. You blink at him, helpless but to study his face in turn. He was always decently good-looking but he is driving you to complete distraction. You find yourself staring at his lips well before he starts speaking.

“I think you have more depth than either of us know, don’t you?” he asks.

“Maybe,” you say, laughing a little. You look at him with wide, earnest eyes. “Don’t we all?”

He touches his tongue to his upper lip, looking thoughtful but undoubtedly smiling. Then he smacks his lips and nods, his hair bouncing.

“Right,” he says. “In that case, birthday girl…”

He stands and your eyes follow. He holds your gaze until he starts unbuttoning his shirt, then your eyes drop to his hands, the deft flick of his fingers as they crawl down his chest.

A professional, you think. It gets you undeniably hot. You meet his eyes again when he tugs his shirt off and drops it behind him. He is more slender than chiseled, especially compared to some of the other dancers, but there is a firmness to his body, a control he has mastered.

He grabs a bar above your head that you did not even notice, using it to lift and lower himself over you. He lands in a smooth straddle with his knees cradling you under him.

You sit back, breathing harder already. Then he takes your hands and lifts them over your head, making your fingers twitch with anticipation. You are still fully clothed but your dress is sleeveless and low-cut and this feels like a vulnerable position, arms raised with a half-naked Kim Seungmin straddling your body.

He curls your fingers around the bar then drags his knuckle down the bare skin of your arms, making you shiver despite the packed heat of this little room.

“You keep your hands where they are,” he says, “or I’ll tie them up.”

You nod a little frantically and it makes him laugh. Then he is leaning back just enough to rock his body over yours, bringing your attention to every flawless plane of his body as he moves on you. He touches you sparingly, making you watch, making you wonder. Looking and fantasizing about what his hips can really do, what strength is hidden in the body he has mastered. He follows the low music, ever deep thrum of a bass, every heart-pounding beat.

He brings his face close to yours, so close your lips almost touch. It steals your breath like a real kiss would.

“I’m going to touch you,” he says. “Be good for me, birthday girl. Maybe there’s a present in it for you. Only if I like you.”

You cannot find any witty quips to return. He is definitely the experienced one, as effortless with his words as with everything else. You can only gawk at him as he slides smoothly off. Then his hands are on your legs, making them quiver, your body startled with the direct touch despite the warning.

Your skirt gathers just a bit, his hands curling under your knees. Then he is spreading your legs, not enough to see anything but enough you feel the empty space between them. Oh yes, emptier than you have ever felt. You are surprised by the way you clench, your body aching for more. He only teases, makes you feel that emptiness and picture every what if. He helps you with your fantasy, pushing your legs back like he would if he was fucking you deep, rolling his hips so close to yours in mimicry.

“Oh,” is the only sound you make. Your breathing is very loud. It says a lot on its own.

He is breathing a little harder too. He is still between your legs when he starts unbuttoning his jeans. He shuffles them down his hips but not all the way off. You can see he is wearing nothing underneath, the denim itself a suddenly tantalizing piece, slung low on his hips with the subtle sloping v of his body drawing your gaze to his middle.

“I don’t usually go further than this, you know,” he says. He slowly pushes the next button loose and you can feel the rush of heat from your belly swoop lower. His bulge looks obscene at this vantage, pushing at what little remains of the denim around it. “But I think I like you, birthday girl.” He opens another button. “I think I can make an exception.” He pushes the last button then grasps his jeans at the hips, grinning as he says, “Our secret.”

Secret, illicit, that’s what this feels like, looking at the gorgeous man you have been pining after, watching as he pushes his jeans down his hips and thighs. You are tucked in a small room not far away from a rowdy crowd, Kim Seungmin dropping the last of his clothes then continuing his slow and sensual movements.

You feel dizzy, your arms shaking. You close your mouth when you literally salivate, because his dick is right there, hard and curving up in front of you as he moves with skilled ease. You giggle a little nervously when he notices and swipes a thumb across your lips. Then he reaches up, curling his hands over yours on the bar as he leans in close to your face.

“You wanna touch me?” he asks, palms over your knuckles. You nod frantically and he grins that mean smile, tilting his head as he looks down at you. “What will you give me for it?”

“Anything,” you say. “You can do anything to me. You can have all of me.”

It occurs only seconds later he might mean money, but he just laughs, that familiar ha-ha-ha you have heard a dozen times before.

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he teases. “By fucking your way out of them?”

“You’re so mean,” you say with a helpless pout.

“Yeah,” he says, brushing his nose with yours. “I am. I could be worse, but it’s your birthday.” He takes your hands and lowers them, guiding them to his shoulders.

You touch him carefully, as if he is fragile, or like he could disappear beneath your fingertips. This moment hardly seems real, ethereal and bright, all neon and purple haze. This is not like you and that is thrilling. This is all new, but he is also familiar. You are enjoying this, him, you together.

You touch him slowly, with intention, just the gentlest caress across his bare shoulders. It wipes his grin, makes his breathing get all slow like he is savouring it too. He looks at you with more intensity.

“You said I can anything?” he asks.

A nod is all it takes, then he is sinking to his knees. He pushes back a few loose strands of his hair, then his hands are under your knees and he is pulling you to the edge of your seat. You make a little noise of surprise, clutching his shoulders until he manoeuvres you. Then it is your legs on his shoulders and he is running his tongue along your inner thigh.

“Seungmin,” you say, breathlessly.

“Shh, shh,” he says. “Our secret, remember?”

Then he is tugging your now wet panties to the side, his mouth on you in a ravenous motion. You cover your mouth to try and stifle most of your moaning, but you cannot help the few sounds that escape, especially as he takes you closer and closer to a climax. He surfaces, still using his hand to get you close, his lips wet and eyes searching. He smirks, sliding two fingers into you while rolling his thumb across that distended bundle of nerves.

“That’s not quiet, birthday girl,” he says. “Don’t make me gag you.”

“I’m quiet,” is your rasping reply.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, fucking his fingers roughly through all the wet desire between your thighs, making you shake. “I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making,” he says. “It almost sounds like you’re about to come for me. That’s pretty dirty. What would everyone out there say?”

Shocked. They would be shocked if they even believed it. You would not have believed it of yourself a few hours ago. But now you are coming all over his face and hand and it is still not enough. You have never begged for anything but the words are on your lips, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, fingers swirling at your entrance. He pushes in and out, just his fingertips, tormenting you. “That just made you needier, didn’t it? Tsk.” He sighs dramatically. “I don’t usually offer that. It’ll cost you.”

“I’ll cook the recipe on page sixteen too,” you say, making him laugh naturally again.

“What a bargain,” he says. He grabs his jeans and fishes a condom out of the back pocket. He even seems to make a show of that. He puts it on and fists his cock for you, standing above you while you catch your breath. When you reach for him, he grabs your wrists and yanks you up. He is effortless and quick, as always, spinning you around and pressing your hands to the back of the seat.

“You know the rules,” he says. “Hands there or I tie them up. That’s my girl.”

You follow his directions and bend over, feeling utterly debauched before he is even inside you. He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties aside again. You are fully dressed and he is completely naked, but you somehow feel more exposed, more vulnerable in his confident hands. He holds your hips and eases inside you, inch by solid inch until he is pressed up against your backside, buried to the hilt.

“That’s it,” he says, tone still cocky though it soon gives way to panting. He makes a few rough sounds of his own, fucking you quick and dirty in this small room. You are going to walk out of here smelling and looking like sex itself, dishevelled and shaky and well-fucked. Practically a new woman, one you are eager to know, containing as many contradictory dualities as Seungmin.

Seungmin, your goofy friend, who throws his head back as he drives into you again and again, shushing you when you get too loud. He muffles his own cry in your shoulder when he comes, still rocking against you for a moment after that.

“Fuck,” you say, dropping onto the seat after. He is tugging his jeans back on, though his eyes are on you. It is a scrutinous stare again. You undoubtedly have questions for each other. For now, you just smile, taking another shuddery breath as you come down from your high. “Well,” you say. “That might have been worth page seventeen too.”

His gaze softens, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile. He leans over you, brushes his nose against yours, and finally kisses you. It is the soft, tender kiss you dreamed about so long ago. It leaves you as breathless as everything else.

“All right, neighbour,” he says, “it’s a date.”

#kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin smut #seungmin smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x you #stray kids x you #kim seungmin x you #valentinesdaystories #kpop fanfiction

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1d1195 · 3 months ago

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Honey I

Read Honey here | ~5k words

From me: Supposed to be a one-shot but I have literally NOT stopped writing. So it's going to be a series because I CANNOT shut up and while I tried to keep it short and sweet, there was just too much for them. Majority of this story is going to be in Harry's POV (kind of) because I just think it's more interesting.

Warnings: parent death out of NO WHERE early on, angst, fluff, and a whole lot of baby stuff

Summary: “Who’s Miss Honey?” He looked above his laptop screen, the last application in front of him.

She laughed softly, her cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. “Me,” she smiled politely, but her focus was sweetly on the baby as she chugged her bottle. “The little ones that had me before loved Matilda, we watched it weekly, and they said I was sweet like Miss Honey.”

She was his favorite before she entered the room.

Harry had decided he was only going to have one love of his life and that was it. He had tried a lot. But now that he was officially in his thirties, it was time to stop being flighty. Time to focus only on those that would make his life better and only on the things that added to his life.

Of course, he hadn’t anticipated falling in love with her as hard as he did. He had heard the stories. But she was different. Naturally. He didn’t believe it was possible. Harry was in love before, and it always burned him the wrong way. Cheating, lying, using... he was victim to terrible relationships.

But her?

She was different. Her love was unconditional. The very first day. Harry was putty. A mess. A complete sap. The little girl was growing to have sweet green eyes and perfect pink lips. She had the making of soft brown hair and Harry wondered if it would turn to curls like his.

But she was so beautiful and so perfect. It brought him to his knees every time he came home from work and saw her little face glow with recognition that he was all hers—and he was. So truly, there didn’t seem to be much room for anything else.

He didn’t love her mom. It wasn’t anything personal. The plan was to co-parent. It was an amicable decision. They weren’t in love with one another. Only with the baby. “She is one-hundred percent Styles,” Chloe smirked in the hospital. “Traitor,” she cooed and kissed the little one on the forehead. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Guess m’good for something,” he winked and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for all your hard work,” he joked.

It wasn’t a bad thing. They weren’t meant to be together, and it was evident in the way she continued to date throughout her pregnancy. The way she drove Harry insane as he worried about every little blip on the ultrasound and paid no mind to the aches and pains she had. (They were minor; and Harry was a control freak.)

Someone like Harry didn’t like surprises.

Which was probably why he was so angry at the driver that took away his friend and the mother of his child in a horrific, tragic car accident. Leaving Harry completely at a loss as to how he was to care for the sweet little girl who’d only barely been in the world for a month.

Harry was an extremely successful businessman. His company made millions of dollars a day. Hundreds of thousands of dollars per hour. So, he had the means for just about anything. Except he hadn’t a clue how he was supposed to help a defenseless baby without a maternal figure. Chloe was happy to stay home, and Harry was willing to pay for anything she needed. They weren’t in a relationship, but he was happy to be friends. She needed a friend as much as Harry did. There wasn’t much family in her life and in a weird way, they were a family. Harry struggled to trust people. Be it because of the money or simply because he worked so hard to get where he was it was hard to let Chloe in after he found out she was pregnant but he was willing to for their baby.

While Harry had relied on his mum and Gemma following the accident, it was impossible to let them take on all the responsibility. Given Harry hadn’t been to the office in almost a month, he needed to figure something out and the sooner the better.

He wasn’t going to cheap out on a nanny. Not even slightly.

So, for the first time since the accident, Harry packed his schedule. Brought the baby and the pink backpack that didn’t match his navy suit to the office. The women fawned over the little miss. Even the men made faces at her. Especially her Uncle Niall—Harry’s best friend and business partner. “Think maybe I’ll just quit and watch her for you,” Niall suggested brushing his finger on her cheek.

Harry snorted and settled into the conference room where he would be conducting interviews. He had done interviews hundreds of times before in the very room, but this time was much different. This was his little girl. He was going to be thorough, and he was determined to find the best person.

“When’s she coming in?”

“Last,” he told Niall not needing a clue about who he was referring to.

“Best for last, I like it,” he joked. “If you need help or want a second opinion, let me know. Just anybody won’t be good enough for my niece. Isn’t that right Little Miss?” Niall cooed and pressed his lips to the top of her head making her little face quirk up in a smile in delight.

“Aw, she loves me.”

Harry didn't like the idea that she was smiling at Niall at all. “It’s probably gas,” Harry scowled. She wasn’t going to love anyone. Especially not a boy and especially not one that wasn’t Harry.

Niall clapped him on the back with a chuckle as he left the conference room with a wave.

The interviews were intense. Within seconds, Harry knew if the woman across from him was going to be a good fit. Harry wasn’t blind; he knew many of the women that traipsed into his office for an interview were there for him. Not the little one. The ones that didn’t even glance at her in her seat were given a set of short questions. Those that oohed and ahhed over her received a longer list of questions that he hoped would tell him everything he needed to know. But no one had sparked his interest by the time he got to the last name on his list.

Harry had the baby in her car seat on the table between them watching the way she interacted with her. For most of the time she slept. Harry did work between interviews—especially when the shorter ones ended before the allotted time scheduled.

It was right before the last interview that she woke from her nap. Her eyes wandered around the room, and she suckled on her pacifier. Harry smiled at her and gave her seat a little rocking motion.

Despite being the interview that he was most hopeful for, Niall chose that moment to interrupt. Requesting his presence immediately. Harry glared at his friend and turned his attention to the woman across the table from him. Her eyes hadn’t moved from the little one—only to hold Harry’s gaze while she shook his hand. Her handshake was warm, gentle, but firm. He thought that immediately spoke volumes and the moment their introduction was complete, she turned her attention to the baby.

“Why hello, Miss Cecelia,” she grinned. “Are you having fun at work today?” She asked. “Are you the boss of everyone?”

“She definitely the boss,” Niall said in the doorway gathering Harry’s attention. He wanted to smack Niall.

“Are you serious?” He grumbled as he walked through the door and glanced back at her as she played with Cece. “It couldn’t wait?”

“I don’t know why you even bothered. Sarah and Mitch’s friends swear by her.”

Harry sighed. It was helpful knowing that someone Sarah and Mitch trusted were content with her services. They said she even babysat for their baby a few times over the years and had nothing but good things to say.

“Hi, sorry, to interrupt. But she’s making a gummy little noise—I think she’s hungry. Do you have a bottle I can grab her?”

“It’s in the fridge,” Harry turned to Niall looking for help.

“I’ll go grab it—”

“Allow me,” she offered and hurried down the hall as if she had already been in the office her whole life. Niall looked at his friend pointedly. When Harry changed her diaper earlier, the woman he was interviewing was unimpressed and when her face twisted in disgust Harry dropped the short number of questions to an even smaller number.

About a minute and a half later she returned. She glanced over her shoulder, shaking the bottle and then testing it on the inside of her wrist in one movement. “Jeez, drool much,” Niall muttered. Harry looked at him curiously and wiped at his mouth in case he was drooling at the sight of her. But Niall nodded at the person at the end of the hall staring at her from where the break room was.

One of Harry’s employees was smiling after her as she walked down the hall, his gaze clearly lingering on something that was not his to linger on. “I’m not sure who he is, but he needs a sexual harassment seminar,” she muttered.

Harry’s gaze flicked to the man who’s eyeline was still much lower than it should have been. He opened his mouth to shout something, but Niall gently pushed him toward the conference room. “I’ll fire him, just go... hire the insanely perfect nanny.”

He stepped back into the room and she looked uncomfortable.

“I’m sor—”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupted quickly holding the bottle still. “I’m so used to just...” she shook her head and turned to Harry expectantly. “Does she eat in the car seat, or do you need to hold her? I can write my own notes for you if you want while you feed her,” she offered. Cecelia was starting to fuss, her eyes catching sight of her food and anticipating how yummy it would be.

Harry tried not to feel an overwhelming sense of hope but that was hopeless. She was already perfect.

“You can feed her,” he offered. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Hold this sweet little cutie? Don’t have to tell me twice,” she grinned delightedly and expertly and sweetly plucked the little one from between the straps and settled into her seat. “Hi girly, are you hungry?” She cooed. “I’m sure,” she said as if Cece had answered.

Harry felt a squeeze of pressure around his heart. While Cece settled into eating, Harry gave them both a moment to adjust while he clicked into her application documents on his laptop. The rest had been put into the computer’s recycle bin.

“Who’s Miss Honey?” He looked above his laptop screen, the last application in front of him.

She was his favorite before she entered the room.

But now that she was in the room, he noted Miss Honey had a gorgeous smile which was not part of the qualifications. But Harry wasn’t blind to that either. It was perhaps the only way she looked similar to the women that came through for interviews before her. But even then, there was something so much better about her smile than the rest. Maybe because it was shy and sweet. It wasn’t flashy and certainly not directed for Harry. No, it seemed her smile belonged to Cece and that was it. She watched as Cece sucked down her milk and her eyes shone with pride, adoration, and warmth. Something Harry wasn’t sure he could explain to someone else without having them see it with their own eyes. Her body held Cece perfectly. Like she was meant to hold her. Effortless.

What was part of what made her infinitely more qualified than the others he saw, were the glowing and gushing letters from the previous family that had her. Even the little ones who signed with their name and ages (five and eight) told Harry in their little crayon letters that Miss Honey was the best. It was tragic they were moving, and she couldn’t go too far from her own family. She was everything Harry could have hoped for. The two letters from the children she nannied for pulled at his heart in a way he didn’t know was possible.

“Hi Cecelia,” she cooed while Harry looked over the words Mitch and Sarah’s friends used to describe her: dependable, intelligent, wonderful, and completely perfect. “You are so pretty; do you know that?” She asked and brushed her finger on Cece’s little cheek while she ate. “Does she sleep well?”

Harry was exhausted. Mostly because he thought every little noise was bad. He was completely thrown during the time off he took while he figured out the situation. It was a huge adjustment for him and Cece. Everything he did felt like it was wrong. “Sometimes,” he said quietly.

“How about eating?” She asked. “It seems like it’s good. Are you a good eater, Miss Cecelia?” she smiled excitedly at the little one. Harry didn’t answer because he felt like he was being interviewed and even though he had no issue answering her, he just wanted to feel a semblance of control over this otherwise stressful, uncontrollable life. “Sorry,” she blushed a shade deeper when no answer came. “I just... I want to know everything about her. I’m not judging, I swear. I... I heard about what happened to her mom,” her voice was full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry Mr. Styles.”

Harry didn’t love Cece’s mum—not that way, but she didn’t deserve to be ripped away from their daughter either. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Thank you.”

Over the last month and a half, Harry became even colder and more distant. Once Cece was born, he didn’t love anyone but his baby girl, his company, and his family. With the little one, he planned on never falling in love again. Maybe when she was eighteen and started to live her own life, he would try again but he was certain he was never going to be able to leave Cece to her own devices. He was wrapped around her little finger that was smaller than the width of his bottom tooth. “Can I ask how many people have interviewed?” She wondered.

“Several...” Harry sighed. It felt like hundreds.

“What do you want for Cecelia?” She asked. Harry tilted his head at her. She was still looking at Cece, she was almost finished with her bottle and her little fingers wrapped around the bracelet near the bottle. “Do you like jewelry, Cecelia?” She giggled. “Good girl; don’t ever settle for anything less than what you want,” she smiled knowingly. Once the bottle was finished, she placed it on the table, then immediately brought her to her chest to burp her.

Harry was unable to form any of the questions he wanted to ask. In the span of a half hour, he hadn’t asked a single question he had prepared because he didn’t need to. “Good girl,” she praised as the little air bubble escaped her lips. Harry thought she would be good. But he didn’t know she would be this good. Then, she placed her back into the car seat and grabbed the toy Harry had left for her to hold onto while he interviewed. It was a small set of rubbery keys. Each one had a different texture and color. They were also filled with little balls that sounded like a rattle when it moved. “Is that so cool?” She asked Cece and giggled when Cece shoved one of the keys into her gummy little mouth.

Harry’s phone rang. He didn’t want to answer it because even though he was taking time off to figure all this out, he had to work anyway. He sighed heavily; wishing he could ask at least one question from his list. “Would y’mind? I have t’take this,” he frowned.

“Of course,” she smiled politely.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes and then Harry was back at the conference room table. He looked at her playing with his little girl making silly noises and faces at the baby. Looking at her with so much love Harry felt like he was intruding.

Then Cece giggled a funny little sound that was most definitely accompanied by her smile. Harry’s heart clenched. She had never made that sound before but when she made it again, he was surer. He gasped. Miss Honey turned to Harry and tilted her head curiously. “She’s never giggled before,” he murmured.

“Oh goodness,” her cheeks pinked again in embarrassment. Then she bit the inside of her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. Some parents were heartbroken about firsts happening while they weren’t around nor responsible for it. Looks like she would be looking for another family entirely.

“Don’t be,” he came over and brushed his finger over her little cheek and she smiled at the sight of him. It made his heart ache deeply. “Is Miss Honey so silly?” He used a voice that he should have felt embarrassed using around someone he was interviewing but if he was going to hire her, she would have to get used to it.

“Can you giggle again, cutie pie?” She asked and popped her lips, making the smile Harry loved more than anything in the world appear on her lips. Then the tiniest little noise came from her mouth again making Harry forget all about her smile and fell in love with the noise instead.

“Aren’t you so silly, Cece,” he cooed again and made the same popping sound.

She giggled again and it seemed it was decided. Cece had spoken. Or giggled her suggestion.

“This is m’address,” he handed her a business card with his home address on the back of it. “I’ll have a moving truck come t’your place on Friday. My personal phone number is there too. I already have you’re your phone number from your application,” he explained. “You can start Monday?”

“Yes, absolutely...but are you sure...? I know things popped up you didn’t really get to ask me any question—”

“Do y’want the job?” He asked.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, very much so.”

“Then it’s yours.”

Her smile was so beautiful Harry wanted to reach out and touch her face. “Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

“You can call me Harry, love,” he said and stuffed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t do something insane like touch her face. “M’sorry ‘bout my former employee. Thank you for bringing it to m’attention.”

Her jaw dropped. “You fired him?”

Harry nodded easily. “Of course. I have a daughter. If he’s going t’ogle you and say something t’you that obviously wasn’t appropriate, m’not going t’let him work for me.”

“Harry,” she said quietly. “That was... I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s done,” he said simply. “I’ll see you Friday?” He asked.

She nodded. “Friday.”

“Do y’want t’say goodbye t’Cece?” He asked while her eyes darted to the little baby gnawing and drooling all over the toy keys.

Her smile bloomed and her cheeks blushed. “Yes, please,” she nodded quickly, unable to hide her want.

Harry smiled.

The next month passed in an insane blur.

She had moved into Harry’s spectacular home. It was huge. Tall ceilings, beautiful light fixtures, and shiny hardwood floors. Harry made sure her room had everything it needed. But still remained simple. A desk, a bed, a dresser, and a bookshelf. But she had plenty to make it her own, which Harry assured her she could do whatever she wanted to the walls so long as she didn’t knock them down, which made her giggle.

She had a huge walk-in closet that fit more clothes than she had which only signaled she could go shopping. But the best part was a little alcove that she would use for reading—it pushed outward of the house with a little bench in front of the window. It caught great light, and she could see Harry’s expansive backyard and garden through it. Harry also had a huge pool which excited her. It would help get her workouts in.

The walls were grey-blue, and it fit in with a lot of the décor she had. She hung pictures using removable sticky hooks—a holdover from college. She spaced them out between her couple rooms. She thought this room would have been perfect for a nursery but when she saw Miss Cecelia had a skylight that let in the moonlight and when she checked on her in the middle of the night that first day, it made way more sense.

Her bathroom was massive as well. It had a walk-in shower and no tub, which was fine with her. It was painted a light yellow, so it felt just bright and sunny. The water pressure was to die for she worried she would really stay in the shower way longer than she should have because of it. Harry took Cecelia to his mom’s house where he was going to stay for the weekend to let her get settled without him around. “Do you have a nanny cam?” She asked him. “I don’t mind if you do, I just want to make sure I don’t walk around naked or anything,” she joked.

Harry’s face had a strange look on it and then he cleared his throat. “No, security cameras are... they’re all outdoors.”

“So no skinny dipping,” she joked again, hoping the weird expression would disappear from his face but instead it remained and Harry smiled weakly before turning his attention back to Cece and making sure she was correctly in her seat.

“If you need help moving furniture or anything, let me know I can send someone over.”

“Okay,” she answered quietly worried she would say the wrong thing again.

“Alarm and lock codes and keys are on the breakfast counter for you. You’re welcome t’anything in the kitchen. You can use the car in the garage or y’can call m’driver,” he looked at her pointedly. “I’d prefer y’not Uber or take taxis.”

Her heart fluttered for what she wasn’t sure. It was no secret that Harry Styles was beautiful. When her previous family told her they were moving, she was devastated. She had been with them for two years and she loved them like they were her younger siblings. They offered for her to move with them, but she didn’t want to be far away from where they were. It was at least the same coast as her family, and she just loved the city they were in.

But when they told her they were recommending her to Harry, she was happy. Her research (social-media stalking) found very little. He was in news articles pertaining to Cece’s mom’s car accident which made her heart ache for both of them. Even though the articles made it very clear they were not a couple. Cece would never know her mom, but she hoped that Harry would tell her about her anyway. She found his company and read their mission statement. Harry did a lot of philanthropy which made her heart ache again. It was so kind and sweet. But there wasn’t much she got about Harry from her search. His personal pages were private and there was very little information. Even articles in local newspapers and magazines didn’t have much from interviews. Of course she could respect his privacy, but she was hoping to know a little more about the man she was going to be living with.

This was only her third nannying gig. But she fell in love with Cece the moment she laid eyes on her. She wanted Harry to like her and so far, all she felt was his cold and distant indifference. When he smiled at Cece she saw warmth and happiness. It was completely different than the persona he had when he directed it to her. But Harry chose her to do this. That had to mean something. Maybe he loved Cece’s mom more than the articles let on. Maybe it was a ruse. She couldn’t imagine what that call was like for Harry. There had to be stuff he was working through.

So she didn’t let his indifference bother her.

Or at least... she tried to not let it bother her.

Monday, she woke up early and got herself ready early before breakfast time. Harry said he left the house at seven-thirty so he would be at work an hour earlier than most everyone else. When she got to the kitchen, she started a pot of coffee. But then she noted there as a box of English breakfast tea, and she realized her mistake and turned the kettle on the stove instead.

Once the drinks were set on the counter to cool just a bit, she headed to Cece’s room. Found her gazing up at her mobile. “Hello sweet girl,” she cooed and her little face grinned. “We’re going to give you a quick change and then go get you some breakfast, yeah?” She scooped her out of her crib and turned to the changing table. She heard the shower turning off a couple rooms over while she quickly changed her. Harry was naked only a few rooms over.

Harry was excessively handsome. He was tall, with dark hair, gorgeous eyes, and a jawline that looked like it could cut through marble. But she thought he was most handsome when he smiled at Cece. It made a flutter in her heart to see him interact with the little one.

But a naked Harry might have been good too.

Cece made little noises trying to talk in a way that only made sense to a two-and-a-half-month old and pulled her inappropriate thoughts from her boss’ body. Even if she was sure there were muscles upon muscles hiding under suits.

When Cece was all changed and comfy, she put her on her hip, draping her securely with the wrap meant to keep her hands free. The kitchen was still empty, so she tended to Cece’s bottle and grabbed the bread from the breadbox to make toast. Once she learned what Harry liked she would make a better breakfast but surely everyone liked toast. Given there was a jam that was half eaten in the fridge she only assumed that she was correct.

“Hi,” Harry said quietly as she pulled the bottle from the warmer. She spun around and took in Harry’s perfectly styled hair, his suit that fit him like a second skin, and his shaven face.

“Good morning,” she grinned. “I...I made you tea, but I didn’t know how you took it.”

He tilted his head at her and noted the toast popping as well with his favorite jam sitting on the counter. She was making him breakfast.

Was that normal? Harry had no idea how a nanny worked. He never thought he would need one.

“Um...there’s also plenty of coffee if you prefer that—”

“No, thank you. Tea. Three sugars. Thank you,” he repeated and grabbed the sugar.

“Do you like a lot of jam or—”

“Just a regular amount,” he watched scooping the sugar into his drink with a teaspoon.

She slid the plate across to him. “Do you want to feed her, or would you like me to?”

“I’ll take her,” he offered. He wanted to see his little lady before he left anyway and could use a snuggle. It was the first time in a month he wouldn’t have her glued to him.

“Let’s go see Dada, Cece,” she cooed and pulled her from the strappy wrap that Harry could never figure out. “Who’s that?” She wrinkled her nose and smiled as she held her out to Harry. Cece grinned and melted Harry’s heart as he smirked and held his hands out for her. He gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, Ce,” he hummed and grabbed the warmed bottle as well. He sat on the stool around the breakfast island and brought the bottle to her lips. “Did y’sleep well, cutie pie?”

She didn’t answer of course, focusing on sucking down her bottle instead. Part way through, her little eyes closed, and she stopped sucking. “Blow on her face,” she said.

“Pardon?”

She smiled. “If you blow on her face, she’ll become alert again. The bottle just tastes so good she’s a little drunk,” she giggled.

Harry blew a quick breath on Cece’s perfect little face and sure enough she perked right back up.

Harry had such long arms he could hold and wrap his arm around, so the bottle reached Cece’s mouth with one hand (sure it wasn’t the most comfortable angle) but it allowed him to take a sip of his tea and get a bite of his toast as well. Harry watched as she made her second cup of coffee and put cream and sugar into it. “Coffee hmm?” He asked.

She nodded. “I prefer iced, but I won’t say no to hot coffee.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and put it on the counter so he could tap at the screen. “I’ll buy an iced machine,” he said quickly scanning the quick reviews on Google for the best one.

She was gaping at him. “Harry, that’s not necessary.”

“Course it is. Want you t’be comfortable here. S’least I can get you. S’your house too,” he shrugged.

Perhaps it would have been different had he been in love with the woman that previously lived here. But this was different. That was too much. “Harry, seriously.”

“Seriously, s’fine, love,” he shrugged one shoulder without looking up at her.

“Honestly, I can just use ice from the—”

“It’ll be here by the end of the day,” he said ending the discussion. He took another sip and bite of his tea. “Did y’do something different to the toast?” He asked putting his hand in front of his mouth so she wouldn’t see him chewing.

“I put butter on before the jam. I think it makes it sweeter. Sorry I should have—”

“I like it,” he smiled. A genuine smile. “Thank you, love.”

“You’re welcome. But...about the coffee... I really don’t think you needed to get me—”

He shook his head as he sipped the final remnants of his tea. “It’s done, love. S’nothing t’worry ‘bout,” he shrugged and just as Cece finished her bottle, Harry caught the time. “I have t’go,” he frowned. “You have a fun day with Miss Honey, Cece, yeah?” He winked at her making her heart skip a beat as she watched him kiss his baby’s cheek again. “I love you have a good day,” he cooed and kissed her again. “Do y’want her or should I put her in the swing?”

“Um... I’ll take her,” she murmured stunned by the interaction.

“Have a good day, Miss Honey,” he smiled sweetly.

She liked morning Harry a lot.

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ominous-duck-epistle · 9 days ago

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It’s killing me that Lizzie has been the only source of forgiveness for Pearl so far. In all the seasons.

In Last Life, she never really antagonized anyone (except for a brief moment where she stole Scar’s cactus).

In Double Life, obviously, no one ever forgave her. Scott and Cleo didn’t forgive her for episode one. Martyn held his grudge for her imaginary transgressions against him (she didn’t really do anything to him). Ren and BigB didn’t really forgive her; Ren did make amends when he was in the Broke Hearts Club with her, but that was more of an apology than forgiveness. She killed BDubs and Impulse on their last life, so they weren’t alive to hold a grudge.

In Limited Life, Jimmy didn’t forgive her for killing Judge Judy and Executioner, Scott didn’t forgive her (that I can remember) for stealing the enchanter. Cleo and the rest of the Clockers didn’t forgive her for allying with Team TIES.

But in Secret Life, Lizzie held a grudge against everyone for not going to her party. But she didn’t against Pearl (and Joel ig). Pearl asks her if they are still good and Lizzie says that they are. That season, Lizzie had no allies, and she wasn’t really amicable with anyone, but with Pearl it was different, she was okay with Pearl and didn’t hold it against her that she didn’t go to her party like with everyone else.

And again in Wild Life, (skipping Real Life because Pearl didn’t do anything to anyone in RL) Pearl tries to kill Lizzie like 5 times in a row. But when she gets a question wrong, Lizzie still says, “We have to save Pearl!”, and when Pearl tells her the answer to her question, Lizzie says that she forgives her. Something that no one else had done for her. In this same season, Gem is having beef with Pearl for something that happened the PREVIOUS season. And, I guess, Scott and Cleo have forgiven her for Double Life, but THREE SEASONS LATER (four if you count Real Life).

No one else has given Pearl this grace except for Lizzie. Pearl herself didn’t even give Lizzie this grace. In Last Life, when Lizzie boogey-kills her, afterwards Pearl says that she is still scared of her and doesn’t want to be near her. And Lizzie doesn’t blame her, because, in the Life Series, forgiveness isn’t common. Holding grudges keeps you alive. If you forgive someone, it gives them a chance to betray you again.

Lizzie forgives her, time and again, in a game so devoid of forgiveness.

#thank you for listening to my essay #maybe it’s because Lizzie hasn’t been in many seasons #maybe she doesn’t know how uncommon and deadly it is #traffic smp #life series #pearlescentmoon #trafficblr #ldshadowlady #wild life smp #wild life spoilers #wild life session 5 #my posts

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tsuutarr · 6 months ago

Text

I Want to Pepper You In Kisses

Pairing: Arven x GN!Reader

Word count: 10K

Genres: fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint

Summary: Somehow, Arven’s journey to find Herba Mystica ended with him falling in love with you.

Before Arven falls in love with you, he’s not entirely sure what to make of you. He honestly finds you a nuisance, along with that hyperactive student council president. Seeing the brute out and about feeds into his annoyance, too.

“What’re you doing out here?!” he yells, pointing an accusatory finger at the Pokémon his parent loved more than they loved him.

“Hey, please don’t get too angry – this sweetheart here helped me out,” you say.

Arven scoffs. “I’m not talking to you two. You can shove off.”

He expects you to get angry then and leave, but you don’t. Instead, your gaze softens for some unknown reason and he can’t maintain eye contact, so he looks away.

Then, the stupid student council president mentions his relation to the “great professor,” making anger course through his veins.

“It doesn’t matter who my parent is!” He crosses his arms, eyes narrowed into a glare as he tries to fight the bitterness rising in his chest. “The real issue here is what in the world this Pokémon is doing out here. And what’s with this form it’s in?”

“See, we heard this strange cry, and we tried to investigate it, but…” Nemona begins.

“But I fell off a cliff.” You give a small shrug with an awkward grin. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“And as mentioned earlier, this Pokémon came to the rescue!” Nemona beams. “But it seems like it wore itself out in the process. It got kinda… slumpy afterward. But you shoulda seen it before! It looked totally different – it was unbelievably strong!”

“Well, yeah. As it should be. But it can’t fight while it’s like this. The form you saw it take in battle – that’s its true form.”

“Heh,” you pat the brute’s head lovingly and Arven briefly wonders how your fingers would feel ruffling through his hair. He quickly shoves the thought from his mind. “You’re quite strong, huh?”

“...I don’t remember ever seeing you around. But given the uniform… You go to the academy too, do you?” he asks, making you nod. “Well, that brute isn’t the sort of Pokémon any old trainer can hope to command. It’s special.”

“Well, it definitely does seem that way,” you agree amicably as if he didn’t just insult your fighting prowess. Why aren’t you mad? Why aren’t you ignoring him? Why aren’t you… Ugh. He’s really not used to it and maybe that’s why he asks his next question.

“You think you’re up to ordering it around? Then how ‘bout I test your worthiness?”

You pause, seemingly surprised at his offer. You make eye contact with the brute who blinks at you, before cuddling its head into your side lovingly. You can’t help but laugh as you agree to battle him.

“I’ve been feeling all out of sorts, so I’m gonna use this battle to blast these doldrums away!” he announces, throwing out his newly caught Skowvet. He’s not really sure what outcome he expected, but he definitely didn’t expect you to absolutely pulverize him in battle.

“Good job,” you murmur sweetly as your starter Pokémon hops over to you, nuzzling your hand as you pet it. Arven can’t help but think about how warm your eyes look then, but he quickly glances away, afraid of being caught. You glance at Arven, who’s withdrawing his Pokémon into its ball. Smiling at him, you approach him, offering your hand. “Good battle.”

He doesn’t take it, instead opting to shove his Poké Ball back into his pocket. “I guess I wasn’t ever going to stand a chance using some Pokémon I’d only just caught…” he mutters. “But if you really think you can take that brute off my hands for me… you’ll need this. It’s its Poké Ball.”

You take it with a nod and a smile. “Thank you.”

Arceus, he’s really not used to people being nice to him. Or smiling. Or anything, really, so the softness in your expression throws him off wholly, making his ears feel hot. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “that thing’s your problem now, not mine. Good luck.”

“Mhm,” you agree. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he says dumbly, “Uh. See you around, I guess.”

“See you!”

Arceus, he’s really not sure what to make of you.

His stance on your existence is further complicated as rumors about you seem to float around the school. He’s positive that the Academy has new students all the time, but for some reason you seem to stand out – and what’s this about you fighting Team Star? You’re definitely having some kind of day. Falling off a cliff, getting pawned an annoying Pokémon, beating up some Team Star grunt… you just seem to attract trouble.

Trouble…

An idea pops up in his head.

The next time he sees you, it’s during lunchtime. He notices you almost immediately and he tries to ignore the implications of that. He’s surprised to not see the annoying student council president next to you, but he takes it as his opportunity and slides up next to you as you browse the food selection in the cafeteria. “Oh, hey!” he catches your attention and you turn to him with a tilt of your head. He half expects your face to morph into one of disappointment but it doesn’t and it makes him feel… soft. Weird. He shoves the feeling down. “You remember me, right?”

You raise an inquisitive eyebrow, your lips twitching upwards. “I don’t think we’ve met…”

He must’ve made an odd expression, because a laugh jumps out of your throat.

“I’m kidding. From the lighthouse?’

“Yeah, exactly!” Arven feels oddly cozy. “That’s my little know-it-all buddy. Got a mind like a steel trap, eh?”

You blink at him, before saying, “I wouldn’t say that,” with a snort. “Ah, but I don’t think I’ve introduced myself –”

“Don’t worry about it.” Arven says your name. “That’s your name, right? The whole school seems to be talking about you. The new kid who showed up as the president of the student council.”

You scrunch up your nose a little at that. “I didn’t think I’d stand out that much.”

You stand out for a lot of reasons, Arven wanted to say, but instead says, “I normally wouldn’t even bother showing up for class, but I came all the way to school today just to talk to you, actually. Our new celebrity. You’ve gotta help me out so I can finally make my dream a reality!”

“Happy to help!” you respond, making him blink.

“Uh? What kind of little maniac says yes to something without knowing what they’re agreeing to?!”

“Well, you said it’s your dream, right?” you offer him a smile. “I dunno, I guess I’ve always admired people with dreams. Don’t really have any myself, so…” you give him a shrug. “What’s this dream?”

Your kindness makes him feel a little sick. He’s using you and you’re willing to be used – but before guilt can really settle in, he nods. Arven begins his spiel about picnics and sandwiches and health foods and he knows he’s rambling but you listen patiently. “...So. That’s the gist.” He rubs the nape of his neck. “I really want to get those herbs myself, but… I’m not very good at Pokémon battles. Don’t have any friends with strong Pokémon to lend me a hand, either.” Well, he didn’t really have friends, period, but he wasn’t going to say that. “And I’d never hear the end of it if I went crawling to that student council girl.” Arven inhales. “But then you waltz up! You’ve got to help me out with this – you’d be perfect!”

“Well–”

“Nope! Wait! I don’t need an answer yet! I’ll just register the places where it seems there might be Titans in your map app for you.”

You laugh. “Well, I’ve pretty much made my decision, but okay.”

“Just let it stew a bit,” Arven insists. “And we can get more into the details later.”

“Gotcha,” you nod. “I’ll get some food in the meantime. Wanna join?”

“I have places to be,” Arven responds. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“All right, fine by me. See you!”

When Arven leaves the cafeteria, he regrets not taking you up on your offer. But he pushes the thought away, fiddling with the old Poké Ball in his pocket – he has places to be.

When he sees you again, he almost groans in annoyance at seeing Nemona with you. Surely chattering on about battles. Again.

“Hey, little buddy!” he yells, running up to you both. Arven gives you a little nod of acknowledgement, before narrowing his eyes at Nemona. “Tch. How’s that for a student council president! Giving your own friends an insider advantage?”

You stand, an amused expression on your face, as Arven and Nemona argue.

“I can do both, you know.” You finally say, trying to appease them. Pulling out your Rotom Phone, you show them the places marked on your map app. “See? They’re all pretty close to each other. I’ll do them all as I tackle Paldea.”

“So you’ll challenge the gyms?” Nemona asks, a sparkle in her eyes. As you nod, she cheers. “En serio? How exciting!”

“...Tch, fine. As long as you help me tackle the Titans, I guess.” Arven relents. “Well, I’m outta here. Catch up soon, little buddy!”

You laugh. “I will!”

Arven won’t admit it, but his steps feel lighter at your agreement to help him.

---

The first time Arven falls in love with you, he doesn’t even realize he’s fallen. Instead, he recognizes the overwhelming sense of relief at seeing you run up to him.

“Hey, Arven!”

“Hey,” he says, his tense shoulders relaxing by seeing your smile.

“How’ve you been?”

“Eh, the usual,” he responds, before awkwardly tacking on, “You?”

“Heh, I’ve been good,” you respond. “You ready to look for the Stony Cliff Titan?”

Arven snorts. “You’re more excited than me.”

“What can I say?” your gaze is so kind as you look at him that it makes his cheeks warm. “I want to help you achieve your dream.”

“All right, all right,” he huffs, though he can’t help the smile that sneaks up on his face. “Let’s split up then, yeah? It should be around this area, but we can cover more ground this way.”

“Sounds good to me! Call me if you find it, okay?”

“‘Course,” Arven responds. “Same to you!”

He hadn’t expected to hear from you so fast. “Arven!” you exclaim, “I found it – whoa, dodge that!” you command as a rock hurtles towards your Pokémon. “Yeesh, this thing is huge!”

“I’m on my way!” he hurriedly says, worry lacing his voice. He couldn’t help it – you were battling a Titan by yourself. You guys were supposed to fight it together!

“Hah, don’t hurt yourself while rushing over here,” you laugh with ease and he’s surprised at how much your voice calms him down. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

Despite your words of assurance, he finds himself rushing to you. He can’t let you get hurt so early in the hunt, after all.

When he gets to where you are, you’ve already done a lot of damage to the Titan. His mouth gapes in surprise at the huge size of the Pokémon, as well how cheery you are as you wave at him. “Hey, Arven!” you beam.

“Behind you!” he yells, and you hurriedly turn your attention back to the battle, commanding your Pokémon to counterattack. He won’t lie – you look kind of cool like this. Like a hero. His hero. Arceus, that’s embarrassing, Arven thinks, burying that thought deep into the crevices of his brain.

“Thanks!”

“No problem, but… that’s the Stony Cliff Titan? No Klawf has got any business being that big!”

“Agreed,” you laugh, before tilting your head as you see the Klawf scrambling away. “Uh… Where’s it going?”

“It’s heading inside that cave…?” Arven’s eyes widen when the Klawf scrambles back outside with something in its hand.

“Do you think that’s–”

“A Herba Mystica!”

You and Arven watch as the Klawf gobbles the herb and it begins to glow, shaking with some immense power.

“You think it’s gonna be even stronger now, after eating all those herbs? Let’s watch ourselves!”

“You got it!” you nod. “I trust you to have my back!”

Arven can feel ears warm again as he tosses out his Shellder. You trusted him? You actually trusted him to have your back. Well, he can admit the feeling is mutual, at least. And, he won’t admit it to you, but watching you battle is riveting. The way your eyes shine, the confidence in your directions, you standing by his side – it makes his heart beat so fast he isn’t sure what to do with himself.

Adrenaline is still pumping through his veins when you’ve defeated the Titan, making his limbs feel jittery. His heart beats even faster as you turn to him, eyes crinkled at the sides as you raise your hand for a high five. Cute, he thinks as his palm makes contact with yours.

“We did it!” you cheer.

“Yeah,” he feels kind of breathless, but he can’t help the wide smile that overtakes his features. “Look at you – my little buddy; coming through like a champ!”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you respond, and Arven’s heart warms because he knows you could’ve done it without him. You’re so much better than him, after all.

He shakes his head at the thought, feeling his heart jolt painfully.

“These Titan Pokémon are… yeesh. I sure don’t like having something so tough out to get me.”

“Don’t worry!” When your laugh resounds again, Arven wonders how you can be so happy. “If they come for you, I’ll get them.”

His face heats up again as he clears his throat. “Anyway, I’m sure there’s more Herba Mystica somewhere back there – quick, let’s have a look before it comes back.”

You follow after Arven, asking, “Which one do you think we’ll find?”

“According to the book, it’s the Sweet Herba Mystica–”

“Whoa!” you trip, making Arven act faster than he thought possible. He grabs your arm as you stabilize yourself.

“Watch your step, it’s pretty dark,” Arven murmurs, removing his hand from your arm. He clenches his hand, still feeling your lingering warmth.

“Sorry, sorry,” you say.

“Nah, don’t apologize.” Arven pauses. “Uh, and if it helps… you can, uh, grab onto my vest or something.”

“I’ll take you up on that, actually,” you huff out a laugh, fingers gently grabbing the back of his vest. Arceus why did he offer this? He feels like he’s gonna die from how fast his heart is beating. Now he has to deal with making sure you both don’t trip and the thought makes him nervous (which is definitely, definitely the only reason his heart is beating so fast).

Before Arven can dwell in his thoughts for too long, his feet stop, making you bump into his back.

“Oof!”

Arven wants to apologize, but he can’t as his throat constricts at the sight of the pink herb glimmering in the dark. “It’s – it’s real. It’s real!” He feels like crying, but he holds it in, taking in a shaking breath. “Let’s see… The book says that the Sweet Herba Mystica is good for gut health and that it helps aid digestion. Says it’s good for stomach aches, too, or when you want to stimulate an appetite!”

“Heh, that battle stimulated my appetite enough,” you hum and Arven can’t help but agree.

“...Now, if I can just get him to eat some…”

You look at him curiously, but don’t pry, which he’s grateful for.

“All right! Now it’s my turn to show off what I can do. You’re about to get a taste of my cooking!”

“Looking forward to it!” you respond and Arven can feel a grin come on his face as he prepares to cook.

He first learned how to cook all those years ago because he was the only one who could take care of himself. His parent was always too busy to take care of him, after all, so he could only really rely on himself and Mabosstiff. Well, it worked out in the end – him cooking turned out to be a good enough bribe for you to help him, which he really didn’t expect. He was so used to expecting people to help him and no one coming through, so you being there felt odd. But it wasn’t a bad thing, really. He… just hopes you’ll be able to stick around till the end. Just until he can get all the herbs, at least.

Somehow, the thought that you won’t talk to him after you get all the herbs kind of bothers him.

“Here you go!” Arven announces, trying to rid himself of his thoughts. He hands you the plate with a sandwich on it.

“Oh, that looks delicious!” you beam, making his heart swell with pride.

“It’s an Arven-original sandwich packed full of herbs! And–” he digs through his pocket, handing you something that looks like a badge. “–I’ll even give you this. It’s called a Titan Badge. I modeled it after the gym badges.”

You let out a whistle. “This looks genuine,” you marvel. “You’re really good with your hands.”

“Nah, it’s really nothing,” he bashfully says, but the moment is interrupted as the brute springs out of its Poké Ball. “What’s up with that thing? It just comes out of its ball whenever it wants?”

“I guess?” you respond, patting your Pokémon lovingly. It purrs underneath your touch, before sniffing at your sandwich.

“Hey now,” Arven says. “That’s not for you.”

Even as Arven says that, you give the sandwich to the brute, making Arven sigh. He’s starting to think you’re a complete pushover.

“Hey! I went through all the trouble of making that for you, and you just give it away? I hope you realize that’s all there was, so now there’s none left for you.”

“Oh.” You hum in thought. “That’s fine, don’t worry. Sorry about giving your sandwich away, though.”

Your kind gaze makes Arven heave out another sigh. “Aw, come on! Now you’re making me feel bad,” he grumbles without any real bite. He cuts his own sandwich in half, offering it to you.

“Oh, you really don’t have to–”

“Just take it,” he responds. “You fought hard, y’know. You should eat.”

“...Thanks.” You take the sandwich from him. He watches you expectantly as you take a huge bite and he’d be lying if he wasn’t absolutely ecstatic when he sees your eyes light up. “This is good!”

“Heh, I’m glad you think so!” he boasts, pleased, before he looks at your Pokémon. “Hey… is it just me or has your brute–”

You clear your throat.

“–your partner gotten… stronger?”

“I think so,” you tilt your head. “You think you got stronger, ‘Don?”

“Agias!” it responds, making you laugh.

He stares at the way you two interact with each other and there’s this twinge of something that stabs at him. At one point, that was how he and his Mabosstiff interacted.

“Arven?” you ask him, cautiously.

He swallows. “The power of these herbs is really something! If they had that big of an effect on your Pokémon, then I bet…” he trails off. “I’ll start cleaning up – don’t worry about it!” he waves you away when you approach him to help. “You’ve done more than enough by defeating that Titan Pokémon. Leave the rest to me. Just… if you can, it’d be great if you could get started on searching out the other Herba Mystica for us.”

“You got it,” you salute. “See you, Arven. Thanks again for the sandwich!”

He watches as you disappear out of the cave, whispering, “I really owe you one.” He inhales, before carefully letting his Mabosstiff out. It’s been a while since Arven’s heard Mabosstiff’s bark, but he still can’t help the disappointment that settles in his bones when he sees that all his partner can do is heave labored breaths. Gently, Arven combs his fingers through Mabosstiff’s thick fur. “Hey, buddy,” he murmurs. “You think you can eat this for me?”

Mabosstiff merely whines in response and Arven can feel his heart clench uncomfortably.

“It’s okay, bud.” Arven breaks off small chunks of the sandwich, feeding them to Mabosstiff one by one, carefully watching Mabosstiff’s reaction.

Mabosstiff, the sweet friend that he is, slowly but surely eats what Arven offers.

“You know,” Arven says, scratching behind Mabosstiff’s ear. “I actually made this with someone else.”

In response to Arven’s words, Mabosstiff nuzzles into Arven’s knee. It’s a soft gesture that makes tears well up in Arven's eyes.

“Yeah, I just met them recently but… they’ve agreed to help me help you,” Arven begins, still gently patting his Pokémon. Arven begins talking about how strong you are and how pretty you are when you smile. How cool you are when you fight. Recounting stories about you, little snippets about how you laugh or how you say certain words, makes Arven’s heart feel strangely warm and before he knows it, Mabosstiff has been lulled to sleep, paws warmer than before.

---

The second time Arven falls in love with you, he’s so overwhelmed by your kindness that he doesn’t realize he’s in love.

“Second Titan down!” you cheer, holding up your hand for another high five. Arven can’t help but grin back, hitting your palm with his. There’s a pleasant tingle that spreads out across his palm.

“You were amazing there, y’know?” he says, adjusting his bag, which makes you peer at him curiously.

“Isn’t that heavy?”

“Nah, I’ve been lugging this thing for a while, so…” he shakes his head, tilting his chin towards the direction of the cave. “Let’s get goin’ before the Titan comes back for seconds.”

“You got it!” you agree, following after Arven.

“If we’re lucky, there’ll be another herb here…”

“Over there!” you point, making the both of you run to it.

“It’s a Herba Mystica!” Arven grins, looking at the green herb. “Thanks, really. If I can just get him to eat this…” his voice turns quiet as he gazes at the herb in silence. It’s the second herb out of five and Arven desperately, desperately hopes this will do something to help Mabosstiff.

“Arven…”

He lightly smacks his cheeks with his hands, trying to get rid of his negative thoughts. “Okay, let me whip something up for us!”

“...Okay,” you say softly with a smile. “Waiting for a good meal, chef.”

“You can count on it!” he responds as he gets ready to cook. It’s something he’s noticed lately, but sometimes he thinks about you while he’s cooking. It’s kinda embarrassing since you’re right there, but he can’t really help it. He didn’t think you’d pull through for a second time, which, maybe he shouldn’t have doubted you, but years of disappointment made it hard for him to expect things from anyone that isn’t him. Still, he’s so grateful because really, no matter how good his cooking is, there’s no reason to help him. After all, it wasn’t like you considered him a friend or anything yet, right…?

It would be nice if you did, though.

“All right, all done!” Arven announces. “Here you go! My special, whimsical, herb-filled super sandwich! And it comes with a Titan Badge!”

“I’m still impressed with how good these look.”

“Heh, I’m glad you – aw, come on! You again?” Arven groans, seeing your brutish partner pop out. It nuzzles into your side again, looking at you with big doe eyes as it begs for your sandwich. The brute took his parent, and now it’s trying to take you, too? He can’t help but feel a little jealous – wait. Jealous? Why would he feel jealous…? Arven shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. Still, he can’t help but pout when the Pokémon looks at him and mewls. “...Hmph. Is it trying to say thanks or something?”

“Maybe,” you laugh. “It really liked your sandwich. I’m not a bad cook or anything, but ‘Don will longingly stare in the distance sometimes when it eats my cooking – probably thinking about yours, heh.”

Arven clears his throat to tamper out the embarrassment that he’s feeling. “Well, it’s a good thing I made extra, then.”

“Oh?” there’s a teasing glint in your eyes that makes his cheeks flush.

“I just made extra ‘cause you’ve been helpin’ me a lot!” there’s a small frown on his face, though it’s not malicious, “I definitely, absolutely, did not make extra for your partner.”

You raise your hands as a testament of peace, though there’s still a teasing grin on your face because you both know he’s lying. He’s thankful when you don’t push, though, instead opting to take his sandwich from him. “This smells great, Arven!” Beside you, your partner yips happily, nudging you to hurry up and feed it. With a laugh – one that Arven absolutely does not think is cute – you give your partner its sandwich. After it gobbles down its sandwich, it glows brilliantly, making Arven’s eyebrows rise.

“Did it grow stronger again?”

“I think so!” you beam, patting your Pokémon. “Look at you go!”

“Man… these Herba Mystica really do pack a punch, huh? I mean, they ought to, or else–” Arven’s eyes widen as your Pokémon lumbers over to an extra sandwich on the table. The Pokémon’s action makes rage bolt through Arven, but even more than that, panic. “Don’t you dare touch that – it isn’t for you!” His shoulders are tense as he yells, his voice echoing throughout the cave. Both you and your Pokémon blink in surprise and Arven tries his best to control his ragged breathing, but it’s hard.

“Arven,” you murmur, placing a hand on his shoulder. He expected you to slap him for yelling at your Pokémon, so your soft touch gives him whiplash. “I’m sorry about ‘Don. Are you all right?”

“Yeah – yeah.” He’s not sure why you’re able to help calm him down so quickly, but there’s a sense of peace that thrums through his veins, allowing him to think a little clearer. “Yeah.”

“‘Don.” There’s a chastising lilt to it that makes your Pokémon bow its head apologetically. It purrs, slinking away from the table and curling up.

“...I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shouted like that…” Arven inhales, the air feeling heavy in his lungs. “I… guess I should at least tell you the full story.” Fiddling with the Poké Ball in his pocket, Arven intakes another deep breath, before letting his beloved Mabosstiff out. “This is Mabosstiff, my partner.” Arven takes the extra sandwich off of the table, breaking it into smaller chunks and feeding it to Mabosstiff. “Here you go, bud. Eat up. This sandwich should help you feel better. Slowly now. Take your time. Small bites are fine. Just chew nice and slow…”

Mabosstiff does as instructed, slowly, but surely, eating out of Arven’s hand. You watch the scene silently, but kneel down next to Arven. It’s an odd feeling, but Arven can’t help but appreciate the fact that you’re still here.

“...My buddy here was… hurt pretty bad a while ago. Real bad, in fact. He never really recovered,” Arven says, feeling tears well up in his throat.

“Oh, Arven… I’m so sorry,” you murmur, hand gently rubbing his back. Before he’s cognizant of what’s happening, you’ve drawn him to your chest, giving him a hug. You have to angle yourself a little oddly because he’s so much taller than you, but that fact just makes his heart feel even more warm. He can’t really bring himself to hug you back fully, but he grabs the back of your shirt as he tries to steady his breathing.

“Nothing seems to help,” his voice cracks, “not potions, not Pokémon Centers… Nothing.” Inhaling deeply, he closes his eyes. “Mabosstiff here is the only thing in the world I care about. The only thing… So, I promised that I’d make him better – whatever it takes.”

“And that’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah.”

“You must’ve done your research,” you hum. “I’m impressed you found this out.”

“I was desperate,” he murmurs, basking in your warmth for a beat longer, before pulling away and pulling out a book. “I – this book… I found it in my parent’s lab. It’s full of legends and stuff, things nobody’d usually believe…” Saying it aloud makes it dawn on him how kind you actually are – when he asked for your help, he’d asked without knowing if any of this had any substance or value yet you agreed. “...But I believe it.” His gaze meets yours. “As an example, Mabosstiff’s paws have gotten warmer when he first ate Herba Mystica – I’m sure of it!”

Arven’s gaze sweeps back to Mabosstiff who is still chewing his food.

“Oh! You done eating, bud?” Arven murmurs, threading his fingers through Mabosstiff’s thick fur. There’s a twinge of anxiety as Arven gazes at his beloved companion. Something – anything, please, Arven thinks, teeth worrying his bottom lip.

Slowly, Mabosstiff’s eyes open, making Arven’s breath hitch in his throat.

“H–hey, Mabosstiff! Can… can you see? Are your eyes open?” Tears clog his throat again as he sniffs. “Yes! It… It’s been so long since he was able to open his eyes! I was so worried–” he sniffs “–oh man, I–! I’m so–! I’m so glad!”

You rub gentle circles on Arven’s back as you allow him to bask in his relief while crying.

“Thank you, really,” he finally says, making you laugh.

“It’s all you, Arven, promise.” Your gaze is contemplative as you tap your fingers against your knee. “Do you mind if I pet him?”

“Ah… Well, what do you say, Mabosstiff?”

Mabosstiff looks at you and you look back with a smile.

“He says yes,” Arven supplies helpfully.

“I’m glad you told me,” you laugh. “I couldn’t tell.” Still, you gently take your hands and scratch behind Mabosstiff’s ear, which he seems to like. Watching you carefully handle his buddy makes an indescribable emotion well up in Arven – he’s really not sure what to make of it, but he wants to burn the image of you and Mabosstiff into his brain.

“Aw, look at him look at you!” Arven huffs out a laugh. “Those fiery orange little eyes… Hard to tell if they’re open or not, but I know the difference!”

“Hah, I don’t doubt it,” you respond, giving Mabosstiff one last scratch before drawing your hand away.

“The power of these herbs really is amazing!” Arven beams, feeling a lot better after crying. “I’m gonna get the rest of these herbs and bring Mabosstiff to full health.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, making Arven awkwardly clear his throat. He knows that you’ve been nothing but kind to him, but he still feels a little shy around you now that things are dawning on him. He’s revealed his real reason for hunting Herba Mysticas and he’s cried in front of you, which is honestly pretty mortifying. But you take it in stride and for some reason, in his eyes, you’re glowing. Not wanting to bask in his awkwardness, he clears his throat.

“So… uh, yeah. That’s my story. Just… just three more to go.”

“Just three more to go,” you agree, before taking his hands into yours. Arven swears his heart just stopped. “Arven, I promise you that we’ll find the remaining herbs. We’re gonna bring Mabosstiff to full health, you’ll see.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, the passion in your eyes swallowing him whole.

You give his hands another squeeze before drawing away, making Arven really, really miss your warmth.

“We got this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Arven agrees, nodding. “We do.”

---

The third time Arven falls in love with you, it’s because he realizes he finds comfort in your presence. You’ve just defeated the third Titan, and Arven can’t believe how amazing it feels. You’re both over halfway done with this quest – over half. He didn’t even think he’d be able to find one Herba Mystica, but somehow, with you, he’s found three.

“Another successful search!” he beams, looking at the glowing herb. “We’re on a roll!”

“We are!” you agree, covered in mud from head to toe. The sight makes Arven laugh. “What?”

“Ah – it’s nothin’ to worry about,” he says, but the grin on his face says otherwise. Your eyes narrow and he can’t help but think it’s so freaking cute.

“Hmph, I help a guy out and all he does is laugh at me…”

“And make you sandwiches,” he helpfully adds, making you snort.

“That too, I guess. Hm…” you peer at him curiously, before digging through your pockets. Arven watches you curiously as you pull out a handkerchief. You stand on your toes, trying to reach his height as you carefully wipe his face. Arven stops breathing as you focus on him. “Okay, I think that’s as good as it’s gonna get,” you huff with a smile. “I can’t really do anything about your clothes, though. Sorry.”

“You–” Arven lets out a sigh, before bellowing out a laugh that makes you jump. “I really don’t know what to expect with you.”

“Thanks?”

Arven shakes his head with fondness, still feeling warmth radiate through his limbs. He digs through his bag, pulling out a fluffy Maschiff themed towel and handing it to you.

You take the toweling, blinking in confusion. “Thanks…?”

“You think I’m in a state?” he huffs, watching the expression on your face. You’re cute, Arven decides, but doesn’t put more thought into it because he’s so sure everyone finds you cute.

“Is that why you were laughing?” you ask, finally, nose scrunching up. “I’m covered in mud, aren’t I?”

“Yup,” Arven responds with a smile. “Clean yourself up and I’ll get some food going.”

“Sounds good,” you reply, backing away from the picnic table.

Arven watches you from the corner of his eye as you wipe your face and clothes, scrunching your nose in disdain. The sight makes him smile to himself as he begins to cook. Smiling wasn’t something he did too often before meeting you, but there’s just something about you that makes his lips quirk upwards.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” he exclaims, walking to where you’re sitting and handing you a plate. “Another one of your favorite ol’ Arven sandwiches with a side of Titan Badge!”

“Thank you!” you beam, still caked in mud but somehow glowing.

“It’s nothing–” Arven snorts as your Pokémon pops out of its Poké Ball. “Figured this might happen. Don’t worry – I made extra this time for that partner of yours.”

“Thanks, Arven,” you beam, your partner chirping beside you in agreement.

“Yeah, no problem.” Arven fiddles with his Poké Ball for a bit, before gently letting Mabosstiff out. Shallow, but heavy, heaves leave Mabosstiff’s bruised body and Arven can feel his heart break, but he pushes on. Arven carefully breaks the sandwich down into smaller chunks, feeding it to Mabosstiff. “That’s it. Small bites, small bites…”

“Ah, ‘Don, slow down!”

Your voice makes him temporarily turn his attention to you, which allows him to observe your partner swallowing the sandwich whole.

“Ah, c’mon,” Arven huffs without malice. “At least bother to taste it before you swallow it right down, would you?”

You offer him a sheepish smile. “Uhm, if it’s any solace… I’m savoring every bite. It’s very good.”

Your words make Arven’s expression ease, a sense of comfort flooding through him. “That’s good, I’m glad.” For a brief moment, he stares at you eating his sandwich with glee, a sense of calm washing over him before his gaze shifts to Mabosstiff to assess Mabosstiff’s condition. “Oh. You done with your sandwich, Mabosstiff?”

A small sound escapes Mabosstiff, making both Arven and your eyes widen.

“R–ruff?! You… you heard that too, right?!” Bright teal eyes wet with tears turn to look at you. “Mabosstiff just woofed, right? Right?!”

“Right!” you agree, a wide grin on your face. “He definitely woofed!”

“See! See that?!” A relieved chuckle leaves Arven as his hands gently thread through Mabosstiff’s fur again. “I knew I wasn’t just hearing things!” With increased vigor, Arven scratches the back of Mabosstiff’s ear, causing the Pokémon to let out another small woof. “Oh, Mabosstiff! Who’s my best bud, huh? Who’s the best of boys? You are, yes, you are!” He sniffles and before he knows it, you're at his side again, rubbing circles on his back as you scratch Mabosstiff’s other ear.

Mabosstiff lets out another small woof at the attention he’s receiving, which makes Arven laugh through his tears.

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard that woof!” He can’t help but turn to you with a grin, which you reflect. “Mabosstiff is definitely getting better! Ever since I teamed up with you, good things keep happening!”

You laugh. “Then I guess I’ll have to work hard to make sure good things keep happening.”

Arven can feel his heart squeeze and he’s half-convinced that you’re trying to kill him.

“Just two more, right?” you give him one last pat on his back before you pull away your hand. He kind of misses (really misses) your warmth, but he doesn’t dwell on it as he nods.

“Just two more. I hope you’ll stick it out until we’re done.”

Your eyes crinkle at the sides as you smile. “I definitely will.”

He isn’t going to admit it anytime soon, but that smile brings him more comfort than you realize.

---

The fourth time Arven falls in love with you, it’s because of how much your encouragement spurs him to continue forward. The fourth titan is down for the count, and Arven can’t believe it.

“Yes!” Arven cheers, looking at you with a bright grin.

You smile back at him, giving him a high five, before dusting off your shoulders. “What even was that thing?” you mutter. “It looked vaguely like a donphan.”

“That was definitely not a donphan,” Arven responds, scrunching his nose at the sand in his socks. “I don’t even think it was a Pokémon.”

“But then what is it?” you murmur, humming in thought.

Arven thinks with you, his bottom lip jutting out slightly in thought. “I kinda feel like I’ve seen it before…”

You peer at him curiously, before motioning him to lean down. Arven blinks at you, confused, but obliges. “We’re always in such a state after these battles,” you huff, amused, as your hands go to remove the sand in his hair. Arven can only stand still, words stuck in his throat as you gently weave your fingers through his hair. He can feel heat radiate off of his cheeks as his eyes flicker around aimlessly, trying to find something to look at. He feels like an eternity has passed when you remove your hands, a proud look on your face. “There. I got most of the big chunks out.”

“I–” he clears his dry throat, “Thanks. Do you, uh, want me…?”

You blink at him curiously, before you laugh. “I think my hat thankfully protected my hair from the worst of it. I don’t always wear it, but I’m glad I wore it today.”

Oh Arceus, he was so dumb. Arven wanted to crawl into the sand and never emerge again.

“Could you make me a sandwich, though? Please?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, feeling warmed at your inquiry. You’re so sweet that he doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

The cave is, like always, dark when you and Arven enter it. For some reason, Arven pays a little more attention to you, trying to make sure you don’t slip or trip over your feet.

“Oh, the herb!” you say, making Arven finally turn his head and look at the herb growing in the distance.

“It looks like it’ll taste horrible,” Arven laughs, “which means it’s gotta be good for you!”

“I don’t know about that,” you respond, smiling, “but I’m sure you’ll be able to turn this into something tasty, at least.”

“You bet.” Arven rolls up his sleeves. “No time to waste – I’ll get some food going!”

Areven’s deft hands traverse across the picnic table as he sets up the ingredients to make a sandwich. There’s a giddiness behind his movements now as he anticipates your reaction, as well as Mabosstiff's increasing health. He can feel that he’s so, so close to his goal that he can taste it – and it’s all thanks to you. His heart fills with something he can’t really seem to describe whenever he thinks of you – whenever he’s with you. Sometimes he feels like the gratitude he has towards you will overflow, making him do something terribly stupid.

“Okay, sorry for the wait! Here’s the sandwich with a nice helping of Titan Badge! Gaze upon it in awe as you eat.”

“I am in awe,” you respond, taking both things from him gratefully. As your Pokémon comes out, Arven lets Mabosstiff out of its Poké Ball too. The sight of Mabosstiff’s eyes makes Arven smile.

“Seems like someone’s got a proper appetite now!” he glances at your Pokémon, watching it gobble up its food. “And that fellow’s also slowly regaining its original strength. Still… doesn’t look like it’s anywhere close to returning to its battle form. It seems healthy enough physically… But maybe it’s got a mental block?”

You frown at him, which makes Arven’s heart drop.

“A mental block?” you murmur, gently petting your Pokémon. It nuzzles into your hand as you do so.

“I, uh, I’ve read about it before. A mental scar – like psychological trauma.” As your frown deepens, Arven wishes he could just shut up. “Maybe it had a terrifying experience in battle and, uh, doesn’t really like to now? Like it’s too scared to fight.”

Your frown remains on your face as you continue to stroke your Pokémon’s head. Arven swallows, before clearing his throat.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Arven says, quickly, noticing the worry in your tone. He really didn’t want to damper your mood – that wasn’t the intent of his words. So, seeing you crestfallen at the potential trauma your Pokémon faced makes his heart, well, drop. “I’m sure both the brute – uh, that is, your buddy – and Mabosstiff will both make a full recovery eventually!”

“Yeah,” you murmur, giving him a nod. You give him a small smile as if to appease him, but it does little to soothe the guilt in Arven’s heart.

“Well, Mabosstiff?” he says, turning his attention away from you. “How’s that Herba Mystica working?”

Mabosstiff only tiredly huffs in response, his breathing slow and steady. He lets out a little whine in apology, but it’s quiet and breathy.

“Uh, no pressure!” Arven exclaims, wanting to backtrack completely. He feels like he’s messed up twice now and he’s starting to panic a little. “It’s not like it’s fair to expect every kind of Herba Mystica to have some kind of huge effect, right? And it’s not like the result has to be immediate, either.” Arven gently ruffles Mabosstiff’s fur, holding in a sigh. “Okay, rest up now, buddy.” Ruffling Mabosstiff’s fur one last time, Arven withdraws Mabosstiff back into its Poké Ball. As soon as Mabosstiff is back in its Poké Ball, Arven heaves out a sigh.

Everything had started out so great, but now, it feels like he’s made mistake after mistake. Not to mention the fact that Mabosstiff didn’t have any huge changes this time around. And he’s made you all sad because your Pokémon might be traumatized. Arven groans, ruffling his hair in aggravation. He just keeps messing up.

What if he keeps messing up? What if Mabosstiff never recovers? What if you see that your efforts were for nothing and then leave him? What if–

“Arven, we have one more left,” your voice cuts in, making Arven turn to you slowly in confusion. You meet his gaze with a smile, your Pokémon curled up by your feet, dozing off. “We'll get the last one and Mabosstiff will be as right as rain, you’ll see. We’ve got this.”

He blinks at you. “Uh– yeah.” Arven’s eyes search your face for any signs of anger or frustration, but there are none. Just kindness and determination. “Yeah.”

Your smile is so bright that it actually melts away his worries this time. You aren’t mad at him, and you aren’t disappointed, either. He can see that now.

Arven smiles. He’s not sure why, but your words bring him a lot of comfort. Since you said it’ll work out, he really believes that it will. He believes you because you seem to believe in him.

It makes his heart feel warm.

---

The fifth time Arven falls in love, it’s because he realizes that his happiness is multiplied beyond words when you’re with him.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” you ask, eyes glimmering as you look at Casseroya Lake.

“Yeah,” he responds, looking at how your smile widens at the sight of the blue lake before you.

“So the last Titan Pokémon – the False Dragon – is here, right?” you ask, tilting your head back to look at him. “It’s kinda bizarre to think about, you know. It’s so peaceful here.”

“Yeah, and not a single person’s caught of glimpse of it,” Arven mutters, eyes drifting across the quiet lake water. “It must be some kinda truly terrifying beast… But how are we supposed to search for a thing when we don’t even know what it looks like?”

“Surely it’ll do the kind thing and yell something like, ‘Grah! I’m the Titan!’” you joke, curling your fingers to look like claws, making Arven huff out a laugh.

“If only, right?” Arven’s thoughts are momentarily shaken when you start sprinting away from him. “Wha– hey! Where’re you going?!”

“I saw it!” is the last thing he hears before you surf away on your Pokémon.

Arven can only stand there, shell-shocked, before he runs after you, sending out his Cloyster.

When he catches up to you, he sees you confronting a huge Pokémon, a Poké Ball readied in your grasp. “Did you find the Titan?!” Arven asks, looking at the Dondozo. “So that’s it?! Sure is one big… uh… dragon?” His eyebrows furrow, expressing his confusion. “Wait, is that even a dragon? Or is it a fish?!”

“Well, it’s called the False Dragon Titan for a reason, right? So…” your eyebrows also furrow in confusion. “...If we beat it, I’m sure our questions will be answered.”

“That’s true– whoa!” Arven’s eyes widen. “Th–the little sushi guy got eaten up! Yeesh! Didn’t expect to see the food chain in action today!”

“And now we gotta step it up so we don’t end up a part of the food chain!” you respond, calling out your Pokémon.

“Right!” Arven agrees, sending out his Greedent.

“W–We did it!” Arven cheers once Dondozo goes down. “We–”

“Not yet!” you respond as Tatsugiri jumps out of Dondozo’s mouth and costumes some Herba Mystica. “Let’s go, Arven!”

“Uh…! Right!”

Somehow, he always finds himself following your pace.

“Phew… Nice job!” Arven pats you on the back once the Tatsugiri also goes down. “Maybe the Titan was both those Pokémon together? Like some kinda combo meal.”

You laugh brightly at Arven’s words, making his heart warm. “Well, we're kinda a combo meal too, then, huh? A better one, of course.”

Arven ignores how hot his face feels, chalking it up to the battle you two just finished. “Okay! I’m pretty sure that Tatsugiri came out of there. Let’s go?”

You nod, following Arven as he enters the dark cave. Instinctively, you grab onto Arven’s vest, making his heart warm.

“That must be it!” Arven exclaims once he sees the red herb. You both run up to it, happy that your search is successful. “Let’s see what the book has to say… So it seems that the Spicy Herba Mystica is supposed to boost your metabolism! It gives your circulation a boost and helps flush out all those toxins!”

“Wow, it sounds intense!” you laugh, before patting Arven’s arm. “Sounds like something that’ll definitely pep someone up.”

“Yeah,” Arven says. If he were alone, he’s sure that he’d be more fearful than hopeful, scared that all his efforts were for nothing, but you’re here and that’s enough to reassure him. Inhaling deeply, he picks the herb up, giving you the brightest grin he can muster. “Just wait right there – I’ll whip something up real quick.”

“Waiting!” you reply, brightly.

Arven begins his cooking again, eyes intensified on the task in front of him. Before he can get too much further, however, you call for him. He turns around, looking at you quizzically as you approach him.

“Your hair’s gotten longer since we’ve started collecting Herba Mystica.”

Arven pauses, contemplative. He has noticed that his hair has been getting in the way more recently, but he was too busy to really think about it.

“Can I tie your hair back?”

“Huh?” Arven swears his heart stops, his cheeks heating up. He swears you’re gonna kill him one day.

“Since your hands are busy,” you supplement, pulling out a cute hair tie with a Skwovet on it. “...Well, actually, it’s because I saw this and thought of you.”

You thought of him? You bought something because you thought of him? Arceus – he’s not sure when someone last bought him something – or even thought to, really.

“Arven?” you call.

“Yeah,” he responds, snapping out of his thoughts. “Ah, yeah.” He blinks rapidly, feeling his eyes grow wet with tears. It’s the onions, he tries to convince himself, but he’s not really sure if he can lie about it this time. He turns his back to you, barely choking out, “Go for it.” There’s a wobble in his voice that he hopes you didn’t hear.

Gingerly, at his permission, you take his hair into your grasp, threading your fingers through it. Arven busies himself with cooking, unsure of what to do with himself. The gentle movement of your fingers makes his heart beat erratically, but it somehow soothes him, too. He’s really not sure what to do.

“There,” you say, finally, patting his back as your hands draw away from his hair.

He kind of misses your warmth, but he’s not going to admit that outloud. Instead, he mumbles a quiet thank you that he’s not sure you heard.

“No problem,” you hum, peering over his side to watch him work.

He suddenly feels shy under your gaze, even though you’ve watched him cook so many times. It takes all of his brain power to solely focus on cooking because he doesn’t want to mess up and lose you.

“Wow, that looks delicious!”

“Then it’s good that I made enough for you,” he responds, making you laugh. Arceus, he really likes your laugh.

“Thanks, Arven,” you say, taking the two sandwiches he’s offering you.

I should be thanking you, Arven thinks, but nods and says that it’s not a problem. He watches as you give your partner its sandwich, bright grin on your face as your partner gobbles it food in a flash. Arven watches as you eat yours, delight racing across your face as you savor each bite. Just seeing your reaction makes Arven think that he wouldn’t mind cooking for you every day.

“It’s delicious!” you say, making him puff his chest out in pride.

“Of course it is!” he exclaims, feeling your words simmer in his heart and give him courage. He inhales, pulling our Mabosstiff’s Poké Ball. “I guess it’s your turn, now…” he murmurs, releasing Mabosstiff. “Come on, bud. Eat up. It’s gonna make you all better, I promise,” Arven says, breaking up the sandwich and offering it to his partner. He waits for Mabosstiff to eat patiently. “We’re gonna play with your favorite ball as much as you want, y’know? Just like we used to.”

Mabosstiff silently eats out of Arven’s hands. It makes Arven’s heart throb.

“Please… get better. That’s all I want, really…” Arven’s voice is so quiet that he’s not sure if he’s said or thought his words. Still, he waits in anticipation as Mabosstiff finishes the last bite of his sandwich.

Arven waits.

And waits.

“...Mabosstiff,” Arven finally says, voice cracking. He gently pats Mabosstiff’s fur, feeling his eyes grow wet with tears. “You did your best, bud…” With a sharp inhale, Arven stands, turning his back to you. He’s not sure what to do. You worked so hard for him. Mabosstiff worked so hard for him. And yet… it didn’t work. It didn’t work, of course it didn’t. But what else can he do now? Arven’s not sure. There’s a myriad of thoughts bustling in his head, becoming a murky black as he contemplates what to do next. He knows he has to keep trying, but–

Bark!

Arven’s eyes widen as he quickly whips around, teal eyes landing on Mabosstiff struggling to its feet. Though a little slow, Mabosstiff limps to the Poké Ball that rolled off the table, picking it up in its mouth and walking to Arven. The relief, the gratitude, the hope – all of it makes Arven fall to his knees as he clambers towards Mabosstiff to meet halfway. Mabosstiff lets out another energetic bark that makes Arven want to cry. “Bud, I know! Me, too!” he exclaims, hugging Mabosstiff close. He feels the soft warmth of Mabosstiff’s fur, the gentle beat of Mabosstiff’s heart, and Arven, for the first time in forever, knows that Mabosstiff will be just fine.

And Arven can’t be more grateful to you – you, who decided to help him, a stranger. You, who decided to help him despite there being no evidence of these Herba Mysticas existing. You, who has supported him through this entire journey–

“Thank you,” he finally says, looking at you. He knows his eyes are red, he knows he probably looks like a mess, but he really can’t bring himself to care – not when Mabosstiff’s better. Not when you’ve helped him so much.

“Don’t mention it, really,” you say, eyes so kind that he wishes he could hold your gaze forever. “I’m so glad Mabosstiff’s better.”

“Yeah,” he responds, feeling elated that he can share this moment with you. He continues to hug Mabosstiff close, whose tail has been wagging rapidly. The pulse thrumming through Mabosstiff’s body makes another shot of happiness move through Arven’s veins. “Yeah.”

Arven wonders if it’s all right to be this happy, but he decides that it’s okay to bask in it for now.

After all, what else can he feel when both Mabosstiff and you were by his side?

---

The moment Arven realizes he’s in love with you, it’s because he realizes that it’s because he can’t imagine life without you.

His mood had considerably soured when his parent had called you, especially since his parent wanted something from you. Bitterness rose to Arven’s throat, leaking into his words as his parent requested your help. He’d honestly rather you never interact with the professor that abandoned him. Still, you agree to help the professor and though Arven doesn’t want to be treated like an errand boy, he knows he owes you one.

Well, he owes you a lot, actually, which is why he helped you through the professor’s crazy request. He wants to be a pillar of support to you, like you were to him. So, he stood by you as you went to Area Zero.

But now that everything is solved, technically, he wonders if he should’ve gone with you at all.

Finding out that his parent had died years ago – he’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel. Sad? Angry? Frustrated? Scared?

Arven inhales, looking at the starry expanse above him. Somehow, despite the cloudiness in his heart, the stars shine bright as always. Somehow, despite the heaviness in his heart, he ends up drawing your visage in the constellations. You, who shines brighter than the stars, slumbering inside the tent next to Nemona and Penny. You, who braved the dangers of Area Zero. You. He wishes he can see you.

“Arven?” you call, and Arven wonders how he’s able to wish your presence into existence.

“Did I wake you?” he asks, hearing the yawn in your voice.

“No, I just…” you pause, “...I just couldn’t sleep.” Slowly, you make your way over to him. “Can I sit with you?”

“‘Course,” he replies, heart leaping in his throat when you sit closer to him than he expected. His emotions begin to jumble further into some odd emotion stew as you two sit in silence. The stars. The professor. Mabosstiff. You. Everything.

“Are you okay?” you ask, finally breaking the silence.

Arven doesn't know the answer to that. “Are you?”

You’re silent, before you breathe in deeply. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah.” Arven looks at you – you, who’s always been so brave and strong, and he sees. He sees the eyebags on your face. He sees the way your shoulders slump. He sees and he understands.

“...Thanks, Arven.”

“What?” The gratitude you express takes him by surprise, which you see when you turn your attention to him and meet his eyes.

“For coming with me. And helping me get Penny and Nemona on board. And… well, helping me adjust to Paldea. Traveling with you helped a lot, you know.” You inhale deeply, before your head seems to naturally rest on Arven’s shoulder, making him freeze. “I just… I don’t think I could’ve been down there by myself. So, yeah. Thank you.”

Arven’s not sure what to say. He’s still processing everything and if anything, he really should be thanking you. You, who helped him heal Mabosstiff. You, who let him vent about his parent. You, who reassured him the entire time in Area Zero. You, who’s still here, by his side, thanking him. You.

“I think I’m in love with you.” It dawns on Arven that he’s a mess of emotions and probably shouldn’t be talking. In fact, he probably should shut up now since you’ve removed your head from his shoulder, opting to look at him with wide eyes, but he can’t. “You’ve always been there for me. You didn’t have to, but you’ve been there. And you’re still here.” He inhales. Can you see how much he wants to hold you close? “Seriously, I should be thanking you.”

“Arven…”

Arven’s words finally catch up to his brain, making his cheeks flush. “Arceus, sorry.” He deflects his gaze from you. “I’m just– I’m a mess. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, softly, placing your hand on his cheek to turn his face to you. “It’s been a long journey, y’know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t a mess. I mean, remember what the sand did to us that one time when we beat the fourth Titan? Or the mud bath we had because of the third Titan?”

Despite his embarrassment, he can’t help but snort in laughter, which makes you smile.

“Arven,” your thumb brushes against his cheek, feeling the warmth radiating off of him, “Don’t ever apologize for expressing yourself, okay? I want you to talk to me if you need to. I’ll be here – I’ll always be here for you.”

Arceus, how could he have ever avoided falling for you? Everything you’ve done for him, everything he observes, it all builds and builds and builds until he feels like his love for you is reaching beyond the skies.

“And… maybe this isn’t the best time for this, but…” you gaze flickers to the ground, bashful, “I like you too.”

Arven blinks. Once. Twice. “Oh.”

Your lips quirk upward, your gaze shy. “Do you think you’d be okay if I stayed by your side?”

“Would you be okay with that?” Arven says, grabbing your hand. “Would… Me? You’d be okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Arven wonders if he’s dreaming. He’s been constantly abandoned that he never thought that someone would willingly want to be with him. But here you are – here you always are. He can feel his eyes well up, and you let out a small laugh at that.

“I feel like I keep making you cry.”

He laughs for the first time since you had gotten the call from the professor. “I don’t think I’ve cried this much since I was five.”

“Sorry, I guess I’m just a heartbreaker.”

He snorts, mirth dancing on his face, despite the unshed tears.

“But don’t worry, I’d never break your heart.”

“You’re killin’ me, here,” Arven wheezes, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

You respond by drawing him into a hug, laughter tickling his ear. Despite him being bigger than you, somehow you make him feel safe in his arms. He wraps his arms around you, eyes closing as he holds you close. He’s not sure when it started, or when it’ll end, really, but he feels the overwhelming emotions he’s feeling slowly leave him. He can’t fully comprehend what he’s feeling, still trying to balance the grief, the shock, the relief. Maybe he won't ever know what he's feeling. But when he feels you bury your face into his chest, wet tears decorating his shirt, he thinks it’s okay that he doesn’t fully know what he’s feeling.

He doesn’t know when he’ll be fine, maybe he won’t be fine for a while. But with you in his arms, by his side, he thinks he’ll be okay.

And he’ll do everything to make sure you’ll be okay, too.

#reader insert #x reader #arven x reader #pokemon x reader

453 notes · View notes

peppermintquartz · 18 hours ago

Text

Tommy is cleaning his hands when his phone goes off with a flurry of texts. Wiping his fingers meticulously to be rid of the engine grease, he takes a quick peek at the screen and freezes.

It's Evan.

Tommy isn't sure he's ready to talk to Evan, or text him. In the past, when he broke up with his partner amicably, they'd be talking again within four to five days, just leaning more heavily on the friendship aspect of their past.

But with Evan Buckley, Tommy doubts he can ever be just friends with him. Maybe it's a recency bias. Maybe he's not recovered enough from the self inflicted wound. But Evan haunts his dreams and waking hours: the latter with the shocked, blank expression Tommy left behind him that night; the former by their happier, most intimate moments.

Still, that doesn't mean Tommy is going to leave Evan out to dry if Evan is reaching out. Also, what if Evan needs his help?

Tommy opens their chat. He hasn't amended Evan's contact from Evan 💕 to a more neutral E. Buckley. He probably never will.

Evan 💕: Eddie is leaving

Evan 💕: going to TX

Evan 💕: i know he has to go to get Chris but hes not just going away hes buying a house there

Evan 💕: it hurts

Evan 💕: everyone leaves

Evan 💕: im doomed aren't i? id leave me too if i could. just go away from all this

Evan 💕: anyway. thanks i guess.

Evan 💕: for 6 months when i got to forget loneliness

Tommy reads through it again and the final message guts him. He clenches his hand around the phone.

If he goes to see Evan, he will be hurting himself; Evan is vulnerable right now and will likely take him back, no questions asked, just to feel like he has someone with him. Tommy will still have his heart shattered to smithereens when Evan comes to his senses. It will be a selfish, short-term panacea for Tommy to go to Evan, for the both of them. Evan will feel even worse after, because by then he'll feel guilty about breaking up with Tommy because he will see that Tommy's right.

But how can Tommy leave the man he loves suffering like this? Aching for a connection that stays, for someone to be his.

Tommy bites the inside of his cheek and shuts his eyes. Then he grabs his keys and throws on his jacket.

Fine. For Evan, he will do it. Even if in days, weeks, months, years, Evan suddenly sees that it isn't Tommy he wants, that Tommy just happens to be convenient, and he decides to walk away from Tommy... Tommy will take it. He'll never be able to walk away from Evan another time and survive it, he knows. He could move to the other end of the world and yearn in isolation then. He'll be the one who loves more, who wants more, and he'll never get it.

It's fine.

He's already given his heart. What's the rest of his life matter anyway?

When he gets to the loft, he's welcomed by Evan's shocked expression that erupts into joy and relief. Evan throws himself into Tommy's arms, clinging and kissing, dragging him inside the space and up into his bed, and through it all, Tommy feels the sharp, jagged edges of his future.

And he bleeds.

#tommy kinard #bucktommy #evan buckley #tevan #tommy pov #angst #pq writes

211 notes · View notes

evangelical04 · 4 months ago

Text

A Single Daffodil || 5

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, slight smut in this chapter but not really

Author's Note: hi everyone! sorry it took so long to get this out, but I literally (finally) got my car back yesterday and wrote almost this entire thing today lol. thank you guys so much for being so patient with me, I really appreciate it. I'm hoping to get the next part out super soon but I hope this is good for you guys for now!! as always, please let me know what you guys think, I love to hear your feedback

TAGLIST CLOSED

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling @themwordsblog @daises-and-dandelionpuffs @kimmalik @honeyypages @captainchrisstan @khaimahfe @yoongibaybee @kooklovee @whoa-jo @familiarlikemymirror3 @blueberriesm @llallaaa @weareatthebadlands @purpleheartsandarock1 @lillmeomeowsblog @this-most-assuredly-counts @kayleefriedchicken @ur-grandmum @praetae @sylviamuela @notarshia @minghaosimp @wobblewobble822 @ilikekpop-c @maynina @rinkud @jesshujk @kimsaerom @suker4angst @mar-627 @maynina @pitchblack0309

previous / masterlist / next

The night had given your frustration towards Yoongi some time to deflate, but you still felt it bubbling deep inside your consciousness. You weren’t one to hold a grudge necessarily, not outright at least, but you would never forget either. Joohee said that made you even more dangerous, but you liked to think it made you amicable. The next morning brought you to a lazy Sunday where you had initially wanted to bum around in your bed but the small items scattered around your floor reminded you of the tasks you had yet to finish.

Your morning was spent tinkering with your console and Blu-Ray player to get them to connect properly with your TV and the wifi, and while you struggled, you refused to ask Yoongi for help. It was a bad habit of yours, avoiding those you were mad at or were mad at you. It certainly hadn’t worked with your mother, but then again, she’d barely been home to avoid in the first place.

Thoughts of Yoongi swirled around in your head as you finished cleaning up your room and organizing everything. His behavior last night still stumped you. Logically, the only explanation was that he was jealous. Whether it was of Namjoon or you, you weren’t sure. You were too scared to entertain the thought that he might be jealous of Namjoon, the way your heart sped up was dangerous. Even if it was the correct explanation, could you even allow yourself to hope like that?

You fell backward onto your bed in a huff, it was safer to think he was just angry at you and Namjoon for getting close because it was “mixing personal lives”. Any other reasoning was going to send you down a spiral of confusion, want, and optimism. Just as you resigned yourself to a well-deserved midday nap, your phone buzzed on the bedside table next to you. Groaning out, you reached around for your phone, eventually finding it and seeing Hoseok’s contact blaring on the screen.

You swiped to answer the call, throwing the phone down next to you on speaker, “What?”

“Geez, don’t you sound grumpy.”

“It’s because I am.”

“Well, okay then, live your life, I guess. Anyway, guess what happened,” Hoseok responded excitedly.

“What?”

“The guy my old boss recommended said yes! We’re gonna start looking at studio spaces together, I’m opening up a dance school!”

You sat up, taking the phone off speaker and bringing it to your ear, “Hobi, that’s great! I can’t believe that, I’m so excited for you!”

“I can’t believe this is finally happening! It feels like this has been in the making since college,” Hoseok exclaimed, you could hear him pacing around in his room through the phone.

“You deserve it so much, Hobi, I’m so happy for you,” you smiled, and you did mean it. You knew how hard Hoseok had worked through college, surviving on a scholarship and battling down criticisms for choosing a dance major. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he would succeed and you were happy to watch him do just that.

“Do you want to meet him? We’re having dinner together tomorrow and I wanted you and Joohee to be there.”

“Of course I will, I’ll need to see you guys to prep for going back to work next week anyway. Just text me the details and I’ll be there,” you responded, picking at the seams of your comforter at the mention of you resuming your job.

“Will do,” Hoseok responded excitedly and hung up after a quick goodbye.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like your work, far from it in fact, but it was the questions that would inevitably come with your return that you dreaded. The glittering ring on your finger would fuel the rumor mill and lead to empty celebrations and congratulations, not to mention questions surrounding your mysterious husband.

Song Ha would probably be the only one not asking much about the wedding, but only because she attended. You hadn’t been able to talk with her during the reception, too overwhelmed and swept up in the flurry of high-profile guests. You certainly felt guilty for not having been able to see her but you knew she would understand, she was sweet that way.

No, Song Ha was dangerous in the fact that she had seen Yoongi, and she would be ready with a list of questions to ask you when you stepped into the office the following week. Once Song Ha started the questions about Yoongi, the others would only join in, adding to the pressure you felt to appear like a normal, happy bride.

Abruptly, you stood up. Now wasn’t the time for sulking and self-pity. Determined, you stomped towards the door, ready to fling it open and face Yoongi with your head held high. But as you reached the handle, your fingers curling around the edge, ready to rip it open, you hesitated.

Facing Yoongi sounded even more draining right now, the idea of his upturned frown staring down at you was less than appealing. His hot and cold attitude was taxing and you were tired of trying to understand his actions.

Coming up with explanations for his bizarre attitude and trying to make sense of his lingering gazes was less than appealing to your exhausted mind. But, you reminded yourself, this was technically your space too and you couldn’t just stay in your room the whole time. Besides, you wanted a snack and why should Yoongi stop you?

Shaking your head, you steeled your resolve and opened your door. You couldn’t hear anything coming from the living room or kitchen so you continued your venture down the stairs. Yoongi was nowhere in sight and you silently celebrated, at least you wouldn’t have to worry about him right now.

You reached the kitchen, rifling around for some chips before settling on a small packet you found tucked away in the cupboard. As you began making your way back to your room to enjoy your snack, the front door opened and Yoongi entered, running a hand through messy black hair.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re awake,” he said, stopping at the couch once he saw you.

You nodded curtly, “Yes, good afternoon.” You had been so close to going without dealing with him but it seemed like the universe had different plans in mind for you. It felt a little mean to be so blunt with him but seeing his stupid, perfectly shaped face ignited the remaining rage you had left in you from the previous night. Even though it was a new day, all you could think about was how he’d treated you like some child that needed to be looked after. It made your fist clench around the chips bag, the crinkling noise sounding much louder in the quiet living room.

When you continued your trek toward the stairs, Yoongi called out for you.

“Y/N,” he said, slightly louder than his normal volume, “Can we talk for a second, please?”

You turned to face him, silently waiting for him to continue. What could he possibly have to say?

“I’m sorry about last night,” he started, surprising you, “I was thinking about it when we got home and the way I’ve been acting has been unacceptable and I’m sorry that I treated you unfairly.”

You felt your eyes widen at his apology and you stuttered a response, “O-oh, it’s fine, really.” A habit of yours, to dismiss any apology that comes your way, to pretend like you were unbothered.

Yoongi shook his head, “It’s not. I was getting confused and treating this,” he gestured between you, “Like something it’s not, I’m sure that was annoying at the least for you. I’ll be sure to maintain a proper distance from hereon out, I don’t want to meddle in your life.”

You blinked back, confused by his statement, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I was acting like a husband when we’d agreed to keep ourselves separate from each other. I had no right to get upset with you or to treat you like a kid, and I’m sorry.”

“Um, okay,” you stammered, “I’m just going to go up then.”

Yoongi nodded, turning away and walking into his office. You walked up the stairs in an almost trance-like state, you had no idea what to make of that conversation.

You should be happy that he apologized but why did it seem like the outcome wasn’t what you wanted? He said he’d maintain some distance between you two from now on, that isn’t what you wanted. Or wasn’t it?

Throwing the bag of chips on your bedside table, you collapsed onto your duvet, you didn’t know what you wanted! You knew you wanted Yoongi to apologize but you didn’t want him to push you further away. You wanted him to explain why he got upset, if you were reading into things too much, if he was starting to feel something for you. You wanted him to be clear, and that conversation was anything but.

I was getting confused and treating this like something it’s not.

What did that mean? What did he mean he was getting confused? You were supposed to be the confused one.

Chips now long forgotten, you flipped over in your bed and reached for your phone, opting to occupy your brain with mindless scrolling rather than try to make sense of Yoongi’s words.

Despite how much you tried to distract yourself, the conversation with Yoongi still swirled around in your mind like a rampant tornado, hitting the corners of your brain and disrupting your every thought. You hadn’t managed to figure anything else out, you’d only been able to work yourself into a frenzy and feel even more confused.

Glancing at your watch, you noted that only a few hours had passed and it was around time for dinner, but you didn’t want to risk seeing Yoongi and spiraling once more, not that you had clawed your away out of your current spiral either.

Instead, you opted to skip dinner for tonight, not feeling particularly hungry anyway, and tried to pass the time until you felt drowsiness kick in. Your method of choice was just playing a relaxing game in your bed until your eyelids felt heavy and you drifted off in a rather uncomfortable position for your neck. You didn’t even notice yourself falling asleep, much less find the energy to fix your position to avoid a sore neck.

That night you dreamt of yourself in a dark room with no visible walls and it almost felt cold but the sensation didn’t seem like it was coming from your surroundings, it felt like it was underneath your skin.

You looked around frantically, for anything, and your eyes caught on a sliver of shiny black hair with slightly pale skin underneath. The figure reached out a hand for you and you tried to run toward it but found yourself unable to move. No matter how hard you pushed your legs, flailed, and grasped for the outstretched hand, it felt like there was an invisible wall preventing you from moving forward. In your struggle, you failed to notice the hand slowly retract and only realized once the figure started to move further and further away. You felt yourself shout after it but no sound escaped your throat.

Finally, you managed to break free from the invisible barrier and began running after the figure. Your limbs felt like lead and your lungs were struggling to take in air, but you persisted, chasing after the retreating figure and uselessly shouting for it to stop. Once it seemed like you were finally closing in on it, the ground beneath you disappeared and you fell into the dark chasm below, seeing the figure watching from the edge.

It did not try to reach out a hand to grab you.

The next morning had you feeling more grateful than ever that you still had another week off from work, although it was your last. You had awoken feeling drained and anxious, unable to remember your dream from the night prior. The only thing you did recall was falling, only because it made you wake with a start in bed at around three in the morning. You were tucked in nicely into your duvet then but it had become messy once your alarm went off later. You had set your alarm for later in the day than you usually did for work since you hadn’t wanted to get up early but also not sleep in too late.

The clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen indicated Mrs. Lim’s presence and you sleepily got dressed and walked downstairs to greet her and get some tea. She neglected to comment on your haphazard appearance and instead presented you with an already-brewed cup of tea. Smiling gratefully at her, you took a seat at the counter and made quiet conversation.

“Would you like anything in particular for dinner tonight,” Mrs. Lim asked.

“No, thank you, I’ll be meeting some friends for dinner.”

“Oh, how lovely. You should really invite them here, Mr. Min wouldn’t mind,” Mrs. Lim added cheerfully.

You held back a scoff, “Yes, well, I guess I’m still getting comfortable.”

Mrs. Lim smiled kindly, “Of course, dear, I’m sure all of this is difficult to get used to.”

You weren’t sure if she was just talking about Yoongi��s apartment, but you nodded in agreement nonetheless.

“Oh, Mrs. Lim, could you actually prepare some samgyeopsal for dinner tonight? I think Yoongi is in desperate need of it,” you mentioned, recalling how tired he’d looked last night.

Mrs. Lim only smiled knowingly, nodding gently before resuming her tasks.

Your phone buzzed on the countertop, drawing your attention.

To: Milf Club (est. 2014)

Joo-nie:

what’s the dress code for the restaurant tonight

do i have to break out my razor

Hoebi:

Uhhh the restaurant is kinda fancy so maybe?

Idrk tbh this dude said the place was good but it looked fancy lmao

You:

i’ll wear a dress joo, so you can too

Joo-nie:

ty queen

wear the little black one makes you look hot

Hoebi:

What should I wear to look hot

Joo-nie:

don’t show up

Hoebi:

Owie

You:

i’ll send a pic later when i get dressed

BUT it’s still minimal makeup

you guys are gonna have to see my massive eyebags

Hoebi:

They’re your most charming quality <3

You:

damn that’s a low bar

Hoebi:

See you guys tonight!! Be there at 6, don’t be late!

That was aimed at you, Joo

Joo-nie:

rude

You smiled fondly at your friends’ messages before setting your phone down and turning your attention back to Mrs. Lim, asking how her weekend went.

The rest of the day passed fairly quickly and Mrs. Lim soon went home after her responsibilities were completed. She had ended up shooing you out of her sight after you’d insisted on helping her out with the cleaning, citing boredom as the reason, but she was having none of it. You’d spent the rest of the afternoon lazing in your bed and feeling unproductive.

It was difficult to relax properly while not working because you felt as though you should be doing something else, but you didn’t have anything to do. Part of you was excited to get back to work to occupy yourself but another part of you was concerned over how easily you fell into a depressive mood. It was just another reason to start looking into therapy.

With nothing to entertain your mind with, your thoughts continuously shifted to Yoongi. You hadn’t seen him since that odd conversation where he promised to keep more distance between you, leaving you confused and lost. You still were.

He felt impossible to read. Every time you thought you were about to figure it out, he threw a curveball at you and made you stumble on your path to a logical conclusion. The more you thought about his actions leading up to and at the gala, the more they seemed to point to jealousy. The problem was, you couldn’t figure out a plausible reason he would have to be jealous. Obviously, the overarching reason would be that he has feelings for you, but he didn’t have a reason to. The man hadn’t tried to get to know you at all, you’d barely had five conversations since the wedding. How could he possibly have feelings for you?

And Yoongi didn’t seem like the type to show possessiveness over someone he had shallow feelings for, nor did Yoongi seem like the type to develop shallow feelings. In your mind, he oscillated between someone who didn’t like commitment in any form to someone who wholly devoted himself to getting to know someone before developing feelings for them. However, it was impossible for you to come to a conclusion. Just like in your own reasoning for Yoongi’s feelings, you barely knew him and there was no way for you to make these judgments.

What you would give to understand what’s going through his mind.

By the time your alarm went off at five, you were still lost in your thoughts, mindlessly playing a farming sim, mainly because your wife in there was much easier to understand than Yoongi. The alarm startled you out of your stupor and jolted you into action, scrambling things together to get ready for Hoseok’s dinner. You had showered in the morning so your hair would be dry by the time the dinner came, and you were happy you’d had the forethought.

Rifling through your closet, you pulled out the black dress that Joohee had mentioned, a form-fitting cocktail dress you’d picked up on a shopping trip with her. The square neckline complimented your decolletage and the fabric seemed to hug your curves just right, only slightly puckering around your hips. Your hair didn’t need much styling, opting to leave it natural, and your makeup was minimal, not feeling the energy to put in more effort.

You made your finishing touches, surveying your appearance in your mirror, and were satisfied. A glance at your watch told you that you were right on time, but that you didn’t have a minute to lose, so you hastened your pace to the door to head downstairs. Before you made it past your bedroom door, your eyes caught on your wedding ring, sitting on your vanity. You bit the inside of your cheek, considering whether you should put it on.

Whatever, you fumed internally, snatching it and sliding it onto your finger. It’s not like it mattered anyway but you’d grown to enjoy the feeling of the cool metal against your skin and fiddling with it when nervous.

You were somewhat surprised to see Yoongi sitting on the couch enjoying a glass of whiskey, not having expected him back from work this early. He had already changed out of his suit and into a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, looking like the epitome of comfort with his messy hair, likely from pulling the shirt over his head. You hated how attractive he looked and the way it made your stomach turn and your heartbeat speed up. He noticed your presence hovering at the end of the living room before looking you over, his feline eyes watching you from above the rim of his glass. His gaze made heat bloom all over your body and you could only pray that he couldn’t tell how flustered you felt.

You were supposed to be mad at him, damn it.

Although, were you allowed to now that he’d apologized? But that apology wasn’t what you’d wanted, not that you knew what you wanted.

Sighing internally, you decided to remain cold with him. He’d wanted to reemphasize the distance between you two, so he’d get that.

Settling for a curt nod, you walked past him into the foyer to slip on some simple, block heels, bending down to secure the straps. Yoongi cleared his throat behind you, causing you to turn back to face him.

“Going out?”

“Yes,” you answered, pausing for a moment, pondering if you should tell him who you were meeting, considering his reaction to Hoseok last time. Maybe it was petty of you, but part of you wanted to push his buttons as much as he was pushing yours, wanted to make him annoyed and angry, just as much as you were at him.

“I’m meeting Hobi for dinner,” you finished, confidently staring him down. His eyebrow twitched and you saw his gaze narrow, but he didn’t show much of a reaction outside of that.

“Alright, have fun,” he said curtly, turning his attention back to his phone and whiskey. You almost scoffed at his standoffish attitude, but ultimately shrugged. You didn’t have the energy in you to be bothered by him.

You did a final check of your belongings before opening the door and heading downstairs to catch a cab to the restaurant, you had a feeling you’d be drinking at some point tonight. In your haste, you missed the way Yoongi’s eyes followed your form, watching you leave without a glance in his direction.

The restaurant certainly seemed fancy, it looked like Hoseok’s business partner had quite the expensive taste. You exited the cab as gracefully as you could in a cocktail dress and entered, immediately spotting Hoseok’s bright smile and energetic wave signaling you over. The hostess smiled, letting you pass to sit at the table he was at. He stood as you approached, enveloping you in a tight hug before releasing you and letting you sit across from him. As you settled in, you took the opportunity to observe his business partner, who was sitting beside him.

He was quite pretty, with a round, angelic face and plump lips, and his hair was a soft grey, tousled atop his head. He smiled at you, eyes crinkling, making them look closed, which only made you smile widely in response.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Park Jimin,” he introduced, bowing slightly.

“Nice to meet you as well, I’m Seo Y/N,” you responded, returning the bow, “Hobi has been telling me how excited he is to be opening up a studio with you.”

Jimin’s face lit up, smiling even wider, “Yes! I’m so excited, it’s the whole reason I did my MBA. I’m just hoping we can find a good studio space.”

You nodded along to his words, noticing that he tended to become quite excited when he talked, similar to the man sitting next to him.

“By the way, I love your dress,” Jimin exclaimed, startling you with the sudden compliment.

“Oh, thank you,” you stumbled, “I love your hair and eye makeup.”

Jimin smiled, which he seemed to do quite often, also similar to Hoseok, “Thanks! I wanted to try out a fancy look since I was meeting Hoseok’s friends.”

“They’re not worth the effort,” Hoseok teased, making you gasp in fake indignation, “Where’s Joo, by the way, it’s already fifteen past.”

“She’ll probably be late,” you said, trying to soothe the worry lines appearing on Hoseok’s face, “You know how she is.”

“That’s what worries me,” he responded, only making you laugh.

“I’m here! I made it,” Joohee stumbled in, speedwalking to your table before ruffling Hoseok’s hair in greeting, “It’s nice to finally meet you!”

She slides in beside you, bowing a greeting to Jimin, “Hobi’s told us so much, he’s been really excited to work with you.”

“Thanks,” Jimin laughed, “I’m excited to work with him too. Opening up a studio has always been my dream, and Hoseok feels like the perfect partner.”

You both smile at Jimin’s words before starting to fuss over the menu and throwing question after question at Jimin to try and get him to open up. Over the course of the dinner, you learn he’s fairly high-maintenance, hence the restaurant choice, but he tends to back it up himself, which he proved when he offered to pay the tab. He tells you about his time in Hoseok’s old dance studio and how he was unsatisfied, so he decided to pursue his MBA in Seoul to eventually open up his own school.

“It was a huge decision to make, I mean, Busan was my home. But I knew opening up my own studio was what I had to do, and I left everything behind to do it, my family, my boyfriend, and my job. It was hard,” he detailed, a glass and a half of wine into the dinner, “But it’ll be worth it, I just know it.”

You smiled at him, “It definitely will be. Whatever you and Hobi do, I just know it’ll take off.”

“And don’t be afraid to let me or Y/N know if you need investors,” Joohee jumped in, “I know plenty of old men with fat pockets.”

Chuckling, you all took a sip of your drinks before Hoseok surprised you with a new line of questioning, “How’s the newly married life so far?”

“Oh, did you just get married,” Jimin asked excitedly, gesturing at the ring encasing your finger, “That’s so exciting, congratulations!”

“Thanks,” you smiled awkwardly, “I did, about a week ago. It’s been good so far, it’s nice.”

You couldn’t get into the specifics with Jimin there, someone whom you’d just met, it’d make things too awkward. Thankfully, Joohee came to your rescue.

“I meant to ask, how’s the studio space hunting going? Hobi’s been touring for that and his own apartment, he must’ve seen half of Seoul by now,” she joked, relieving some of the tension Hoseok’s question incited in you. The dinner conversation continued on pleasantly, but you felt yourself pulling away from your surroundings, your thoughts drifting to your husband.

His behavior was confounding, to say the least, and it had occupied the back of your mind for the past few months, even before you got married. It felt like a constant static itching the corner of your brain, his voice humming in a soundtrack to your thoughts.

The sound of Joohee gathering her things beside you pulled you back into the conversation and noticing they were getting ready to leave. You focused in to hear what they were talking about and learned that it was the terrible housing market in Seoul, leaving you to nod in agreement. You were lucky to score the apartment that you did, which was one of the reasons you were so reluctant to leave it, knowing that you wouldn’t have a place to go if you needed to leave Yoongi’s apartment.

You jumped in with your comments here and there as your group walked to the exit, finally feeling present again, and stopped just outside the restaurant.

“It was really great meeting you both,” Jimin said cheerfully, hugging you and Joohee, “I hope we can meet up again soon!”

“Same here,” you grinned, “We’ll make Hobi create a group chat.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes before calling a cab, “Here, Jimin, let me get one for you. Text me when you’re in your apartment.”

Jimin saluted, grinning, before entering the taxi that had stopped at the curb. He waved until he was out of your line of sight, leaving you to sigh and turn to face your two friends. They stood behind you, arms crossed, and looking at you quite sympathetically.

“What? Is this an intervention,” you joked, but they quickly shook their heads, reigniting your nerves.

“Don’t think I didn’t hear your answer earlier,” Joohee stated, “You clearly need to talk about Yoongi.” Hoseok only nodded in agreement.

You exhaled slowly, clearly, nothing was getting past your friends’ watchful eyes, “Alright, want to go back to my apartment? Hobi’s headed there anyway.”

Hobi only smiled, squeezing your shoulder before signaling for another cab.

“He’s just so confusing, I don’t know what I’m supposed to think,” you sighed frustratedly.

“I agree, I think he’s playing games with you,” Joohee said, swirling her glass before taking a sip of her wine, “He’s being all hot and cold. What is he, fifteen?”

You chuckled, “It feels like I’m fifteen sometimes, the way he makes me feel.”

“I don’t know, maybe he’s just as confused as you are,” Hoseok interjects, causing you to shift your head to look at him. He was sprawled across your loveseat in a ratty t-shirt and sweats, munching on some chips.

Joohee sat up, adjusting in her seat to face him as well, “What do you mean? He’s the one being confusing.” You nodded in agreement.

“Well, guys can be different,” Hoseok started, “Maybe he just doesn’t really understand what’s going on, this situation is new for both of you.”

You leaned back on your couch once more, considering Hoseok’s words while staring at your ceiling.

“Maybe he’s just using the distance excuse as a defense mechanism because he’s confused about how he feels about you,” he continued, “I saw the way he looked at you, Y/N. He definitely cares to some degree.”

You frowned, finding his statement hard to believe, but you tried to put yourself in Yoongi’s shoes nonetheless. Was he really developing feelings for you? Is that why he put more distance between you two, because he was scared? It felt difficult to conceptualize after the months of telling yourself there was no way Yoongi would ever harbor romantic feelings toward you.

“But still,” Joohee interrupted your thoughts, “Even if that is the reason he’s acting this way, wouldn’t that still make him immature? He should have more emotional intelligence than to send mixed signals because he’s confused about his own feelings. Either way, he needs to grow up.”

Hoseok only hummed, tossing another chip in his mouth, but Joohee’s words struck you, making you sit up from your horizontal posture.

“I mean, to be fair, are any of us really grown up,” you verbalized, making Joohee look at you questioningly, “All of us are immature in some way, and he doesn’t have any experience in this kind of situation like Hobi said. He probably went into this thinking that it was going to be more like a business partnership than anything and it hasn’t exactly been like that.”

You sighed, staring into your empty wine glass, “I feel like it’s unfair to hold him accountable for everything as if he’s some kind of villain. He still apologized and he’s been respectful. Whether he has feelings for me or not, he’s still navigating a new dynamic just like me. He’s allowed to make a few mistakes along the way, right?”

Joohee shook her head and smiled at you, “Yes, he is, but he’s still clearly hurting you. I think you guys need to talk this out. Clearly, you’re not on the same page. And even if he is just figuring out new feelings for you or not, you’re not obligated to wait around and find out. You can live your life how you want in the meantime.”

You returned her smile, “Yeah, you’re right, but I kind of feel like I already am. I don’t really have anything that I want to do that I’m not already doing. Honestly, not much has changed for me other than gaining a new, handsome roommate.”

She laughed in response before poking you, “How about going out and meeting someone? You can always take them back here. Yoongi said that he was fine with it, so you should go get laid. I know it’s been a while and you deserve the fun with someone who’s clear about their intents.”

You shrugged, “I know he said he was fine with it, but it still feels like cheating to me. I don’t know, it just makes me feel icky. I’m just not interested, really, just like before I got married.”

Joohee nodded, “Well, nothing wrong with that. I just hope that you’re not doing it because you feel like it’s unfair to Yoongi, he’s been more than clear about his consent.”

You shook your head, “It’s not that. I’d feel this way with anyone, you know how much I hate cheating. I can honestly say that even if Yoongi set me up with someone and went off with someone else, I still wouldn’t. It’s just not appealing to me right now. Maybe that’ll change, who knows?”

“That’s fair,” Joohee hummed, “You shouldn’t do anything you don’t want to. I’m glad you seem good with that at least.”

You nodded, tracing the rim of your glass, “What happened to Hobi? He’s been strangely quiet.”

The both of you turned to look at the loveseat only to see Hoseok’s head hanging off the edge of the cushioned arm, mouth open letting out quiet snores.

You and Joohee giggled before standing to try and transport him to his temporary bed in your guest room. The two of you got ready for bed and soon curled up under your comforter with Joohee whispering, “I hope you get to talk to him. I want things to work out for you.”

“Thanks, Joo,” you whispered back, “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Joohee only smiled and mumbled a quick, “I’m lucky to have you too. Goodnight, Y/N-ie.”

You laughed quietly, “Goodnight, Joo.”

When you awoke the next morning, Joohee had already left, having to go back to her apartment to get ready for work. She left a sweet note saying goodbye on your nightstand, making you smile.

You left Hoseok to sleep in, figuring he’d wake up when he wanted. As compensation for his stay in your guest room, you snagged another one of his large shirts since most of your comfy shirts were at Yoongi’s apartment. Rushing through a simple morning routine, you quickly gathered your things to head back to Yoongi’s apartment. You hadn’t intended to stay out during the night, and even though you had a right to, you still felt the same panic you’d felt in your childhood having to face your mom after spending time with your friends.

You scribbled out a note to Hoseok and left it out on the kitchen counter and rushed out the door, making your way to the bus station near your apartment building. It was a fairly long ride over to Yoongi’s apartment, so you settled in with some music and tried to relax your heart. You had no reason to be nervous, Yoongi likely wouldn’t have even noticed. He’d probably be at work by now, not even realizing that you hadn’t come back last night. You watched the people of Seoul through the bus window, walking to their jobs and checking their phones, likening them to what Yoongi probably looked like in the morning on his commute to work. Your fantasy was interrupted by the notion that Yoongi was probably driven to work in a sleek car and rode the elevator to the top floor.

Blinking out of your daze, you noticed only two stops were left until yours and began getting ready to get up. Once you reached, you exited swiftly, making your way inside the building and nodding at the security guard.

After taking the elevator up, you opened the front door as quietly as you could before entering and carefully closing it. You sighed as the silent house, it seemed like Mrs. Lim wasn’t here yet. Breathing a sigh of relief, you turned around to walk upstairs and were immediately startled by Yoongi sitting on the couch, calmly watching your movements.

“Oh! Yoongi-ssi, I didn’t realize you’d be home,” you breathed, practically clutching at your chest, “Sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” he hummed, setting his phone down to look at you, observing your frazzled state, “Late night?”

“Um, yeah, kind of,” you stuttered, “Hobi, Joohee, and I were drinking a bit.”

He only nodded, raising his eyebrow slightly, leaving you standing silently and awkwardly. You let out an awkward laugh before scooting around the couch and climbing up the stairs and to the safety of your room. Entering and closing the door behind you had you exhaling loudly and practically collapsing on your bed.

How were you supposed to talk about your relationship with him when you could barely get through a thirty-second exchange?

The rest of the week passed by peacefully with you barely interacting with Yoongi. You were almost relieved if it didn’t only put you more on edge for the weekend. You were dreading having to navigate around him being in the house for the whole day, but you were looking forward to going back to work the following week. You had had enough of lazing around and feeling unproductive, especially when all your friends were still busy so you couldn’t hang out with them. Joohee was working, of course, but Hoseok had finally settled on an apartment and was preparing to move in, leaving you quite lonely in your room.

Friday meant that Yoongi would likely be home late, if at all, because he tended to spend it with his friends as Namjoon had informed you. It left you by your lonesome in the large apartment, where you ended up lying in bed for most of it. The lack of work was really starting to take a toll on you and made you recall when Yoongi’s mother had implied that you should quit when you got married.

The idea made you laugh. If the last two weeks were anything to go by, leaving you with nothing to do during the day would only result in an extended depressive episode. A glance at the clock on your side table let you know that it had gotten late enough in the evening to grab some dinner, which you opted to order in, feeling lazy.

You ate in your room glumly watching some video or other and not really paying attention. You wondered if this weekend would be the one where you had your conversation with Yoongi. How would you even start that? What if he refused to talk to you or got defensive? If the conversation did work out, what would it mean for your relationship with Yoongi? Could you become friends?

The thoughts continued to swirl around in your brain as you gathered your dishes to deposit in the dishwasher and walked to your door. As you reached it, you noted some quiet voices on the ground floor, making your eyebrows raise. Maybe Yoongi’s friends had come?

Shrugging, you opened your door and walked downstairs, turning into the living room and almost dropping your plate in shock.

On the couch, Yoongi was on top of someone else with his hands on their face and supporting him on the couch, notably missing his ring, and kissing whoever was underneath. The sight was startling and troubling, immediately making tears fill your eyes.

You should’ve expected this so why were you so upset?

You didn’t take time to dwell on it and opted to run back to your room instead, but as you hastily turned back towards the stairs, the dishes in your hands slid against each other, making a loud noise.

The noise alerted Yoongi and whoever was underneath him to your presence, making you flinch hard.

“Y/N?”

You faced him with warm cheeks and wet eyes before steeling your expression. He didn’t need to know that you were affected, you refused to let him see you weak because of his actions. His face looked slightly shocked but his messy hair, unbuttoned dress shirt, and swollen lips made your heart hurt. The person underneath him sat up, facing you, mouth falling open in shock.

“Y/N-ssi?”

Your own eyes widened, mirroring Jimin’s equally horror-stricken expression. He scrambled off the couch, attempting to fix his rumpled top, before stumbling over to you.

“Y/N-ssi, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize, I mean, I didn’t know-” he stuttered, grabbing your hands in a pleading manner, “I’m so sorry.”

You smiled as kindly as you could in that moment, he was just as much a victim in this as you were, “It’s okay, Jimin-ssi. Seriously. It’s complicated.”

His brows furrowed at your answer, but you could see the relief flood his face at your forgiveness, “Okay, but I’m still sorry. I’ll talk to you about it later though, it looks like you have some stuff to work out. I’ll text you, I promise.”

You nodded, mustering your best smile, and waved him off, finding yourself unable to speak much more. He quickly grabbed his phone off the table and whispered acidly to Yoongi before leaving quickly.

His exit left you staring at the floor while Yoongi still stood by the couch. He took a few steps forward but stopped once you flinched back against the stair banister.

“Y/N, I,” he started, but you cut him off.

“It’s fine, we agreed about this. It’s fine,” you stated, before nodding curtly and turning to head up the stairs.

You heard Yoongi call after you but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. You could feel your eyes welling up and your lip trembling, something you couldn’t let Yoongi see. Setting your eyes forward, you stiffly walked to your room, ignoring Yoongi’s call of your name.

After retreating, you shut the door behind you, immediately crumpling to the ground in quiet cries. You should’ve known this would happen, you had even mentioned it to a degree with Joohee, so why did it hurt so much?

Maybe you had let your hopes rise after what Hoseok had said the other night and let your head fill with the idea of you and Yoongi sharing feelings for each other. Clearly, that was not the case. Whatever it was, it made your chest hurt and tears roll down your cheeks as you suppressed choked sobs.

This felt like an overreaction. What right did you have to feel upset? This was the deal from the start. He had made it clear since the beginning that you were both allowed to take partners and you had prepared yourself. So why did it still hurt so much?

Feeling your sobs subside into wet hiccups, you slowly stood, tossing your dishes onto your desk and collapsing on your bed. You felt exhausted and dehydrated, and there was a headache almost certainly in your future.

The sight of Yoongi with bitten lips above Jimin was still clear in your mind and only made you want to curl up into a ball. This wasn’t feasible.

Your mind drifted to what Joohee had said before. What was really stopping you from going out and sleeping with someone too? Nothing was, and in your hurt and angry stupor, you vowed to make good on that.

Reaching for your phone, you dug through your contacts before selecting the one you were looking for.

To Lee Jaehyun:

You:

Hey, it’s been a while. Are you still in Seoul? I’d like to catch up.

With that, you sighed, shutting off your phone and closing your eyes. Exhaustion quickly overtook you, leaving you dozing quietly in only a few minutes.

The next morning had you waking with a pounding headache and a dread of leaving your room. The idea that you might face Yoongi outside was more than unappealing so you opted for staying in your room. Was it the coward’s way out? Maybe, but you felt that you deserved to be a coward for a bit.

Yoongi hadn’t attempted to talk to you since your stunted conversation, there were no new calls or knocks on your door. You supposed he didn’t have a reason to, but some part of you wanted to hear him beg for your forgiveness.

However, there was one new message on your phone, part of a conversation that you barely remembered starting and had to read through bleary eyes.

Lee Jaehyun:

Hey, Y/N! It has been a while, it’s good to hear from you. I heard through the grapevine that you got married, congrats!

I’m still in Seoul, I’m actually free tonight for dinner if you’re down to talk. We can do something casual at our usual spot.

Despite the mindset you’d been in when you sent Jaehyun a message, hearing from him still brought a smile to your face. He was always sweet when you were dating and stayed that way after you’d broken up. You knew he understood the nature of your marriage and that it was likely what you were messaging him about, which it technically was.

He had always been so understanding, you could only hope that he’d understand what you wanted to do and be willing to follow through on it with you. You quickly typed out a response before glancing at the time. You still had a while to hide in your room until you could leave to meet Jaehyun.

To Lee Jaehyun:

You:

Sounds good, I can’t wait to see you. Does 6 sound good?

Only a few minutes later, a text from Jaehyun came in confirming the time was fine. It left you to only wait until it was close enough to six to start getting ready. You occupied yourself with anything you could, trying your best not to think about Yoongi and instead, hyping yourself up for your night with Jaehyun.

You could do this.

You made sure to shower and shave properly and donned a casual, ruched dress that you knew Jaehyun loved on you. Taking the time to style your hair and put on some flattering natural makeup, you started to feel somewhat better about this. Who says you had you stop your sex life because of this? Even though it was already on hiatus long before your engagement, but that was neither here nor there.

Touching up some last few details with your look, making sure to add a necklace that dipped into your cleavage, and double checking that you were wearing the right lingerie, you felt ready. One last look in the mirror had you feeling like a woman on a mission, and you essentially were, though not a noble one.

The thought made you cringe but you tried to wipe away any guilt you felt. Clearly, Yoongi hadn’t felt any when he’d brought Jimin home. Jimin had texted you again last night but you hadn’t found the energy to text him back yet. You’d worry about that after fucking Jaehyun.

With your look finished, you exited your room, making sure to be as quiet as possible so as to not alert Yoongi. You made it out the door successfully and breathed a sigh of relief.

You quickly hailed a cab to take you to a ramen bar that you and Jaehyun frequented while you were still dating. As you reached, the memories of your relationship flooded your mind, triggered by the warm lighting on your skin and the spiced aroma filling the restaurant. You quickly spotted Jaehyun in the usual booth you’d sat in, somehow always empty for you two even on busy nights. He stood to greet you, hugging you loosely, before gesturing for you to sit.

You noticed his eyebrow raise at your attire. You knew he knew you well enough that your appearance would tip him off somewhat to your intentions, you were slightly dreading having to explain to him your stupid idea.

“Special occasion,” he questioned, nodding at your dress, eyes narrowing in on your necklace.

You smiled, “Seeing you is a special occasion, right?”

At that he stopped, his eyes meeting yours once more, “Y/N, what are you up to?”

Your smile turned sheepish, shrugging slightly, “Nothing, nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

“In that dress?”

“Would be believe me if I said yes,” you joked.

He laughed, making your heart warm. His laugh was always bright and contagious, it was one of your favorite things about him.

“I’d think you have ulterior motives, Y/N. You know how I feel about that dress,” he chuckled, taking a sip of the beer next to him.

You flagged down a waiter, ordering one for yourself, before facing him once more, “I do.”

Both of Jaehyun’s eyebrows raised at that, eyes narrowing at your figure, “You know the effect you have on me, Y/N, but you’re still married.”

You held back a sigh, not looking forward to explaining your dilemma, “I am, but the rules are…loose. And you’re the only one I was interested in.”

“Y/N,” Jaehyn started, suddenly much firmer, “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.”

The sudden concern made you melt, remembering why you’d loved him so much before, even though you’d dated for a relatively short amount of time. Your beer arrived next to you and you took a large sip to gain some courage.

“I’m fine, promise. This is what I want.” That probably sounded believable enough.

Jaehyun hummed, taking another sip from his own glass, “Okay, then. Let’s see where this goes.”

Jaehyun’s apartment looked almost identical to the last time you’d been there, save for some new small pieces of decor. You didn’t have much time to observe it though, from the way Jaehyun was feverishly kissing you, pressing your body up against the door.

He felt familiar and safe and the way his hands traveled down your body to slip past the hem of your dress was a nostalgic sensation. His mouth was attached to yours, kissing you without leaving you room to breathe, resulting in you gasping in breaths in the rare reprieves he did give you. He hiked up your leg against his waist before trailing his mouth down your neck, sucking a mark onto your collarbone.

Your grip on his shirt tightened as his fingers approached your underwear, tantalizing your first foreign touch in a while. Your breaths were short and quick, letting yourself swim in the sensation of Jaehyun’s breath ghosting the neckline of your dress. Your head fell back against the door, your mouth slightly open, and your chest heaving at his close proximity. The cold feeling of your necklace against your chest slowly lifted, causing you to glance down to see Jaehyun catching the pendant in his teeth and dragging it up your cleavage, shooting you a lopsided grin.

“Fuck,” you breathed, grabbing the side of his face and bringing him in for another kiss, this time more sloppy as the pendant slipped from his mouth.

“Let me take you to the bed,” he whispered, tapping your thigh, and making you jump into his arms. He carried you into his bedroom, which you distantly noted hadn’t changed much either, and laid you down on his soft sheets, resuming kissing you while reaching for the zipper in the back of your dress.

You felt his fingers travel along with the zipper down your back, erecting goosebumps in their wake, and the fabric slowly fell from your body. He lifted the dress off you leaving you in the purple lingerie you knew he enjoyed decorating your skin in sheer lace.

He grinned down at you, “Fuck, you know just what to do to me.”

He dove into the valley between your breasts and kissed down your navel, dragging his teeth along your skin. As you looked down at him, the sight of his black hair similar to another’s against your stomach suddenly made you feel slightly sick, and his veined hand and long fingers encircling your nipple had a striking resemblance to another pair of hands you appreciated.

As Jaehyun’s mouth traveled towards your center, the sickly feeling grew and you couldn’t help but feel immense guilt not only toward Yoongi but Jaehyun as well.

What were you doing?

Why were you doing this? Just to prove a point? That you can also fuck other people?

The questions made your head spin and you sat up suddenly, startling Jaehyun. Burying your head in your hands, you mumbled out apologies to Jaehyun, and maybe Yoongi too.

“Hey, what’s wrong,” Jaehyun asked, settling himself in beside you, putting his arm around your shoulder, “Are you okay?”

“No,” you choked out, “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can do this.”

“That’s okay, we don’t have to do anything,” Jaehyun soothed, rubbing circles into your shoulder, “Want to talk about it?”

“I’m so sorry, it just feels so unfair to you,” you opted to not mention the guilt you felt toward Yoongi as well, “I shouldn’t be doing this, it’s stupid.”

“Why is that,” Jaehyun prompted.

“We decided early on that our marriage would be open,” you managed to say in between quick breaths and wet heaves, “Well, he decided that. I didn’t want that, I actually like him.”

This felt pathetic.

“But I caught him yesterday, with someone else. Fuck, it shouldn’t even bother me, but it does,” you muttered angrily, “And I decided I’d sleep with someone else too, just because of that. I’m so sorry, you don’t deserve this.”

“Hey,” Jaehyun turned your chin toward him, making you face him, “I’m an adult, I agreed to this. I did this because I wanted to, I wasn’t expecting us to start dating again. It’s okay that you tried this, and that you clearly aren’t comfortable with it. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“It’s so immature though, so petty,” you cried.

“So what? You can still be immature sometimes, you’re not perfect. Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean you can’t make mistakes. I’m glad you stopped before you did anything you would’ve regretted,” Jaehyun smiled kindly, wiping your tears.

His words made you pause, echoing what you’d said about Yoongi to Joohee earlier that week. Your sobs dried up into short breaths and a cough, making Jaehyun get up to get you water. You sat on his bed feeling rather small and your damp underwear felt uncomfortable.

Jaehyun’s comforting still didn’t get rid of the guilt you felt but his gentle smile upon returning with a glass of water eased it slightly. You sipped it, feeling yourself calm down, watching Jaehyun ruffle through his closet before pulling out a large shirt you’d often stolen from him during your relationship.

“Here,” he said, handing you the shirt, “Wear that, you can sleep here, I don’t want you out in this state. I’ll take the couch.”

“No, I couldn’t let you do that in your own home,” you protested, “Let me take the couch.”

Jaehyun raised his hand, silencing you, “I’m not hearing it. Please, just sleep here and let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay,” you nodded, lowering your gaze to the water in your lap.

“And, Y/N,” he called, making you look up at him again, “I’m glad you reached out. We can always talk, I’m always here for you.”

You smiled, feeling emotional for a new reason now, his kindness washing over you in a soothing wave, “Thanks, Jaehyun. I’m here for you too, whenever you need it.”

He grinned before whispering a quick goodnight and shutting the door behind him.

Finally alone, you sighed. What a night. You still felt guilty, though you knew it wouldn’t do much good now, and you were honestly happy that you’d stopped things before it went too far. You were doing this for the wrong reasons, and even before you’d gotten engaged, you’d had no interest in sleeping with people. What transpired tonight was clearly just an attempt to get back at Yoongi, which was unfair to all parties involved, but especially Jaehyun.

You felt a little disgusted with yourself for using him that way when he’d been nothing but sweet to you. What had you become?

Finishing your water, you stood and peeled the lingerie off of your body and slipped on Jaehyun’s giant college t-shirt. It felt a little weird to not be wearing anything but the shirt to bed, but you didn’t have much choice with your lingerie being disgusting at this point. You quickly gathered your soiled clothing and stuffed it into a plastic bag you’d found, planning to bring it home as discreetly as possible the next morning. That left you lying in Jaehyun’s bed, head still swimming with the events of the past 48 hours.

In a way, you were glad this had happened, it had given you the confirmation that whoever your partner was, no matter the openness of the relationship, you weren’t interested in dating outside of your marriage. Even if you didn’t have any feelings for Yoongi, you still would’ve felt disgusted. You could hear Joohee chastizing you in your head about how you had a right to get even and that you deserved to have fun, but this wasn’t fun to you. It wasn’t appealing in the slightest.

Despite the nightmarish evening, you felt content with where you were in your own sexuality. Maybe at some point, you would become comfortable enough to actually sleep with other people, but that wasn’t something you wanted to worry about right now.

Right now, you weren’t near ready for that. What you needed was to have that conversation with Yoongi, and, with newfound courage, you resolved to have it by the end of the day tomorrow.

With your new mission in mind, you felt yourself drift to sleep in the distantly familiar feeling of Jaehyun’s mattress and scent.

The next morning had you feeling more embarrassed than guilty at the previous night’s events, and you quietly exited Jaehyun’s room, hoping not to wake him on the couch before leaving. Just your luck though that his door creaked loudly, making him sit up from his position on the couch.

His bleary stare and messy hair made you smile as you waved a shy hello. He waved lazily with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other, taking in the sight of you in just his shirt, your lingerie and dress sitting in the plastic bag hanging from your hand.

“Damn, I really wish you weren’t married,” he slurred, likely still quite sleepy.

You laughed, walking over to him, “If I get divorced, you’ll be my first call.”

He smiled loosely, still quite tired, “Yes, do that. Anyway, you can take one of my shorts, but please let me drive you back. I’m nervous about you going out like that.”

You nodded, “Okay, thanks. For everything, seriously.” You wanted to say more, but you weren’t sure how to phrase it. The unconditional kindness he displayed to you left you speechless and only more upset that he wasn’t the one you got to marry.

The ride back to Yoongi’s apartment was fairly quiet, with Jaehyun still quite tired, as he was never a morning person. He stopped in front of Yoongi’s building, whistling at the height of the tower. You smiled and thanked him again, squeezing his hand, before opening the door to leave.

“Hey, seriously, Y/N. Call me if you ever need anything, I’m always here to listen,” he said, watching you exit his car.

“Thanks, Jaehyun. I really can’t thank you enough,” you responded, smiling at his waving off of your answer. You shut the door before steeling your resolve for what awaited you in Yoongi’s apartment.

This was going to have to happen sooner or later, but it was time to have an honest conversation with Yoongi.

And you were going to be okay, no matter the outcome.

Probably.

Yoongi was tipsy. He hadn’t seen you since last night when you’d come downstairs in the middle of him making out with some guy he’d found at the club with Taehyung and Seokjin. You seemed to know the guy, Jimin he remembers, and that made him feel odd.

He wasn’t upset, no, he felt sick in his gut that you apparently knew the person he’d chosen to sleep with outside of your marriage.

He wasn’t sure why it was so upsetting to him, you’d both decided early on to leave your relationship open. Theoretically, there was nothing wrong with what he did. But it didn’t stop the guilt that swirled in his stomach, making him reach for more whiskey.

Something about your expression, just as you’d turned around after he’d noticed you. Your eyes were teary and you were biting your lip. Your eyebrows were knotted together and he could see the tight grip you had on the plate in your hands.

Your expression made his heart clench.

It was the most emotion he’d seen on your face, and you seemed unbelievably upset. And he had done that to you.

What was worse was the way your face returned to its usual cold exterior only moments later, the epitome of calm and collected. Was Yoongi not worth becoming emotional over for you?

No, Yoongi wasn’t upset about that. No, he was upset that you felt the need to control yourself like that. Yoongi had grown up being taught to control his every emotion, his every expression, and any aspect of his body language, and it molded him into an emotionally stunted adult with only a few close friends with whom he could loosen up with.

He had done that to you.

Yoongi resisted the urge to slam his glass down on his desk. He was a piece of shit, he felt disgusting.

You hadn’t come out of your room since last night and he wasn’t sure what to do. Did you even want to see him for him to apologize? He didn’t want to message you, the fear of being ignored was too great.

Suddenly, he heard the front door open and close, and silence afterward. So you’d gone out. Fair enough, Yoongi couldn’t blame you. He wouldn’t want to be around himself if he were you either.

He didn’t want to be around himself as it was.

Fuck.

He was getting in over his head. He remembered the feel of Jimin’s plush lips against his own and his skin under the rough pads of Yoongi’s fingertips, but he didn’t feel anything. It felt like he was forcing himself, going through the motions, desperate to find an answer to the confusion he’d felt since he’d married you.

In a way, he’d found an answer. Yoongi was undeniably attracted to you, and only you. Jimin was a last-ditch effort to prove to himself that he wasn’t developing feelings for you, and that had failed. Catastrophically.

This, however, brought a new dilemma for Yoongi, what was he supposed to do about it? It wasn’t fair to you for Yoongi to push these new feelings onto you after being caught with someone else. Yoongi knew that much. It’d only serve to be confusing and upsetting to you. So what was he supposed to do?

Yoongi bit his lip, hard. When was the last time he’d had feelings for someone? Taehyung? That would’ve been years ago, when they’d first met, and Taehyung had had a girlfriend at the time. So Yoongi had pushed his feelings down and repressed them until they were no longer there and Taehyung was nothing but a good friend.

But this was different. Yoongi was married to you, he had the opportunity to pursue his feelings. But what of the consequences? What if you didn’t want that? What if you were disgusted with him, now? Rightfully so, he mused.

A sigh escaped his mouth as he refilled his whiskey glass, his head was starting to hurt. New whiskey was poured into his glass but he did not drink it.

Despite the fact that he’d finally come to terms with his budding affection for you, he’d never felt more lost and confused.

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zephyrchama · 11 months ago

Text

Listening to Magic Moment on a non-stop loop has forced me to write this.

Writing Prompt: MC giving "free massage" tickets to the brothers.

Under the cut. Gender neutral MC, second person, one section for each of the 7 brothers.

Warnings: Nothing hardcore but there is suggestive content (every person has different boundaries so I don't know whether to classify it as some or a lot?). One section almost has a violent outburst (guess who lol it's satan's part), that might be unsettling to some.

The Seven Rulers of the Devildom had expensive taste. Must be a side effect from being some of the most powerful and influential millennia-old entities around.

The student council gave you a regular allowance and there was some side change from various part time jobs, but no way could you afford a custom designer brand gift for each of your housemates. When probed for details about what they’d like, they always say they’d gladly accept anything from you. That’s surely true, but you wanted to gift something they’d actually use and appreciate.

So after weeks of thinking, you got a bag of nice craft paper and some cute stickers that reminded you of the brothers. You holed up for an evening with a Do Not Disturb sign on the bedroom door. Late at night a couple days before Christmas, you snuck into the festively decorated living room and dropped your gifts into the brother’s stockings. Those were also your idea, and technically a gift with some little snacks inside, but now they also contained an extra surprise.

On Christmas morning everyone would wake up and discover your “Free Massage” tickets. One use per ticket. Valid forever.

Lucifer ---

You assumed Lucifer would use his ticket quickly, given how exhausted he often was. Despite being as busy as ever, he showed no intention of using it. Perhaps he thought the gift was beneath him and forgot about it entirely. Perhaps he needed hints to remind him.

For days you would check in on him more and more frequently. Send him a text, inform him that you were around if anything was needed. “Don’t forget to take breaks, ok? I’m here if you need me!”

One evening you boldly slipped into his room on the pretenses of returning a book. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. A sleepy Lucifer was towel-drying his hair after a shower. He sat on the corner of the bed, clean pajama shirt folded neatly beside him.

You took a seat on his other side. The book was large enough to occupy a third space. “Thanks for lending this to me. It was a surprisingly helpful reference.”

“I told you it was, didn’t I?”

He sounded amicable to conversation. Time to go on the offensive. “Do you need any help with that? I have a nice hair dryer from Asmo.”

“No,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I have the same one. I just prefer simple routines like this before bed.”

One rejection wasn't enough to deter you. “How was your day? Did anyone cause you trouble?”

You would have known if one of his brothers had acted up, but maybe something else was on his mind you could take advantage of.

“It was particularly uneventful. Quiet, for once. I’m glad to have this evening off, I have to be up early tomorrow.”

Shot down again. Now Lucifer was reaching for his shirt. Before he put it on, you grabbed his shoulder and weaseled your arm under his armpit and around his back. Not the smoothest move, but he stopped to humor you.

“Is anything on your mind?” he asked.

“It’s just that you’ve been so busy lately, I’m worried about your health. You’ve got to take it easy from time to time.” You rubbed your palm over his back. “I’m sure you get sore when you’re overworked.”

“Indeed. However, it’s something I’m used to.”

He re-folded the shirt and got up to put it away. “Would you like to stay the night? You must miss me, seeing as I’m so busy.”

“Absolutely!”

In the spare moments it took for Lucifer to hang up his shirt, place the returned book on its shelf, and walk back to the bed, you already made yourself at home in the sheets. He chuckled, “someone’s eager.”

The lights turned off and he slid into bed by your side. After only a couple of minutes, Lucifer shifted to face the wall. He already appeared asleep. He must really have been tired after all. Under the warm blanket, you reached to stroke his back again.

A novel idea formed in your mind. If all your attempts failed while he was awake, maybe subliminal messaging while asleep would be effective. You snuggled up close and whispered into his ear, “massage ticket… Use… the massage ticket…”

You weren’t expecting a reply, but Lucifer’s deep voice whispered back at you, “why would I waste such a valuable gift?"

"You're awake?" you gasped. Lucifer's prank had been unexpected. You began softly punching his back. "I thought you fell asleep."

"I'm awake, and I wasn't planning on using that ticket. Especially when you go through the trouble to do interesting things like this.”

Mammon ---

Mammon’s ticket had been confiscated. He no longer had it because he got up early, the most excited out of everyone to receive his shiny new presents, and once he saw what was in his stocking he knew that each of his brothers had one too.

Beelzebub walked in on him rooting around in everyone’s stockings to snag their massage tickets for himself and tackled him, as he thought Mammon was stealing Christmas chocolates. The commotion attracted everyone else and Mammon’s ticket was vetoed in a unanimous vote. But he still deserved a gift from you.

Instead of letting him choose a day and time like the others, you visited Mammon’s room when you felt like it. He was still pouting.

“You know I’ve been on my best behavior all year. S’not fair!” He punched the couch in frustration. He really had been getting into less trouble lately. It felt bad seeing him so down.

“Do you want one now? A massage, I mean. Don’t tell your brothers. It’s a limited time offer since you don’t have a ticket.”

“Ya mean it?”

You nodded, and his misery turned into excitement. He literally jumped up. “Well, do I get a little somethin’ extra too? Since I don’t have my ticket, ya know. Somethin’ to make up for that. I’ve got this nice little outfit you could wear that’s-”

You quickly cut him off before the Avatar of Greed gave too many demands. “Limited time offer with terms and conditions. Take the massage right now as-is or leave it. Up to you.”

“Aaarghh alright, alright. I’ll take it. Feel honored! I’ll humor your little massage for a while!”

Mammon dramatically pulled his shirt off but kept wearing the silliest, smuggest smile. He really was cute when trying and utterly failing to act tough. He sprawled himself out on the couch, “let’s see what you’ve got!”

Since the greedy demon hogged all of the couch space, there was nowhere to sit next to him within arm’s reach. With a “don’t mind if I do,” you decided to crawl over Mammon’s legs and sit on his butt.

In a moment of shock he wiggled out from under you. You would have toppled over the side of the sofa had Mammon’s famously fast reflexes not scooped you up, now placing you atop his chest. “Whaddya think you’re doin’, huh? Who said you could do that?”

“You did! How else was I supposed to… Look, do you want this or not?”

His scowl, no matter how big, couldn’t hide the blush on his face. “Yeah, ok, but just… warn me this time… Ok?”

Leviathan ---

It had been nearly a week since you last heard from Leviathan. After Christmas, you thought you might not see him at all until the new year. There were so many holiday game events happening, after all.

“Think I’m stuck,” read the message that popped up on your DDD late one night.

“Can’t move. Requesting reinforcements. And food.”

Concerned, you popped into the kitchen for whatever palatable finger foods you could assemble on a plate and began making your way to the third born’s room. You knocked, but there was no answer. It had been a while since he gave you a password, but it didn’t seem to matter now. You just walked in.

Leviathan was slumped over in his gaming chair, surrounded by roughly ten different screens. Each had a different game and one was streaming some idol talk show. His trash can, while still relatively contained, was almost overflowing with energy drink cans and snack packages. Levi didn’t seem to notice you walk in. He had been gaming for days. You set the plate at the edge of his PC desk.

“Dang. You live like this?”

Bleary-eyed and vitamin D deficient, he still shrieked. “Whuh? Don’t scare me like that!!”

“I came to answer your distress call. You’re stuck?”

“Oh, right. I did send that, didn’t I.” He turned back to the monitors briefly to pause a few things and save a few others. It was impressive how much he could multitask.

“My back’s turned into a pretzel. I thought I’d finally take a break, but when I went to stand up I couldn’t. I think I’m stuck to the chair, lol. If I, uh, use the massage ticket, could you help me?”

“’course I will. Here, drink something.” You slid him a juice. The gamer chair was pretty tall, blocking all access to Leviathan’s back, so you started tapping away at his shoulders. He scrambled to take his headphones off, which helped.

“Sorry to call you in for such a stupid reason. I know this is a disgusting sight..”

You shook your head, though he couldn’t see it. “How’s your game progress?””Oh, about 80% done everything? 85? But it’s mostly the daily quests now, I’ve maxed out on all the top prizes from the main event stories. Look, I even got this Christmas bow set. It has trash stats but looks like a tree and fires little candy canes.”

A big burly warrior with a Christmas hat on one of the screens demonstrated the weapon.

“Uwaah, you know that really helped. I think I can try to stand now.” Leviathan made a made show of setting his legs on the ground and leaning forward, only to magnificently slide back into the chair. “Ow. Ok. That, uh, wasn’t what I planned.” He turned away. “Don’t look at me.”

“No! Don’t give up!” You spun the seat around and he squeaked In astonishment. “We’re gonna make this happen. Levi! Do you trust me?” It was all or nothing. You dramatically reached out your hands. You knew you could do it. You were going to pull this demon out of the gamer chair.

Steeling his resolve, Leviathan nodded and grabbed your hands. You asked, “ready?”

He confirmed, “Ok… Ok lets go! One!”

“Two!”

As you shouted “three!” in unison, you tugged back with all your strength. Maybe you could have pulled a little less, as the two of you went flying backwards. There would have been some real damage if Levi didn’t cushion your head from the tiled floor with his arm.

“Woaaah it woooorked! We did--”

Mid-celebration, he seemed to notice he was in a compromising position on top of you. After barrel rolling off to the side, his voice got noticeably quieter. “We did it… yeah, uh… Sorry about--”

Leaving no room for negativity, you reached around his back and hugged him before he could finish the sentence. “I really missed you, y’know? Come out of your room more often, Levi.”

His face wasn’t visible, but you’re sure it was bright red as he stammered a soft “alright.”

Satan ---

Satan texted, asking if he could redeem his massage ticket after a long and tiring day. Said it was urgent. His presence was always in demand at social events, galleries, and book shop unveilings. After five busy events in one day he just wanted to return

home to relax with a book, but some idiots were running around the library playing war with rubber band shooters. His fuse that day was incredibly short. So he retreated to the comfort of his room, but each thudding footstep down the hall sounded irksome and brought Satan one step closer to snapping.

When you knocked at his door, wrath was seeping out the cracks into the hallway. He practically screamed at you to get inside. Satan was shaking on the edge of his bed, crushing an unrecognizable object in his hand. The room was dreadfully cold. You rushed to his side, practically jumping into the empty space next to him.

He barely acknowledged you. Rubbing slow, small circles on his back had a quick effect though. Upon hitting between his shoulder blades, his tense muscles loosened and he leaned against your side. You could hear him grinding his teeth. After a long minute passed he exhaled in relief.

You scooted back a bit and guided his head to your lap. Stroking continuous circles, one hand was in his rich blonde hair, the other against his shirt fabric. “Thank you for coming,” he muttered, rubbing a cheek against your thigh.“You really saved me there.”

“Any time. Do you want to talk about your day?” Your voice was low and soft.

“No. Just keep going.”

Gently pulling at his shirt collar, you loosened it to caress the back of his neck. He was still in his outdoor attire. He’d tell you about it in time, once fully calmed down. He tried to apologize for the outburst, though it wasn’t your fault and he didn’t quite know what to say. You brushed his hair back, combing it away from his forehead to let him know things were okay. It became your personal mission lessen the stiffness in his back. You’d work your way down his spine until he relaxed.

“Maybe I could read you a book, too?” You suggested, squeezing his shoulder. Satan shifted his hand to rub your knee in appreciation.

Asmodeus ---

Asmodeus set aside a whole spa evening to use your massage ticket. It was special. He filled his bath with high-end fragrances so his skin would be extra silky. He extended an offer for you to join him in the water, heated with magic to be the perfect temperature, but you said you’d wait in his room. Those baths can take hours. You’d be too pruny to feel, let alone massage anything. He had plenty of interesting magazines to flip through in the meantime, and you got to enjoy the plush sheets on his bed.

He waltzed out of the bathroom in a magnificently fluffy robe, another Christmas gift he’d received from somebody. “Thanks for waiting! Were you lonely? I’m allll ready!”

A brand new skincare set waited on the vanity, stocked with creams and masks for you to try together. Asmo plopped into a seat while you pulled up a spare chair behind him. “What are we starting with first?”

He rifled through the packages. “This!” A matte purple, gooey liquid. “I tried samples of this before, it smells divine. Come here!”

You let him plop a dab of the gloop on your nose and rub it into your cheeks. “There! Give it a few minutes and then wash it off. In the meantime, shall we begin? Hm?”

He turned to face the mirror and wiggled impatiently for his massage, cheekily sliding the robe off his shoulder. “I know you probably can’t wait much longer.” You both laughed. With the robe around his waist, you got to work redeeming the ticket. Pounding against his back didn’t seem to phase him at all, and Asmo hardly moved from the strength of your fists as he rubbed another cream under his eyes. He launched into a story about some fan who sent him a thirty page letter the other day.

“They described my beautiful eyes really well. It was even scented, and each page was another scent. Isn’t that wild? Do you think they did that themselves, or are the pages sold like that?” His eyes peered at you in the vanity mirror. “Hey, can you rub a little harder?”

“Oh, sure!” Knowing it would be hard for you to physically hurt him, you put a bit more force into each tap. “What scent was your favorite? Like, could you distinguish them?”

“Actually, yeah! There were lots of fruits like cherries, strawberries, one was pine scented, and a rose one of course.” Asmo glanced away from his own reflection once again and he shifted his weight back towards you. “Hey, hon? Harder?”

You obliged, squeezing his back muscles with as much strength as you could muster. “Is that… Was it the longest fan letter you’ve gotten?”Asmo let out a barely distinguishable moan. You almost thought you imagined it.

”Hm… Not by far…” He started, but trailed off. With a big breath, he moaned louder and leaned back further. “Oh, come on, harder… ” He wrapped his arms around his chest and wiggled.

“Asmo!? What the-- are you…? Gross!” You lifted your hands in shock and he burst out laughing. Without anything supporting him up, he fell into your lap in a fit of giggles. “Did you think I was serious? Ahaha! You’re so cute when you’re flustered!”

Beelzebub ---

“I ate something that didn’t agree with my stomach, can I redeem that gift for a massage? It might make me feel better.” That’s what Beelzebub asked one afternoon, stopping by your room after noticing the door open. It’s rare for something to upset Beel’s stomach. It must have been really rancid.

“Yeah, of course! You wanna do it here or your room?”

“We’re already here. If you don’t mind.” Beel walked in and made himself at home, smoothing out the covers on your bed.

You got up to shut the door, but wondered if a run to the kitchen would be useful.

“Will ice help? Or any kind of medicine?” Maybe even normal food would cancel out the bad stuff and make Beel feel better, but he declined. Beel already propped his head up on your pillow and laid down.

“You’re gonna lay face up? How am I supposed to rub your back?””My stomach hurts. I thought you could rub that, and I would feel better.””Oh.” Nobody else had been able to look at you directly while giving massages. This was more embarrassing.

Beelzebub realized he hadn’t taken his shirt off, but didn’t want to stand and repeat the process again, so he just pulled it up to his chest. His breathing did seem more labored than usual. Out of pity, you didn’t roll him over. “I haven’t done this way before, so tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”

The demon was so much bigger than you, it was hard to find a good starting spot. “You can sit here,” he said, patting his waist. “Only if you want to. I don’t mind.” So you scooted on up, placing your legs to the left and right of him. Beel is so muscled it was like sitting on a warm rock.

“Where does it feel uncomfortable? Here?” You prodded a bit around his stomach, careful not to make him sick.

“Pff, haha, yeah. That’s it.”

“That tickles?”

“Yeah.”

While Beel softly giggled, you worked your hands along the soft spots between his ab muscles. “What did you even eat?”

“A bath bomb.”You couldn’t help laugh along with him. Beel continued, “I didn’t know that’s what it was until Solomon told me though. I thought I maybe I accidentally had his cooking. It looked delicious. But I think it started expanding, and caused an ache.”

“I can’t blame you there. I almost ate soap once.”

“Really? You?” You were always the more level one when it came to food. “Did it look good?”

You nodded. “Boy, did it. And it smelled amazing, I could smell it from across the room. You probably smelled the bath bomb the moment you walked in that building, right?”

He vigorously nodded. “So you do get it!”

Beel reached up and pulled you into a big hug, catching you off guard so you practically fell on top of him. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

Escaping from one of Beel’s hugs was no easy feat, so you happily went along with it. “Any time. If you ever see one of those fake cupcakes again, maybe we can put it in the bath water and see what it does together.”

Belphegor ---

“I’ve got a fun idea. Meet me in the observatory?

When you showed up to Belphegor’s summons he was counting stars. The observatory was dark but the stars were bright enough to illuminate his silhouette standing in front of the window. He greeted you with a warm smile.

“I brought my ticket. I have a special request though.” Waving the massage ticket in

his hand, he came to meet you in the middle of the room. As your eyes adjusted you could make out that an old telescope was set up next to the fountain.

“ A special request? I guess I could hear you out since I came all this way.”

The two of you took a seat on the floor. For several moments, the only sounds were your own breathing and the soothing flow of water. When he didn’t start explaining, you were afraid Belphie might fall asleep in the peaceful silence. “Are you really gonna wait for me to ask what it is?”

“Yeah. If you wanna know, you should hurry up.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“What did you want to do?”

He reached to adjust the telescope in front of you at your eye level while explaining. “I thought we could stargaze together, but instead of just talking about what we see, we could draw them on each other’s backs. If you draw the constellations I can tell you what they are. When it’s my turn, I can show you what they look like and tell you stuff about it. What do you think?”

If your eyes could have stars in them, at this moment they would. “That sounds like a really fun idea.”

“Hehe, right? I told you. So take a look, what do you see?”

Belphegor turned his back towards you while you excitedly peered through the telecope. It was easy to focus and you quickly found a target to study.

“Two there, and then… Ok, I think I’ve got it. What’s this?”

You started to replicate what you saw with little knocks for stars, and connected them by slowly drawing arcs between the points. Belphegor’s jacket would slide over his shirt though, messing up the curves.

“Hm…” He sighed. “I thought I would be pretty good at this, but it’s hard to tell what you’re drawing.”

“This might be easier without the jacket,” you admitted.

“Really? I’m too tired to take it off though. Take it off for me?”

His brothers spoiled him too much, just like you did, so Belphegor didn’t move a muscle when you tried to peel off the warm jacket. You had to get in his personal space and lift his arms up for him. You told yourself the struggle would be worth it when you finally wrestled it off of him and could wear it yourself. He was being too uncooperative though, and eventually suggested “how about we switch? I don’t want to take this off, I’m comfortable now.”

Dejected without your warm prize, you agreed. The telescope stand rattled against the ground as he readjusted it and you turned away from him. “Do you still really want to use your massage ticket if I’m not the one doing it?” you inquired.

He hummed and hawed, mulling it over while gazing up at the sky. “Yeah, I do, if it lets me do fun stuff like this with you. I got one, let me know if you have this star sign in the human world.”

The first couple pokes sent tingles through your skin. The stars were really far away from each other, drawn on opposite sides of your lower back, but you weren’t prepared for such a delicate touch and had been distracted. “I don’t… think so? Hold on, draw it again.”

“Don’t you know? It goes like this.” He poked again, a little lower. You let out an

“eep!” and subconsciously scooted forward.

“Wait, I’m not done.” He was clearly holding back laughter. “I haven’t shown you this other one yet.”

The next constellation felt less like the trace of a star, and a lot more like Belphegor just wanted to tickle your sides. “Do you know what this is called?”

“Khh hahaha, no, I don’t.” The laugh-riddled admission further encouraged him. He wiggled lines all over your sides and crept his way to your stomach.

“I guess we have a lot of constellations to talk about then. Good thing the sky is so clear tonight.”

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