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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

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Sweet Like Honey

Chapter 1: The First Time

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: established relationship, fluff, smut – PIV sex (missionary), nipple play, clitoral stimulation, sex without a condom, creampie, pet names

Summary: Nanami invites you to his place for the first time, where he offers to cook you dinner, which leads to a night of many other firsts.

Author's Notes: I originally wrote these spicy side stories for A Bento For Kento last year and I'm just now getting around to editing/rewriting some of it to match more of my current style! I hope you like it, thank you for reading! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Sweet Like Honey Masterlist | Next Chapter

Being inside Nanami’s apartment for the first time makes you nervous for some reason. Maybe it’s the feeling of being in somebody’s personal space that makes you uneasy. You like this man, of course, but there’s still so much you don’t know about him. It’s only been two weeks since you started dating. Two weeks since your first and second kiss at the street food festival. With Ren still living with you at home, it’s been difficult to find time to be alone with Nanami.

Until tonight.

He offers to make dinner, which is already such a huge turn on for you. The smell coming from the kitchen is intoxicating. You can’t recall the last time that someone cooked a meal from scratch to serve to you. There’s yearning in the pit of your stomach. Is it hunger caused by the aroma of the food? Or desire for the man currently preparing the food? It’s both, definitely both.

You’re currently sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine in hand, classical music playing on his stereo in the background. You don’t expect anything less from him, already so smitten by the classy Kento Nanami. You sneak a glance at him in the kitchen, admiring the black apron he’s wearing over a blue dress shirt and his usual spotted tie. He looks extremely attractive right now. In fact, he is extremely attractive. Feeling increasingly nervous each passing minute, you chug your liquor before standing up to walk into the kitchen. He takes his focus away from the pan to look at you, asking, “Need anything?”

“I was actually coming here to ask you the same question,” you respond with a small smile.

“I’m almost done. Just want the sauce to thicken up a bit more.” He eyes your empty glass. “Need a refill?”

You hold it out to him, nodding. “Yes, please.”

He pours the bottle, filling it halfway. Without a word, you tip it into your mouth, taking three large gulps to swallow it down. From your peripheral, you catch Nanami watching you curiously.

Why are you freaking out right now? You’re with your boyfriend, who has been nothing but kind, gentle, and sweet to you. But tonight, you are hyper aware that it’s just the two of you, alone inside his swanky apartment, the bedroom just a few feet away.

It’s just dinner, you remind yourself. This doesn’t guarantee that the two of you will have sex tonight. Besides, why are you thinking about sex to begin with? Get your mind out of the gutter. He invited you here for dinner, nothing more. However, there’s no denying that it’s been on your mind. You nearly pounced on him at the street food festival. Every night, you replay the memory of his touch; his gentle hand on your cheek, his warm mouth on yours. How his lips feel against the skin of your wrist. The way his jaw clenches when he’s trying to hold back. You want to feel that again. You want more.

You’ve seen each other a couple more times after that night, either out in public or at your house with Ren. And with your protective younger brother always keeping an eye out, your goodnight kisses have been tame, a little too tame, if you’re being honest. To say you’ve been eager for this alone time with him is an understatement. Despite this, you can’t help being a tad nervous. Will you two be compatible in the bedroom? Are there any weird kinks he’s into? Is he okay with the kinks that you’re into? These questions won’t be answered all in one night, so there’s no use in stressing about it when sex isn’t even on the table yet. You’re only focus tonight should be to enjoy this delicious home-cooked meal courtesy of your super hot boyfriend and let everything play out the way it should.

“Go ahead and sit. I’ll serve you.” You snap out of your reverie at the sound of his voice and take a seat at the dining table, taking the bottle of wine with you. Soon, he appears with two steaming plates in hand, setting one in front of you and the other at his spot next to you. “Carbonara and garlic bread. This is my favorite meal to cook,” he says, sitting down and filling his glass.

“This smells and looks incredible. I’m so impressed!” you beam at him, eyes glowing with admiration.

“That’s a huge compliment, coming from you,” he responds, smiling.

“Pasta is not a specialty of mine. You’ll have to teach me one day.”

“Sounds like a good date idea. Let’s plan that soon.”

You twirl your fork around the noodles for the perfect bite. It’s still piping hot off the plate. When it hits your tongue, your taste buds sing. The sauce is perfectly creamy with just the right amount of cheese and pepper flavor. The salt from the crisp bits of pancetta adds enough flavor without being too overpowering. The noodles are al-dente, just the way you like it. Everything together creates a luxurious, well-balanced dish. Even the garlic bread is delicious; he roasted the garlic beforehand, surrounding the apartment with one of your favorite scents. “Delicious. Absolutely delicious. It tastes even better than it looks, and it looks incredible.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating,” he says, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“No, Nanami. It’s seriously amazing. Thank you for cooking this for me.” You take another big forkful, closing your eyes and making small noises of satisfaction. He doesn’t speak, a small smile on his face smile as he eats his own food, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you’re still enjoying the meal. The silence isn’t awkward; it feels comfortable. Both of you indulging in delicious food and great company.

When you’ve scraped your plate clean with your last piece of garlic bread, you finish the rest of your wine, letting out happy sigh as you rub your belly. Nanami finishes soon after and stands up to take the plates into the kitchen. You follow, offering, “Let me wash the dishes! It’s the least I could do after you’ve fed me.”

“I’ll put them in the dishwasher, don’t worry.”

You lean against the countertop, helping him load the dishwasher. After the cycle stars, he steps towards you, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you for dinner. Seriously. That was so delicious,” you say, peering up at him.

“You know that I already like you, right?” he chuckles, planting another smooch on you. “You don’t have to keep flattering me.”

“I’m just being honest! That was one of the best meals I’ve ever had! But I’m obviously biased because I already like you too,” you tease, winking. From behind him, you suddenly notice something on his fridge. Curious, you walk up to it. It’s the bento box notes you wrote him, hung up by magnets, each one wrinkled from wear and tear. Smiling, you ask, “You hung them up on your fridge?

He stands beside you, arm brushing yours. “Of course. They keep me going throughout the week.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, beaming at him. “You are the sweetest man, you know that?” You kiss, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you in closer. The fact that he still has those notes, now hung up on his fridge like artwork, makes your heart swell. How is this man even real? And how are you lucky enough to have him as your boyfriend?

He pulls away from the kiss, voice wavering just the slightest. “Should we move to the couch?”

Heat creeps into your face as he leads you into the living room. Is the wine getting to you? Or is it your nerves? You’re the one who initiated the kiss, so why are you surprised that he wants to move it to the couch?! There’s no way he wants to get it on right now; you just ate. Isn’t there a rule about waiting thirty minutes after you eat, or does that only apply to swimming?

You both sit on the catch, knees touching, holding hands. He gazes at you lovingly, even as you try to avoid his gaze. “Are you okay? You seem a little distracted.” He brushes your cheek with his thumb, his touch giving you the flutters below your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you lie, totally flustered now.

“Are you sure?” He brings your hand up to his lips, placing soft kisses between your knuckles. Oh no, your absolute weakness.

“I guess I’m just a little nervous,” you admit.

“What are you nervous about?”

You let out a timid laugh. “I don’t know. I’m just being weird.”

He stops kissing to study you. “You can be honest with me. Please tell me what’s on your mind.”

Taking a deep breath, you explain, “I want to get some things out in the open. Make sure we’re both on the same page.”

There’s a worried glint in his eyes. “Okay.”

Another deep breath. “So, um. Sex. I want to have sex. With you. Do you…I mean, would you like that, too? Is that, um, something you want to do with me?”

You can see a small grin forming on his lips, but he immediately goes back to a neutral expression to answer, “Yes. Very much so.”

Cheeks burning, you reply, “Okay. That’s…good to know.” You clear your throat before posing the next question. “Have…have you been tested recently? I’m sorry to ask this, I just want to make sure we’re practicing safe sex.”

Calmly, he says, “I got tested two weeks ago as soon as we started dating. Everything is good.” Before you can continue, he adds, “And don’t apologize for asking that. That’s a very valid question.”

You nod, easing up a bit. “I got tested a few months ago when I last saw my gynecologist. And I’m also good. I haven’t had sex since then, so yeah. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Good.”

There’s a moment of silence as you properly process this conversation. Why were you so anxious? You should have known that talking to Nanami like this would be easy, considering how mature he is.

“Oh! Also, I’m on birth control. Just FYI. In case you were wondering,” you blurt out.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he says, a kind expression on his face. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the way he looks at you.

Finally relaxed, you say, “Okay, I think that’s all I wanted to talk about. Thank you.”

“Thank you for opening up to me.” He places his hand on yours, caressing you with his thumb.

You ask, “Do you have any questions for me?” He shakes his head no. You continue. “I’m sorry if this is awkward. I just want to make sure we go about this the right way.” The fluster on your face is definitely noticeable; there’s no hiding it now.

His smile brightens as he scoots closer to you. “You’re too cute, you know that?”

At that, you let out another giggle, glancing down at your lap, shy for an entirely different reason now.

“I really like you. You have no idea,” he whispers, breath warm on your ear. When did he get so close? Your heart pounds like crazy, enough that he can probably hear it.

Attempting to lighten the mood, you joke, “You still like me after all that interrogation?”

“I think I like you even more now.” There’s lust dripping in his voice. “Can I kiss you?”

Without saying another word, you lean in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss starts slow and gentle. His hand cups your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone, reminding you vividly of your first kiss. How the sounds of the festival were drowned out by the thumping of your heartbeat. Now, the classical music playing in the background is muted by the wet noises your lips make against Nanami’s mouth. His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers dangerously close to the arousal between your legs. The first time, he was holding back. This time, he’s not. He wants you.

He pulls your head back gently, lips trailing down your neck, sucking on your skin where it’s most sensitive. As if he knows exactly where to touch you to stimulate every nerve in your body. He slides under your blouse, fingers grazing the bulge of your belly. Feeling insecure, you grab his wrist and push his hand away. He stops to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I just…I just ate, so I’m a bit bloated,” you confess. “Feeling a little self-conscious.”

With another kind expression, he says, “I understand. I won’t touch you there.” He returns to your thigh, kissing your neck once more, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “You are beautiful. I hope one day you’ll let me worship every part of your gorgeous body.”

Your insecurity is quickly overtaken by the need to feel him on every inch of your bare skin. Without thinking, you take his hand and slip it beneath your blouse, allowing him to touch you there now. Why did you even bother trying to resist him?

He laughs softly. “Good girl.”

Hearing him utter those words as he touches has your pussy throbbing. There’s nothing else on your mind except feeling him all over you. Feeling him inside you. He squeezes your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple over the fabric of your bra.

“Want to move into the bedroom?”

Without a second thought, you answer, “Yes.”

~~~

Fingers entwined with hers, he takes her into his room, watching as she lies on his king-sized bed. He straddles her, hands at the hem of her shirt. “Can I undress you?”

She nods, sitting up to help him strip her, her upper body exposed except for the bra covering her breasts. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable; he can tell she’s a bit nervous, despite the obvious desire in her eyes. Most importantly, he wants this to be an enjoyable experience. “Is it okay if I take your bra off?”

She gulps loudly before breathing out, “Yes.”

He wraps his arms around her, fingers grasping for the clasp. She kisses him hastily, lightly nipping at his lower lip, his dick growing stiffer inside his pants. She reaches for him, palming his strained cock until he’s uncomfortable hard against the fabric. When her bra finally comes lose, he tugs it off her body, tossing it to the floor, admiring her bare bosom.

“Can I suck on your nipples?” he huffs, his patience wearing thin. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, I really like that.”

She really likes it, she says. Good to know. He squeezes her breast, sucking on her nipple. His free hand massages the other, pinching it lightly until he it’s perky against his fingertips. He circles his thumb around it as he continues to work her tits, making lewd noises as he releases her with a wet pop, only to latch onto her again, sucking harder. She moans, his cock twitching with every erotic sound that comes out of her salacious mouth.

Nipple plump on his tongue, he moves to the other one, sucking until she squirms beneath him, whimpering in pleasure. Still completely clothed, he loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt, stripping until he’s naked from the waist up. Her fingers trail his abs, then down to the skin right above the hem of his pants. Once she unbuckles his belt, he slides out of his pants until he is clad only in his briefs, her focus on the obvious bulge protruding from his underwear. She undresses, keeping just her panties on. He leans over to kiss her passionately, letting his hands explore her body freely, cherishing every soft curve of her glorious figure.

He’s been dreaming about this. Ever since their first kiss, he’s thought about her every night. The way she tastes on his lips. How soft her skin is on his rough hands. He would fantasize about the different positions they would try, the sounds she would make if he ever got the chance to pleasure her. Every second they spend together, his feelings for her grow stronger and stronger. He’s never felt like this with anyone else. That’s why he doesn’t want to screw it up. He wants nothing more than to pleasure her, make her feel comfortable and safe with him.

He breaks away to catch his breath. “Is this okay?”

She smiles, cupping his cheek. “Yes. This is more than okay.”

“We don’t have to go any further, we can stop here,” he suggests. He really doesn’t want to, but he will if she does.

“Do you want to stop?” There’s a naughty look in her eyes, as if she’s teasing him.

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

Electricity surges through his body, ready to burst. His fingers reach for her panties, rubbing her clit through the cloth. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yes, Nanami. Fuck.”

His cock twitches at the sound of her cursing. This is one his fantasies, hearing filthy words come out her sweet, innocent mouth. He slips his middle finger past the fabric, sliding it up and down her wet folds, circling her clit, cock rigid underneath his briefs. Feeling her like this is better than he ever imagined. A dream come true.

“Show me. I want to see how big you are for me,” she purrs into his ear.

His eyes widen at her suggestion. Fuck. He won’t be able to last if she keeps saying things like this in her sexy voice. He shoves his briefs down his thighs, letting his hard cock flop against his abdomen.

“Fuck, Nanami. You’re so big. Can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Losing his composure, he mutters, “Fuck, baby. Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

He lets out a huff. “Okay. I can’t believe we’re really doing this.” He reaches for his nightstand, grabbing a condom and lube from the drawer. When she sees him opening the packet, she grabs his wrist. “You don’t have to put that on. I’m on birth control, remember?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want to feel you come inside me.”

“Fuck.” He pours lube onto his palm, stroking his erection. She watches hungrily as he positions himself at her wet slit, guiding it in smoothly, her pussy clenching him every inch he slides in. When he bottoms out, he stays still, waiting for her body to adjust to his size. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she breathes out.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He thrusts slowly, savoring how incredible she feels around him. It takes everything in his willpower not to come yet. She wraps her legs around his waist, arms linked behind his neck. That beautiful smile flashes across her face, making him tingly all over his body. He really likes her.

His pace picks up, drawing out small moans from her sweet lips. He’s close, but he wants to make her orgasm first. He reaches down to rub her puffy clit with his thumb, the sudden sensation causing her to buck up towards him. Her reaction encourages him to thrust into her faster, moving his thumb relentlessly over the sensitive spot.

“Fuck, Nanami. I’m going to come,” she whimpers.

“Come for me, princess. Come all over my cock.”

She tightens, her body squeezing him until she climaxes. After her high, she relaxes her grip on him, eyes glazed over, grinning. When he tries to pull out, she stops him. “Don’t. Keep going until you come. Please.”

It doesn’t take long; he thrusts into her a few more times until he releases inside her, filling her up. As he pulls out, cum drips out of her slit, an erotic sight he’ll never tire of seeing. He collapses beside her, steadying his breath. She turns to him, sliding her arm over his chest, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. Cuddling closer to her, he whispers, “Thank you.”

She laughs. “Thank you, too.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, the silence comfortable, their bodies cozy snuggled together. Before they end up falling asleep, Nanami sits up and announces, “I’ll be back.” He disappears into the bathroom, rummaging his cupboard for the unscented baby wipes he bought a few days ago. When he returns, he crawls back in bed next to his girlfriend and takes out a few wipes.

“Wow, you’re so prepared!” she exclaims, taking the wipes from him to clean herself.

“I figured these would be good to have, just in case. If you want, we can take a shower together before we sleep. You can wear my clothes.”

“I can’t sleep over. Ren is going to freak out if I don’t come home.”

Slightly disappointed, he responds, “Oh, okay.”

Sensing this, she kisses him on the cheek. “I promise. Next time, I will sleep over. Just gotta get Ren’s approval first.”

“You’re such a good sister,” he smirks.

“And when Ren moves into the dorms in a couple of weeks, we can do whatever we want, wherever we want.”

“I’d like that.”

After she’s cleaned up, she changes back into her clothes. Nanami puts on a new pair of clean briefs to walk her to the door. “Call me when you’re home, okay?”

“I will.”

They hug each other tightly before saying goodbye. Exhausted from his orgasm, Nanami goes straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for sleep. As he lies in bed, under the very blanket they just had sex on, he moves his head to the pillow. The one she was sprawled out on as he made her come. He takes a deep breath with his nose pressed against it, inhaling her sweet scent. He feels his arousal growing beneath his briefs, thinking about the way his cum trickled out of her.

He smiles to himself, reaching down to stroke his hard cock, realizing he doesn’t have to go off fantasies anymore.

Taglist: @chiyoso

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sweet like honey #a bento for kento

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years ago

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II ║ Threads

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part I: Seams | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: When Joel revisits Main Street Outfitters two weeks later, he finds you on your knees. Again.

Warnings: Very spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: This crept up on me and happened just as I was finishing up edits. I am so grateful, and I hope Threads is a fitting thank you gift to you all 😘 I’m thinking about doing a sleepover celebration, we shall see!

Joel and Pin are back ❤️ They're back because you guys have been so generous with your love, sending me so many ideas and hyping me up - I can't thank you all enough! This chapter is all thanks to Singer machine anon who bravely (affectionate 😉) shared their story of getting stuck under a sewing machine table. I hope you enjoy this one!

A treadle sewing machine is powered mechanically by a foot pedal that is pushed back and forth by the operator's foot.

If you're not familiar, here is a classic Singer treadle cabinet, which is no way big enough for the purposes of this story, so please exercise your imagination 😉

Joel hovers outside the Jackson Grocer’s, arms crossed, trying to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible in front of the leafy display of butter lettuce heads.

It’s been a few months since he’s settled in, but sometimes he can’t get over how fucking nuts this place is. Looking at the shelves brimming with fresh fruits and vegetables outside, canned food and home goods inside, he could easily be standing outside the 24/7 mart in his old neighbourhood. There are even shopping baskets, for crying out loud - stacked neatly one on top of the other by the door.

A voice pipes up from his left. ‘Didn’t know you ate greens.’

Joel scowls. ‘I don’t.’

‘Why are you loiterin’, then?’ asks Tommy, picking up a couple of apples and examining them with exaggerated care.

‘I’m not loiterin’,’ he spits out the last word as if he’s above it, turning his gaze to the high street.

Tommy tosses him a cocky grin, head tilted at a knowing angle. ‘Yeah, you are. And now you’re makin’ eyes at Bob. It’s disturbin’.’

Glancing across the main thoroughfare at the welder’s shop, where the said proprietor is cutting up wooden planks on the porch, Joel grumbles sarcastically, ‘That’s right. Bob is just my type.’

At that very moment, right next to Bob's, the door of Main Street Outfitters creaks open, and Joel recognises Lucy instantly as she sneaks out on tiptoes. She skips down the stairs and wanders up the street in what appears to be another impromptu work break.

Joel’s already taken two steps towards the shop before he remembers that he’s not alone. Braking abruptly and bringing up one hand to scratch the back of his neck, he feels Tommy’s eyes on him.

He half-turns, and snaps, ‘What?’

The younger Miller brother shrugs, pursing his lips thoughtfully. ‘Why are you going to the Outfitters again? Didn’t you just get those new jeans a couple of weeks ago?’

‘Thought I’d get a new shirt for your stupid baby shower.’

‘Joel -’

‘Sorry, sorry.’ He throws his hands up in capitulation. ‘Baby showers are not stupid. Especially in the middle of an apocalypse.’

Taking another two steps forward, a thought stops him dead in his tracks again. He can practically feel Tommy smiling smugly at his back.

For fuck’s sake.

He doesn’t turn around this time, jamming his hands into his pockets and asks, ‘Can I bring someone? To the party?’

‘We know Ellie’s comin’.’

Whipping around, he growls, ‘Tommy -’

He laughs. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. Joel Miller makin’ friends in town? Maria’s right - you’re fittin’ right in, big brother.’

Rolling his eyes, Joel flips him off and stomps his way across the street.

Tommy calls out at his retreating back. ‘Say hello to Pin and tell her we’d love to have her come over on Sunday!’

When he steps inside, the shop is as empty as it was a fortnight ago. Joel shuts the door firmly, making sure the bell jingles, so his entry doesn’t go unnoticed.

Your voice, though muffled, comes promptly. ‘Lucy! Is that you?’

He heads towards the doorway that leads to the workshop. ‘It’s Joel, actually.’

‘Oh, shit!’

His eyebrows reach for his hairline - you don’t seem to be the type to curse. Concerned, he asks, ‘You alright back there?’

There’s a touch of panic in your reply, ‘Don’t come back here. Did Lucy sneak out again?’

On your instruction, Joel hesitates in the middle of the room, talking to air. ‘Yeah, saw her leave a couple of minutes ago.’

‘Goddamnit, Lucy!’

He shuffles his feet awkwardly. ‘Uh, you sure you’re ok? Should I come back later?’

There’s a resigned sigh, then a pause. ‘Promise you won’t laugh.’

One end of his lips tugs upwards in a smile. ‘Why would I?’

‘Promise.’

At your insistence, he humours you, ‘Alright, I promise, sweetheart.’

‘Come on back.’

When he steps into the workshop, he doesn’t spot you immediately. The space is seemingly empty, everything standing still and in order. He sweeps his eyes across the room, starting with the shelving unit and the desk along the near wall, then trailing over the large timber work table in the middle, where a stack of folded shirts stands neatly.

His throat isn’t the only thing that tightens when he glances at the rug under the skylight -

‘Joel?’

Your voice draws his attention to the far corner of the room, where a sewing station is tucked into a little alcove.

Joel doesn’t know much about sewing machines, but he can recognise a vintage Singer anywhere even without the name blazoned across its elegant body. His grandmother had one in her drawing room by a sunny bay window, and he used to watch her work on it when he visited every other weekend. For a disorienting second, he can almost smell homemade cinnamon rolls and black tea.

Little did he know that things were about to get a lot more disorienting than a pleasant childhood memory.

As he steps around the work table, the rest of the sewing station comes into view, fronted by a big window, the light streaming through the glass glancing off the black sewing machine on top of a classic treadle cabinet. What looks like a half-finished dress lies on the wooden work surface, which stands on quintessential wrought metal legs, and between them - his throat constricts with a slow swallow when he realises what - or rather, who - he’s looking at.

The words barely come out, as if his tongue is suddenly too big for his mouth, as he makes his presence known. ‘I’m here, sweetheart.’

To be fair, you’re not making things easy by any means. All he can see is your backside hovering in mid-air, the rest of you out of sight under the desk. It has built-in cabinets on each end, the right side of it backed up against the far wall, and a chair is pushed to the side.

Joel stops two measured paces away, staring down at the curve of your ass and the way your top rides up, baring the small of your back. His eyes linger on the soft skin between the shirt’s hem and the waistband of your very tight jeans.

Jesus Christ. Do you always have to be on your fucking knees in this workshop?

Your small voice jolts him from his daze. ‘Well, at least you’re not laughing.’

He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from scoffing. If only you knew how laughing is the furthest thing on his mind right now. ‘What happened?’

‘A spool rolled off and I went down to get it, but I fell on the treadle accidentally - I think my shirt is snagged in the band wheel. I can’t move at all, and this Singer is an antique - I can't risk breaking it.’

Unfamiliar with what you’re talking about, he probes, ‘And where’s the band wheel?’

‘Under the table, on my right.’

You wriggle your hips, perhaps to help him locate where you’re stuck, unaware that you’re not helping. At all.

He swallows thickly and implores you, ‘Stay still, sweetheart. I’ll take a look.’

It’s been two whole weeks since Joel Miller came into the shop. You’ve caught glimpses of him in between - Jackson is tiny, after all. He catches your eye as he ambles down the high street with Ellie, his gruff Southern accent carrying even in the mid-afternoon bustle, too preoccupied arguing with the teenager to notice you on the other side of the road. He’s in the cafeteria a couple of times when you arrive for a late dinner, nodding at you from a few tables over, while you work up the nerve to smile back.

Every time, he’s wearing the jeans you handpicked for him, which makes your chest swell and constrict at the same time with something like - pride.

You picked out the pair for him. You assured him that he looks good. And by the way he’s wearing his confidence on his sleeve, he’s certainly taken your words to heart.

Whenever you see other women eyeing him as he struts about town - which is entirely too often - it awakens an ugly possessiveness in you, one that twists your insides into grotesque balloon animals.

Fourteen damn days. Even in the privacy of your workshop, you can’t escape that man. The simple touch of denim provokes a visceral reaction from you, heat chases beneath your skin every time you pick up the tailor’s scissors. It doesn’t help that most of your daily tasks are not exactly cerebral, which gives this man all the more leeway to lay claim to your subconscious.

If you believed in magic, you would've thought you summoned him with the sheer energy you’ve spent thinking about him. But what kind of witchcraft conjured him up at the precise moment you get trapped like the bumbling idiot that you are?

One minute you’re reaching for the stupid thread, the next thing you know, you’re stuck, unable to move without the mechanisms of the antique Singer groaning ominously at your attempts to free yourself.

But maybe, it’s still better than Lucy finding you. She’d take a hammer to the sewing machine to get you out, no question - patience is not her strong suit - and she’d be laughing at you for days.

You hear the floorboards give behind you as Joel moves into the space, which isn’t much - when you’re sat down at the treadle cabinet, the wall is barely two steps behind.

The wooden table creaks above you as he braces one hand on the surface, and you startle at what sounds like the vicious crack of a vertebra.

‘Um - you okay?’

Joel grunts. ‘I’ll live.’

So you wait, thinking absent-mindedly how your elbows are starting to get numb. There’s a scruff of boots and what sounds like a brief struggle, before Joel sighs. ‘Back’s too stiff ‘mfraid. Gotta get on the floor to see underneath.’

Before you can squeak out a reply, there’s a boney click of what you presume is his knees as he crouches down, and an unexpected brush of denim on your left ankle surprises you. Forgetting where you are, you jump in reflex, hitting the underside of the table so hard that you screech in pain.

‘Shit!’ Joel cusses behind you, one warm hand landing on the side of your hip to steady you. ‘You ok?’

Up until this point, you’ve been too consumed with embarrassment by your predicament to even think about the position Joel found you in. But once the warm imprint of his palm registers through the denim, it hits you like one of those interstate trucks that you used to see out of your window.

You’re leaning on your forearms, ass in the air, and now - he’s behind you, getting onto his knees. You can’t decide if the back of your head or your pussy is throbbing harder as you stutter, ‘I’m fine, just - get me out, please.’

‘Alright, hang on, sweetheart.’

You swallow the childish urge to stamp your foot. He has no right going around dropping sweethearts all over the place.

There’s a throaty exhale as Joel lowers himself onto the floor, his knees bracketing yours to shift closer to you. You know he feels the shudder that chases down your spine when soft flannel grazes your bare back, heat spilling from his solid frame as he looms over you.

‘You say you’re stuck in the band wheel?’

Somehow, you manage to answer, ‘Yeah, to my right.’

He clears his throat. ‘I - uh - I’ll have to lean down pretty close to you to take a look, is that ok?’

You feel all the air leave your body, which is probably why your reply comes out far breathier than you intend it to. ‘Yes, Joel.’

And with those two words, Joel has a problem with his jeans. Again.

They’re too tight. Again.

There’s nothing he can do as his mouth goes dry and his cock hardens with a vengeance, his self-control slipping like sand between his fingers.

He was doing so good - well, he was more or less holding it together, as much as he could be expected to while kneeling behind you. And of course, his damn knees hurt, but so does his bottom lip which is caught in his teeth, trying to regulate his breathing when his heart threatens to beat right out of his chest.

He already has one hand on you, and goddamnit, it’s taking him all he’s got to hold back from gripping you with his other, to grasp the swell of your ass between his palms, to trace your curves up to the dip of your exposed waist, to bow his head and run his tongue along the arc of your spine -

And the jeans you’re wearing - fuck, they’re tight. He wonders idly if you wore them for him. His eyes follow the seam that runs down the cleft of your ass, the way the pockets stretch over your backside has his fingers twitching, thinking about how well you will fill his hands, and how the slow rub of denim will burn his skin.

He wants to hook his thumbs into the belt loops and pull you flush against the zipper of his jeans, where his cock is straining against - rub himself on you, grind on you, his thighs plastered to the back of yours -

‘Joel?’

Fuck.

He sways as he snaps out of his stupor, dangerously close to knocking into you, light-headed from the lack of blood to his brain. He chokes out, ‘Yeah, I got you, sweetheart.’

Get it together, you dirty bastard.

He’s careful to leave a couple of inches between his front and your ass when he bends his elbows and ducks so he can peer beneath the desk. His chest pressed flat against your lower back, he can see the bunched fabric of your shirt where it’s caught.

‘Yup, you’re right, your shirt is snagged tight in there.’

‘Can you untangle it?’

‘Think so, but I’ll need both hands.’ He pauses. ‘I’d better get on my back under you.’

You swear you’re going to black out.

‘Pin?’ he prompts when you’ve been quiet a beat too long.

‘I - um, what do you mean by going under me?’

‘If I’m on my back, I can use both my hands, like a mechanic under a car,’ he explains. ‘If you’re uncomfortable, I can find another way -’

‘No!’ you blurt out, wincing at the desperation in your tone. ‘I mean - whatever is easiest for you. You’re the one doing me a favour here.’

‘Alright,’ he says, placated by your reassurance. ‘On your hands and knees then, sweetheart.’

Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. Oh, come on. Can he hear himself?

Scraping together your last vestiges of control, you push up on your palms to make space underneath you. You have to consciously lock your elbows - your joints suddenly feel like barely set pudding.

‘Move as far to your right as possible so I can slide in.’

Shuffling on your hands and knees until you’re pressed up against the band wheel, you hear the brush of fabric on wood - must be his back against the floorboards as he slides in. To say it’s a squeeze is an understatement. His broad shoulders brush the front of your thighs as he inches in, and then, his face appears under yours, head between your hands.

His lips quirk. ‘Hi, sweetheart.’

Your breath hitches at his proximity, your wrists brushing the soft red flannel he’s wearing today. ‘Hi.’

‘You ok?’ he asks.

You’re this close to pouting. What does he think? There’s a telltale stickiness between your legs that you’re frantically trying to push to the back of your mind while you mmhmm noncommittally, hoping that he doesn’t smell your want in the tiny, claustrophobic space you’re now both caught in.

You can only assume that he’s none the wiser, since the next thing that comes of his mouth is -

‘Climb on top of me so I can slide in closer to the band wheel.’

Someone might as well say your last rites. This is the end.

You’re taken aback when your limbs start to move on autopilot, because your faculties have well and truly abandoned ship. One trembling leg attempts to swing itself over the solid breadth of his body, but it wobbles like jelly, and your knee ends up connecting firmly with his stomach instead of landing clear on his other side.

At his grunted oomph, you panic and bang your head on the underside of the table again, which sends your whole weight sprawling onto his front with a yelp.

Joel cradles the back of your scalp with one hand. ‘Shit, you ok, sweetheart?’

The seams of your lashes sting, your head smarting with the impact, and you blink drily as your gaze focuses on Joel under you. He’s so close that you can see flecks of gold in his brown eyes, his breath hitting your face in warm puffs. Your glance at his lips, and with that one little motion, all goes quiet.

He watches you back, neither of you breathing, and in the stillness you realise that you’re fully straddling him, your palms pressing into the hard floor on either side of his ears. Your tits are crushed up against his ribs, his soft tummy warmly cushioned under you. Lower still, where your hips are nestled into the spread of his thick thighs, something stiff and long and insistent presses into you -

Your jaw goes slack when it dawns on you.

Oh god.

He’s hard.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Joel breaks the silence, a pained frown on his brow as he shakes his head. ‘This is embarrassin’. Couldn’t fuckin’ help it, seein’ you in those jeans -’

Tongue-tied, you can only stare at him, wishing you were brave enough to say something. Tell him that you pulled extra shifts to buy this particular pair of jeans, knowing that they flatter your figure. That you’ve worn them almost every day these two weeks, hoping that he’d swing by again.

But you can’t.

So you pray that he can see what you can’t say by the way you’re looking at him, by the way your heart races wildly in your ribcage against his chest.

His voice cracks. ‘I understand if you want me to go -’

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth and cut in, ‘Don’t.’

His warm eyes widen, something like hopefulness in the way he looks up at you. ‘You don’t want me to go?’

You press your body closer into his, filling in the gaps. ‘No. Please don’t, Joel.’

He leans forward, so close that you can feel the phantom burn of his silvered beard, his palms finding the meat of your legs, blunt nails biting into the denim.

He really should be ashamed of himself, at the way his cock pulses unabashedly, nudged right between your thighs as you stare down at him, lips parted. He’s hard enough that he worries if there’s a wet spot of precum on the front of his jeans - he can feel himself leaking through his boxers.

The wicked tip of your tongue traces a wet trail on your bottom lip, and he almost chokes on a half-buried groan deep in his chest. He knows that you don’t even know you’re doing it - and in turn, what that does to him.

It would be easy to close the two-inch gap between you. To kiss you, taste you, lick into your sweet mouth. All he needs to do is to cup the back of your head and pull you down, or crane his neck and press his lips to yours -

And Joel is someone who always follows the path of least resistance.

But - he wants to do right by you. He knows you deserve more than a quick fumble under a table.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Joel steels himself and brushes a chaste thumb over your cheekbone. ‘Let’s get you out of here, and then we can talk, ok?’

It’s almost perverse the way his chest warms at the flicker of disappointment in your eyes as you give a reluctant nod, ‘Ok. Please be careful, the Singer’s really delicate.’

It’s hard to focus - his attention keeps drifting to how snugly you fit into his chest, between his arms, and it’s not a stretch to imagine a soft mattress underneath his back. It's funny how quickly his body has adjusted to creature comforts after months of sleeping on the cold winter ground.

Joel’s mindful that an antique sewing machine will be a pain in the ass to repair without the requisite parts, so he moves carefully, gently coaxing the band wheel back and forth to see how he can extract you. It doesn’t take long to loosen the grip of the metal teeth on your shirt, but he has to reach up and untangle the threads snagged into the mechanisms one by one.

He muses idly that this is not his method. These hands of his, with crooked knuckles that never healed right, where many a dagger, knife, gun, rifle have found a home - they break things, people.

When was the last time someone asked gentleness of him?

He wants to scoff. That’s not what he’s good for.

Despite himself, his throat rumbles with a hum of satisfaction when the band wheel finally lets go of your shirt, the Singer whirring to life as it spins freely. He gives you a lopsided smile. ‘There you go, sweetheart.’

You smile, but don’t seem to be in a hurry to move, which pleases him. He likes looking at you from this angle, relishing in your weight on him. He takes his time running his eyes over your face, his palms coming to rest on your knees.

You duck your head prettily. ‘Thank you, Joel.'

He gives you a playful shrug. ‘Well, I owed you one for these jeans.’

You roll your eyes in good humour. ‘Actually, I told you specifically that you didn’t.’

Joel basks in the lighthearted turn in the conversation, egging you on, ‘Well, in that case, you owe me one for this instead.’

‘That’s hardly fair -’ you chide him, punching him in the shoulder in a half-hearted rebuke.

Taking the opportunity, he grabs you by the wrist, the contact prompting a bodily shudder from you that he doesn’t miss. He smirks, ‘M’fraid I don’t play fair, sweetheart.’

You glare at him in mock sternness, bold enough to demand, ‘Fine - what do you want then, Joel Miller?’

For a split second, he hesitates, woefully out of practice at whatever it is that he’s about to do. Swallowing his self-doubt, he asks, ‘Tommy and Maria are throwing a baby shower on Sunday at their house - do you want to come?’

Your shoulders stiffen. Now, that you were not expecting. Your social anxiety bubbles between your ribs and looms over you like a spector. You sputter, ‘Um, I -’

You start when his fingers draw soothing circles on the top of your knees, as if seeing straight through the source of your apprehension. He reassures you, ‘Lucy is welcome to join too. The more the merrier.’

Your eyes soften. ‘Ok. I’d love to.’

The endearing way the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles has you swaying towards him, his nose just brushing the side of yours - when the doorbell rings, cutting through the loaded silence.

In your haste to sit up, you knock your head against the table for a third time.

‘Ow!’ you cry. Even Joel flinches at the hard hit.

Lucy calls out, sounding dangerously close. ‘Pin? You ok, hon?’

‘Shit!’ You start scrambling backwards, bent over awkwardly, convinced that you’re one more blow away from a concussion. You’ve barely scrambled onto your feet when Lucy steps into the workshop, the world tilting on its axis for a moment as blood rushes to your brain.

She watches in amusement as Joel drags himself from under the sewing station, head cocked to one side. ‘Hi again, stranger. You really like our shop, don’t you?’

His shirt is rumpled from where you sat on him, bits of his curls sticking up. He rubs the back of his neck, as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. ‘I just swung by to, uh, invite you and Pin to the baby shower. Tommy and Maria’s. This Sunday.’

Lucy crosses her arms, arching an eyebrow. ‘And it’s a tradition where you’re from to talk about weekend plans under a table?’

You narrow your eyes at her. ‘Luce -’

She winks. ‘You know what? I don’t need to know the gory details - but I’m in. See you Sunday, Miller!’

Joel huffs a chuckle as Lucy disappears into the front of the shop, leaving you two alone. You smile, suddenly shy for no reason, twining your fingers to stop from fidgeting. ‘Thanks again, Joel.’

He shrugs it off, a touch of boldness in the way he stands, hands in pockets, hips cocked. ‘Pleasure was all mine, sweetheart.’

Instead of heading in the direction of the door, he takes two long strides towards you, leaning down to murmur in your ear, ‘Wear those jeans for me again on Sunday?’

Stunned, you gape at him as he turns with a crooked grin and walks off, dispatching a two-fingered salute at Lucy as he goes. Pausing by the threshold, Joel gives you one last wink that has your breath stuttering - but you only allow yourself to sag against the wall when the door closes behind him, your knees giving.

Lucy wastes no time skipping back into the workshop, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. ‘Alright, time to raid the party clothes rack, girl!’

You laugh - Sunday can’t come fast enough.

Notes: I had the best time writing this chapter - it was fun to flip the tables on Pin, not that Joel comes out completely unscathed!

I definitely have ✨ideas✨ for these two, but I'm enjoying keeping things loose, so I have no plans to turn this into a full-blown series just yet. I hope you enjoyed this instalment, comments/reblogs/asks are so so appreciated as always ❤️

#fuckyeahseams #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader

3K notes · View notes

dojunie · 9 months ago

Text

MISDIAL; LJN [CH5] VOICEMAIL REDUX

[★]; [MISDIAL MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

info;

lee jeno x fem!reader

college au

chaptered

very slow burn

genre; not-quite-friends to lovers, older brother mark lee, brothers best friend lee jeno, light angst, yn is a menace to society, story/character driven

warnings for this chapter; kys mention in joking manner

chapter wc: ...13K

a/n: i couldn't decide between posting this monster whole or cutting it into two parts, but two parts kind of makes the pacing weird, so here she is in all her glory! been editing this so long that i've gotten sick of looking at it so im just going to release it into the world now LOL, pls pls pls give me feedback on this chapter, im not 100% satisfied w it but i cant tell if its because it sucks or i've just been rereading it too much 🥸

current tl: @hibernatinghamster / @jenoxygen / @eaglesnotravens / @donutswithjaminthemiddle / @jvjsssnaa / @huangrenhyucks / @luvenshiti / @shiningdery / @jaeminsbebu / @aliceinwhateverland / @bebsky / @gem-gem / @jkjkseo / @jenosbliss / @pewpewpwe00 / @ti–red / @philanarose / @softbbyg0rl / @aaasteroidsky / @carelessshootanonymous / @en-boyz / @jlsavyy / @roseymerrie / @bangchanisemo / @skuezk / @jaehyuns-adorable-dimples / @ourbeautifulaffair / @jeonnyread / @jvjsssnaa / @episkeyjeno / @bockhyun / @jenojammin / @zarastrawberry / @peachie-bear / @itadaramaterasu / @alymii / @cuteejeno / @episkeyjeno / @nohunlee / @ooojisoo / @luv4jeno / @jydivrs / @pinkysinnerbaby / @jenojenoyes / @maeyoung / @axmdocs / @nctzennikki09

FORGET WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT NEVER BEING ABLE TO GET MAD AT SOMI, BECAUSE THIS TIME, YOU’RE REALLY GOING TO KILL HER.

At this exact moment in time, the Aegon Showcase is set to begin in about fifteen minutes. You’ve got half of a chocolate muffin stuffed into your mouth (courtesy of Somi sneaking a few snacks from the audience lounge, since the dancers technically weren’t supposed to be eating any of the guest refreshments), and you were about halfway through swallowing this chunk of bread when Somi said something that made you nearly choke.

For context: six and a half days have passed since you’ve last spoken to Jeno.

And you haven’t been counting, either. It just so happens that it is surprisingly easy to recall every passing minute when each one feels like it’s been put there specifically to test you.

The afternoon after the Balcony Incident, for example— a few fresh hours after you left Lee Jeno behind on that overlook with the full intention of never looking him in the eyes ever again. After a late breakfast with Somi you’d told her you weren’t feeling too well, that you’d be leaving a little earlier than planned (which, even though you’d said your pain was of the intestinal variety, wasn’t untrue; you didn’t feel well, if the widening pit in your stomach caused by that morning was anything to go by) and departed her penthouse a little after one.

You’d foolishly hoped that Jeno and his entourage would have plans literally anywhere other than Mark’s place for once, wanting to do nothing but silently mope around the apartment for a few hours once you'd gotten home, but you’d been naive.

You’d been so, so naive.

“Oh!” you’d heard. Renjun. Brown hair, big dark eyes peeking at you around the doorframe as you cradled your now-aching nose bridge. You opened the front door and crashed face first into something solid. “Hey, you. Perfect timing. Do you wanna come grocery shopping with us? Jaemin’s cooking tonight!”

“We’ll even let you ride in the cart,” Chenle chimed in from further into the hallway, grinning wickedly, but you couldn’t focus on either of them because they were both half-hidden behind what you’d smashed into with your haste to get inside. No gray flannel this time, but the same unreadable expression on his face as he, much like he did at the party last night, instinctively grabbed you to keep you from falling on your ass.

(Or his expression was unreadable. Until his eyes trained on something about your face that he didn’t like and his dark eyebrows furrowed with something akin to concern. Then you remembered you’d been crying all morning and surely looked like some sort of dried-out blowfish, eyelids puffy and swollen, so you averted your eyes and jumped out of his grip like he’d stung you.)

“Busy,” you told them quickly, “Sorry. Not today.”

Renjun pouted. Chenle squinted at you, obviously doubtful. And when Jeno finally moved out of the way, you didn’t even thank him for keeping you upright. You just kept your attention on the ground and beelined into the apartment.

Little did you know, that one word would become your mantra. Busy, busy, busy. But it wasn’t like you were completely lying, because you were busy. The Aegon showcase was in a week which meant you had practice every free hour with Somi and the others, and the last thing you needed was to get distracted by circling Jeno like some kind of sad, miserable shark. The good thing about being out of the house so often was that most of the week passed with no more Jeno-related incidents.

Thursday night ended up being the first time you’d seen him with your own eyes since you face-planted into him the previous Saturday.

You’d returned home at 10PM, sweaty and exhausted from a last minute choreo change that had, apparently, also wiped clean the memory of what Thursday nights meant in the Mark Lee household. Movie night. The tiredness you felt was so all-encompassing that upon the discovery of all seven of them sitting around the couch staring at you as you entered, there wasn’t even enough energy to feel awkward. Even then, you must not have looked as ghastly as you felt because Jaemin smiled at you like nothing was amiss, gesturing towards the dining table and the mountain of brown bags atop it.

“You’re late, Rockstar. Take-out’s gone cold.”

Jeno was sitting right next to him. Your muscles were like jelly. All of your bones hurt. Your brain felt like it was operating on nothing but fumes. (And this is what you blamed for your cowardice— the fact that you couldn’t even hold your head up to look in his direction in fear of catching his eye.)

After everyone had gone home and you had free reign of the kitchen once again, Mark hit you with a few more questions about the Aegon Comp; seemingly insignificant inquiries like how the parking situation was (which you didn’t understand the importance of, since he said he’d probably ride his bike there), and if he could sit wherever he wanted (which again, confused you, because the ticke you’d gotten him was one of the best in house). But in your state of fatigue you didn’t think to question it. All you wanted to do was eat something and go to bed, and that’s exactly what you did.

(If you’d had your wits about you maybe you’d have put two and two together. Maybe Somi’s words wouldn’t have caught you with the surprise they did. But as it stands…)

As it stands it’s Friday afternoon, the day of the Aegon Showcase, and half a chocolate muffin is stuffed into your face (technically now stuffed into your airway) as you come to the realization that your friend might secretly be trying to ruin your life.

“You really need to stop eating your food so fast,” Jiara murmurs, clapping you on the back with a little more force than necessary. “No one is going to take it from you. Smaller bites will go a long way.”

You gasp a breath when the chunk finally unsticks. Then, “You saw who in the audience lounge?”

Somi is nonplussed by your horror.

“I saw your brother out there trying to throw a skittle over a lighting fixture and still catch it in his mouth. When I was leaving with our food I think I heard a bunch of people cheer so I’d bet he managed to do it, which, when you think about how high these ceilings are, is actually pretty impressive—”

You fight the urge to grab her by her shoulders and shake her. “I’m not asking about the goddamn skittles!” you hiss. “Somi, you said you saw ‘them’ when you went out there. Them as in plural. Who is them?”

She makes a face like you should already know who. “Who else? Mark and the rest of his crew. And Donghyuck asked to bring a few more, so I guess those are who the other guys out there are. Why are you acting like you didn’t already know this? You were sitting right next to me when Donghyuck was practically begging to come!”

Your life flashes before your eyes.

Jeno’s car. The rain, pounding against the windows. Catching him looking at you in the mirror after Somi told them about the showcase, how it felt like the world outside faded away a little as some little message passed between you— when you felt like he was telling you something without saying a single word.

Then you remember it. In your distant, distant periphery, even though she’d been sitting not even a millimeter to your left when these alleged plans were discussed.

‘Yeah! I mean, I reserved like, a bajillion seats in advance because I knew I’d want to invite everyone who would even consider coming— I’ll definitely get the best row for you guys!’

“However,” she says after a beat, voice finally starting to show the tiniest bit of caution. You realize that your face has begun to contort on its own. “I am starting… to get vibes. That I maybe should have run that by you first? Would now be a bad time to let you know that I told them about the afterparty, too?”

Utter disbelief. The only reason you don’t leap on her once you fully comprehend what she’s said is because Gawon, who’d been watching this entire exchange with quiet brown eyes, puts a hand on your shoulder. She must be able to tell that you’re about to start freaking out, because her therapist-voice is fully activated when she clears her throat.

“Can I ask what's so surprising about this?” she asks carefully. “When we were telling Aegon about how many tickets we each wanted, you said you only needed one. For your brother, right?”

You thought of the ticket, the little envelope you’d held under your pillow for weeks as you fought with the idea of actually giving it to Mark. In the end, a few days ago, when you handed it to him and told him he could come watch you perform if he wanted to, he smiled so big that you felt bad for waiting so long in the first place. But you’d then quickly explained the caveat: that he was not to tell any of the others about it, because there was only one ticket and you didn’t want them hassling you about getting more. And Mark agreed.

Which is why you’d dared to assume that tonight would be safe.

“Yes,” you mutter. “The ticket was for him.”

“Which means you’re not surprised he’s here. So are his friends the problem?”

“The problem?”

You pause. That word makes it seem like their appearance here is actually detrimental to you in some way, like they’re just here to hassle or bully you or something, but that’s not really it at all. Your annoyance at them being here is rooted in the exact opposite. They’re not going to joke around and take it easy, or pat you on the back and tell you that you did well, like how they would if they’d come to watch one of their friends dance. They’re going to swarm you and coo and treat you like a five year old that just stumbled through their first ballet recital.

And as if that isn't bad enough, you realize with a start that you've actually got more to worry about than just being embarrassed by their innate need to baby you.

They, you remember yet again. Plural.

You quickly fix your doomsday-esque expression. "Uh. No, no problem, just... I'm over-exaggerating, forget it, Somi, when you said they, how many are we talking exactly?"

"Seven," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and you fight to keep your shoulders from sagging. "The three from the car, your brother, and three others I don't really know as well, but who're all just as cute."

Seven. Which means Lee Jeno will be in the audience as well. You should've already known that, fully aware that wherever Mark goes Jeno will follow, but you'd been so startled by the change in attendance that you'd momentarily forgotten that you were pointedly avoiding one of that seven.

Great.

A click echoes over the announcement system. You recognize the voice that follows as the organizer of the showcase, the cheerful woman from the promotional video, happily informing all the performers to head to their greenrooms for final warm-ups before the show.

Well. Even if you wanted to mope for longer about your predicament, your mind switches lanes to the task at hand. Somi and Gawon both titter excitedly at the update, but make sure to quickly give their final reassurances about not worrying too much about the people in the audience and using that energy to give your all on stage. They’re right of course, and you probably would have come to this conclusion on your own once you swallowed your knee-jerk reaction to gripe about everything involving your brother and his friends, but you can’t say that their enthusiasm doesn't do the heavy lifting of bringing you back to earth.

You've got a competition to rock, after all. You could worry about everything else after.

Adrenaline made the hour-long showcase go by in what seemed like fifteen seconds.

Just like that, a short chapter of your life closed with a bang; seven minutes on the stage, deafening cheers, Jiara and Guyeon pulling everyone into one big sweaty hug as soon as you were all out of the spotlight— then you blink and you’re in Gawon’s car with the windows down blasting down Gangnam on the way to Somi’s house, the girls in the seats around you singing along to the radio at the top of their lungs. The sun is setting, you’re heading to your celebratory afterparty, and what should be a picture-perfect moment is completely ruined by the fact that your mind has been in shambles for the last hour and a half. Why?

Because as you inch closer and closer to Somi’s penthouse, all you can think about is the fact that Lee Jeno is sitting up there biding his time before he can stomp your heart into a million more microscopic pieces.

What you didn’t mention about the moments after the performance was that, after rushing through changing out of your performance outfit to find your friends and get the hell out of there, you stumbled out of the greenroom to find a person. A person who was frowning out in the corridor like some sort of mopey ghost, Jeno in all his annoyingly perfect glory, caught mid-pace.

Upon seeing him your body rebooted, a hundred different emotions flashing through your system from the shock of him appearing in front of you at that moment. The only thing you had time to notice before his words ruined the rest of your afternoon was how… fidgety he was; Running his hand through his hair, rocking from foot to foot, crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest. You’d always taken note of how still Jeno could be sometimes, not moving an inch for seemingly hours at a time, which was the main reason his current inability to stay still even caught your eye— but it was quickly overtaken by the utter despair you felt not soon after he caught sight of you and opened his mouth.

“Can we talk?” he’d asked. And he’d sounded so unsure of himself that you almost instantly crumbled to the puppy-dog eyes, before reality grabbed you by the neck and you remembered that talking to him was actually the last thing you wanted to be doing right now.

“Busy,” you’d forced out. “My friends are waiting for me outside.”

But he must’ve seen this coming because he looked nonplussed as you took a step back, his own feet matching yours stride for stride, hands coming out almost as if to calm you like one might a spooked horse.

“It won’t take longer than a few minutes,” he tried, “Five minutes, just five. I just— I really, really want to clarify a few things from Saturday. What I said on the balcony.”

He said it like there was a chance you might’ve forgotten what happened, which almost made you laugh in disbelief. Like it was possible to forget that shitshow, your first love telling you that he was kind of interested in you once upon a time, but did nothing about it because your brother came first. Though, once you fully realized that he meant he wanted to talk about that right now, the moment lost its humor.

Now? Here? You glanced up and down the hallway. Your friends weren’t around, nor were his, but you were hardly alone.

“I wasn’t being entirely—”

“You're going to the party, aren’t you?” You cut Jeno off. Very unlike you when it came to him, and with the way he blinked you had a feeling he knew that too.

“The party?”

“Somi said she invited you guys.”

“I— I wasn't sure you wanted me to come.”

“Somi invited you, Lee. Is that any way to treat your hostess? We can—” You swallowed. “Come by, and we can find a minute to talk then, but for now I really—”

“Have to go,” he finished with a small wince. “Got it.”

And once he’d metaphorically let you go, taking a step back to slip his hands in his pockets, you’d all but run away; finding Guyeon and Gawon waiting for you like they said they’d be, ready to leave and head to Alice’s house to pretty-up for the party in her gigantic flat. You were trying your best to keep up the energy when you got into the car with them, laughing along to their jokes and dancing along to the music, but you couldn’t stop thinking of what type of curbstomp Jeno was about to release on the suffering remains of your sixteen year-old feelings.

Even up until the final touches of your make-up, you were commiserating. What the hell could he possibly want to clarify?

Was he going to tell you to stop being weird around him and the others, because your mood was fucking up their vibe? To stop avoiding him so obviously, that it was as noticeable for everyone as it felt for you, that it was making it awkward for him?

Or could he mean that he was going to tell you he’d… misspoken? That he’d never really liked you the way you liked him, and didn’t want you to misunderstand— by interested in you he meant in the way all guys were interested in all girls, some lowly, surface level thing that he quickly got over when he realized his friendship with your brother could be jeopardized by it?

The last thought had stung a little more than the others, and you’d accidentally frowned so hard about it that it creased your still-setting concealer and had to wipe it all off.

After angrily redoing your base you’d forced it from your mind and got dressed, stealing a simple henley dress from Gawon’s closet upon realizing that you were not in the mood for sexy-cute like Somi had said the dress code was. Instead you opted for ‘hey, you can see my legs and that's good enough,’ and huffed your old leather jacket on top of it; the latter was sure to piss her off but she still owed you from the Mosquito Boy Incident, so she could kick rocks about it for all you cared.

You had a feeling that no matter what you wore, tonight wasn’t going to be very sexy-cute at all.

The party is just getting into the swing of things when you make it upstairs. It’s like the explosion of a birthday surprise when you and the girls walk through the door. This party is technically a celebration, and you guess a lot of these people must’ve been in the Aegon audience without you knowing it, because you’re getting congratulations and kudos and pats on the back like you’ve just won an olympic medal.

But your pride is short lived, tainted by a bolt of nerves when you think you spot someone that looks like Donghyuck in your periphery. Where Hyuck is, Jeno will be.

It turns out to only be a very tall girl with a pixie cut who winks at you when you whirl your head to her, but the stress of it doesn't ebb away. God. Is the whole night going to be like this? Walking on pins and needles until he finds you?

“You know, new girl,” A voice starts at your side, startling you further, “Your ice breaker back at that my party could’ve been that you’re a kick-ass dancer, instead of that bullshit with the mosquitos.”

Wooyoung. Your friends are suddenly nowhere to be seen when your turn to him, clearly having fucked off into the mass the second alcohol became available, so it’s just the both of you hovering over by this snack table. Though this is only the second or third time you’ve interacted with him past a greeting (you see him sometimes on campus, and he always waves at you like you’re best friends when you pass each other), you’re actually rather soothed by his presence.

“You wanted to know juicy secrets, not secret hobbies. If you asked me for an ice breaker and I told you I could dance, you would’ve kicked me out of that house.”

He laughs, a snickering sound, before eyeing two jello-shots a girl walks by with in her hands.

“Do a shot with me?” he pouts. “My friends are running late and I’m still painfully sober.”

A shot?

...Hm. A shot. Inebriation. You’re not one to like straight liquor because the burn in your throat is often more than you think the gag is worth. But if you’re looking to relax sooner rather than later… the pain might not be without its merit.

Liquid courage. Something you could definitely use right now, as skittish as you’re being. Maybe he’s onto something.

“Just one?” you pique, turning to survey the options. “Thought you were more hardcore than that, VP.”

One jello-shot quickly turns into four with Wooyoung involved, and your mouth is sweet with the taste of artificial dye by the time you actually spot Donghyuck, over by Somi’s balcony doors chatting up some pretty girl you recognize from your physical education class. The volleyball player. Xiaoting or something close, and you almost snort at the sight because she seems way out of his league. But he has a way with words that you guess you could be attractive when he wields it with flirtation in mind, instead of the intent to piss off like he always does with you.

The Smirnoff burning in your stomach must already be settling in because you only mildly bristle when you see him. Like you thought earlier: Hyuck is here, which means Jeno is here. And… and the Smirnoff must’ve already hit your brain, actually, because all of a sudden you’re feeling agitated and confrontational.

You don’t want to spend all night worrying about when he’s going to find you and drop the bomb. So what if he doesn’t like you! So what if he probably wants to forget the moment that happened out on that balcony never occurred at all? You lived your life without yearning over Jeno for years before you moved back here, so it won’t even be that hard to go cold-turkey when he says what he needs to and inevitably squashes the remainder of your heart in his fist. It’s fine. You’ll live.

You just need to rip it off like a bandaid first. And to do that?

“Hey, Woo, I think I need to go and look for somebody. You’re still down for that dance battle later?”

“I don’t play around with my challenges,” he says, grinning much too wide, “I’ll find you later, and then it’s on. Knock em’ dead, new girl.”

As bold as you suddenly are, you actually don’t want to go and interrupt whatever Donghyuck has going on just to ask him where Jeno is. So you’re on your own for a little, scanning the walls for him and the stupid clavicles poking out of his button-up, hair all windswept and eyes so dark. It’s nearly a minute of searching before you see something familiar— but it’s not exactly what you’re looking for.

Close enough, though.

It seems like Na Jaemin has actually spotted you first, since he’s already heading towards you when you spot his head of pink darting through the crowd. You don’t fuss when he musses your hair and gasps over the competition, applauding you in that sickeningly earnest way he always has, since you’re used to his preening and compliments. Not to say you’re not appreciative. It always makes your face hot when he coos over you like this. But you’ve got a mission in mind, and fretting at him over the pouting and cheek-squeezing will get you nowhere.

“Yes, thank you, I did hear you cheering over everyone else at the end, no I wasn’t hiding my swag from you on purpose, thank you, you can stop pretending to cry now. Where is Jeno?”

The idea of you looking for Lee Jeno on purpose must startle him, because there’s a second after his clear offense at you brushing him off where he registers what you’re asking for and actually looks a little concerned. “Jeno? No-Jam? Why? Did he say something to you?”

“What? No, I just need to talk to him about something. Thought he’d be hanging around you.”

Imperceptibly, Jaemin lightens.

“Oh. He’s downstairs hefting handles out of Somi’s car, because blondie forgot half the drinks in her trunk. He got volunteered by Chenle as Mr. Muscles and left with her like five minutes ago, so he should be back any minute.”

Damn it. Forlornly, you glance at the door, but there's nothing. No movement. Nada. There goes all your building bravado.

“But before he returns, young lady, should we talk about how that red tinge to your lips better be from the non-alcoholic jello-shots?”

Ah. Whoops. Not only no movement, but now you’ve gotten yourself trapped in the sights of Na Jaemin, who likes to pretend to be staunch on things like laws and teenage innocence and waiting to do things until the government says you’re allowed to. You constantly forget that you’re not yet the drinking age, because no college student handing out drinks at a party ever gives a fuck about the fact that you’re legally not quite legal yet. No other college student besides the one standing in front of you.

“You’ll stunt your growth if you drink before you’re supposed to!”

To this you glance at the cup he’s holding, clearly half full of something, and nearly go to laugh and ask him what his excuse is since he’s barely 21 himself, but then you think of something funnier. Without really thinking about it you snatch the cup from his hand and hork it down. Your eyes are locked with his the entire time so you get to see his surprise grow into shock, then expand into disbelief as you chug, and chug, and chug.

There’s a lot of… some peach flavored crap in here, burning like murder all the way down, to the point that you’re more bewildered than smug when the cup is finally drained because, “Fuck, Na, what is that shit? Are you trying to black out?”

“Language!” he hisses, genuinely startled for the first time you’ve seen in a long time, which makes you laugh, “And of course not because that wasn’t mine, you little brat! I was holding that for Somi!"

“Oh,” you reply, only mildly shifted by this news. Sorry, Som. Now you know it must be peach Schnapps. She loves Schnapps. “What, so you’re not drinking tonight at all? Are you DD?”

“No! I’m not drinking, and I’m offended that you don’t already know I hate the taste of alcohol. Mark, who may I remind you is in this room and would’ve just shit himself if he’d seen what you just did, is playing designated driver tonight! He’s…”

And as he glances towards the kitchen you follow his gaze. You’re expecting to see your brother, most likely laughing over something his friends are saying, maybe even trying to dance-battle someone if he's having a particularly good time. Instead you see your brother chatting up Jeon Soyeon.

Jeon… Soyeon. Nabi Bar, Jeon Soyeon. Who you haven’t spoken to or even seen since that awful night in Gangnam.

And you nearly gasp in terror at the sight.

Jaemin doesn't finish his sentence, and you dart your eyes to him when you realize this. He doesn’t look very pleased by what he’s seeing either, though you’re guessing for an entirely different reason than the one that’s just made you go cold.

“What?” you ask a little too quickly. The front door opens, which should be your cue to look for who’s just come in, but you can’t tear your eyes from the sight of Soyeon and Mark. What the fuck? What the fuck? “Do they know each other?”

“Know each other?” Jaemin scoffs. “Hard to quantify.”

It would be very, very bad for you if they knew each other. Very bad. If not already clear, Mark still had no clue you weren’t where you said you were on the night of Nabi Bar. If she happened to mention your involvement in that shity, shitty idea, you had no doubt that Mark would go all holier-than-thou on you in front of all these people, and that you’d probably have to dive off of the balcony to escape the reaming.

He doesn’t look particularly comfortable, near pressed up against kitchen island because Soyeon is so close to him, hand rubbing at the back of his neck in that way you’re well aware means he’s getting flustered; but you see him laugh at something she says in the next second, and it doesn’t seem like his fake laugh. Mark’s fake laugh is terrible, and even from a distance you can spot it like the flashing lights on an ambulance, a beacon of distress just the same. So he’s laughing for real, at something… Soyeon is saying?

But you hardly recall her being very funny.

“What does that mean, hard to quantify? Do they have history?”

“Something like that,” he murmurs. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. Anyway, I think Jeno is—”

“You never look at anyone with any kind of attitude, and just now you rolled your eyes at her.”

“I didn’t roll my eyes. I blinked. For a long time. Something in my eye. Dusty in here.”

“Somi has this place deep cleaned twice a week.”

He stares at you like he’s begging you to drop it. You stare back, unwilling. “You know, Na, the longer you stall, the more time that all this illegal alcohol in my blood has to make me more bold and reckless and unruly. If I don’t get an answer from you I might just go over there and ask her myself. How do they know each other?”

You’re bluffing, of course— there’s no way you’re about to go over there just to see what they’re talking about when you could safely squeeze that information out of Jaemin instead. In reality, you were only pressing because you wanted to know if they were close enough for Soyeon to know you and Mark were related. If not? Then perfect! You’d forget it all and be on your merry way, reverting back to your original plan of finding Jeno, because there’d be no chance Soyeon could spill the beans.

But if Soyeon does know? You might have to leave this party a little earlier than scheduled.

“You want the whole, grown-up truth?” Jaemin finally relents.

“Might I remind you for the hundredth time that I’m only a year younger than you?”

“A year and a half,” he acquiesces with a sigh, “And Jeon Soyeon may or may not have slept with your brother to get him to do their midterm project last year.”

It comes out like he’s reading the headline from a newspaper and you made the mistake of swallowing right before he opens his mouth, choking violently on your own spit. He pats you on the back as you hack and cough before continuing.

“None of us are really sure about exactly what really happened because Mark kind of shut down after, wouldn’t tell us anything. But it was pretty clear he liked her before. She’s kinda his type, you know?”

Edgy, pretty, and fucking evil, yeah, after having to chase a few of them away in high school you’re well aware of his type! This was not what you wanted to know about when you asked if they were close! What the hell?

“He told us they’d gone all the way right before she asked him to do their entire music production project because she was too busy caring for her sick little sister. He, being the bleeding heart he is, pretty much refused to listen to us about how convenient the timing was; he even got mad when Chenle did some sleuthing and found out that Soyeon’s parents facebook, which was filled to the brim of photos of their family, didn’t have any trace of another kid in their midst besides her. Wouldn’t believe us until after the project was turned in, when he tried to meet up with her for weeks and she ghosted him every time.”

He frowns. “At the end of it, he wasn’t… It wasn’t good. He was pretty crushed.”

Now you regret chugging his drink for fun. Even before it you’d been feeling further than chill, pleasant and buzzing from your shots, well prepared for whatever hell was to arise with Jeno. Now you felt loose; too loose, fingertips tingling at your sides because of this news, heart pounding in your chest, body so warm from the alcohol that you felt like Jaemin would hiss if he’d laid a finger on your skin.

To play games with you, that’s one thing. But Soyeon has laid her hands on your brother?

“And, knowing all of that,” you say slowly, clearly, “You’re still letting him sit there and talk to her?”

“I want to kick her away,” Jaemin says flatly. “I’d be lying if I said I trust that girl as far as I can throw her. But it’s not really up to us to get involved.”

“Who is us?”

“His friends? I mean he was pretty clear when it happened that he did not want to talk about it—”

You bark a laugh, but there’s no humor to it at all. “So he can pout and gripe about the sanctity of discussing your problems with people, the embarrassing, the horrifying, but when it comes to him he gets to keep secrets? Forget how hypocritical that is, you guys are listening?”

Jaemin, finally, seems to catch the heat in your words. “Uh. He told… I mean, before you get all up in arms, she may be over there apologizing for all we know. Maybe she’s repenting.”

You both stare at her as she tips her head back in laughter, the salacious flirty kind where you’re more focused on being attractive than actually enjoying the joke, before she puts her hand on his chest in a, ‘Wow, you’re so funny, take me now,’ kind of way, leaning in to say something to him that she clearly doesn’t want anyone else to hear. Every hair on your body stands up when Mark doesn’t push her away.

He’s not seriously buying her shit again, is he?

“Jaemin, are you willing to bet your life on that?”

“What?”

“Everything you just said about Soyeon. You know that for fact?”

“Well, no, Mark didn’t actually tell us about it so I can never be sure, but… but with what we could gather, it was pretty cut and dry. Chenle actually also found out she had a boyfriend at the same time she did all that stuff with Mark. We just couldn’t bear to tell him that after the fact, so we never… Hey, where—”

You’re sober enough to make it through the throng of people without stumbling, but not sober enough to fully anticipate what you’re really about to do. The goal is just to separate them, somehow, to get that harlot away from your brother, and then you’ll go and deal with Jeno. If people greet you as you pass you don’t hear or see it; all you can grasp is her, touching him, laughing with him, cheating, lying, people-using—

“Mark,” you nearly hiss, “I need to talk to you. Now.”

Mark jumps a foot in the air when you grab him but Soyeon, for some reason, doesn’t look surprised to see you in the slightest. She does, however, raise a sharp blonde eyebrow at your tone.

“What,” Mark splutters, “Right now?”

“Yeah,” Soyeon sighs, continuing to trail her eyes up and down Mark’s face instead of looking at you, “The grown-ups are talking, sweetheart. Can’t you give us a second?”

Mark turns back to the sensual softness of her voice like a moth to a flame, and you want to smack him. “No. Not a second now, not a second later, not a second tomorrow or forever. Now, Mark.”

And that was where you made the mistake that turned this whole night sour. Only when Soyeon realizes it’s her you have a problem with, catching on from the agitation in your tone that you’re not just here to bother Mark for fun, does she slide her unreadable gaze to you.

“You know I haven’t seen you in a while, Little Lee.”

“For the better,” you mutter. “Seriously—”

“I was so surprised when Yuqi told me you two were related.”

She’s talking to Mark but looking at you, eyes squinted a little, like someone analyzing a germ under a microscope. So she does know. Great. “I couldn’t believe that this girl was the same little star you used to tell me about when I met her. She’s grown up a lot, you know? Doesn’t take after you at all, Markie.”

“Soyeon,” you say again, “Let him go.”

“Why? So you can keep throwing your tantrum? Every time you open your mouth it gets harder and harder to see the resemblance. When you’re so…”

She doesn’t need to say it, and it’s honestly probably better that she didn’t, because you would’ve leapt at her if she’d gone as far as she’d been intending to dig with that comment. You’re aware you don’t resemble Mark, physically or otherwise— in accomplishment, in talent, in patience, in perfect unmarred reputation. You’re well fucking aware.

“Soyeon,” Mark finally says, thankfully lurching a little in your direction like her evil witch's spell is finally wearing off, “I don’t think there’s any need for that, what the hell is going on? Do you two know each other?”

Soyeon opens her eyes comically wide. “You don’t know?”

And you feel Mark stop. What the hell are you doing, you want to scream. Why are you even pausing for this bullshit? Come on! But he doesn’t. He stands there and he stares at her, as if searching her face for any sign of truth, and Soyeon takes this as her cue.

“Little star is a big girl now! Her own fake ID, clinging along with her baby bottle to any club the adults want to go to, even catching her own ride home with any wasted guy that smiles in her direction! Don’t you live together? What a handful she must be if she can sneak out under your nose, Markie.”

The blood rushing in your ears makes it hard to tell if it’s only you that’s losing your hearing or if the rest of the people hanging around in the kitchen really have quieted to watch the rising altercation, but you don’t dare move your eyes from the girl to check. The baby bottle comment, outing your fake ID, all of that is rage inducing on its own— but it’s a cold, stomach twisting madness that grabs you when you latch on to the last part of what she’s just said. Catching your own ride home?

Was she referring to Yoobin?

Your fingers unfurl from Mark’s jacket.

“What do you mean, catch my own ride?”

Soyeon laughs. Under normal circumstances, it would be a pretty sound. “Did you think we didn’t see you leave? Blowing up our phones like there was some big emergency— We sent that guy out there to keep you the company you wanted so much, God, we got tired of babysitting you. You stopped calling and neither of you came back inside. What, cause your brother is here you’re going to try and soften it up now, huh? Tell us all you didn’t go home with that drunkard, when you love to tell people you’re no stranger to a bar?”

Yoobin, who grabbed you, touched you, tried to drive you home in his wasted state with clear intentions on what he wanted in return.

Yoobin, who Soyeon and Yuqi and their friends had sent, knowing you were panicked, knowing he made you uncomfortable, knowing you were looking for them.

Soyeon who stopped hearing from you and laughed it off. Soyeon who stopped hearing from you for days and didn’t bat an eye, knowing what she’d left you alone with.

Soyeon, who’s straight, pretty nose cracks under your fist in the same way Yoobin’s did, except this time you don’t run away when she screams and collapses and you realize what you’ve done. Except this time you hit her again— or you try to at least, lunging for her with your eyes ablaze, unsure what you’ll do when you get there but 100% sure it’ll hurt worse than a bloody fucking nose— but don’t quite get there, because someone has lifted you off the ground, two iron-bar arms wrapped like vices around your ribs, the worlds tightest back hug.

In your right mind you might’ve placed the sandalwood and the bergamot, or recognized the rolled up sleeves of his oversized button up, ivory and forest green, but as it stood—

As it stood, as you shouted and thrashed and fought, you only made out one thing.

Mark Lee, your own brother, helping Jeon Soyeon to her feet, two hands firm on her arms to hold her up; his surprised voice the last thing you hear before Lee Jeno hauls you out of that house.

“Wow, Soyeon. Is that true?”

(”Rockstar is going to wallop that girl,” Donghyuck mutters, staring at you like they all are from behind the pillar separating the kitchen from the living room, alerted to the worsening confrontation by a sheepish Jaemin.

“No she won’t," Jaemin tries, clearly feeling guilty, "She knows better than that.”

“She’s gone still. And I’ve never, ever seen her eyes that wide before.”

“That’s control. It’s restraint. She’s not going to hit her.”

Renjun, then, “If you really believe that then why do you look so nervous?”

“Her fist is balled up,” Jisung comments quietly.

“It’s restraint!”

“You weren’t there the day that she knocked the socks off of Park Gyubin, right? When he tried lifting her friend’s skirt up in the cafeteria?”

“She…” Jaemin glances at Donghyuck, “She’s tried to fight men before?”

“Tried to? I thought she was going to kill him. Y/N hit him so hard he had to get his retainer refitted. She’s got a right hook like her brothers. I bruise when she hits me, you know.”

Renjun again, “Why do you sound so proud of that?”

“She… Well, no, look, look! She let go of Mark. They have to be deescalating, she—”

“Does deescalating usually involve getting closer to the object of your anger?” Jisung asks.

“She—”

“Here it comes,” Chenle announces excitedly.

And then Jeno is across the room.)

Jeno realizes before you do that you’re not going back home tonight.

His apartment looks the same. Obviously. It’s only been three weeks since you were last here. Like before, Jeno doesn’t bother with the lights, kicking his shoes off in the entryway the same way, except this time you have two shoes of your own to place next to them instead of the sad and lonely single. Three weeks ago, but it feels like it’s only been a day or two since you did this whole song and dance; following him to the bathroom, sitting on the counter as he stoops under to rummage through his first-aid bin, gritting your teeth when he rubs your knuckles with the antiseptic, smiling weakly when he apologizes for the sting.

You’d cried in his car.

When Jeno carried you out of Somi’s apartment you thought the stinging in your eyes was just discombobulated rage. But when he set you down on your feet in the elevator and you began to come down from the adrenaline high, the burning just intensified as you understood what just happened. You’d only been able to keep the tears at bay until he told you to put your seatbelt on in his passenger seat and it all became too real.

Though you’re not sober enough right now for it to feel like a problem yet, you know you’ll want to kill yourself tomorrow for allowing yourself to devolve in front of him like that no matter the circumstance. In the moment, you weren’t even entirely sure what you were crying about. Was it the craze of fury wearing off after punching Soyeon, and the jitters it left behind? Or the fact that even when Jeno was tugging you towards the elevator up there, you’d stood and waited for Mark to follow for nearly an entire minute, just for him to never come out?

You’d like to chalk it up to adrenaline and inebriation, but deep down you knew exactly what it was that had your eyes brimming with those tears.

He’d chosen Soyeon. The girl who’d lied to him, cheated with him, fucked him over for a grade and left you for dead on the streets of Gangnam, and he’d stayed in that house with her instead of coming out to check on you. And you weren’t really one to catastrophize, but how couldn’t that signal the definitive end of Mark putting up with your shit? The nail in the coffin of his patience with you?

You knew things had been rough lately with you moving in, the thread of butting heads over little things like curfews and the people you hung out with, but you hadn’t thought your relationship had deteriorated to the point that he’d ever… that he’d ever choose someone else. You’re his sister. No matter how mad he is, he’s supposed to choose you.

But he didn't. And in Lee Jeno’s passenger seat, like a giant baby, you cried about it.

In proper Y/N fashion the only thing that had chuffed you into sucking it all up and swallowing it into the depths of your soul never to be seen again, was Jeno’s building appearing on the horizon. The threat of him asking you if you’re alright and actually having to confront those feelings was terrifying enough to jar you out of your self pity.

But he hadn’t asked you about your red eyes. He hadn’t said anything, actually. He just tugged you out of the car and into the elevator. Herded you into his apartment. And tipped his head towards his bathroom just like before, except this time he was smiling. In the soft, polite kind of way that let you know he was well aware of what just transpired in his car, but was simply... letting it be.

(And you always knew Jeno was rather observant. But man, the thought behind that smile could’ve made you burst into tears all over again.)

On the counter, holding out your hand for the steps that would never come, you blinked back to the present when Jeno stopped at the healing salve. You’d been waiting for him to bust out the gauze again, already lamenting the next week of your life with the itchy fabric tight around your wrist, but all Jeno does is raise an eyebrow at you when you don’t hop off of the sink after he puts the kit away.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

You blink down at your hand, shiny with the balm, and then back up at him. “The rest of it.”

“The wrap? I didn’t think you needed it.”

“But that’s what you did last time I was here.”

“Because the last time you were here you didn’t know how to punch someone properly. It looked like you got her the right way this time. When I was tugging at that wrist in the elevator just now you hardly seemed to notice, when you could barely close your fist a few weeks ago.”

…Oh. Only as he mentions it do you roll your hand around in its socket, flexing your fingers under the bathroom light. Your knuckles look like shit, the newly forming bruises and angry skin, but it doesn’t actually ache like it did that night with Yoobin.

Well you’ll be damned. So straightening your wrist really does work.

“Oh,” you mumble. “I guess I don’t. Wasn’t really thinking about it.”

“Of course you weren’t. Probably thinking about what you wanted to eat, right?”

“What I— What?”

What you wanted to eat? When did you discuss that you were hungry?

“Heard your stomach grumbling in the car, so I’m assuming you haven’t eaten since before the competition. There’s a pizza place down the street that I think you’d like, a jajangmyeon shop too, but their delivery takes ages. It’s up to you.”

You stare at him, clearly not following. Jeno is relaying this to you like tonight was planned, as if it was always in the cards for you to be hanging out at his place tonight like a couple of pals, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, the perfect picture of normalcy. He thinks you’re going to be here long enough to eat? He’s not planning to have you shipped out of here in the next half hour?

But then you realize that there isn’t really another place for you to be shipped to. Mark’s apartment is… not really an option. The idea of going back there tonight almost makes your stomach roll, actually.

But if you don’t go back, that doesn’t leave much in the realm of locations to hide out at. Somi’s brother is coming home tonight, she’d squealed as much this morning, and considering how rare it is that he’s not busy in other countries you abhor the idea of intruding on their reunification. You don’t have many other friends here that you’re close enough with to just show up at their place at 10PM unannounced, not that you’d want to given that your little spat with Soyeon is probably all over everyones instagram stories right now, and is surely the only thing they’ll want to talk about.

You don’t have very many options right now. And Jeno probably knew that from the moment he decided to bring you here.

“Thinking pretty hard over there,” Jeno hums, “for what is supposed to be a two choice question. Unless you don’t want either?”

“Pizza is… fine.”

“Just fine, or actually good? I can check to see if there’s any—”

“It’s good, Lee.”

He smiles like he’s got you in the bag, and then stands up straight. “I’ll order it then.”

You nod emptily and make moves to follow him out of the bathroom, right on his tail, which is why you nearly crash into him when he whirls back around to stop you. “Oh. Almost forgot.”

“What? Forgot what?"

But you only grow more confused when Jeno speeds off towards his room without replying. There’s a creak and a shuffle, doors opening and closing before Jeno returns with a bundle of fabric bunched up in his arms.

“Can’t imagine it’ll be very comfortable to hang out in that dress all night.”

He holds out the mass; what appears to be a heather gray hoodie and black sweatpants that, even bunched up like this, still look miles too long for you. He sees you eyeing it and you fear he’s going to do something awful, like politely offer to go and get you something else as if he hasn’t already done a hundred other things for you tonight, so you quickly oblige. Once you relieve him of the pile he laughs, tells you he’s going to put the order in for the pizza, and closes the door on the way out.

You stand there unmoving for much too long, the heap of fabric clutched to your chest.

There’s so much to unpack. Being here again. The fact that he was supposed to break your heart today instead of doing all of... this. How casual he’s being about it all. The brother-slash-bestfriend shaped elephant in the room. The clothes.

But, for the sake of not collapsing under the weight of all of that turmoil, you decide to just focus on the latter; the most immediate and least heart wrenching of the bunch. His clothes. You’re going to wear his clothes.

Yet another of your old dreams coming to fruition in this apartment. Lucky you.

Jeno is laying across the long part of the couch when you exit the bathroom, footsteps making no noise because you’re padding along on top of the ankle hems. He’s dressed differently too; gone is the jeans and the ivory button up, in its place a black long sleeve and navy blue sweatpants just like yours, except his actually fit. He’s texting furiously on his phone when you round the corner, eyebrows furrowed with something like irritation before he sees your looming figure in the corner of his eye and looks up.

"I put an X-Men movie into the DVD player," he announces, squinting back down to his screen, "Couldn't think of a better time than now to finally get into it, since you'll be here to explain all the things I don't understand..."

But he trails off as he stares at his phone, eyebrows furrowing at something before he frowns and stands up. The look is gone when you shuffle towards the couch and he looks up again, smiling at you like you like nothing is wrong, before he says, "I need to make a call though. Start the movie, yeah? I'll be back before things get interesting."

You stare at him. Probably shouldn't miss the opening scene if you really want to 'get into it', you nearly say. But you've been on this earth for long enough to recognize when someone wants a little privacy.

You want to ask if it's Mark. If he's the one Jeno had been messaging back so agitatedly just now. But the fear of it not being him, Jeno instead just trying to sort something out with like, a truant project partner or something, makes you stuff it down again. It'll just make you look even more pitiful.

"Sure. Most of the intro is fan service anyway."

He opens his mouth like he's about to say something else but then his phone starts to ring and he only smiles tightly at you instead. Then he's gone down the corridor, into his bedroom, and when the ringtone finally stops you can barely hear his voice much less make out what he's saying. Hm.

A different day and you might've snuck off after him to eavesdrop just to see for yourself. But after tonight?

You simply watch him go, and then tumble onto his couch with the exhaustion of someone who's just run up and down the building a dozen times.

You don't even have the strength to reach over for the TV remote; you just lay there and revel in the softness of the cushions, and at how tired you suddenly feel. Rehearsal all morning, giving it your all on stage, the energy-leeching atmosphere of a house party, the alcohol sagging through your veins. Not to mention the emotional confusion. Crying always takes it out of you.

So it's no wonder that you forgo turning the movie on to just take a moment to breathe in the pleasantly dark living room, closing your eyes for what you intended to be a brief second, just to gather the last bits of your patience and sanity for the night ahead... only to fall victim to what happens to most people when they say they're just resting their eyes.

You fall asleep.

At least for a little while, you do. A brief, dreamless, blissful unconsciousness.

It’s so blissful in fact, that when you’re startled back to life by a knock at the front door a few minutes later— blinking the haze out of your eyes and seeing Jeno’s ceiling instead of your own, understanding with a sinking hopelessness that you’re not waking from a nightmare, that all of tonight has really happened— the dread is almost crushing when it all comes back.

But there isn't even any time to mourn. Because you realize that if someone's just knocked on the door, like the good homeowner he is, Jeno will be out here any second now to open it. He'll come out here and he'll see you and you'll be sucked right back into that nightmare, pretending like everything is fine when you both know that tonight was supposed to go so, so differently. Sitting next to each other and eating next to each other and attempting small talk for the sake of keeping things civil until you can escape this place in ten hours.

The idea almost gives you hives. You can't do it. You can't. There has to be another way. What if you make something up? A sore throat? A sudden headache?

But there's no time to think of anything fancy because in the next second Jeno's bedroom door clicks open down the hall, and panic flies up in your throat.

So you do the only think you can fathom. Before he can come around the corner and see you freaking out, you fling yourself back over and pretend to still be dead asleep.

As foolish as you immediately feel, it must work at least a little bit; you hear him come into the living room, hesitate, and then continue on past the couch on lighter steps as if worried about making too much noise. You even steady your breathing when he’s opening the door for the pizza guy— smooth inhale, smooth exhale, spaced just far enough to replicate what someone sounds like when they’ve been out for a while.

Shit. Will this actually work?

When he closes the door and the room falls to silence your heart picks up a little bit. What is he doing? Is he staring at you, trying to see if you’re faking?

Is he wondering if he should wake you up to eat? Oh, God! What if—

“Are you up?” he whispers. And you almost choke trying to swallow down the instinctual response that rises in your throat.

With surprisingly great effort, you do nothing. Say nothing. You don’t even stir. You just pray to whatever God is out there that Jeno will take the hint, eat his pizza at the kitchen island, leave you out here and go to bed. You get excited when you hear his steps again and think he’s going to pass the couch straight, but of course a second later you feel the couch dip somewhere off behind your back and you nearly curse.

“Guess not,” Jeno mumbles. "I forgot that you knock out so easily."

A few more seconds of what feels like an endless quiet, only his shuffling making sound; through your squeezed-shut eyes you see the light of the TV flicker like he’s just changed the channel, and with it you hear what must be the intro to a gameshow or something— excited chatter, ringing bells, audience cheers. But the volume is turned down so low that it feels like the show is playing in another room. Is he keeping the volume low because of you?

Is he… going to stay out here?

“So you won’t mind if I think out loud,” he says suddenly, and your eyes nearly fly open in surprise. What?

But he sounds serious. “Like a test run, almost. For what I wanted to talk about earlier at Aegon. Since I still don’t really know what the hell I’m going to say even after losing sleep over it all week, and I know you’ll try to stop me if you’re awake. I should just try it now, right?”

Try it... now?

Your fake deep-breathing almost hitches in panic when you realize what he’s getting at. Sweet God, please, no. What he wanted to talk about earlier? He wants to get into that now?

“Jaemin scolded me for springing it on you like that after your showcase, by the way. I didn’t realize that I might’ve cornered you until later and I’m sorry about that. I just really, really wanted to talk. Because I didn’t before, and everything got all…” he sighs, heavily. “I’m thankful that you told me to get lost earlier, because I think I can explain it better, like this. I can start from the beginning. I know how thorough you are about things like this.”

You hear the beep of a digital watch somewhere in his house as your face scrunches up in confusion. It's officially midnight, if the watch is making noise to denote the hour, but the realization of the time only comes second to the slow bewilderment slipping through your gloom.

From the beginning? The beginning of what? What the hell does any of that have to do with firmly rejecting you?

“Before we met, because of the way Mark talked about you, I had this idea in my head that you’d be some sort of perfect, flawless angel. That you’d be a little version of him; neat and proper and just a little bit naive, too nice for your own good. A rule follower.”

He laughs at this, a genuine laugh at the memory, and your frown deepens in embarrassment. “Then I actually laid my own eyes on you for the first time, and I realized I couldn’t have been more off.”

You remember it clearly, the first time you’d made a fool out of yourself in front of him and the rest of Mark’s friends. Fourteen years old, running inside the house after walking home from class with your own crew; you’d completely forgotten that you were supposed to bring your skateboard and a change of clothes to school because you all planned to ride around the park that day, the first warm afternoon after a mushy spring, and they said if you didn’t come back out in sixty seconds or less they’d leave you in the dust. So you stormed into the house, past the living room with all of them in it without even a glance or greeting since you hadn’t realized it wasn’t just your brother in there, hurled off your uniform in favor of your outfit staples at the time— an oversized tee that you stole from Mark, hand-me-down cargo shorts that also came from your brother’s closet, and your most cherished possessions: a Yankees baseball cap and your beat-up blue Nikes.

But you couldn’t find your skateboard and the clock was running out, so you howled down the staircase, “If you moved my skateboard again from where I put it I’m going to kill you in your sleep!” only for Mark to shout back up, “It’s a tripping hazard! It’s in the hallway closet! And aren’t you grounded right now? Where are you even going? Does mom know?”

You hadn’t replied. Just snatched the board from where he said he’d stashed it, barreled back down the stairs, and was fully preparing to toss your brother some half-assed explanation, but then you’d seen him. Seen them. Mark’s new school friends, all lounging on your living room couch, staring at you as if you’d come into the room with a bomb. Lee Jeno (who’s name you’d only later find out) appeared the most stunned by your tornado-like appearance.

You could only imagine what they were seeing. Some rowdy tomboy, technically on house arrest but running out to wreak havoc on the town regardless, threatening to kill people in their sleep for tidying up. Exaggerated, obviously, but you remember being mortified halfway to Sunday by how cute they all were and that this was their first introduction to you— and in that mortification, sprinting out of the house without telling your brother anything at all.

You’d gotten a good scolding for that later.

“And it’s going to sound kind of stupid,” Jeno continues, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think you heard the smile in his voice, “But because of that, I got this idea in my head that Mark must’ve only been seeing you through those rose-tinted glasses. The type every older brother has for every younger sister, the ones that make everything they do look cute and miraculous and perfect even if they’re clearly evil to everyone else. Not saying I thought you were secretly some sort of demon or anything either, ‘cause I know you’d roll your eyes at me right now if you could. Just that the girl I saw that day was nowhere near the delicate little thing he’d described. And I got... curious. I started wondering what you were actually like.”

Your face is getting hot again. You’ve never, ever heard him speak this much in one sitting, and the idea of him ever paying this much attention to you is mind boggling. But you don’t let yourself lean into whatever feeling of hope is whistling through your head.

So what if he made a game out of trying to separate your real traits from the things Mark got wrong about you six years ago? Sometimes you liked to make up season-long dramas about strangers you saw on campus. It doesn’t mean anything now.

You want to scrunch into a ball. You aren’t sure how much more of this monologue you can handle, even despite the consequences of rolling over and breaking the facade just to get him to stop. The heat in your face is spreading to your neck, your stomach, every inch of your skin, it’s making your stomach churn with discomfort.

“But then the next year you came to our school,” Jeno says with finality, like this is supposed to be some important distinction. “And it stopped being as casual of an interest. The months went by and at some point I stopped looking for you just to see if you were doing something Mark didn’t know about, and started looking for you just because I wanted to know what you were doing. We’d come over for movie night and while Hyuck and Jae argued for hours about what they did and didn’t want to watch, I’d be wondering if I’d get to see you. You probably won’t remember this, but one of those nights I even ordered an extra curry bowl just so I’d have an excuse to knock on your door to tell you about it. And I thought that was a normal thing to do.”

Jesus Christ. Do you remember? Of course you remember! You’d been reading at your desk with your headphones in, which meant Jeno had to come all the way into your room to get your attention— tapping the side of your earbud with two gentle fingers, laughing all crescent-eyed at you when you yelped in surprise. The sight of him in your room for the first time was like a grenade going off in your tweenaged mind; you’d had to calm down for nearly an entire minute before going downstairs to get your food.

“I thought it was just Mark rubbing off on me. He cared so much about you that I thought my sudden interest was simply overprotection by relation— that he was the reason why I couldn’t stop looking for you. ‘Cause in my mind it couldn't be anything else but brotherly. Mark was pretty clear about what he thought of the people that liked you so I knew it couldn’t be that; I wasn’t stupid enough to let myself be interested in you like that. Right?”

He laughs again, but it doesn’t sound nearly as sweet this time. “I’m rambling, huh?”

Yes, you are. You are.

“I’ll cut to the ending then,” he replies like he’s read your mind. “I realized I did in fact ‘like you like that’, at our graduation.”

And your eyes pop open. It’s completely involuntary, and if you’d been facing him you would have been screwed. But you’re still looking deep into the cushions of the black couch; wide eyes staring into a deep, dark, nothing.

“I hid behind that brotherly excuse for three years. My eyes followed you in the hallway because I wanted to make sure you were okay like Mark would’ve wanted me to. I offered to drive you home from school when he was busy because that’s what Mark would’ve asked me to do anyway. Everything I wanted to do I told myself I was doing because I was just a good friend. You know?” A beat passes before he hums to himself. “But I guess you don’t, actually. Because you liked me authentically, like you do with everything. The night of our graduation, the backyard barbecue your parents threw for us. You remember that, right?”

Duh. You’d bawled your eyes out on the front porch halfway through because only then did it fully sink in that they’d all be leaving you behind, these losers you swore you didn’t even like, before wiping your face and moodily rejoining the celebration.

“Jaemin and Donghyuck were having fun like it was their last day on earth. Even Mark didn’t seem too worried about the fact that we’d be leaving our whole lives behind in a few weeks when we drove off to SNU. I asked him if he was going to miss anything and he listed a dozen things, the friends of ours that were going to different colleges, his parents cooking, his backyard, his bedroom, his electric keyboard. And I remember feeling frozen when he didn’t mention you. In hindsight I know that it was probably because he’d still be coming back home every break, and you had a whole year of high school to finish so it wasn’t like you were going anywhere, but at the moment I felt like someone just yanked the blanket off of me. Three years of pretending and it only took one conversation for it to smash through all of that and hit me like a truck. If Mark isn’t worried about it, why the hell has the idea of leaving you here been haunting me for the last week and a half?”

Oh.

“It was then, I think. That I went, ‘Ah. So this hasn’t all been because of Mark, then,’ and everything I’d ever done under the guise of brotherly obligation popped into context all at once. And as if it wasn’t enough being in my own head, I was still in the middle of talking to Mark as I realized that not only did I like you more than I’d ever liked anyone— I was looking directly at the person who would surely strangle me to death if he ever found out that I liked you more than I’d ever liked anyone. So I pretended it never happened. I said ‘yeah, me too,’ the party ended, I went home, the summer went on, and before I knew it I was on campus and had a million other things to worry about. I saw how well you seemed to be doing when Mark would show me your Instagram posts, how much fun you were having, and I let that make me feel better about being such a coward. Over time, without you around, I convinced myself that things were better like this. That it never would have worked out anyway.”

There’s a moment of silence so utterly long that for a moment you genuinely think that this is going to be it. That he’s going to have said all of that and just… sighed, gotten up, and gone to sleep, leaving you alone to be in misery over what you’ve just heard until morning.

But that’s not it. He’s got a few more words for you. The worst of them all. A string of syllables at first, ones that instantly shatter every bit of emotional resistance you’ve built for yourself these last few days— and then a sentence that has your blood turning to ice in your veins when you realize what it means.

“But then you came back to Seoul,” Jeno started simply, “And a lot of things I thought I knew for sure don’t feel quite as concrete anymore.”

You inhaled.

You exhaled.

And tried to understand what the fuck that last part was supposed to mean.

But then before you could he continued on, his voice soft, casual, innocent. Too innocent. “Like how I used to be sure that you snored when you were sleeping,” he murmured. “Has it been so long that I've forgotten? Or are you not actually asleep, Rockstar?”

[♥︎]: and there it is, folks! please leave a like if you enjoyed! it REALLY gives me the motivation to work on this faster!

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kirstoons · 7 days ago

Text

SDV Sebastian x Female Farmer (Yandere)

Author: Me (kirstoons)

Editor and Queef: @gayrahim

TRIGGER WARNING: NSFW, 18+ content, MDNI

Chapter 1.2

Summary: After you depart from his house, Sebastian starts setting his plan in motion. This chapter also gives you a sneak peak into his perverted mind.

After you leave Sebastian’s house

Once you’re out the door, Sebastian immediately starts making plans. This is far too perfect of an opportunity to pass up. Just like in Solarian Chronicles, he is in control of the board and just needs to make the path clear for you. To do so means to make alternative paths… inaccessible.

Robin gives Sebastian a small look of surprise saying, “I’m surprised you’re being so hospitable.” Sebastian paints an expression of boredom as he replies, “yeah, well she is basically part of our group now. I should be friendly, at least to keep the peace.”

Robin gives a knowing nod, a little disappointed in her son’s answer. She kind of hoped that he was putting himself out there more but his response reflects only preservation of the status quo.

“So you’re gonna be away working this week?”, he tries to get the answers he needs but also not tip his mom off about any of his intentions.

“Yeah, I gotta finish these blueprints tonight and have her approve them. If that goes well, I’ll prob head there tomorrow morning to start construction. I’ll be working pretty late so it’ll likely just be you, Maru and Demetri for dinner these next few nights. Try not to antagonize either of them, please?” She gives Sebastian a pleading look knowing it’s a hard task.

“Ughh”, Sebastian groans as he turns his back to her to walk to the basement, but he already has a wicked grin by the time he reaches the door. He plops down in his computer chair and takes a deep breath as he readies himself for the next part of his plan.

Later that evening, a small ding sounds from his computer sending him in an excited frenzy to get to the notification.

Email from: [email protected]

To: y/[email protected]

Hi y/n,

Here is an attached copy of the blueprints I designed. Let me know if you have any questions or edits. I was planning to head over to your farm tomorrow morning, after I get these plans approved. Also, the day that you can’t stay in the house should fall on Thursday, Fall 11. I’ll be sure to keep you up to date with any changes.

Looking forward to seeing you,

Robin

Sebastian downloads the blueprints onto his desktop and begins studying them thoroughly, typing notes on his other monitor as he peruses them. He then opens up the file in his editing software and starts to make a few adjustments. Some are small, like a larger closet, an access door from the house to the crawl space, large bay windows out front, and LOTS more electrical outlets and other cable hookups. Most of these would go unnoticed under that cute, oblivious nose of yours. He made sure to to use the most technical terms and odd specifications for all the electrical work, knowing that they’d confuse his mom, resulting in her asking for his help with installation.

Now for the more sizable changes. A small wood shelter to the side of the house that can be passed off as extra wood storage or whatever farm shit you wanted to put in there. He made sure it was the perfect location to obscure his motorcycle headlights for his “late night visits” and far enough from the house for the sound of the engine to not disturb your precious sleep. This change would be obvious to you but he knew he could pass it off as kindness from his mother who just appreciates her business. The last big change was that crawl space. Sebastian couldn’t help but think to himself what a lucky girl you are to be receiving a fully finished crawl space (an expense he’d have to foot but knew it was well worth it for his precious girl).

While finishing up his special tweaks, he received another email notification.

Hey Robin!

These look sooooo great! I’m so excited to get started! I only have one edit to ask and it’s super small. Could you install a security camera to my front porch? I bought the camera already, so it just needs an install. Other than that, the blueprints are officially approved :D

Thanks again!

Y/n

Even in email format you were adorable. Sebastian could feel his dick twitch as he read the email in your voice. And your compliance certainly helped. You definitely made his plans go a lot smoother and he couldn’t help but to utter “good girl” under his breath. He had already prepared for your response and had your email go straight to him instead of Robin. He then composed an email from your account to read nearly the same but asking for the additional edits he made. As he prepared a response to your email posing as his mother, there was a knock at his door.

Sebastian quickly and skillfully minimized the applications and opened a decoy webpage that had articles on Solarian Chronicle.

“What” he shouted in his typical annoyed tone.

Robin gently opened the door and stood in the doorway. “I know you hate when I bug you, but I just got an email from y/n about some edits on the blueprints. Everything is pretty standard but she asked for some internet wire stuff - or something like that - and, while most of the installations are easy, hers are pretty specific. I’m just a little out of my depth on this one so I was hoping that maybe you’d be willing to take a look and give me a hand?”

To his expectation, Sebastian threw his head back letting out an annoyed groan. “Fine, I guess,” he said in usual flat tone, even though he was thrilled to see his plans fall into place. Robin gave a warm thanks to Sebastian, trying not to gush over how happy she was to have him help her and retreated back up the basement stairs (making sure she closed the door behind her).

Sebastian, still playing middleman between yours and Robin’s emails, finished up the last of the emails, letting you know that your requests would be accommodated and giving a small heads up to the mini shelter in order to prevent you questioning Robin in person. He tilted back on his chair with pride at his tactical approach and flawless execution.

His thoughts turned from self praise to imagining the final outcome of all this hard work. You. You belonging to him. It made him hard just thinking about you being all his. His long piano fingers work their way down to the large bulge in his jeans. He gently cups it from below and gently rubs his thumb over his denim covered shaft. He lets out a satisfied moan as he melts away into his fantasy of you begging on your hands and knees for his cock.

Unable to pull himself from his imagination he hastily undoes his jeans, slipping them to his ankles, and reaches back to the drawer behind him to grab his needed supplies. He moves a piece of fabric to the desk and fishes out a pink bottle of lotion labeled with the scent “ sweet pea and cherry blossom”; the same lotion and scent you use. He squirts a generous amount into hand and swatches a small amount of the creamy, soft pink liquid under his nose. He takes a deep inhale of the scent and focuses back into his fantasy of you being so needy for his dick.

He starts stroking the length of his shaft as he imagines you on all fours, ass in the air, moaning and begging for him to satisfy you. He imagines your pussy’s lips dripping wet and trembling in anticipation and desire for him to stick it in you but he loves seeing you in this state and wants to tease you further into submission. All four fingers are wrapped tightly around his cock, now, and he begins making longer, faster strokes along his shaft.

He thinks of him teasing your soaked cunt with his index finger, circling your precious, little hole as you beg for him to be inside you. You’d even buck your hips trying to maneuver his finger inside you but it doesn’t work. He’d call you a naughty girl for trying a trick like that before he’s given you permission. He firmly slaps your ass as punishment and to reposition you. You let out a horny shriek as you can still feel the warm sting on your ass cheek.

Sebastian pumps faster on his cock, engaging his thumb to rub the underside of head, forcing him to throw his head back and release a deep moan. He sinks further into his fantasy. He imagines feather lightly teasing your clit, causing more of your juices to spill out. Your struggle breathes a clear sign of your stimulation. He runs his head around the edge of your hole as he continues playing with his favorite button. All the anticipation and teasing becomes too much for you and your plush, pink walls contract in orgasm, shooting your slick juices out and onto his tip where he was still making playful circles.

Sebastian was furiously fapping at that point, edging himself closer and closer to release. He knew exactly what would push him over the edge. He would gently scold you for cumming before he even got his dick inside you. He calls you a needy, impatient princess who can’t stand not having things go her way. He also reminds you that he didn’t give you his permission to finish. Even though you would still be coming down from the high of your orgasim, his scolding would leave you disappointed in yourself and on the verge of tears for not properly obeying Sebastian. Right as you attempt to form an apology, Sebastian rams his cock deep into your still gushing pussy. You let out a sharp yelp but Sebastian prevents if from escaping when he presses his mouth into yours.He then starts with a few slow pumps trying to give your tight pussy time to adjust to his long, thick member. But, similar to you, he can sometimes be a bit impatient and begins thrusting faster, harder… deeper. He can hear the sounds of your juices squelching with each thrust and the smell of your cum mixed with the scented lotion wafts up to his nostrils. He feels absolutely euphoric. His cock throbs inside your warm, sticky insides, indicating how close he is to releasing his load. It’s also clear to him that you are equally as close, due to the rhythmic tightening of you fleshy walls. He whispers to you, “be a good girl and take it all, okay? Only good girls get to cum.” You bite your lip trying your best to obey his commands but the pleasure is beginning to swell again and you’re unsure of how much longer you can hold on. Thankfully, Sebastian nears his climax, giving deep grunts with each thrust. “That’s my girl… such a good… obedient g-girl.” He pushes out the words in deep, airy breaths. “My perfect g-good gir…. fffff-f-fffuck”, he roars as his thrusts deep into your sloppy pussy, gushing his hot, thick cum into your velvety soft lips. As soon as you feel his sweet cream inside you, you immediately erupt into your own orgasm that clenches his dick, push out every drop of his cum into your overflowing hole.

Before he shoots his load all over his desk he grabs the cloth from earlier, using it to cover the end of his dick as he releases his actual load in real life. It pours out of him, soaking into the cloth and dripping down the sides of his shaft and hand. He lays there for a bit as his cock empties and he imagines what your face would look like when you orgasm. He wipes up the rest of the mess with the small cloth, now fully soaked in seamen and holds it in his hands, unfurled. Your pink and white panties, with a little lacey trim are drenched in his sperm. His dying boner twitches at the sight of them.

He gently places the cum-soaked panties in a ziploc bag and rummages to the back of his closet to pull out a large trunk with a lock. Fishing the key from his secret hiding place behind the outlet, he tenderly unlocks the chest and places his newest treasure delicately inside, next to the other pieces of his collection. He picks up one photo in particular to examine. The picture is of you looking over your shoulder toward the camera while reaching back to unhook your bra. It’s clear that the photo was taken unbeknownst to you and just outside your bedroom window at night.

Sebastian gives the photo a gentle, tender kiss as he places it back on the stack of what seems to be hundreds of others like it. He pushes the chest back into his closet and rehides the key.

After another masturbation session in the shower with his imaginary version of you (one where you needily ride his cock as he plays an online game sesh with Sam and Abigail), he cleans off and stations himself back at his desk.

“Time for the next phase,” he says softly to himself with a sly grin. He then pulls up the window on his computer that displays all the text messages on your phone. He sips from the cold mug of coffee that you had drank from this morning and begins typing away.

#sdv farmer #sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian x reader #sebastian x farmer #stardew sebastian #sdv #sdv smut #sdv fanfic #stardew valley #stardew farmer #smut #smutty fanfiction #stardew smut #stardew valley fanfic

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rambleonwaywardson · 5 days ago

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Update!

The TTMAB epilogue is drafted and has already been through many rounds of edits, so get ready! I know it's been a long time coming now (compared to how quickly the rest got posted), but now I'm taking an extra day or two to make sure it's exactly what I want it to be.

I'm planning to get it out to y'all in the next few days. In the meantime, thank you so much for sticking with me. This is by far the longest thing I've ever written and the first multi-chapter fic I've managed to complete, and I hope you all have fallen in love with this story as much as I have. Here's an extra little sneak peak:

Bucky crosses his legs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, still looking up as if he can see the entire universe if he only squints hard enough. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?” “Have we?” Bucky looks over at Gale again, scoffing in disbelief, but he finds Gale hiding a smirk as he presses his cheek to his knee, watching Bucky. His hair is messy again from running his hand through it, the gel never holding for long, and Bucky rolls his eyes, reaching a hand out to ruffle it some more. “It’s worth it,” he says matter-of-factly, letting his eyes drift back to the stars. Gale scoots closer and lets his head fall against Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s our life,” he agrees. He doesn’t need to emphasize the our; it’s as if there was never any doubt in this universe that his life would be John’s and John’s would be his. “Sometimes I can’t really believe I made it here.” “You were never gonna take no for an answer.” Gale doesn’t know exactly which part of Bucky’s life they’re talking about. He wasn’t going to settle for less than the astronaut corps. And he wasn’t going to settle for less than Gale either. “I said sometimes,” Bucky mutters, but there comes a point, no matter how badly you’ve always wanted something, where it doesn’t feel real anyways. He doesn’t quite know what he did right to make it to this very spot, even if he can trace his exact path, every single step and crossroads and difficult decision. Sometimes, all he feels is fucking lucky.

#clegan astronaut au #to the moon and back #crying because I can't believe this is it #months of writing these boys #and this story is about to be complete #john egan #gale cleven #bucky egan #buck cleven #mota #masters of the air

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buggyboba · 7 months ago

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Surrender Your Mind

Part One: The Meeting Part two [x] part three [ x ]

A/N: HI HI! This is set somewhere before Dark Water/Death In Heaven. Canon? What canon? Don’t worry about it, it’s all a ball of time whimy wibbly wobbly stuff anyway. No beta reader we die like men. Sloppy edit will come back to edit properly. This is part one of a new series! I also will be posting this to AO3, baby's first doctor who fanfic. Surrender your mind (Ao3 link)

TW For this chapter: Thought reading/hypnosis, kidnapping, Missy is a psychopath (but she is our psychopath.) Cursing. Not much else, that I can think of. She calls you poppet (derogatory) once, pet a few times, dear once I think, and is very rude, you know Missy things.

Words: 2159

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You popped into the corner store, and grabbed a drink and some crisps, needing the sweet comfort of junk in this trying time. Armed with your little bag you headed towards your flat, the air pod in your ear blasting music from your favorite band, blaring out the sounds of busy London around you.

Today had been a shit day. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. The universe had given you a proverbial ‘fuck you’, and now you were one more catching yourself on the door or the wall away from fist-fighting God. You just needed a break, to get home, to calm down.

It would be fine, you would be fine, you always were. So what if you had a setback today, tomorrow was a brand new day, and as cliché as that was, that's what your mind told itself to get through the bad day that you just had. Though deep down you worried about if the mistakes you made today at work were ultimately going to cost you. Once again you told yourself you hated that job so fuck them if they let you go, you could find another one just as easy. At least you hoped.

As you turned down the familiar street you came face to face with construction, and the sidewalk had been blocked. You stood there trying to decide your next action. Taking a few breaths You decided this was fine, everything was fine, you just had to take two streets over, it was fine. You started your walk the long way, and the heavy scent of flowers and tea hit your senses, you had almost forgotten there had been a nice little tea shop around here, it was a comforting scent, you had thought about checking it out sometime, but you just never got a chance. Maybe you would sometime this week.

There was a nice little outside seating area, as you walked past there was a couple at the corner table and a woman sitting alone at the gate. Your eyes were drawn to her, it was unexplainable, well no it could be explained by how beautiful she was, her dark reddish brunette hair was pulled up into a perfect updo, her makeup stunning, the black liner cat eye was just sharp enough to kill a man. Her lips looked soft and were painted a beautiful crimson. She smirked and you immediately looked away, your heart racing as you walked past trying not to walk too fast, but trying not to be awkward. There was one odd thing, she looked like a Victorian governess, but it fit her, the deep plum jacket clung to her perfectly, and once again you had to force yourself to walk calmly past where she sat. Her striking blue eyes followed your every move like a cat watching a mouse. The more you tried to look away the stronger your body wanted to look at her, to meet her eyes, it was like you needed to. No that was weird, right? Just be cool.

Your heart did an odd little thing, it fluttered but also pounded like you were in danger, it was akin to the time you drank four energy drinks in a row. Your stomach was in knots, just from this woman looking at you? You managed to keep your cool as you passed the tea shop, trying your hardest not to sneak a look at the woman, whose eyes you could feel on your body still as you turned the corner. You felt your cheeks heat up as you took a moment to compose yourself. Who was she? You had never felt anything like that before, part of you yearned to poke back around the corner to talk to her, and the other part of you told you it was a bad idea.

You forced yourself to continue walking, and a soft little smile took your lips as you thought about Her. You wondered if she frequented the tea shop, maybe you should start going to the tea shop. No that was weird, stop being weird. This wasn’t like you? Was it? Well yes and no, you had had crushes before, but they had been people you had gotten to know, or knew a little, not some random, beautiful woman at a tea shop. You wondered what she sounded like? You should go back and talk to her.

‘No, it would be weird now.’ You told yourself. You kept yourself walking home, today had just been so bad and weird, but the good news was you saw a beautiful woman. You got to the end of the street to your home, before you felt something was off, the air changed and you got that odd feeling again, like you were in danger. There was a sudden warmth spreading and everything felt like it was happening so fast.

The explosion from the building in front of you, flames licked from your building, something had flown from the explosion, you couldn’t focus on it because you felt arms around your waist pulling you back against a petite body, the distinct smell of some perfume that was more expensive than your flat, something sweet, and something you couldn’t explain.

“Run.” The voice was a deep purr in your ear and long fingers were wrapped around your wrist as she was pulling you with her. You barely got your footing as she pulled you with surprising strength.

Your mind was flooded, did your building just explode, why the fuck would it do that? What the fuck was that silver thing that flew from the explosion?

“You’re so loud.” The woman said simply, “Shut up.” she said quickly, pulling you with her faster, as she looked around like she was searching for something.

“I didn’t say–” you tried but the look she gave you caused you to close your mouth, you hadn’t said anything. What was this woman going on about, being so loud?

“Your thoughts poppet.” she said, “I am trying to focus, so if you could just, I don’t know do as your species does and just stop thinking for a few moments,” she said sharply.

You are left looking at her like she is insane. Thoughts? What did she mean, thoughts? It was your luck the beautiful woman you saw was absolutely bonkers. Before you could react she had moved down an alley, your body being thrown against the wall roughly, her body being pressed against yours tightly, as she hid her face against yours a bit, there was a ‘swoosh’ sound that darted past the alley.

Your eyes widened a bit, and your breath picked up a bit as her hands held your hips against the wall, keeping you pinned for a few minutes before she pulled away like nothing had happened, she walked to the mouth of the alley looking out of it for a moment.

“Good, come along.” She said calmly, as she motioned for you to follow her.

“W-what?” you spoke softly, in disbelief that this woman wanted you to follow her. Your mind was still reeling from the feeling of her body against yours even if it had been so brief, she had been cold, and you could have sworn you had felt two heartbeats when her chest was pressed against yours.

“Come,” she said, her voice had a sort of hypnotic quality, and your eyes sort of glazed for a moment, as you could hear her voice in your head, telling you to listen. You tried to pull back from it, your mind felt hazy, but her voice repeated the command. ‘Come’ and you nodded softly following after her.

You were silent as you followed her, her hand wrapping around your wrist again as if you would wander away if she didn’t. “Where are we going?” You asked after a few moments.

“Shh.” She hushed you quickly as she walked faster, leading you for what felt like forever.

“No but…” You tried.

“Don’t make me shut you up.” She said, her tone held an edge of annoyance and danger.

There was a moment where you smirked a bit, usually, you would say ‘Make me’ and usually that would lead to heavy sexual tension and playful banter, but the way she tugged your arm and glared at you told you to be silent.

“You won’t like it if I make you shut up,” she warned.

“Stop reading my mind…what do you even mean my thoughts are loud?” You blurted out trying to finally pull your arm away from her, but her nails dug into your wrist keeping it held.

“How does he do this?” You heard her grumble, before she dragged you up the stairs of a Cathedral, St Paul’s. You tried to protest once more, but she yanked your arm hard and pushed you in before her. “We should be safe here….” she said allowing you a moment to gather yourself.

You looked around the dark gloomy area, this was NOT St. Paul’s cathedral, there were giant tanks, with skeletons in them, and your body felt colder than before.

“Oh just ignore them, they aren’t your concern….Yet.” She said walking past you with a sort of self-satisfied chuckle at what appeared to be a joke, “come.” she ordered again and your body followed, she led you through the vast halls, there were so many tanks, you tried to count them as she walked you towards a large door.

“Ninty one….but don’t worry about that pet, you need to worry about a few other things first..that comes later…and is not for you….mostly,” she said calmly. “You may be collateral damage, but that is a risk I am willing to take.” She grinned with a short nod.

“The fuck do you mean?” You muttered out.

“That was your flat right, the one that exploded?” she asked leading you through a door and into a large room that held some sort of control panel in the middle.

“Yes…wh-where are we I’m sorry?” You asked looking around at the interior of where you were, it was sleek, gold, and black. There was a low humming sound that you hadn’t heard outside, and this was certainly too big to be a room.

“We don’t have time for you to freak out…now listen dear.” she started. “They targeted you but were after me, I wonder why,” she said tapping her finger against her lower lip as she looked at you.

“Who?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“The assassins,” she said like it was the simplest thing, and she couldn’t believe you hadn’t figured it out.

“Assassins blew up my flat? But they were after you? Why the fuck?” You sounded exhausted already.

“Dunno, I suppose we will find out though….I should use you as bait…catch one, ask some questions.” she mused as she walked around the console, you were reeling still, and she really didn’t explain anything. That would become a constant, but you didn’t know that yet.

“Why…now listen….no,” you said trying to sound firm, but took a small breath when she looked at you over the console with those eyes, you stammered and tried to regain your thoughts. “Wouldn’t they just kill me from a distance, if they were assassins I am sure they wouldn’t get close enough for you to catch…” You paused. “Who are you… wait,” you said looking at her.

“Oh, right I suppose…The Mistress,” she said calmly watching your reaction.

“Oh…no…no thanks.” You said shaking your head. “I’m not…into…” you said lightly, trying to step back towards the door you came in.

The woman tilted her head. “You will refer to me as The Mistress.” She said firmly. “Stay,” she ordered, and your body tensed a bit.

You shifted a bit, what exactly had you gotten yourself into? “Sure.” you voiced and looked down away from her. “Okay, yeah The Mistress…yeah…cool…” You nodded unsure.

“And as of now, you are my companion.” She smirked a bit, you had a feeling that companion was not as nice as it sounded.

“Your companion?” You asked softly, but she cut you off.

“I don’t care what your name is, I doubt you will be alive long enough for it to matter. I am just going to keep you until I understand why they attacked you, if their target was me, what is your place in all of this I wonder.”

Today had been a shit day. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. The universe had given you a proverbial ‘fuck you’, your flat was blown up, assassins were after you, the pretty woman from the tea shop was insane, and now you were pretty sure you were kidnapped, by someone calling themselves ‘The Mistress’. The shitty situation you had thought was bad earlier, had just turned into a different kind of situation, and all you could do was hold on for the ride.

#gomez!master x reader #missy x reader #doctor who #the master x reader #in which reader is just over it already

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littlelovelyspiderling · 2 months ago

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Hello lovely ☺️ how scandelous would it be to ask for perhaps a sneak peak of the next chapter?

👉👈 perhaps a lil snippet? A crumb? 🥹🥺🫣🙌

*clutches pearls* oh my…oh dear…i’ve never been asked this before 😳 this is a first for me.

am i allowed to do this?? why does it feel illegal lmao 🫨

i mean you did ask very nicely & i am dying to show the next chapter to yall & i am indeed a strong independent woman who can do whatever the hell she wants so…here you go?? i guess??

disclaimer: it took me a very hot minute to decide which part to do & i haven’t edited / beta read anything yet so it might change a bit once i post the full chapter…also hopefully this scene makes some kind of sense to you out of context. double also this will be the ONLY part i share bc i don’t wanna spoil the whole thing 😤 but i hope you like 🤭🩵

—————————————

“So…” Spider-Man said, voice low but playful. “Come here often, hot stuff?”

Despite his best efforts, Johnny busted into a laugh, shaking his head from side to side. “Shut up, you loser,” he giggled.

“Wait, wait, I can do better than that. Somebody call the fire department, ‘cuz this guy is smokin’.”

“Is this you attempting to flirt with me? Corny pickup lines and cheesy one-liners? You really think that’s the key to my refined and sophisticated heart?”

“Well? Is it working?” Spidey asked in whisper, the words curling upwards just like the goofy smile Johnny knew he had on behind his mask. The Human Torch rolled his eyes.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbled fondly. The two of them kept their faces and bodies angled forward as they spoke, daring not to show any physical displays of affection with so many eyes on them.

“Pretty lousy atmosphere for a first date, if you ask me,” Spidey continued, quiet and coltish. “Some orchids or candles would’ve been nice.”

“You want to count this as our first date?” Johnny whispered back. “I was planning to take you somewhere with much better ambiance and way fewer older sisters around. Maybe rent a gondola and a string quartet or something. But if you’d like, we can always save that for date number two.”

Spider-Man shrugged. “Either way. Your idea does sound a lot more romantic than the humiliation ritual we’re about to be subjected to...”

Johnny ventured a look at the rows of heroes sitting in the arena’s viewing room and grimaced. “Especially with my teammates watching,” he said gravely. His gaze swiveled to his feet, and he swallowed. “I am so not good at this ‘keeping secrets’ thing, Webs. I really like you, and am obviously terrible at hiding it.” His hands knotted into fists at his sides. “So if you’re set on keeping this thing on the down low, we’ve really gotta sell the whole ‘platonic super bros’ shtick. We can’t do anything that even suggests that we like each other like that. Not with them watching us like fish in a bowl.”

Spidey faced him then, head drooping a bit. “I’m sorry I’m making you lie to your teammates,” he murmured. “I know firsthand how complicated it can get.”

“It’s all right. I lie to them about all kinds of stuff all the time.” Johnny smiled apologetically. “I just wish I was better at it.”

Spider-Man scratched the back of his neck. “Lucky for us, we’ll probably be too busy getting blasted by drones or pummeled by robotic thugs to do anything remotely romantic-y looking while we’re in here.”

Johnny elbowed him in the side. “Well, double lucky for us: we’ve done this exact drill in real life already, and won. I can’t imagine fake thugs or drones being any harder to beat than those insane kidnappers we fought.” Mischief tugged at the corners of his lips as he tucked his hands politely behind his back, raising his chin and tracing his gaze along the outline of Spidey’s throat. “And after we win this,” Johnny added, “I’m gonna drag you somewhere no one will bother us and spend the rest of the afternoon sucking on your neck until it’s all one big hickey. Sound good?”

A noise sputtered out of the masked hero that sounded like a cross between a cough and a squeak. Johnny clapped him triumphantly on the back as he strolled forward, whispering in his ear as he close as he dared as he passed by. “Best leave the flirting to the professionals, bug boy.”

——————————

TA-DA!! this feels so wrong but i hope it gives you a fun little taste of what’s to come heeheeHEEEE

#asks #kind reader friends #anon #pls be gentle #it’s my first time…posting a snippet from an unfinished chapter lol #but heehee johnny is gonna be insufferable #and pete a little awk cutie patootie #my writing

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crescencestudio · 8 months ago

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๋࣭⭑ Devlog #39 | 3.27.24 ๋࣭⭑

Happy March!!

This devlog is going to be a bit shorter, but...... it's for Exciting Reasons that I will share later in the post. heh.....heh.....HEH.....

Let's jump in ^^

This month, writing was mostly dedicated to Etza's route! We have officially entered the Developmental Editing part of Etza's route, which is super exciting!!!

There were parts of Etza's route I wasn't completely satisfied with, so I spent a lot of this month tinkering, adding, fleshing out, editing, etc. for their route. I'm happier with it now compared to where it was when we entered this month, and especially with Wudgey's help, I'm excited for Etza to get the love they deserve!

I had a small, optional goal for myself to start Kuna'a's route, but honestly, I felt like between work with the Enhanced Demo, Etza's edits, and just generally feeling a bit tired after being Super Productive in January and February, I decided to give myself a break. That being said, I'm relatively confident I'll be getting started with Kuna'a's route next month, and I'm excited to dive into their route (and the Fae routes in general, teehee!).

Vui is on the very last of the BGs I need from him..... So I am in mourning.......

Kidding but not kidding. Vui has done an amazing job of putting the backgrounds for Alaris together! They're absolutely stunning, and by the time we get to the next devlog, he will have finished ALL of the BGs for Alaris! It's been about a year and a half in the making, which is kinda crazy to think we have been together for this long (and working on the full game for this long), but it's definitely A Moment.

In celebration of him reaching this milestone, I wanted to highlight some of the BGs he's made for the game! The theme is early morning; some of these BGs are in the demo, and some are in the full game hehe. You'll have to guess the context of the mysterious full game BGs :')

Sneak Peek: BG Showcase, morning strolls around the world of Alaris

I also thought it's been a while since I showcased a CG here. While I don't play on showcasing many of the full game CGs on public devlogs (I do show them on my Patreon!), I wanted to show a little snippet of this specific CG.

Why, you ask? Well, for the OGs, you might remember I showed a sketch of the CG during the Alaris Kickstarter---whenever the hell THAT THING happened.

I finished rendering it now that I got the BG for it, so I wanted to show a peek of that sketch that I showed oh-so-many-years ago.

Sneak Peek: Kayn Full Route CG I want to lick him

Generally for art progress, I've been working on CGs as well as some promotional materials, which I'll be getting to in the next section \o/

Now for the Exciting News!!!!

I have two bits of exciting news. The first is...

Sneak Peek: Selection Screen for Alpha/Beta Access (OUUUUGGGGGHHHHH)

I STARTED CODING KAYN'S ROUTE!!!! The first act is already "done" and ready for beta access. And I'm hoping to finish the other two acts within the next couple of weeks. It is crazy to finally be able to code some of the full game routes. Even if they're not at the "final version" or early access stage, it is Extremely Rewarding to finally experience the scripts I've been writing in the game!!! With the CGs.... Extended Screens..... Just seeing the script with visual assets and not just a Google Doc is SOOOOO FSEIKLFJSEILE

Sneak Peek: Chapter Character Cards (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

The second piece of Exciting News is that I have a release date for the Enhanced Demo. YEEEEAAAAAA. It's finally happening!!! Please stay tuned over the next couple of days...... An Exciting Announcement is on its way...................................

I didn't do much market research this month. If I'm being honest, I actually struggled a little bit this month with like...... burnout and workaholism guilt. I wanted to take a break after getting the demo ready for public release, but I just couldn't bring myself to fully rest. It felt like there was so much to do (not just with Alaris, but also with real world/work obligations) and all these looming deadlines was starting to get to me.

I'm hoping next month because I'll actually be Releasing the demo (oops, sneak peek of general release date teehee!), I'll be able to feel like I can take a break. But it also sucks a bit that I feel like I have to Earn It. I think with Alaris being a Kickstarter project, I want to get the game in your hands as soon as possible, but of course it's not to anyone's benefit if I burn myself out in the process and end up with either a worser project or taking even longer to finish it.

I did...... start Stardew Valley again since it is the ultimate dissociation/break game for me. So far it's been working! But we'll see how it continues <3

LOOK AT MY FARM!!!

Should I marry Sebastian or Elliot.

Anyways, hope you all have a great rest of your month, and I'll talk to you Very Soon with an Exciting Announcement! <3

#alaris #devlog

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i-sveikata · 25 days ago

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ik this is not the case in this fic BUT if they were to adopt a kid, what do you think your Vegas would be as a dad? I'm sure he will put an end to generational trauma or.......will he???

Also are we any close to word game??just curious skkssksksk anyways hope you're doing well and get rest too💓

hey anon!!!! yeah not the case for this fic but i defs think vegas would be a good dad even if he'd be a bit chaotic and unhinged. im picturing him as that meme where they've got the one parent cuddling the child on a deck chair and the other parent holding the child upside down by his ankle in the ocean...

vegas would defs be the upside ankle holding in the ocean lmao. tbh when i think of generational trauma i generally think of parents who dont seek therapy after horrible upbringings, doing what they can not to recreate the horrible things inflicted on them but because they've let it all simmer for so long they end up inflicting a different kind of trauma on their children that might not be the same as what their parent did to them but it's still something that fucks the kid up because the parent never learned how to adequately cope with or address their own trauma and that inability to cope ends up creating some serious or mild emotional trauma in the child.

so like if he and pete were to decide to bring a child into the mix i think theyd both get a bit nervous about fucking it up- not wanting to be their dads to the point that- and im assuming pete would be the one insisting here- they finally seek out some kind of professional and traumatise them (because lets be real theyre both unhinged and i dont know how even a professional would handle them lol) with their childhoods to try and find some way to resolve it.

i can also see pete doing a bit of research by picking up books on generational trauma and child abuse and educating himself a bit more so he can understand the most common pitfalls they're likely to face as parents themselves. but tbh petes in a much better place emotionally and mentally with acceptance of his childhood. unlike vegas hes aware that what happened to him was wrong, that he didnt deserve it and that he should have been protected by both of his parents and not hurt by one whilst the other was unable to fully break the cycle of abuse and permanently leave that dangerous environment, taking him with her. so hes learned to let (most of it) go and not take it on as like some failing within himself or some part of his personality thats evil which his parent recognised and was trying to squash out or repurpose into a weapon (hello vegas)

we are!!! i totally just had a look at my word doc, realised ive written a ridiculous amount of words thereby making the chapter wayyyy too long (AGAIN lol) so i'm splitting off the break earlier than i was planning on so i can post (sorry bathroom sex pete and vegas you will always be famous- lmao and also likely to appear next chap now). so i've got like a couple scenes left to fill out and then its word game time!!

ill post it to signal when its starting- likely today or tomorrow and then it will be editing time for me (and sneak peeks for all you lovely readers who send me word prompts whilst im doing so) :)

#fic asks #ill fill the graveyards until i have you

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dalchiid · 1 year ago

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 46

A story of obsession, fear, and lust. You're a maid whose Masters forbid you in meeting their guests for the night but your luck runs dry when you run into them and catch the attention of Lord Hoseok himself. He's smitten from the beginning and thus, your fate has been decided.

Pairing: Yandere Vampire Hoseok x Fem/AFAB Reader

Word Count: 6,076

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Possessive, Angst, Fear, Blood, Biting, Dub-Con, Eventual smut

Will add or remove warnings based on what's in each chapter.

I do not condone the behavior being exhibited in my work. This is solely for entertainment purposes and I hope if any of you are ever in a situation like this that you have the chance and ability to run away from it. Take care out there.

DO NOT copy, edit, or repost my work anywhere.

Chapter 46 Warnings: Yandere, Possessive, Obsession, Self-deprecation, Mentions of feeling violated, Angst

Prev | Next

Your eyes hurt from crying so much. Just the reminder of why you're here talking to Yoongi makes your chest ache but you needed to talk. Maybe it was stupid of you because the vampire before you has his head cradled in his hands after he heard what you had to say but it's too late to take it back now.

Yoongi stays silent with his fingers halfway through his hair. He grips the strands tightly and loosens them after a second. The way he goes without answering makes you freak out a little making you rub your hands between each other.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I shouldn't-"

He cuts you off with a finger raised in your direction effectively silencing you. You swallow deeply and wait for him to sit up with a deep sigh. Licking his lips he looks towards the ceiling and just stares until he can finally find the right words to tell you.

"You know if Hoseok finds out about this that's it. You're never leaving his room ever again."

You ball up your hands into fists to stop the way they shake. "I know."

Yoongi turns to look at you. "And you're not joking, right? You actually did this?"

He won't say exactly what you told him. How you and Namjoon have been sneaking behind Hoseok's back to hook up. How just a couple of minutes ago you did just that. Right before Namjoon told you the truth. The way he took your heart and broke it apart so ruthlessly. The sound of his laughter still rings in your head.

You nod before looking down at your lap.

Yoongi releases another sigh but this time he sounds absolutely exhausted. As if hearing what you said is draining him dry. A thought strikes you then causing you to nervously look his way.

"Do you think he'll tell Hoseok?"

Yoongi shakes his head. "Namjoon is stupid but he's not that stupid. He knows that if he does say something Hoseok will never let him live it down. They may be brothers but that's a grudge I don't think Hoseok will ever let go of." He scratches his face. "Why though?"

Your brows draw together in confusion. He sees your reaction and elaborates further.

"Why did you tell me all of this?"

You shrug. "I hate being here but after what just happened it's also come to hurt. I don't want to be here anymore and if not Minjeong you can help me get out."

He purses his lips as he looks off towards the side.

You know you really hit him hard with bad news that's making him question your sanity you're sure. And you also know you put him in a precarious situation between two brothers with their own issues. You can't imagine how this is making him feel right now but you hope this plea of yours will be heard.

Turning his attention back towards you he hums. "I'm going to need some time. You know that, right? We need a time where some if not all my brothers are gone from the house and it cant be obvious that it's me who helped you escape. I was the only one home when Minjeong left. If the same happens with you people will start asking questions. And Seokjin's lapdogs are already hot on your heels. I'm actually surprised no one caught you and Namjoon while knowing that."

You hate it but you know he's right.

Yoongi sighs again and crosses his arms. "And you need money and a place to stay."

"I have money," you say.

"From where?"

"From my old job. I saved up a lot."

He quirks a brow up in interest. "Did you open the account yourself or did the Baeks do it?"

You frown a little. "They did it for me."

He sucks his teeth. "You need to take that money out if the account is still open. They could close it whenever they want. I'm actually surprised you still have access to it... You do, right?"

You nod your head but then you send a questioning look his way. "When would be the best time to take it all out? As you know I'm stuck with Hoseok most of the time."

Yoongi purses his lips while he thinks. "It's not your first time leaving the house without him. I can take you out in guise of just wanting to spend time with you. We'll take all your money out then."

"Okay," you softly say.

"All that's left is to find you a place."

"Maybe Minjeong can help with that?"

"I don't have her number."

"I do."

Both his eyebrows raise in interest but before he can ask you answer.

"The day at the mall when we ran into her, she managed to pass me a note with her number on it. I have her listed under a different name so that if Hoseok finds it he won't know it's her."

Yoongi slowly nods his head. "Alright. Maybe we can work something out with her." He continues to nod until something hits him then. "Wait."

You hum questioningly. "What?"

He sends a look your way you don't like.

"What are you going to do without my brother's saliva?"

Realization dawns upon you then. Fuck. He's right.

This always seems to be the topic of conversation when it comes to these vampires and the option to go to a rehab looms over you.

As if he knows where your mind is going Yoongi speaks up.

"If you go to a rehab it'll have to be far from here. Hoseok wouldn't hesitate to find you the minute he knows you're gone and I don't doubt one of the first places he'll look into are rehab centers."

You don't want to go to a rehab. You didn't want to back when you were with your former Masters and you don't want to now either, but you're left with little options.

"I doubt Minjeong would be willing to help with that," you say but Yoongi shakes his head.

"I don't know if Minjeong's saliva is anything like ours but even then don't think about it. I'd prefer you make it out of here with me knowing you'll get some help."

Your form visibly deflates but you know he's just trying to do things right. The high is the only good thing about Hoseok and you're going to miss that. Tremendously.

Yoongi takes a deep breath in and gives another sigh with it. "Talk to Minjeong when you can and whatever she says relay it back to me. I want us to be on the same page. For now though we'll have to act like nothing is up. You can't leave just yet."

You nod before you're hit with a thought. "What about Namjoon?"

Yoongi hums. "Hoseok can't know anything."

"I know but I really don't want to be in a room alone with him... Not after today."

He sees the way a wave of sadness falls over you and hesitantly places a hand on your shoulder.

"Stick with Hoseok as much as possible. If he offers for you to stay with Namjoon let him know you'd rather be with him. Don't be too obvious about wanting to avoid our brother though because he'll suspect something is up."

You nod along to his words.

"And if for some reason you end up alone with Namjoon ignore him. I know that's easier said than done by don't take whatever bait he throws your way. Even if he says he wants to apologize don't fall for it. It'll just be another lie of many more to come."

It hurts knowing that this is how things are going to be between you and Namjoon. You enjoyed being with him. Fell for his affection that you now know to be fake. You wonder maybe if you wouldn't have confessed to him would he still have pretended to be yours?

You don't want to think about it. The wound is too fresh right now.

"Hey."

You look at Yoongi who gives you a soft look. He squeezes your shoulder gently before releasing you.

"It'll be okay. You'll see."

You can only hum in response.

He stands up from his bed and walks over to his nightstand where his phone lies. Picking it up he checks for the time and looks at you.

"It's going to be a while before Hoseok comes back. You're welcome to stay here until he does."

You look down at your bare feet and the shoes that lie by your side. You could stay here but right now you feel gross. After having done what you did with Namjoon - back before now you would have glowed but now you just feel dirty and used.

"I want to wash up first." The words leave you softly.

Yoongi grabs the remote that was next to his phone and turns on the TV. "Well when you're done you know where to find me."

You give him one last look before you grab your shoes and stand.

To be honest you don't want to be alone and you're thankful Yoongi is giving you a place to stay until Hoseok gets back. For now though you need to hide and lick your wounds so you can begin to heal. Even if you never fully do you need to at least try.

When you leave his room you look around you. Two maids are heading down towards the stairs and don't notice you coming out. You look off towards the direction of Namjoon's room but you don't see him. You wonder if he's still in there or if he left but you're not about to stick around and find out.

You hurriedly make your way to Hoseok's room and slip in. Once the door is closed silence is all that joins you. It's deafening after everything and you can't stand it.

Sighing you make your way over to the closet and drop your shoes off where Hoseok keeps them. You find fresh new pajamas and toss the ones from before and the clothes you wear now into the hamper. More than anything you want Namjoon's scent off of you and you actually feel bad knowing Hoseok will be able to smell him if he passes by the hamper. Not because you feel for Hoseok but because it'll serve as a reminder that you were with his brother. It makes you remove them and pull out some of the clothes that way you can bury them deep within the basket. With that done you head towards the shower.

You turn the water on and set it for something warm. Warmer than usual. As that settles you look into the mirror and see how puffy your face looks from all the crying. The sight of it makes your brows draw together as you frown.

The urge to cry is still there. When you have your heart broken that will happen to you. You feel stupid and embarrassed. Were there any signs you should have looked out for? Maybe there were you were just too absorbed in your emotions to care.

Namjoon's laughter still rings in your ears and the sound of it makes another wave of embarrassment to come over you.

Gods you're so stupid. When will you learn not to trust people so easily?

Fresh tears pool out of your eyes. You can't bring yourself to continue staring at your reflection so you turn around and head to the shower.

When the water touches your skin you welcome the slight burn. You need to wash yourself off of Namjoon. You feel violated in so many ways.

"I should have gotten you to jerk me off before breaking the news."

A broken sob leaves you and you find yourself full on crying now. You have to sit on the seating in the shower and cover your face as you cry.

It hurts. So much. Why did things have to be this way? Why do you have to be in so much pain and all because Namjoon saw you as fresh game? You were nothing but entertainment for him. Entertainment that willingly gave themself up. How could you be so stupid? There's no other answer to that other than that's just how you are. Stupid. It honestly makes you laugh a little but in a self-deprecating manner.

After a while of crying you stand up to shower. You want him off of you and you use the somewhat hot water to do that. Use your soap to do that. Scrub away at your skin to do that. You even wash your hair. All to be rid of Namjoon.

When you're done you feel raw but clean. Physically speaking because inside your soul you're far from it. After doing your skincare routine you get dressed in your pajamas and take the time to dry your hair. You want to take care of yourself after the blow you took so you take your time. You don't know how long it's been since everything that happened so you check the time and see that it's late into the day. Only the gods know how long it's going to take before Hoseok comes back. You could stay in his room until then despite Yoongi's offer. You feel embarrassed but you decide that yeah, staying with Yoongi might be better. Staying alone with your thoughts doesn't sound appealing to you. At all. So you put on your slippers with phone in hand and make your way back over to the thoughtful vampire. You're sure to check the halls though as you head over. You really don't want to bump into Namjoon. No one is in sight though and so you quickly make your way back to Yoongi.

You knock on the door and hear a soft "Come in" from inside. When you open the door you see Yoongi sat on his chair with a keyboard sat before him and on a foldable table something with many colorful squares on it and a laptop. His headphones are resting around his neck as he takes the chance to look at you.

"Better," he asks.

You nod your head.

He brings up the left part of his headphones up to cup his ear and presses the keyboard. It's silent so you suspect he can hear it through the headphones.

"You're welcome to watch TV while I work here."

"Are you sure?" You frown. "I don't want to bother you."

"You won't be bothering me. I wouldn't have invited you to stay if I thought you would be a bother."

You give him a barely there smile but it's enough for him to see and smile back.

You look at the TV he's left on for you and see it's showing a movie. It's one you've seen before and liked so you leave it on to watch.

Sitting on his bed you're afraid to do more than just that. You sit on the edge of his bed and just stare at the TV.

"You can lay in bed, Y/N."

Your brows shoot up as you look at Yoongi. He isn't even looking at you as he continues to mess with his things. You don't question him though as you slip off your slippers and settle into the middle of his bed. It's unmade and so you take the chance to slip beneath the silky smooth sheets and settle them up to your waist as you sit up against the pillows.

Your time spent here is finishing the movie that was on when you came here and getting a little over the halfway mark of the second one when your brain tries to remind you about what happened. It dampens your mood causing you to sigh. You pick up your phone to check out the games you have on it - anything to keep you distracted. It's when you unlock it do you realize something. You can text Minjeong. You access your contacts and find the pseudonym you have for her. Yoongi said to contact her and tell him everything she had to say. You wonder if she's available now but you'll give it a shot and see.

You: Minjeong?

You purse your lips and place the phone down to watch the movie again. You're giving Minjeong time to get back to you but you have to admit you're a little nervous. What if everything falls through? You don't even have a plan yet but you're expecting the worse.

You should have a little more faith in Yoongi, you think. He's really going to go out of his way to try and help you. And you don't know Minjeong that well but it seems like she truly wants to help too. After everything she's been through with Hoseok she came all this way to see you to try and help anyway. Would you have gone that far for a stranger? You honestly don't know.

Your phone vibrates after a moment and you're quick to pick it up but when you check you frown when you see it's from Hoseok instead.

Hoseok: I'm sorry I'm not home yet baby but this stuff takes a while. We'll more than likely do some today and the rest another time but for now just hold on.

Hoseok: I hope Namjoon isn't boring you or anything lol

Your frown grows deeper at the mention of his brother.

What should you type back?

You: It's okay.

But is it? You quickly type out a response to follow your two words.

You: Things are fine.

They are because you're with Yoongi but you won't mention that. You don't want Hoseok asking questions right now so you keep quiet about it.

Immediately afterwards Hoseok sends two emojis your way. A ☺️ and 😘 stare back at you but you make no effort to write back.

You place the phone back down and after a minute it buzzes again and you pick it up with clenched teeth thinking it's Hoseok but you're surprised to see it's Minjeong instead.

Dawn: Who is this?

You're quick to type back in hopes of getting a positive response.

You: It's Y/N. This is Minjeong right?

You trap your bottom lip between your teeth as you stare at the screen.

Minjeong wouldn't have given you a fake number you're sure but you just needed to make sure it was her you were texting.

Dawn: Y/N! Yes it's me. How are you?

Distraught and embarrassed for starters but you won't say that - instead something else.

You: I'm okay I guess...

You: You were right. About Namjoon. He isn't who I thought he was.

When you press send you have to bite your lip harder to prevent the urge to cry.

The answer comes after a few seconds.

Dawn: I'm sorry Y/N. I don't know who you thought he was to you but now you see the truth. None of the brothers can be trusted. Only Yoongi.

You: I see that now..

You pause with a sniffle. No. You're not going to cry over Namjoon again. You won't let him have that power over you.

Minjeong doesn't text you back but you don't want to end it here. You have to start making a plan.

You: Yoongi admitted that he saved you. He's willing to help me get out too. Money isn't an issue but I need a place to stay.

You: He said I should go to a rehab but not near here. Do you maybe know any around you? How far do you live if that's okay to know?

It takes a while for a response. So much so that you figure she's either busy or hesitant to tell you where she lives. You wouldn't blame her then if that's the case. How can she trust that you won't say anything to Hoseok? She doesn't know you like that. But when you least expect it she answers you.

Dawn: I live around 7-8 hours away which is enough distance needed between you and Hoseok. I can look into rehab centers for you and I'll let you know what I find.

Dawn: How much money do you have? Unless you have health insurance you'll need to pay for your stay and once you're better we'll need to find you a home.

You know she's right. You don't know how much they'll charge you at the rehab and you don't plan on overstaying more than you need to. You saved enough money you believe so you tell her.

You: Trust me it's enough. I've been saving since I first started working and that's when I was 13.

Dawn: That sounds good. Even then I'll be willing to help with any expenses you might need so don't think you'll be alone in this.

That's kind of her. To be honest the whole idea of escaping has you nervous because of the what-ifs but having both Minjeong and Yoongi by your side makes you feel a little better.

You: Thank you. Honestly.

Dawn: It's no problem.

Dawn: After everything, if you feel comfortable to, we can set up a restraining order against Hoseok for you. I want to make sure he's out of your life for good.

She's making sure to let you know she'll go through thick and thin for you. It sounds almost too good to be true but she proved to you how far she'll go when she came all this way to see you at the mall.

7-8 hours. That's how far away she lives and yet she came anyway. Would you have ever gone that far for someone you don't know? Especially when it meant you'll run into your kidnapper again? Minjeong is selfless unlike you you believe because you don't think you ever could.

You: Thank you.

Dawn: Of course.

Dawn: I'll start looking into rehab centers nearby. I'll let you know what I find and what the best options are.

You: Okay. I'll let Yoongi know what's up. He wants to be informed as much as possible before any attempts to leave are made.

Dawn: That sounds good.

Dawn: He's a really good guy. Let's be thankful for him.

You are thankful for Yoongi. The only "normal" brother you've come to truly realize. Namjoon didn't lie about that at least.

You don't know what else to say so you leave it at that. Looking over to Yoongi you see that he's still working on his music. He's been very quiet as you watch TV and even now after your talk with Minjeong. You wonder when would be the best time to tell him about the texts but you don't want to bother him. He's so focused on his work. The more you stare at him the more your thoughts on Minjeong cloud your mind. You wonder how the chance to help her escape came about. We're they already talking about it between each other or was it a spontaneous decision on Yoongi's part? Minjeong was being drugged by Hoseok and so you wonder how he managed to get her out undetected by staff. You would ask Minjeong but would she remember correctly because of the drugs? What was Hoseok using on her anyway?

"You're staring at me."

You jump at the sound of Yoongi's voice.

He raises his head up to look at you before moving his headphones down around his neck. "Something on your mind?"

"Oh." You blink a few times. You weren't expecting to get caught. "Um I talked to Minjeong."

His brows raise a little. "What did she say?"

You cross your legs beneath the sheets as you sit up a little. "She said she's going to look up rehab centers for me around where she lives and that she'll help me out moneywise if need be."

Yoongi nods his head. "That's good. Anything else?"

"Just that if I'm comfortable with it that she'll help me get a restraining order on Hoseok."

His expression is carefully neutral but you can't imagine how he must feel.

"I'm sorry," you say. "This must be tough with Hoseok being your brother and all."

He shrugs. "I want the best for my brother but I can't help him when he's wrong."

Still but you won't push the subject.

Yoongi stretches in his seat with his arms reaching up above. You swear you hear his shoulders pop and it's only then does he sigh in relief.

"Are you hungry," he asks.

To be honest, after what you've been through no you're not but you know you need to eat.

You shrug in response but it's enough for Yoongi to pull out his phone and start searching for something.

"Is there anything you'd like to order?"

You shrug again but realize he can't see you as he continues to go through his phone.

"I'm fine with anything."

Yoongi hums. "Thai it is."

You can't help but to huff a laugh. Yoongi is oftentimes entertaining without meaning to be.

Taking off his headphones Yoongi lies them beside his laptop before standing up from his seat to head into his bathroom without a word. The man is so quiet but it doesn't make you feel uncomfortable. You have a lot of trust in him and for a moment you wonder if you really should. All of his brothers turned out to be problematic in their own ways. What made Yoongi any different from them? It's because of Minjeong why you believe in the best of him and you're holding on to hope that he won't turn his back on you. So far so good, right?

You nod to yourself before looking towards the TV. You'll continue to trust him until for whatever the reason may be you can't anymore.

Yoongi finishes up in the bathroom and comes out with a sigh. "Here," he says. He hands you his phone. "Get what you want. I'll handle the rest."

You grab his phone and check through the menu. He's nice enough to order food for you and you feel like you can't deny his want to help you out. He's done enough so far: listening to you when you needed to be heard, comforting you, letting you stay with him until Hoseok comes back. You appreciate him. Truly you do.

Once you find something you hand him back his phone and he's quick to order what he wants as well.

"It won't be long," he says. "The Thai place is close by."

You hum. "Thank you."

Yoongi looks at you with a brow raised.

"For everything. You don't have to do any of the things that you're doing but you are and I appreciate it."

He shrugs. "It's nothing."

"No really." Your fingers play with the edge of the blanket. "I know I'm asking for a lot - wanting to escape and all of that but you're being very selfless."

He comes over to sit next to you on the bed. "Continue. You're doing wonders for my ego."

You can't help but laugh and it makes him smile. A smile that shows his gums and looks absolutely endearing on him.

He grows a little serious then as he speaks. "I don't mind helping. I feel like I have to make up for my brothers' faults in some way."

"It's not your responsibility though," you say.

"I know but someone has to do something and we both know it's not going to be Hoseok or any of the others."

Before you thought it would have been Namjoon but now you know that's a lie. It's just you, Yoongi, and Minjeong now. You don't know if you should feel sad or not about that.

Yoongi seems to notice your thoughts are straying from something positive because he questions you on it.

"What are you thinking about?"

Your eyes drift over to him for a moment. "Do you honestly want to know?"

He nods.

Sighing you sit up a little straighter. When did you hunch over so much? Like the weight of your thoughts are too heavy to bare.

"Namjoon."

Yoongi purses his lips as he takes a slow and even breath in before releasing it with his words.

"It's going to be hard getting over it but over time you will."

Your shoulders sag. "I wish things would have been different between us."

"In what way?"

"I wish I never fell for him. That we should have stayed as friends. Maybe then his lies wouldn't have hurt as much as they did."

"Either way you shouldn't let those type of thoughts consume you." He leans his weight onto his hand. "The more you let the what-ifs and "I shouldn't have/I should haves" bother you you'll never be able to heal. All it's going to do is ruin you and let Namjoon win."

Let Namjoon win... You don't want that to happen of course but a part of you just wants to wallow in self-pity even though you know you shouldn't.

"Have you ever had your heart broken?"

Yoongi continues to stare at you. "No but I imagine it doesn't feel good."

"It doesn't." You sigh. "I know you're right I'm just - it hurts is all."

He hums. "We should find a distraction then. For now at least until it hurts a little less."

Your brow raises in interest. "What kind of distraction?"

He stands up from his bed and walks over to the area where his equipment is set up. "I normally don't let anyone listen to my unfinished work but I think I can make one exception. For now at least."

He unplugs his headphones to bring his laptop over to the bed. On the screen are a series of things you can't bring yourself to understand but you know they must be related to music. You watch as Yoongi brings up a window filled with files labeled by numbers and he clicks on one of them. When it opens music begins to play.

It starts of with a slow beat accompanied by a rap that picks up speed a few seconds in. The lyrics talk about the extreme choices between what are truth and lies and you find yourself bopping your head along to it.

Yoongi doesn't say a word as you listen to it until the beat continues without the rap. Here he brings the music to a stop and looks at you.

"I don't have the rest of the rap written so it just stops there. Once I figure out what else I want I'll take the time to finish it."

"It's really really good," you say. "And I'm not just saying that because you're in front of me."

A small smile dances on the edge of his lips as a warm blush coats his cheeks. "There are other stuff too."

He clicks on another one and lets it play. One after another. Finished ones as well as incomplete ones.

You learn that Yoongi can both rap and sing even Jungkook who helps his older brother fill in as samples for his incompleted work. That way when he hands off his song to someone else they know what is expected of them. You also learn that DJing is just a small portion of what he can do. He enjoys making music for others to listen to and has done a variety of genres since he was teenager. Whatever genre there is Yoongi has done already and he has a discography made up of many of them from almost all the years of his life. You're heavily impressed and express that to him to which his cheeks grow pinker and the more he talks.

You realize Yoongi loves to talk about the things that make him happy. His voice level raises a bit as he talks more. It's endearing to watch and hear him grow happier by the second because he's talking about his first love: music. You wish there was something in your life that made you this excited to talk about. Maybe someday but for now you'll live vicariously through Yoongi.

"I'm amazed honestly," you say. "You sing, you rap, you play the piano and the guitar. You're a skilled producer that learned everything on his own. That's really impressive, Yoongi."

He gives a shy laugh as he closes the container from the food he ordered you two earlier. While you guys listened to his music you ate happily.

"I'm being serious. I really like your work."

"Thank you," he says with a smile.

He looks so shy but he's glowing with your praise. It makes you smile.

Yoongi gathers his flash drives with his music on them. They're there not because you went through every song on them but because he would grab one here and there to have you listen to specific songs. You're glad the two of you could bond this way as he was the only brother you haven't spent some time with. He showed you a side to himself you've never seen and it warms your heart to know he felt comfortable enough with you to show this side. He even admitted that he doesn't like showing his unfinished work but he did with you. You know it was to distract you from your glaring problem with Namjoon but you appreciate he did that nonetheless.

"I have more work in my study but that can be for another time."

Another time. Yeah, you'd like that.

"Thank you, Yoongi."

He hums in question with both brows raised.

"Thank you for keeping me distracted and for sharing your music with me. You didn't have to but you did and I appreciate it."

A small smile graces his lips as he shrugs. "It's no problem."

You mimic his smile with one of your own.

You enjoyed your time with him and not just because of your issue with Namjoon. For being the most sweetest of the brothers the two of you haven't really gotten to know each other. While he showed you his music he asked for your favorites. The topic then went to movies as you both talked about movie soundtracks. His passion for music made you feel inspired and you expressed that to which he gave you one of his endearing smiles. You talked on and on about music until it felt like there was nothing left about it to talk about.

Your time together was fun and you hope to end this nightmare of a day/night on a positive note because of him.

As he puts his things away you gather your trash from the food you ate and place them into the bag it came in.

"You don't have to do that." Yoongi says. "I can handle it."

"No no it's fine. I made a mess just as much as you did so let me help out."

He doesn't fight you on it and so you continue to clean up.

The sound from the TV accompanies you as you two work around each other. You don't even know what movie is playing right now but it doesn't really have your attention. Your conversation with Yoongi was your main form of entertainment.

Speaking of who, he turns to you after a minute and stares at you with an unreadable expression. You look up at him and raise your brows in question.

"Everything okay," you ask.

He licks his lips and nods. "I just... I'm going to try my best to get you out of here."

Your features soften at his words and something akin to warmth floods your chest. Happiness you think it is. Peace. Gratefulness.

You smile. "Thank you."

He gives you that half smile he oftentimes gives and it makes your own stretch until you show your teeth.

You know you have to give him time. You don't want to wait anymore than what you truly have to but these things take time. You have to wait for Minjeong to get back to you with the list of rehabs around her area and then formulate a plan to get out of here and how to head to her. Things Iike this don't happen overnight and so you'll wait. At least you have Yoongi on your side in this house. He's the breath of fresh air you've been needing to survive here. Hopefully until the very end.

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #hoseok x reader #yandere hoseok #hoseok #jung hoseok #jhope #yanderebts #btsfanfic #reader #fanfic #reader insert

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colormepurplex2 · 2 years ago

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Blood Bride | I Dare You

↳ vampire!Yoongi x human!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers/Lovers | Accidental Marriage ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 4,307 ⚠️ Talk of the occult/blood rituals/cults, foul language, crass humor, minor blood

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list

The snapping of a twig behind you makes your heart lurch, and your startled gasp pulls chilled air into your lungs.

“Someone’s jumpy.”

“Fuck off, Jimin,” you grumble in response. “You and I both know the only reason I’m here is that you manipulated me.”

Your best friend chuckles, his breath misting in the air before him. “I know. But, I also knew as soon as I mentioned vampires, you wouldn't be able to resist.”

“Don’t make me turn around and go back to the van.” You cut a glare his way. Even if he can’t see it, you hope he can feel it.

That earns you another throaty laugh, echoed from Taehyung walking a few steps behind you. “Fat chance you’d walk all the way back through the woods on your own,” Jimin quips back. “Aren’t you still scared of the dark?”

“I hate you sometimes.”

Taehyung comes up beside you and bumps his shoulder against yours while adjusting the large film camera resting on his other. “Don’t let him get to you. You’re not the only one scared of the dark. I mean, my twelve-year-old sister sleeps with a nightlight.”

You shove Taehyung’s shoulder, glaring at him. “You can fuck off, too.”

“Don’t worry about it, babe. Everything is going to be fine.” Jimin tugs off one of his gloves and slips his hand into your jacket pocket, where your hand is currently clenched around a thermal packet. His fingers work around the pack and slide between yours. “Thank you for agreeing to come. I’m excited that you're here.”

From the outside, people always assume you and Jimin are an item—and you may have fooled around a few times over the years—but, they fail to realize that Jimin is more like your best friend now than a lover. Besides, he and Jungkook have been sneaking away into the film supply closet back at the warehouse every chance they get. You're not sure whether or not Taehyung has picked up on it.

You don’t miss the way Jimin leans forward slightly to look around you to the other side of Taehyung, where Jungkook is walking. He has large headphones on, getting into the mindset needed for the long night ahead, blatantly ignoring the banter being exchanged.

Beyond The Seance is the paranormal and occult investigation team that you and Jimin started after meeting in college and bonding over everything strange and spooky. It’s why you’re currently walking down a creepy, overgrown dirt road in the middle of a forest somewhere near the mountains. Jungkook and Taehyung joined while the team was still in its infancy. All you and Jimin had was a few shaky and poorly edited videos on YouTube. But, with Taehyung’s expertise in technology and Jungkook’s enthusiasm for the paranormal, your team quickly morphed into what it is today.

Tonight should just be like any other night of investigating. The abandoned mausoleum and graveyard at the end of this road have been closed off to the public for the last fifty years. It’s taken Jimin the better part of the previous two to get the owners to agree to this investigation. The stack of waivers and legal documents they presented to the team was as thick as some of your favorite vampire books—the books that had ultimately led to you not being able to say no to Jimin when he asked you to come.

Your vampire obsession is just that; an obsession. Blame it on Twilight, blame it on Interview With The Vampire—whatever it is, it’s stuck deep, fused right into your bloodstream. So, when Jimin mentioned that this mausoleum is rumored to house an entire underground crypt with a coven of petrified vampires, you had no choice but to say yes.

It’s not that you necessarily believe in vampires. You’ve investigated enough rumors about them that only ever ended up being just someone trying to go viral that you’re pretty desensitized to it. But, you still can’t deny the rush at the slight chance that maybe one day it won’t just be porcelain veneers glued onto teeth or puncture marks made with hypodermic needles.

Jimin’s been pretty tight-lipped about the details provided to him concerning the underground crypt, claiming he wants it to be a surprise. It’s like a dual-edged sword. You want to be here, but you also have a queasy feeling in your gut that tells you that you should have stayed back at the warehouse. You’re far more comfortable reviewing the camera footage and the audio clips during the post-production process not experiencing them firsthand.

“We’re getting close,” Taehyung comments, gesturing off to the side as the first crumbling headstones come into view. “According to the map of the grounds, there are a few plots where the forest has begun to encroach, roots going through the slabs and damaging the headstones. It’s a shame this place has been closed off to the public or is restricted from general maintenance. It makes you wonder where all the descendants are and whether or not they care if great, great uncle Barnaby is turning into a macabre version of Groot.”

“It’s not nice to joke about the dead like that,” Jungkook says, speaking for the first time since you all left the van almost an hour ago. He slips the headphones from his ears and lets them hang around his neck. “Uncle Barnaby might be listening and not care for your poor pop-culture reference.”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything further. Aside from Jimin, Jungkook takes investigating more seriously than anyone else. He’s working on his Ph.D. in Paranormal Sciences and has a slew of successful investigations under his belt. You tend to gravitate toward Jungkook for his invaluable insight and perspective on all things occult. He always manages to make things less scary and more palatable thanks to his logical approach.

“The paperwork the owners gave us had stories from previous caretakers. It contained some gnarly shit like demonic possessions and finding entirely exsanguinated animals left in pentagram patterns outside the mausoleum doors. They’re pretty sure that at one point in the late sixties, there was a satanic cult frequently breaking in to do desecration rituals in the prayer room. They were climbing over the fence and using a crowbar to pry the grates off the windows,” Jimin recounts, unmistakable glee in his voice at the prospect.

“Right up your alley,” you murmur. Jimin gives your hand another squeeze before removing it from your pocket and slipping his glove back on. “Why didn’t they let us drive the van up here? Would have been nice not to have to lug all this equipment with us.” The backpack you’re wearing has a plethora of film and monitoring equipment. A dull ache is starting to set in from the constant weight tugging on your shoulders.

“They didn’t want to risk any damages or something like that by having a vehicle drive down.” Jimin shrugs. You huff at that absurd notion as if a van could do much more damage to the headstones and slabs than nature hasn’t already done.

“Fuck,” you breathe, catching your first glimpse of the abandoned mausoleum. You stop in your tracks to fully take it in.

The others slowly come to a stop beside you. “Damn,” Jimin says, more awe than anything in his voice. “Now, this is what I’m talking about! Hell yeah, this place looks promising as fuck.”

Moss-covered, broken headstones are scattered around the area in no particular pattern. Some are so weathered away by age they’re nothing more than an oblong blob of stone peaking above knee-high weeds and grass.

The mausoleum is highlighted in stark relief by the overhead full moon, making it seem even more ominous. It stands like a withered marble sentinel guarding centuries-old secrets. There is only one entrance, the wooden door covered heavily in thick, rusted chains that sag from corner to corner. A rusted padlock is busted off to the side, and there is a discarded pair of bolt cutters beside it.

“Everyone is up to date on their tetanus shots, right?” Jungkook murmurs, with his own head shake. It seems Jimin might be the only one feeling any sort of enthusiasm for the investigation ahead now that everyone can see what they’re walking into.

“Come on. We’re running out of good prep time.” Jimin charges forward at a brisk, confident pace toward the entrance.

You make a note of the new-looking iron bar grates covering the windows. “They can put iron bars on the windows but can’t cut the grass?”

“Gotta keep out the riff-raff,” Taehyung comments idly.

“Or maybe they’re intended to keep something in,” Jungkook adds. Mild curiosity flavors his words. You can tell he’s sliding into his professional mode. His eyes miss nothing. You know he’s keeping mental tabs on even the most minor nuances.

You sigh. “Let’s just get this over with. The sooner we get set up, the sooner we can get started. Are we setting any cameras or monitors up out here?”

“I think it’ll be best to set up two surveillance feeds out here, and we just monitor them from the hub we set up inside. There are two grave sites that were listed in the pamphlet, where a lot of activity has been reported. I'd like to get at least one camera and recorder at each.” Jimin begins going through the list of where he wants things set up as he and Jungkook work to get the chains removed and the wooden door open. The hinges squeal and spit clouds of brick-colored rust as the door is heaved open.

The inside of the mausoleum is dark and cold, the air stale and dusty. The central atrium is somewhat bare, with only a few scattered, broken wooden benches and overturned vases. Along the walls are square blocks of stone with etched names and dates on them. It doesn’t look like anyone has been inside for ages. A thick coating of dust covers the stone floor, and cobwebs hang from every corner.

Taehyung gets started on outside surveillance. It’s not long before the base cameras are in place, and the lines are led inside to the hub that he sets up just inside the door. Jungkook takes your backpack and helps you unpack some of the audio equipment in it. Two large, battery-powered stand lights are placed on either side of the hub, illuminating the far walls and single entry into the back hallway that leads to the prayer room, upper crypt, and the stairwell down into the lower chamber.

“What’re you thinking as far as starting places?” Jungkook asks Jimin

“I think you’ll want to begin in the prayer room with your usual load out. That is where a lot of the cult activity happened and where a few of the reports are from,” he tells Jungkook. “Taehyung, I think it’ll be best to set up the hub right here at the entrance to keep as much electronic interference away from our other devices as possible. We’ll start down in the lower crypt,” he instructs, gesturing between you and himself. “We’ll check it out and set up a camera down there and then head to the upper crypt. Let’s all meet back here at 1 AM to reconvene; we’ll do a stint outside and then come back in the main atrium for a group session at the witching hour before we wrap up.”

Everyone splits up, grabbing their designated equipment before dispersing. Jimin gave everyone a copy of the grounds’ map to ensure they knew where they were going. You hardly think anyone will need it, considering how basic the upper floor layout is. Jimin leads you toward the hallway at the back of the central atrium. Jungkook trails a few paces behind.

“Can we get a coms check before we go any further?” you ask, lifting the walkie-talkie in your hand.

Jimin stops just inside the hallway and turns, giving you a tight smile. He clicks the radio button on his own walkie. “Check, check. How’s the connection sound, Taehyung?”

Taehyung snorts from across the room. “At this range, of course it works. It will be more of a test once you put a few feet of stone between us. But we’ll get to that. Check in again in 10 minutes. If you can’t get patched in, head back up here, and we’ll see if we got enough line for a hardwire.”

You grumble at Jimin and huff, “Forgive me for trying to be cautious.”

“Babe, I appreciate your caution,” Jimin intones teasingly. “Let’s just get started, and we’ll address any radio issues if they come up.”

Jungkook quietly brushes past you, giving Jimin a slight nod. He disappears down the dark hallway a moment later. “Lead the way.” You gesture toward the descending stairs.

“We’ll radio up in a few,” you call back to Taehyung.

Jimin begins down the steps, a flashlight in his hand illuminating the way. “Can you feel it? Fuck, I love this. It’s such a rush. My heart is racing!”

“I think you’re the only one that could get a boner from an abandoned tomb.” Your response has Jimin’s laughter echoing down the spiraling staircase.

“You’ve clearly never fucked in a cemetery before, and it shows,” he sasses back in jest.

You shake your head, choosing to ignore his blatant jab. “Do you really think there’s a coven of petrified vampires down here? Were there pictures in the pamphlet?”

Jimin holds up a finger. “If you wait just a minute, you’ll be able to see for yourself.”

“Fine.”

The stairs wind around another curve before they end, leading right into a large circular chamber. Jimin’s flashlight swings wildly from side to side as he swivels to look around. You catch glimpses and snippets of what’s inside. A stone statue resides in the very center of the room, with three wooden caskets situated in an arc around it.

Digging into the backpack in your hand, Jimin pulls out a battery-powered stand lamp. He extends the tripod legs and situates it at the bottom of the stairs. You wait patiently on the bottom step as he works to illuminate the space.

Jimin is practically bouncing on his toes in anticipation as he gets the light set up. With his free hand, he grabs your arm and jostles you as he chuckles softly. You can hear his uneven, anticipatory breathing. A tingle winds itself down your spine, and you flex your fingers to stave off the nerves.

“There!” Jimin announces triumphantly, finally getting the lamp stationed. He flicks the power switch on the back of the lamp head, and bright, white light floods into the space.

“Wow.” The backpack in your hand slips from your now-lax fingers. It’s a scene that’ll be burned into your memory for all your days.

“Holy shit.” Jimin quickly takes a few steps toward the middle of the room.

The stone statue in the center of the room is mounted atop a small marble block. The figure's details are exquisite, rivaling the craft of Strazza or Michelangelo. It’s like a living man was doused in ice, frozen while presenting a vital speech. His arms are thrown wide, and his mouth is open in a rictus snarl, exposing elongated canines that seem to glint like diamonds in the flare from the stand lamp—the swooping waves of shoulder-length hair frame the striking face. The garb fashioned in the stone is reminiscent of the late 19th century, with a flared neckline exposing the expertly defined dip of a delicate collarbone and tight trousers accentuating lithe leg muscles.

The teeth are more startling than anything. To you, at least. They look out of place against the stone of the statue. “I knew it,” you grumble.

“Knew what?” Jimin asks, confused over the sound of your disappointment. He takes a few steps closer to the statue before glancing back at you and raising an eyebrow in question.

You step around the lamp and cross the space to stand beside him. Being this close gives you an even better vantage to see the clearly fake teeth. “Can’t you see it? Those are obviously fake. Someone must have glued them to the stone. They’re not even the same material. Whoever did it didn’t even try to make it match.”

Jimin frowns and rests his hands on his hips as he returns to studying the statue. “The fangs? They do look a little funny, don’t they?”

“Are those nailed shut?” Your question has Jimin swinging back around to look at where you’re now focused.

You’re facing the side where one of the coffins extends beyond the statue's base. Each one is the stereotypical coffin shape. The wood is old, weathered with age but surprisingly not crumbling or rotting. There are four large iron nails slightly protruding from the top, bottom, and sides of each lid. In the center of the coffins, there are crudely carved symbols that you don’t recognize.

“Interesting,” Jimin hums. “We’ll take a closer look at those in a moment. Right now,” he turns back to the statue, “let’s try to debunk this bad boy. Let’s roll on camera two for now.” He drops his backpack and squats down to dig inside.

“I’m going to check comms with Taehyung,” you mumble. You turn the dial to channel two and click the radio button on the walkie. “Check, check. Taehyung, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, beautiful. JK’s also good on comms. The line will remain open and hot as needed. You guys shouldn’t be long down there. Stop by the hub before you head to the upper crypt. Tell Jimin I fixed his thermal reader, the one he broke last time. I forgot to mention it earlier. Just cue for me before you start recording.” Taehyung’s voice only breaks a few times, the connection crackling lightly every few words.

“Thanks, will do.” You give two clicks on the walkie to signal that you and Jimin are about to start recording.

Still kneeling by his backpack, Jimin pulls out one of the handheld cameras. He adjusts the settings and then turns it on himself. “Team Park, vampire crypt, camera two, currently eleven-fifteen at night,” he rattles off the media information for production. “For legal purposes, I’m here of my own volition,” he finishes, looking into the camera's lens and smiling.

He stands up and directs the camera toward you. You repeat the line and then turn to the statue. “What do you suggest?”

“Well, this can all be edited out. But, I suggest we play a little game first. Just for shits and giggles and because I truly want to see how you’ll react to one of your deepest, darkest fantasies.”

That makes your brow furrow. You glance back at him. “What?”

Jimin smirks. “I dare you to put your arm in the statue's mouth and act like he’s biting you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stifle the wash of embarrassment that floods through you. “Wow. You’re an asshole. You know that?”

“Come on! How many times are you ever going to get this chance? Seriously. What’s the harm? It’s just a statue.”

Slowly opening your eyes, you let them drift back to the statue. As if your body has a mind of its own, your tongue peeks out and slides over your bottom lip. What is the harm? Jimin knows all about your sordid vampire fantasies. You have always wanted to be bitten, even if it’s just pretending. Sure, you could ask a real guy to dress up and play along…but there’s just something thrilling about the statue, and let’s be honest, real men kind of suck—and not in a good way.

You finally sigh and stick your tongue out at Jimin. “This stays between us. Understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up and do it already.” Jimin sniggers, taking a step closer to you and the statue. “Got to make sure I get a close-up of this.” He angles the camera toward the bottom of the figure, intent on doing an upward pan but stops short. “What’s that on the base?”

Jimin gestures to the mounting block when you look at him questioningly. There is a faint inscription chiseled into the stone face. You can barely make it out. It's so faint. You kneel to get a better look, running your fingers along the jagged letters. “It’s some sort of inscription,” you murmur. Realization dawns a moment later, and you can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny? What does it say?”

“Could this get any more cheesy-vampire-bullshit?” You laugh again. “It says, ‘Forever immortalized beneath blood and bone, Beware the wicked one cast in stone, Tread light of foot and soft of voice, The sentinels are listening for your choice, Beckon forth and decide for thee, If a willing offer ye be, Cursed for power and wounded pride, Just a drop to break the curse and become the monster's bride’.”

Now it’s Jimin’s turn to laugh. “Okay, wow. Yeah, I get it now. Jeez, whoever did those teeth must have done that, too, because damn, that’s so fucking corny. A warning that rhymes and is full of mysticism and woo-woo shit, how cliche.”

“This is so stupid. Let’s just go.”

Jimin swings the camera up to your face. “Don’t even think about leaving until we do this. If anything, this is even more of a reason to do it.” There is a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Come on, indulge me, indulge in you.”

“You owe me an entire bottle of wine, and I’m taking a month-long vacation this summer— without you.” Sighing, you move close to the statue. “Fucking hell,” you mumble to yourself. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. Remind me why we’re still friends?”

Jimin tuts softly. “Because we’re cut from the same cloth, babe. I know all your fantasies and am helping make some of them come true. I tried dressing up like Dracula for you last year, which didn’t do the trick. Consider this me upping the ante and embodying what a true best friend would do. You’ll be thanking me later.”

“Halloween last year? Those plastic teeth were ridiculous, and we both know it,” you gripe. “Maybe I should see if Jungkook would be interested in—“

“Stop stalling and do it,” Jimin cuts you off. You can tell that mentioning Jungkook has struck a nerve, and it makes you feel a bit better about all the teasing and jests Jimin’s been making at your expense.

You step up onto the marble block the statue is mounted on. Shuffling your feet between the spread ones of the statue brings you almost eye to eye with the remarkable figure. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say those eyes were boring into yours. Bracing your left hand on the shoulder of the statue, you lean in and raise your right. You let it hover in front of the gaping maw for a few seconds as your heart pounds away in your chest, and your breathing goes shallow.

The mouth looks wide enough for your wrist to fit, but as you press your arm forward, you feel the chilling sensation of stone pressing into the soft flesh of your wrist. Loosening the fist you have your hand curled into, you wiggle your fingers to alleviate any remaining tension and try to press your wrist forward again, a little harder this time.

A smile spreads across your lips as you feel your wrist slide past the teeth, but it quickly fades as twin slices of pain ignite a fire in the side of your wrist. You let out a startled cry as the pain flares in intensity.

“Are you okay?” Jimin questions, lunging forward to offer assistance if you need it.

He barely takes a step before he’s thrown back. You scream, ripping your wrist from the statue’s mouth. Your arms windmill in the air as you lose your footing. What feels like an iron lock snaps around one of your flailing arms, and a band of steel encases your waist, preventing you from lurching backward with the concussive blast of rock and cold air that sent Jimin flying. You blink away dust, and once the cloudy debris settles, you come face to face with a beautiful nightmare.

You clutch your bloody wrist to your chest, automatically trying to shield the wounds—the twin puncture marks—that you know are there. Brown eyes ringed in a bloom of crimson stare back at you. They blink slowly a few times as the lower jaw works from side to side before snapping shut. The protruding canines settle over the bottom lip, creating divots in the flesh. The points of those teeth are stained red with blood. Your blood—which runs cold in your veins as you stare back into those inhuman eyes.

The arm around your waist tightens a fraction, along with the fingers wrapped around your other wrist. “Please let me go,” you barely manage to whisper through trembling lips.

A low growl rumbles through the chest you’re pressed so tightly against. You can feel it vibrate through your sternum. “No,” comes the harsh, grave response. “I’ve waited hundreds of years for a worthy soul like yours to come along. You are mine. Come to me of your own volition, offering me a blood sacrifice, pledging to be my bride.”

The three coffins situated around the statue give a startling rattle, like whatever is inside is pounding against the lid, making you scream again. “B-bride?” you balk in utter horror.

Those cruel lips curl up, drawing your eyes back to the long canines–fangs. “Why, yes. You’re to be my very own blood bride.”

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #vampire yoongi #bts smut #bts angst #bts vampire au #bts au #bts accidental marriage au #bts strangers to lovers #bts imagines #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bangtanwhq

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extralively · 5 months ago

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youtube

While I'm editing the next chapter of the fic, here's a song rec that I think can be kind of a lil sneak peak of what's going to happen (◡‿◡✿) There will be more songs coming once the chapter is posted to go with it, but... yup.

Also, a thing I realized recently while writing this new mini-arc in the fic is that I haven't actually delved too deep into Yura's backstory! When I was starting out with the fic, I figured that since this is fanfiction, people won't really care about a random OC's backstory right from the get go, so I ended up choosing to keep it as a bit of a mystery to be revealed with time. And while I did reveal the general idea of it, I haven't really shown you guys what Yura's childhood was really like in a way that would contextualize all her past trauma and present insecurities... until now!

...I mean, until a future chapter (not this next one), that is. To be honest, it was only meant to be a quick flashback into her childhood that, as usual, had me getting carried away and it turned into a whole ass chapter of Yura's life up until her reaching Jujutsu Tech, but it ended up fitting pretty nicely in what's going on in the present time. And I figured that if you're some 70+ chapters deep into this series then you're probably invested in the whole thing already so now it's the time lmao

anyway just letting you guys know because idk. I hope her backstory will be entertaining (once we get there)? haha

anyway anyway, let me go back to editing the next chapter (not the Yura's backstory one) cause Things are about to Happen (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

#like i've had yura's backstory in my head for so long #but i hadn't actually written any of it out to you guys yet #there's a lot there that explains her behavior towards her and satoru's relationship so i think that can be interesting #plus her and the fushiguros #i figured that now was the time lol #satoyura #i wish i could also speed up the updates because i have a handful of chapters already written #but work has me buuuusy @_@#Youtube

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bunni-v1 · 2 months ago

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Cureé

Chapter 6: Strength Previous Chapter || Next Chapter Tw: None (I think!) Info: Rook x Reader; Jamil x Reader; Kalim x Reader Word Count: 4.6k Words

🍓Finally I finished and edited chapter 6!!! Yaya!!! Ugh this took too long. I have zero time to get anything done, I apologize. I'm typing this up during class rn so I hope I don't fuck up and miss anything.

Taglist: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing @roseinbloom02 @savanaclaw1996 @agaygothicmushroom @chloemari-e @qmabailor(Lmk if you want to be added or removed)

You gave Leona and Riddle a half-assed excuse, ‘so very tired’, and neither of them is bothered to protest. Riddle does insist on walking you back, but you manage to weasel your way out of that with a few well-placed lies. You sneak your way to a little nook hidden behind some pretty maple trees in the garden.

You and your brother used to retreat here when you wanted to hide away from the scary governmental figures or simply didn’t want to be bothered. Your mother would always come to find you and hide away until your father scolded all three of you for messing around too much. You press your fingers against a loose stone, and it pops out clean and easy. It reveals a small hole within the castle wall, one that your mother had used to store her hunting gear.

It wasn’t exactly a secret, not to your family at least, but it was good for keeping important things concealed. Your brother had stopped coming here when your parents passed, leaving it to be yours and yours alone. Not that you had much use for it anymore either, until now. You’d hidden that pretty staff in there a few days ago along with the bow Epel had gifted you, and your warmest cloak. You pull the items out, appreciating each for a moment, then begin work on your god-awful dress.

First, the ruffly, pastry-esque dress, which comes off easily. The sleeves give you trouble, but not nearly as much as the corset that is suffocating your ribcage. It takes you a few miserable tries to get the knotted bow undone on the wretched thing, but once you do you feel your midsection deflate. Goodness your ribs hurt, you don’t get how your brother does this every day.

The extra petticoat and crinoline are easy, and all that is left is a newly fitted pair of pants and a loose poet shirt with the sleeves cut off. Not the best for hunting, but… you weren’t hunting, so it would work. It was better than the dress.

You fight the dress into the little hole, and with the patience of a saint, you carefully slide the stone back into its place. On the fourth try. Still, it's done, so you give yourself a pat on the back and arrange your other items comfortably across your body. As you emerge from the trees, you peek at the clock. Luckily, it's only half past midnight, but… you are still late. Hopefully, Rook would be kind enough to dismiss your transgression.

You had no way to let him know you had other things going on tonight, but you were a princess so it should be obvious.

You tip-toe across the palace ground, narrowly dodging a few rotating guards, and finally, you are at your meeting spot. Before Rook, unless he gave up waiting for you. You scoff, what a silly idea. He’s too much of an oddball to give up after a bit of waiting.

This exit is the closest to the forest. It's the same one you and Epel used the night everything got all… messed up. You frown at the vast expanse of trees in front of you. They used to be so inviting – a symbol of freedom. Now they were so scary. There was so much uncertainty surrounding the thing you’d seen in there, and now all you felt when you looked into their branches was confusion.

You’d never gotten lost in that forest, but boy did you feel like you were now.

You bite the inside of your cheek, looking down at the staff in your hand. You still weren’t sure if this was a good idea, honestly, you doubted it was. Despite the adamant support of your friends and the small leads you’d gotten that motivated you, there was a fear that this was not the right path. If you hadn’t gone into the forest that night, you would’ve remained none-the-wiser about all of this. Vil probably would’ve solved it by himself, albeit probably very underhandedly, and you would be happy. At least… you think you would be.

Something settles on your head, making you jump. You look up to an arm and follow it back to the sly smile that does something unfair to your heart.

“Pourquoi si triste?” You tilt your head a little, and he steps closer, “Your heart is aching, I can see it in your eyes. What is worrying you so?”

“Not even hello?” you try to joke, but his everpresent smile doesn’t let up, “I’ve never disobeyed my brother like this. Not to this extent. What if I’m doing the wrong thing?”

He ‘tsks’ at you, like you’re a child, wagging his finger disapprovingly, “That’s not an attitude to have, Amour.”

“Could you at least try and see it from my perspective?” You plead, “I’ve spent my whole life doing as I was told, and this is scary.”

He grins at your words, it is somehow still reassuring, “Fear is what makes us grow. Fear brings about much needed change. La peur est le pouvoir.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t argue with that.

He nods his head further from the exit, taking your hands in his and leading you away into the forest. You feel a bit like Romeo and Juliet, though, contextually this is quite different. Still, you are forbidden lovers (could you call him your lover?) sneaking away in the dead of night. You do hope neither of you die tragically, though.

His sharp green eyes, which should be dangerous, ground you from any fear you’d been having about the trees. His hands a physical tether to reality so you do not lose yourself to your overwhelming thoughts. Before you know it, the two of you are at a small clearing, different from the one you and Epel usually use. This one is significantly more oblong and more untouched by mankind.

“So. Magic.” You say after gathering your bearings.

“Yes,” he responds cheerily, “before we begin, have you ever performed any spells at all? Even if it was something small like a levitation spell.”

You nod, “I don’t remember what I was being taught, but I think I used to be able to do very basic spells.”

“May I ask how old you were?” He continues.

“I think… six? Maybe seven?” You answer honestly.

“A very long time,” he hums, “you’ve forgotten most of what you’ve learned.”

“All.” You correct with a laugh. “Sorry, you’ll have to be patient with me.”

He eyes you, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking, but you know it must be mischievous by his response. “More time together, ma belle.”

You manage to fight back the flush that takes over your face and wave your wand menacingly in his direction, forcing the distance you need to calm down. He holds his hands up in defense, still smiling. He was always smiling.

“You brought your staff,” he hums approvingly as if he hadn’t told you to bring it.

“I need it, do I not?” You probe.

“Not necessarily,” he admits with a shake of his head, “performing magic works with or without the wand, but many magicians find it easier to do their jobs when channeling magic through the gems.”

You blink. The gem? You thought all of those were decorative. However, there would be no reason for all wands and staves to have them if that were the case. Still, if it were just the gems, why did you see so many wands and not nearly as many accessories with the gems at the centerpiece? It would be far more efficient, and significantly more pretty. Not to mention easy to hide.

“Think of it like fire,” he continues, “Fire needs a second source to grow strong. It cannot spread unless there is something for it to feed off. In this case, magic is the fire and the gem is the fuel.”

“If that's the case, then how are we able to perform magic without the gem,” you question, face scrunching up in scrutiny.

He finds it cute, judging from his laugh, and explains, “The gem acts as a fuel and a filter. It creates a more steady, controllable stream of magic that's stronger than that created with the bare hands.”

“Like… using a magnifying glass to bend the sunlight?” You try, smiling when he nods approvingly.

“Exactly like that,” he pats your head, and you press him away again with the pointed end of your staff, “Outil. Something we use to make things easier on ourselves.”

It makes sense that even something as fantastical as magic has rules and boundaries. While it is, quite literally, something that is wild it is natural in this world. As a natural product of your world, it must also follow the logic that Twisted Wonderland has pre-established. Magic is not some distant, terrible thing that intends to harm you. It is a discipline, just like history or horse riding.

“So, where do we begin,” you ask, staring at the gem cradled so carefully in the cat's paws, “Is it something we have to build up for?”

“We will start with what feels right,” you cock an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms unimpressed, but he doubles down, “Somethings are easy for some people but difficult for others. Magic is all about doing what feels best for you.”

You flex your jaw as you think, “Like… how some hunters prefer newer guns or crossbows, but others prefer longbows?”

“Precisely, you are very good with analogies, Princess.” He compliments sweet as honey.

“I read a lot. Anyway, how about… a light spell? That seems like a simple one.”

He hums, moving to position himself behind you. He is somehow warmer than Riddle was, possibly because of the cloak, and significantly larger. He easily rests his chin atop your shoulder as he guides the hand with the staff up and out a few feet away from you.

“Visualize the light coming from the staff,” he commands.

You do as he says, closing your eyes and trying your best to visualize the light in your mind. You can see it, the gem sparkling, and then white light glimmering from between the cat's paws, illuminating the area. You pry open an eye, and there is no light, just your staff pointing up at the sky uselessly.

You nearly give up, but Rook wraps his hand around yours and gives it three gentle taps. You glance up at him, then look back in determination. Maybe closing your eyes wasn’t the call. You muster up the mental image in your head, glaring hard at the gem. There is a tingle in your fingertips after a long moment, and then the tiniest glimmer of light shines.

It’s not even enough to illuminate the area, only the little cat itself, but pride still swells in your chest. You did it. You can do magic. Rook’s arms wrap around you to clap, jovially singing praises. A bit of an overreaction, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

“It was hardly a spark,” you scoff, despite how excited you are.

“Most beginners can hardly handle that! You did it in one try. You’re a natural.” He’s practically serenading you, not that you’re complaining.

You have to shove yourself out of his arms, which are so firmly holding you in place against his chest, to properly ready yourself again. One success doesn’t mean anything in the long term, but it does help get your hopes up.

“Again,” you say, leaving no room for argument.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

You stay in the forest for another two hours, repeatedly practicing that light spell until you can both consistently use it and the light is bright enough to guide you through the dark. You can only do the ladder one out of five tries, but it’s still progress!

By the time Rook is guiding you out of the forest and up to your room, you are too tired to think. Who knew magic was so… draining? It was like any other use of energy, you supposed, but this felt a bit extreme. You were practically being carried by the sly huntsman up the stony stairs of the castle, not that you had any protests.

He was slick enough to get both of you around without raising alarms, and even if you were caught he could come up with several excuses with that silver tongue of his. Goodness, you really should not trust him, should you?

“Ma Cher, are you alright?” He asks though it's very obvious you are not.

Still, you humor him with a smile, “I am very tired. I did not expect that to take so much energy.”

“Poor thing…” he coos, “allow me to help you.”

You go to question, but he’s already slid his arms under your legs, carrying you princess style. You let out a little yelp, which he hushes with a tap on your thigh. If anyone were to pass by now, it would look like the princess is being kidnapped by a wannabe Robinhood.

“Better?” He asks with all the enthusiasm of a puppy.

You don’t have the energy left to bicker at him, so you sigh, “Much. Thank you, Rook.”

He quietly takes you to the window below your bedroom, the pretty Wisteria climbing up your Trellis a welcoming sight. You had chosen them with your father years ago at the market, and they had been just what you needed to pretty up your favorite spot in the castle. It’s too bad he never got to see them reach the top, he would’ve loved them. Your aching bones are crying for the comfort of your bed, which is so close, but still so far. Just one climb away, but you doubt you could will yourself to do such a thing right now.

You look up to Rook, tilting your head a little, “You don’t mean to make me climb that, do you.”

He smirks, “Of course not. Not in your state. I will climb for the both of us.”

“What.” You say, more of a statement than a question.

Surely he did not mean to tell you he was going to climb up with one free hand. Could he even do such a thing with a person in his arms? You squeak as he adjusts you to be thrown over his shoulder, one arm firmly gripping your legs, and the other climbing up to your balcony. As the ground got further and further away, you became more and more religious, praying that the Seven might have mercy on your weak little heart.

You are jostled and jolted around with each vault up the Trellis, but make it up in one piece. Your heart may have stopped a few times though. When he sets you down inside your room, you place your hand over it and sigh when you feel its thrum against your hand. Calm now, you fixate a glare on him.

“You have no manners,” you scold, arms crossed.

He moves across the room, to your closet, and begins to examine your many nightgowns while ignoring you, “You have many dresses.”

“I’m a princess,” you say as if it was obvious, which it was, “That’s our whole thing.”

He pulls a two set of silken pajamas, your favorite set, out, “You don’t seem to like them much.”

You take the pajamas out of his hands, shove him out, and begin to change. “I do not. Not much, at least.”

“You look beautiful in them,” he compliments, “but you are at your best in your hunting gear.”

You think he means it as a compliment, and you’re not exactly sure what he’s complimenting, but it flatters you regardless, “Thank you. I think so too.”

You smooth over the cool fabric of the pajamas, smiling to yourself. Now these made you feel pretty. They weren’t form fitting, but they weren’t too loose. You felt good, and you felt like you looked good in them. How Rook managed to pick these out was a mystery, but you stepped out and gave him a little spin.

“How do I look in these?” You giggle, facing him.

A wide, almost glowing grin lights up his face, “Magnifique!”

Heat rushes up your face, and you cannot hide your embarrassment, but that doesn’t bother you as much as it should. “Do you like silk, Rook?”

“I do,” he affirms, following you with his eyes as you settle on your bed, “it’s a beautiful fabric. Soft and shimmering.”

“I feel the same way. It makes me feel pretty when I wear it, which is what clothing is meant to do.” You admit, “I wish I could feel this way wearing everything.”

“You are beautiful wearing everything,” he defends as if second nature.

“And you are a flirt,” you laugh, pressing into the plush of your pillows and closing your eyes, “a shameless, strange, admittedly very charming flirt.”

You feel him sit on the opposite of the bed, and you don’t have to see to know he is watching you. The way the hair prickles on the back of your neck is sign enough. This time, though, you do not feel like prey being stalked at dinner. This is… comforting. Like being watched by a guardian angel.

His gentle hands tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the leather of his gloves rough but comforting all the same. It reminded you, briefly, of your brother coddling you when you were just a little thing. How you missed being just a little thing.

“Rest princesse,” Rook breathes softly as cotton, “you have earned this much.”

Without opening your eyes, you respond with a question, “When will I see you again?”

“I will visit you again in a week,” he assures, fingers trailing over your cheek and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I will practice in the meantime,” you finally open your eyes to his adoring smile, “I won’t let you down, I promise you.”

“You have never let me down.” He sighs. You don’t know what that means, or what it implies, or why he would say such a cryptic thing. You are warm and fuzzy inside from it regardless, “Practice with your knights. They will help you.”

You watch him, bewildered, as he moves in a swift motion across the room to the window. You’re not sure how much he knows about you and what happens behind these walls, but you know it’s much more than you’ve told him. It should make you feel sick and gross, but it is nice to be known in the way you know everyone else. It is also nice to not have to know this strange man.

As he perches on your window sill, a familiar sight to you now, you feel an ache in your chest. Is it longing? Desperation, maybe? No, no, this is something else. Its worry. You were worried for him, and you weren’t sure why. You’d seen what he’s capable of – you know what he’s capable of. Still, you can’t help it.

“Be careful,” you call out, voice soft as rain, “please.”

“When have I given you a reason to worry?” he responds with that strange smile of his, and then he is gone from view.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

The day after the dinner is entirely uneventful, as is the day after that, and then the day after that. It’s all boring proceeding after a tiresome meeting with court officials. Necessary, but entirely too drab. Normally your brother would amuse you, and you him, but since things are tense still that does not happen. It is only on the fourth day that you find yourself interested in something other than your mysterious hunter friend.

Bickering can be heard – well, more like grumbling and gleeful laughing – between the columns of the lower level of the castle. Bored out of your mind, Ace and Deuce are too busy with something involving Riddle, and Epel is still unable to visit you between his workload you decide being nosy is the best option.

You peak your head around the corner where you hear the commotion, and laugh at the sight. Kalim and his ‘friend’ (servant) Jamil are arguing about Sevens knows. Your little giggle reveals your position and startles the two men, both whipping their heads around to look at you, like terrified deer.

Kalim relaxes into a bright grin when he sees you, stopping his (unintentional) antagonizing to wave and bound over to you. He doesn’t see the glare Jamil levels on him, but he never does. You give Jamil an apologetic smile, which only earns you a glare of your own.

Unlike Kalim, Jamil was not kind. He was rather selfish and cruel, caring more about others' perceptions of him than anything else. Though, you would likely be the same way if your family was on the line. More than that, he hated the ruling class – not that you could blame him. Needless to say, he did not like you when you first met, but you think you can call him a friend now. You’d spent many late nights of Kalim’s visits up talking with him about how broken things were across the lands. He was smart, a nice match to your wit. You think he feels the same.

Kalim pulls you into a tight hug, something he hasn’t had the time to do since arriving. You wrap your arms around him too, sighing at the physical affection. Kalim was, among the other future rulers, your dearest friend. Unlike Jamil, you didn’t have to question that, and unlike your other suitors, you knew that he had no hidden motive. He was Kalim, your friend, and that was all he or you needed or wanted.

“It’s good to finally see you, Kalim,” you say as he pulls away, “and you too Jamil. I didn’t know you came with.”

“I’ve been busy herding people around,” Jamil groans, approaching, “Your brother loves free workers.”

“You look tired,” Kalim worries, ignoring Jamil’s complaints as always. You have no idea how Jamil puts up with that.

“I am tired,” you confirm, “I’ve been very busy the past few weeks, this is my first free day.”

“We’ve heard,” Jamil says dryly, “your birthday outburst was a sight to behold.”

You sigh, “I think my reaction was reasonable enough.”

“I’d be pretty scared if Malleus Draconia just… approached me like that,” Kalim admits while rubbing his neck, “especially if he were claiming me as his significant other. I probably wouldn’t have, y’know, yelled at him though.”

“The yelling was so I wouldn’t cry,” you admit, “I was just so heated.”

“Well, it’s over now,” Jamil states with finality, “he hasn’t bothered you since, right?”

“Thank the Seven,” you laugh, “I don’t know if I could keep myself together if he claims me as his partner again.”

“At least you’d live a cushy life with him. Anything you want, probably tons of delicious food,” Kalim muses, “I wonder what kind of food they have in the Valley of Thorns…”

“I’d rather not find out, thanks.” You chuckle, “What are the two of you up to, though? Anything fun?”

“No,” Jamil answers dryly, “We’ve done everything there is to do already, there’s no fun left here.”

“Imagine living here then,” you huff.

“No thank you,” Jamil responds quickly, “I’d rather not be around your brother more than necessary.”

Kalim frowns, clearly in disagreement, “Vil isn’t so bad. He’s just… uptight.”

“And pushy,” Jamil adds coldly.

“Reminds me a bit of a friend of mine…” You muse with a smile, eyes glancing over Kalim.

It takes him a second to get the hint, but once he does, he visibly flusters. “I’m not that bad!”

“So you admit Vil is bad,” Jamil smirks.

You can tell Kalim can’t handle the teasing, so you pat him on the back lightly. He takes it all well, smiling as though it never happened. You missed them quite a bit, not having seen them since Kalim’s last birthday party. Even then, he was so busy entertaining others, that you were mostly alone with your brother the whole time.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long,” you sigh.

Jamil raises an eyebrow, but Kalim is the one to ask, “So long since what?”

“Since we’ve talked like this,” you force out, throwing your hands up, “It felt like we were all strangers for a while.”

“We’re not little kids anymore,” Jamil answers, ever the cynic he is, never one to wistfully long for the old days. Not that they were too pleasant for him. “We’ve all got responsibilities now, there's no time to sit and talk anymore.”

“It’s nice to do that sometimes, though.” Kalim argues, “It’s okay to take breaks and catch up with friends, so long as you still get things done.”

You nod along, but you doubt Jamil feels the same way. He’s not allotted the same things as both you and Kalim, whether or not Kalim notices this fact. “You are right, but not everyone is afforded that grace. I know my townspeople aren’t, at least very rarely. We’re very privileged to be allowed to complain about this at all.”

The look on their faces is nearly unreadable, and you feel a little worried you’d upset them, but Kalim grins that sweet grin of his. Bright as sun. “Your people are lucky to have someone like you.”

“No. I’m nothing special,” you dismiss, “You are a blessing to your people. Everyone in the Scalding Sands speaks so fondly of you, I wish I could be adored like that.”

“Y’know, I used to wish I was half as considerate as you are,” he starts, “but then I just wouldn’t be me. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, and as much as my people love me, I know I’m kinda oblivious and selfish without trying. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m beloved, it just makes me flawed, and that's okay too.”

“Woah,” you say surprised. Kalim waxing poetry was not common, in fact, it never happens. He hates poetry, “Where did you get that from?”

Jamil throws his hands up, “Wasn’t from me.”

“Surely not,” you roll your eyes, “you’re not the kind to forgive flaws in others.”

He scowls at you, but makes no move to deny that fact.

“What I’m saying is,” Kalim laughs, taking your hands in his. They are warm like summer days spent rolling around in flower fields and jumping into creeks, “You should stop comparing yourself to everyone else here. You’re amazing. I mean, that speech you gave at dinner was- Even Leona seemed impressed!”

“Thank you, Kalim,” you say, genuinely thankful to hear it.

“If you two are finished courting each other,” Jamil interrupts, “Kalim is due to a meeting with some traders from the Scalding Sands in about an hour. If we want to be there in time, we’ll have to leave now.”

“Awwww,” Kalim whines, slumping over like a child, “do we have to.”

“It’s important. Your father will have my head if I don’t get on you about it.”

“But I want to talk with the Princess longer,” he continues to argue, which makes you smile a little too wide.

“Go, it’s important,” you urge, “you’ll be here a while longer, so we can talk other times.”

He pouts at you but doesn’t argue further, reluctantly allowing Jamil to pull him along. You give him a little wave, and Jamil a thumbs up, though he doesn’t seem to appreciate the gesture.

As you watch them, you consider what Kalim said about you carefully. You had been feeling so helpless recently with everything on your plate, but you were not weak in the slightest. You would just have to readjust those strengths to work in your favor now. You’d already begun to do so, negotiating with Riddle and Leona, sneaking around with Rook, and researching with Ace and Deuce.

Perhaps you were less helpless than you thought you were. That was scarier than being helpless.

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