#i just know i want ocean fresh smells

[thatmivy]

Planeshift Candles does custom character candles and I want to get one for Sruthán but I have no idea what scents to use.

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 3: Go with the Flow

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You get to know the other hotel moguls and their partners a bit more at a lavish cocktail party, and things begin to heat up between you and Joel.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, sexual tension, flirting, sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics, smutty thoughts, alcohol and food consumption

WC: 8.4K

Series Masterlist

He tipped me.

Yay! How much?

I don't know, I didn't open it.

Why???

You stared down at your phone, Celine's words jumping out at you from the screen. It was a good question. Why didn't you open it? You could tell yourself it didn't matter how much it was. It wasn't like you were spending your own money for the next month, anyway. But when you looked over at the nightstand where the envelope still sat untouched, you knew deep down why you didn't open it.

I don't know, guess it took me by surprise or something

You heard a light tap on your bedroom door and you looked up from your phone. "Yeah?"

"You're up. Good," Joel's muffled voice said from the other side. "Wanted to see if you were hungry."

I gotta go get ready for breakfast, I'll call you later

Be safe!

"Ten minutes!" you called back to him before flicking your comforter off and hurrying to your closet to pick out something to wear. You settled on a pair of wide leg linen pants and a light pink sleeveless top that showed just a sliver of your midsection. There were too many accessories to choose from so you did your best to keep it simple with a dainty chain necklace and pink pearl earrings, then tossed your phone and other belongings into a white purse before swinging your door open and heading down the hall. At the last second, you turned around and grabbed the envelope of cash, tucking it into the bottom of your bag for safekeeping.

You stopped in the bathroom to put on a tiny bit of makeup and a quick brush of your teeth before running your fingers through your hair with a shrug. After meeting Glenn, you felt a lot less pressure to conform and give the appearance of some wealthy socialite and instead, leaned into the relaxed beach vibe he exuded.

"Morning," you said breathlessly when you finally entered the living room. Joel was sitting in the middle of the couch, one ankle casually resting on his knee, legs spread wide and looking completely at ease as he stared down at his phone. He pocketed the device when he heard your voice and stood up, eyes drifting down once to look at your clothes and giving you an appraising nod. If it were any other man standing before you essentially giving you his unsolicited opinion on your choice of outfit, you would have had a few unladylike things to say. But when Joel did it, something inside you preened at his approval.

"Mornin'," he answered, and when he brushed past you to walk towards the door, you caught a whiff of mint and fresh soap mixed with the scent of his hair product.

Fuck, he smelled good.

"What are we doing today?" you asked as you trailed after him.

"Thought we'd settle in, get somethin' to eat, then we got pretty much all afternoon free before headin' over to Glenn's house."

"Oh, we're going to his home?" you asked, stepping on the elevator once the doors opened. He nodded and tapped the button for the second floor, where you remembered seeing some shops and restaurants advertised.

"Yeah, invited all of us over for cocktails by his pool. Supposed to have a beautiful place," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring up at the numbers above the door tick lower.

There were only two restaurants open that served breakfast, so Joel picked the one that had open seating on the patio. The hostess led you both to a table attached to a bright red umbrella fluttering in the wind that had an absolutely breathtaking view of the ocean.

"I don't think I'll ever get sick of this," you said dreamily while Joel flipped through the menu, his sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose. He just grunted in response and kept his eyes lowered. In fact, you were beginning to think he was avoiding looking at you most of the morning. You tilted your head to the side and reached an arm across the table, tapping a finger on the wood to get his attention.

"Hm?" he said, still looking down.

"Everything okay? Did you sleep alright?"

"Slept fine."

You pressed your lips into a thin line before giving up and opening the menu with a sigh. When the server came to get your order, all you asked for was coffee and some eggs with fruit. Handing the menu over to her before she left with a smile, you looked back across the table at Joel. Once again, his phone was hidden from view. A habit you were beginning to notice happened with meals, but you almost wished he had it out because it would have been better than the thick silence that hung between you.

"So, you said we had the afternoon. Did you want to go to the beach? Or maybe-"

"I gotta work," he said abruptly, and you felt your heart sink a little.

"Oh, right, of course. Sorry."

You thought you saw guilt flicker across his face for a brief moment before he cleared his throat and looked out towards the crashing waves on the shoreline.

"You could go to the beach. Don't lemme stop you."

"What? No, no, I'll hang back. Maybe just take a dip in the pool, unpack a little bit. I'm still a little jet lagged, anyway," you found yourself saying. It wasn't even true, but the thought of going to the beach alone sounded boring.

"There's a spa in the hotel. Massages, facials, that kinda stuff. Whatever you want just bill it to the room."

"Oh... okay. Maybe, yeah," you stammered. He was utterly confusing you. He wasn't acting like the Joel who was pinching your chin in the clothing store or gazing at you with admiration over dinner last night. It felt like you were back at square one and you had no idea what happened.

Once your food arrived, you ate in relative silence. You spent most of the meal taking in the scenery and people watching the other guests staying at the hotel. It wasn't until your plates were cleared when you noticed a familiar face.

You straightened up in your chair and, without thinking, reached a hand out to rest gently on Joel's forearm. His muscles tensed under your touch but you didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned forward, eyes still focused somewhere over his shoulder.

"Isn't that Zachary?"

Joel twisted around to look and groaned before turning back to you.

"Must be stayin' here, too."

You watched as Zoe arrived moments later wearing a long, flowing patterned dress with a deep neckline, showing a generous amount of cleavage, and sporting a large sun hat and oversized sunglasses. She slid them down and glanced around, almost immediately catching your eye and tossing you a flirty wave. You smiled and let go of Joel's arm, not noticing how he retracted it under the table after, and waved back.

"They're coming this way."

"Shit."

He pushed his sunglasses on and ran his fingers through his hair just as they approached your table.

"Miller," Zachary said gruffly by way of greeting, clapping Joel on the shoulder. He glanced up and forced a friendly smile for them both.

"Mornin'."

"Heard you were staying here. Got the two bedroom villa, huh? Expecting company?"

Joel frowned and shook his head. "How'd you know that?"

"Owner's a buddy of mine," he said, tapping the side of his nose with a mischievous grin.

"I tend to travel heavy. Joel wanted to get me the extra space for all my things," you told Zachary, your voice dripping with sweetness as you shot Joel what you hoped was a look of adoration.

"How thoughtful of you, Joel," Zachary said, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn't very sincere. "Looking forward to drinks later. You're both coming, right? Or do you gotta hang back and work?"

Your eyes darted back and forth between the two men, trying to get a read on the sudden tension and where it stemmed from, but you were lost.

"Nope. We'll both be there."

Joel's voice was curt, fingertips tapping on the table, quite clearly wishing he would leave. Zachary got the hint and looked Zoe's way.

"C'mon, darling. Let's get you something to eat. Kept you up way too late last night," he murmured with a wink. She smiled sweetly at him and when they both turned to head back to their table, she waved to you again.

"See you tonight!" she said brightly over her shoulder, seemingly unbothered by the awkwardness you both just witnessed.

Once they were both out of earshot, you gave Joel a look.

"That last comment was kind of gross."

Joel sighed and stood up. "Yeah, that's Zachary for you."

You scrambled to stand and joined him as you walked through the restaurant, back to the elevators, giving the pair one more friendly wave before disappearing from view.

"Do you guys not get along or something?" you asked once you were safely inside the elevator alone. Joel shrugged and kept his eyes on the numbers ticking away above the door.

"End of the day, they're all competition. It's all a game."

It felt like more than that, but you let it go.

Silently, you followed him back to the villa. Once inside, you busied yourself in the kitchen, weighing your options for the day while he set up a laptop on the dining room table. You didn't want to be in his way, but you didn't feel much like exploring on your own just yet. The exterior wall of the living room was completely made of glass, giving you both a spectacular view of your pool and the ocean beyond. He had logged into work and was getting settled at the table when you finally decided to spend the day at the gorgeous, private pool just outside. As you headed in the direction of your room, you glanced over your shoulder, about to tell him of your intentions, but he had already slipped in a pair of earbuds.

That was fine. He would be able to see you from his seat at the table if he wondered where you went.

When reviewing your options for bathing suits, you were shocked to find six different choices. Who on earth would need more than two? But you shrugged and decided on a simple black bikini, changing quickly and applying some sunscreen before finding a sheer green coverup amongst your things and slipping it over your shoulders. Rifling through your duffel bag, you found a book, your headphones, and your own sunglasses, all of which you brought with you before opening the glass door leading from your bedroom to the patio outside.

There was a white linen pergola next to the pool with two lounge chairs and a cabinet underneath. You picked a chair and put your things down before opening the cabinet to find a towel and some bottles of water. The amenities in the hotel were outstanding and you found yourself still struggling to get used to it. Everywhere you turned, you had everything you could possibly need. Is this really how the other half lived?

You slipped your coverup off, tossing it on top of your phone, and ran the tips of your fingers underneath the band of your bikini bottoms, straightening out the fabric and making sure you had coverage before timidly stepping towards the pool. Even from this distance you could hear laughter and music filtering from the beach, the sounds of summer and joy bringing a smile to your face as you dipped a toe into the pool. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when you realized the pool was heated to the perfect temperature, so you glided right in, submerging yourself underwater and popping back up with a refreshing gasp.

If Joel wanted to work the whole time you were there, then that was his choice. You knew in all likelihood you wouldn't ever get an opportunity like this again, and you were determined to enjoy it.

He was supposed to be working. In fact, he was supposed to be paying attention while the head of finance went over the last quarter's numbers on his laptop screen via video call, but instead he found his eyes drifting to the massive window overlooking the pool. Every time you emerged from the water, your body slick and that skimpy bikini stuck rather obscenely to your skin, he couldn't stop himself from staring. Thank Christ the windows were tinted.

"Joel?"

His eyes dragged back to the laptop and he cleared his throat. "Sorry, WiFi's a little spotty."

"No problem. I said we made record profits last quarter and we should be in a strong financial position to expand without requiring any loans."

"Fantastic," Joel replied, his eyes darting briefly to the window, swallowing hard when you took a break to drink some water. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, your soft lips wrapping around the plastic of the bottle. He felt his cock twitch and he forced his eyes back to the screen. This whole arrangement with you was proving to be a lot more challenging than he expected. He was doing his best to pull away from you and create some distance, but it wasn't working.

"What's the word out there? Think you got a shot at this piece of land?"

Joel shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Too early to say, but if I had to guess, it'll come down to me or Scott."

"Well, good luck, sir."

"Thanks. We'll talk next week."

Joel exited the meeting and the room was filled with silence once again. Emails popped up in the corner of his screen and he managed to focus for a couple hours, one call from HR in particular distracting him from looking at you, but around lunchtime he found his gaze wandering again. You were laid out on your lounge chair reading, legs stretched out, looking sunkissed and relaxed.

With a sigh, he looked down at his watch then stood up. Strolling to the kitchen, he picked up the phone attached to the wall while thumbing through the room service menu. He ordered a couple items for you to share before heading to his bedroom to find his swim trunks.

He never takes a break that doesn't involve clients, so what the hell? Just this once.

By the time he emerged from his bedroom and stepped out onto the patio, you had slipped back into the pool. You were gazing out towards the ocean with your chin resting on the backs of your hands as you leaned up against the edge of the infinity pool. When you heard his door close, you turned to look at him in surprise.

"Hey," you said happily, gaze flickering down his bare chest quickly before locking eyes with him again.

"Mind if I join you?"

You grinned and shook your head. "Not at all."

He tossed his sunglasses and the shirt he had clutched in his hand onto the other lounge chair, realizing for the first time he forgot his phone back inside, but he shrugged it off. He didn't need it anyway. Work could wait an hour.

"Feels nice," he said once he walked all the way into the pool, the water stopping just underneath his collarbone.

"Sure beats the above ground pool I had growing up," you joked.

"Hell, at least you had one."

"True," you sighed, wading over to a built in seat in the deep end so you could rest. "Got me in trouble a few times, though."

Joel quirked an eyebrow and slowly walked over, joining you on the other end of the seat. It gave you both the perfect view of the ocean. "What kinda trouble?"

You giggled and shook your head. "You know. Inviting my friends over to swim when I wasn't supposed to." You paused before quietly adding, "swimming with boys in the middle of the night."

"Boys?" Joel chuckled in surprise.

"Well, not boys. One boy. A boy."

He hummed and glanced at you. "Someone special?"

You shrugged, gaze still pinned on the ocean. "I guess at the time he was. He was my next door neighbor growing up."

"What happened?"

"He went away to college, I eventually moved out to LA, we just lost touch. I think he was my first real love."

For some inexplicable reason, Joel felt his chest grow tight. He rubbed it absentmindedly, refusing to give it too much thought.

"What about you?" you asked, tilting your head towards him. "Who was your first love?"

"Who says I had one?" he countered without even thinking. Now it was your turn to be surprised.

"You've never been in love?"

His eyes dragged down your face before taking a deep breath and looking away, already regretting sharing too much. "Been busy."

You laughed softly to yourself and shook your head.

"What?" he frowned.

"Nothing. I just don't think love checks with your schedule. When it happens, there's no stopping it, whether you like it or not, whether it's convenient or not."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Pretty profound."

You locked eyes and gave him an endearing smile. "I can be surprising."

"Oh, I'm very aware," he replied, his gaze dropping down briefly to look at the distorted image of your body through the water, then quickly met your eye again. "Nice suit, by the way."

Your cheeks instantly felt hot as you bit your lip and shyly looked away. "Thank you. You bought it."

"I have good taste."

"I think that's been established."

Shit. You were cute. And quick. But he already knew that.

"Wanna tell me what it's like?" he asked lowly, and you felt your breath hitch. "Bein' in love?"

"Oh, I don't want to spoil the surprise for you."

"I made it this far, ain't sure it's in the cards for me," he said, a smile pulling at his lips.

"I wouldn't count you out just yet," you replied softly.

He stared at you, your words hanging heavy in the air, as he struggled to formulate a response. Something about the way you were looking at him made him open his mouth before his brain had a chance to catch up. He was seconds away from telling you too much, from breaking one of his rules, from letting you in, but fortunately the door to the living room slid open, dissolving the tension in an instant.

"Mr. Miller? Room service."

You both turned your heads towards the two attendants holding silver trays with matching polished domed lids on top.

"Put them over there," he directed, pointing to the pergola. They nodded in unison and carefully placed the trays down, lifting the lids off with white gloves, and disappeared back inside.

"Thank you!" you called after them before the door closed. Your eyes drifted back to him but you could see the moment was over. When the living room door opened, Joel's door shut.

"Got us somethin' to eat," he explained, nodding in the direction of the pergola.

"That was thoughtful, thank you."

He spent another ten minutes outside with you, nibbling on assorted meats, cheeses and fruits until he stood with a groan, announcing he had work to get back to, and reminded you to be ready to leave by six that evening.

You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him slip back inside his room to change, convinced more than ever that there was a good man hidden underneath all that armor, you just had to keep chipping away.

"I'll need to thank your assistant one day. Whoever they are, I gotta admit, they did a good job," you told Joel in the back of the private car that was taking you to Glenn's estate. You smoothed down the fabric of your bright yellow sundress, loving the way it hugged your curves and made your skin glow.

"Did you ever have any doubt?" he asked, sliding his sunglasses down his nose so he could look at you over the top. You grinned and shrugged.

"Maybe."

You found yourself growing excited for the evening ahead. Even though you knew it was all an act, that Joel was paying you to pretend to be someone you're not, you found yourself enjoying it more than you thought. But shamefully you especially enjoyed the way Joel acted around you when others were present. You liked his touch and his smile as opposed to the closed off version you had been stuck with the remainder of the afternoon. He was utterly confusing and his mood shifts were giving you whiplash, but at least you knew what to expect at Glenn's house that evening.

"You think you'll be alright on your own for a bit tonight?" he asked as if he somehow read your mind, dashing all your hopes at seeing that softer side of him again.

"Sure," you answered timidly.

"Good. Wanna try to get some one on one time with Glenn, make some progress with 'em."

"Of course."

You looked out the window, heart suddenly deflated. If it was apparent you were disappointed, he wouldn't have even noticed. Per usual, he was staring down intently at his phone, hardly sparing you a glance the rest of the ride.

The car dropped you off in front of a huge, sprawling manor built right on the coast. In the distance, you could see the twinkling lights from other resorts, but Glenn managed to carve out his own little private paradise smack dab in the middle of tourist country.

"This is beautiful," you said breathlessly as you gazed up at the Mediterranean-style architecture surrounded by palm trees and exotic florals. It was dusk and the outside of the house and gardens were lit up with gorgeous ambient lighting, set on the backdrop of a deep purple and pink sky.

"C'mon," was all Joel said, nodding towards the stone walkway, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his khakis. You hurried to catch up with him while your head tilted back to admire the outdoor chandeliers hanging high above the front entrance.

It appeared you arrived just after everybody else. As you walked through the foyer towards the kitchen, you could hear pleasantries and welcomes being exchanged, along with drink orders and details on what hors d'oeuvres were being served.

At the last moment you wrapped a hand around the inside of Joel's elbow, but his hand stubbornly remained in his pocket.

"Ah, welcome!" Glenn bellowed when you stepped into the massive and meticulously kept kitchen. You tried not to gawk and did your best to act like you were around homes like that every single day and not, in fact, only familiar with them through reality TV and magazines.

You waved shyly and glanced quickly around the room while Joel led you to the bar. Already, the significant others had split off from their respective hotel moguls, laughing and sipping on drinks on the other side of the room.

Joel handed you a glass of wine with a warm smile that you couldn't help but return, then subtly cleared his throat, his eyes darting to the others across the room. You got the hint but before parting ways, you planted a kiss on his cheek. His stubble felt rough against your lips yet you felt a jolt in your stomach at the sensation, anyway. Wiping your lipstick from his tanned skin with your thumb, you turned to leave, pleased to feel his eyes on your back as you walked.

Zoe noticed you first. She waved excitedly and you waved back. Even if Joel couldn't stand Zachary, it was undeniable that Zoe's energy was infectious.

"Long time, no see," you joked, and she laughed. Your eyes trailed down her outfit and you shot her an envious look. "Love that dress," you added.

"Thanks! It's Valentino," then she cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered conspiratorially, "it's not even out yet."

"Wow!" you said enthusiastically, playing along as if you had some idea how important that was.

Tammy and Lynne were huddled around Ian as he showed them photos from his phone and it was at that point you realized the three of them had been icing Zoe out completely. Your brow furrowed slightly and you looked at her, trying to figure out if you were reading the room correctly, but she didn't give anything away. She was still babbling to you about her dress and the lengths Zachary went to in order to get it for her, seemingly unbothered. Tammy glanced over her shoulder at Zoe when she heard her gushing about her boyfriend and you picked up on the unmistakable disdain written all over her face before she quickly blinked it away with a tight smile after she noticed you looking in her direction.

Tammy turned around then and greeted you by name, interrupting Zoe, and stuck her hand out. "Please let me see that ring, I was dying to get a better look at it last night."

You shot Zoe an apologetic glance but she just smiled back as she sipped her martini, watching Tammy closely over her glass. You stuck out your hand and all four of them gasped and fawned all over your ring.

"How did he propose?" Ian asked.

You repeated the fake story, hoping you remembered everything and looked sincere enough as you spoke, and when you finished up you gazed down at the ring on your finger. It really was a beautiful ring.

"The beach, huh?" Tammy repeated, and you nodded. "Doesn't sound like Joel."

A jolt of panic shot through you like lightning. "What do you mean?"

She just shrugged. "I never took Joel for a beach guy."

"Well, he knows I love the beach. He did it for me," you told her defensively. It was ridiculous to feel so protective over a fake relationship but for some reason, you didn't like her tone. Besides, what did she know about Joel? Was she implying she knew him better somehow?

"Hm. How romantic," Tammy replied sweetly, but you still picked up on the undercurrent of distaste in her words.

"Yes, I agree. He's very romantic," you couldn't help but say. You wanted to wipe that snobby look off her face. She stared at you, that fake smile still stretched across her thin lips, and you stared right back, refusing to be the first to look away.

A sharp clap of laughter came from the men across the room, breaking the tension between the two of you. You shuffled your feet and glanced back at Zoe who was giving you an amused look from behind her glass. Maybe you read her all wrong. Maybe Zoe wasn't clueless after all.

Mary, Glenn's wife, emerged from the butler's pantry with a wide smile. Her eyes drifted around the room to make sure her guests were taken care of as she headed in the direction of your group.

"So sorry! Just a little situation with the caterers," she explained, clapping her hands together gleefully. "How about we all head outside?"

You agreed and followed her dutifully towards the courtyard where a magnificent in-ground pool with built in lights that made the water look almost purple was in the center of an extraordinary backyard. There were plenty of seating and lounging areas, as well as an outdoor bar complete with bartender standing at attention. Gorgeous string lights were draped above your heads and all around the courtyard, connecting at the various palm trees and casting the area with the perfect amount of mood lighting.

"Mary, this place is absolutely stunning," Lynne gushed with a hand pressed lightly against her flushed chest. Mary smiled her thanks.

"We've been working on making this place our dream home for so many years," she replied, "it's everything we've ever wanted."

It didn't take very long for you to become a little bored with hearing the details of how their architect imported tile from Rome or how she had some prestigious artist, a name you'd never heard before, paint a mural in their master suite, but you did your best to remain polite and engaged. However, when it became clear Ian, Lynne and Tammy were legitimately interested in her interior designer's "risky" idea for her dining room, you didn't feel so bad when you let your attention wander for a bit.

Your eyes drifted around the pool in search of someone with food as you tipped your glass back, finishing your wine. Then you locked eyes with Zoe, who appeared to also be losing interest. She gave you a small smile before tilting her head toward the bar and you both politely excused yourselves in search of more drinks.

"Can you imagine living somewhere like this?" she asked when you got out of earshot.

You chuckled and shook your head. "Never. I mean, LA is nice but it's just not the same. It's so... peaceful here."

"It really is," she sighed. You both leaned up against the bar and ordered refills when you heard the door open. You twisted around excitedly, assuming it would be Joel and the others, but it turned out to be three caterers, each holding a tray at chest level. Zoe waved them down and you inwardly sighed with relief when you each took a small smattering of what they had to offer.

"Thank god," you mumbled when you popped something in your mouth that you didn't recognize but at that point, you didn't care. "I was starting to think no one eats."

She giggled and covered her mouth. "They probably don't, but I sure as hell do."

You laughed and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the others, aside from Mary, chose to decline the appetizers. "I mean, it's only polite, right?"

"Yeah, duh," Zoe answered before taking a bite of tuna tartare. "Mary'd be disappointed if no one ate. Kind of rude of the others when you think about it."

Your eyes widened and you glanced around, making sure the bartender was busy talking to another caterer and not paying attention before you spoke again. "I think that Tammy's kind of rude, regardless," you said softly, watching carefully for Zoe's reaction. She gasped dramatically as if you had committed blasphemy, then instantly dropped the act, giggling into her palm in agreement.

"Yeah, she's something alright," Zoe replied, looking once over her shoulder at the group. "You did good, though. Standing your ground, marking your territory. Still, you'd think she would be a little more subtle, considering."

You frowned and titled your head to the side. "Considering what?"

She eyed you coyly and winked. "Zach told me. Don't worry though, I won't say a word."

Your blood ran cold. Could she somehow know your relationship was all a lie? No, that wouldn't make sense. Still...

"What do you mean?"

She looked around and picked up her drink and food. "Let's go sit down."

You followed her over to a table with a semblance of privacy without looking like you were excluding yourselves. She brushed her hair off her shoulders and readjusted the straps on her dress before she continued. "He told me about Joel and Tammy. That they had an affair. You'd think after that song and dance last night about them being college sweethearts she would be a little more reserved or, god forbid, have some goddamn shame, but I guess not."

She looked down to scrape something questionable off a cracker while you tried to control your reaction to her news. How could Joel not tell you something this important? Was he crazy?

You swallowed the lump in your throat and steeled yourself, pretending you knew all along. "Does everyone know?"

She scoffed and shook her head. "Hell no. You think they'd be talking to her right now if they did?"

You breathed a sigh of relief but you still couldn't shake the tight feeling in your chest and the inexplicable anger you felt towards Tammy. Clenching your teeth, you took a deep breath in through your nose.

"That's good. Joel would freak if they knew."

She raised her eyebrows and nodded as she chewed and looked around. "Speak of the devil."

Your stunned gaze slid over to where she was looking, spotting the group of men exiting the house to join their partners, each of them carrying identical glasses of dark liquor. Joel's eyes found yours and he immediately could sense something was off. Then he looked at Zoe, his face unreadable before glancing back at you.

"C'mon, we should join them," she said.

Zoe stood up and you followed as if on autopilot.

"Maybe we can go to the spa one of these days? Get some lunch?"

"That sounds wonderful," you told her as you approached the rest of the group. She smiled and broke off to find Zachary, leaving you to face Joel alone.

"Everythin' alright?" he asked. He was smiling in case anyone looked your way but his tone was laced with concern. Worry.

"Yep," you said. You felt his hand brush against your lower back and your body stiffened. He frowned.

"You sure?"

"Mhm," you hummed, pressing your wine glass against your lips, looking anywhere but at him.

"Dad! Sorry we're late," a deep voice called from behind you. The guests turned around to find Trevor and Brooks, Glenn's oldest sons, step out into the courtyard.

"Boys! There you are!" Mary called happily. They took turns planting kisses on her cheek before shaking their father's hand and explaining some work emergency that held them up, but you couldn't stop noticing the way Brooks's fingers wiggled against his side. The longer you watched, the more you noticed. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, the energy rolling off him as his eyes darted around in search of alcohol or food or both.

Then they landed on you.

His gaze was dark and chilling, sending a shiver down your spine. You swallowed tightly and stepped a little closer to Joel, who was talking to Harry about some basketball team, completely oblivious to the way Brooks's eyes dragged appreciatively down your frame.

And just as quickly as it happened, he looked away.

Part of you wanted to tell Joel you weren't feeling well, that you wanted to leave, but you bit your tongue. You were there for a reason. You had to uphold your end of the deal. But everything about that evening made you feel uneasy and sick.

"Glenn invited us all to his yacht this weekend," Joel told you the following morning. He seemed happier than the day before. More upbeat. It should have made you happy, but you couldn't shake the dread that cloaked your shoulders since Zoe told you about Joel's affair, and then the look Brooks gave you right after. You had hardly slept, tossing and turning all night, unable to fully relax.

"Hey, you all good?"

"Huh?" you asked, sitting up straight in your chair and blinking the clouds from your eyes. "Oh, yeah, I'm good. You said a yacht?"

"Yeah. Two nights- you sure?" Joel asked, cutting himself off and leaning forward. "You were real quiet last night, too."

"Yeah, I'm just tired. Sorry," you said, waving him off and focusing on the fruit bowl in front of you.

"Don't need to be sorry," he mumbled. He wasn't really buying your excuse but he chose not to push you. "Why don't we stay in today if you're tired? Relax in the room or... whatever you wanna do."

You perked up at his suggestion. "Don't you have to work?"

He nodded and shrugged before leaning back in his chair. "I'm allowed to take a break."

You grinned and he could see the bad mood instantly leave your body. "Are you sure? I heard the CEO is a handful."

He tossed his head back and laughed, startling you with its rarity. "Oh, you got no idea," he replied. You felt your cheeks heat up so you dropped your gaze back to your breakfast, hiding your smile behind your fork. "You said you wanted to go to the beach, right?" he offered, and you quickly nodded.

"But if that's not your thing..." you trailed off, remembering Tammy's words from the night before.

"Who doesn't love the beach?" he replied before finishing his eggs and standing up. "I'm gonna go get ready, meet you out here in thirty," he said over his shoulder. You watched him leave with a little smile.

So maybe Tammy doesn't know Joel as well as she thought she did.

Once back in your room, you surveyed your bathing suit options. You already wore the black one, so you decided on a white bikini with a halter tie behind the neck and matching white bottoms that had a chunky, gold-toned chain which sat on either side of your hips. You slid it on and gawked in the mirror when you realized Joel's assistant accidentally left the tag on.

"Who the hell pays almost $200 for a fucking swimsuit?" you muttered under your breath before carefully removing it and tossing it in the trash. You liked the sheer green coverup from the day before, so you put that back on and began to pack a beach tote you found amongst the endless accessories purchased for you.

Once you made sure you had all your essentials, you tucked your sunglasses on top of your head and walked towards your door. When your left hand stretched out for the handle, you frowned as you looked down at your ring. You couldn't take that to the beach. You would never be able to relax, too afraid of losing it.

Knowing Joel had a safe in his room, you lightly rapped on his door.

"Yeah?"

"Can I put my- the ring in your safe?" you said, hoping he didn't notice your slip up.

"Sure."

For some reason, you assumed that meant it was clear to enter, so you opened the door and stepped through. Your eyes bugged out of your head when you realized he was still changing, your heart practically leaping out of your chest with embarrassment.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry!" you said, shielding your eyes and backing out of the room quickly. You heard him say something but you couldn't hear him over the curses you were spitting to yourself, so you hurried into the living room and began to pace around nervously, desperately trying to wipe the image from your memory.

Oh, god, he was going to be so pissed. Just when you had him back in a sweet mood, you went and did something so fucking stupid and in all likelihood, ruined the entire day.

When Joel entered the living room, you were chewing on your nail nervously, still pacing around until you noticed him and skid to a stop.

"Joel, I'm so sorry-"

"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout," he said with a smirk. "Ready to go?"

He could have knocked you over with a feather as you stood there, blinking rapidly and trying to keep up.

"Y-yeah, I'm ready," you stammered, swiveling around to grab your tote, then jogged to catch up with him. "Wait! The ring, I never-"

"Oh, right," he said, turning around and holding his hand out. You twisted it off and gave it to him. While he took the ring back to his room, it afforded you a few more seconds to come to terms with what just transpired in the last ten minutes.

Before he joined you again, you had given yourself a mental pep talk: everything was fine, you didn't even see anything, and he wasn't mad.

Well, you saw something, but you weren't going to dwell on that.

The awkwardness only lingered in your system for thirty minutes or so. When you arrived at the beach and felt the warm sand underneath your feet, you immediately felt at ease.

"Lemme ask you somethin'," Joel said after setting down his frozen drink next to yours. Of course, he had bought a private cabana for the afternoon so you were each lounging on your chairs in the shade with silent fans aimed at each of you, spritzing you with a cool mist, keeping you perfectly comfortable in the tropical heat.

"Shoot."

"That story you told Glenn - 'bout me askin' you to marry me," he said, sitting up a bit to stretch. "That what you always wanted? You want someone to propose on the beach?"

You thought about it for a moment. "I don't know," you told him honestly. "I tried to think of the most romantic thing possible and it just popped into my head. I mean, I wouldn't mind it," you chuckled, brushing your hair from your neck.

"Well, when you were growin' up, how did you imagine it?"

"I-"

You cut yourself off, his question taking you off guard.

"I don't know if I ever thought about it."

He cocked his head to the side curiously. "Really? Hopeless romantic like yourself never fantasized 'bout it?"

You threw your head back and laughed, the sound instantly bringing a smile to his own face.

"I wouldn't call myself a hopeless romantic."

He tsked and picked his drink back up. "Yeah, you are."

You scoffed and shot him an agitated look. "What?"

"Whether you realize it or not, you are," he replied matter-of-factly. "No one comes up with those stories off the cuff without havin' a little soft spot for romance."

Your scowl melted into a grin. How was he so good at reading you? And why couldn't you do the same to him?

"How about you? When you-"

"Wanna go for a dip?" he asked, cutting you off as he stood to tug his shirt over his head. Your mouth went dry when you saw his bare chest and back, and then your gaze instinctively dropped. You instantly recalled walking in on him that morning and you had to tear your eyes away before he could see how flustered you were, but it was too late. Joel noticed everything.

"Yeah, sure," you mumbled, standing to shed your cover up. When you turned back to him you had to suppress your smirk at the way his eyes greedily drank you in.

It felt like the playing field leveled once again.

The moment you stepped out from under the protection of the cabana, the heat engulfed you both. Just the short walk to the shore made the back of your neck sweat and you couldn't wait to slip into the crystal blue water to cool down.

"This place doesn't seem real," you confessed to Joel as you waded slowly into the ocean with a ridiculous smile stretched across your face.

"Just imagine the kind of money one of these resorts rakes in," he replied before leaping forward into the water so the only skin that was exposed were his shoulders on up.

Joel didn't like to share much about his private life, that much you knew for certain, but one thing he always seemed open to talking about was work.

"If you win the lot, would this be your most successful hotel?"

He nodded and tilted his head back, eyes sliding closed as he basked in the sun's hot rays. "It would put The Parador on the map, open up countless possibilities."

"Oh, so no pressure or anything," you joked. Your foot grazed against something hard in the sand and you looked down, squinting through the water, then gasped.

"What?"

"Look!" you said excitedly, pointing down. His eyes followed your finger and he frowned.

"I don't see nothin'."

"The seashells! They're pink!"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Pink seashells, huh?"

"Yes!" you squeaked as you tried and failed to pluck one out of the sand with your toes. Joel sighed dramatically and gently pushed you back.

"What are you-"

He took a deep breath and plunged under the water, making you giggle as you watched him dig a few seashells out before popping back up. He shook his head like a wet dog, flinging water droplets at you and making you shriek before he triumphantly brought his hand up from underneath the water and gave you your prize.

"Oh, my hero," you gushed before carefully picking up each one to examine them closer. "Thank you, Joel."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. Your smile grew wider but you hoped he just attributed it to the seashells you were so fixated on. Realizing you had nowhere to put them without going back to the beach, you turned away so you could shove them into the cups of your bikini. You heard a deep chuckle behind you and you looked at him over your shoulder.

"I don't wanna get out!"

He laughed a little louder, the sound beginning to grow on you. He looked so young and relaxed, bobbing up and down in the ocean with his hair slicked back while the sun warmed his already tanned skin.

Turned out Tammy was wrong: Joel was a beach guy.

"I just think it's funny you're bein' so modest after you got an eyeful of me earlier," he told you, his eyes sparkling. You felt your chest and neck grow hot and you shook your head with shame.

"I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't see anything."

He cocked an eyebrow at you. "Don't lie."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, heart skipping a beat as you struggled with a response.

"Okay, I might have seen just a little bit," you confessed softly, looking anywhere but at him as you floated around, allowing the waves to push and pull your body ever so slightly.

"Ouch," he winced, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Little, huh?"

"Oh, god," you groaned, burying your face in your wet hands. "That's not what I meant."

He laughed heartily, enjoying your embarrassment far too much. "I'm just messin' with you."

You splashed him angrily but couldn't stop yourself from grinning. Why couldn't he be like this all the time? This version of him was so sweet, so intoxicating that you found yourself craving it and trying to find ways to bring it out of him more. So you decided to be brave and match his energy, just a little bit. Just to see what he would do.

"You're right. Little wasn't the right word."

He raised his eyebrows in shock and the smile slipped from his face. You thought you made a mistake and already you were scrambling to apologize, but then his gaze darkened and you felt his hand brush against your hip under the water.

"That so?" he said huskily, his tone sending a shiver down your spine and your heart to beat wildly in your chest. You bit your lip and nodded, not putting much confidence in your voice as he inched even closer. You could smell his sunscreen mixing with the salt from the water and the heat of the sun, the entire combination making you feel a little lightheaded. His eyes flickered over your shoulder briefly before you felt his other hand on your waist. "Shit, Zachary 'n Zoe are watchin' us."

Using it as an excuse, you draped your arms around his neck and hummed, pulling yourself so close that your noses were practically touching.

"Suppose we should act like we're madly in love, then."

His fingers pressed harder into your skin as he stared at your mouth, his breathing becoming shallow when your lips parted.

"S'pose we should."

When he pressed his mouth against yours, it was so delicate and soft it made you wonder if he was nervous. The thought excited you and you let your body melt against his. You already felt weightless in the water but the way his lips massaged yours made you feel like you might just float away.

His tongue swiped against your lower lip and you immediately granted him access, opening your mouth a little wider to allow him to deepen the kiss. You both knew you were playing with fire but neither of you stopped to consider it. He tasted too good: like sea salt and the coconut from his drink and it was making you ache for more. Your fingers dragged through the wet curls on the back of his head as his tongue danced with yours, both of you completely forgetting where you were and getting lost in the moment.

A small wave crashed into you, splashing you both with warm sea water and causing you to pull away with a gasp. You dragged in a few deep breaths but his lips drifted to your chin, nibbling and biting along the length of your jaw. You forced your eyes to open, surprised to find you had floated around so you could now see the beach from over his shoulder.

"I don't see Zachary or Zoe."

He froze, his lips still pressed wetly against the sensitive spot below your ear and you felt him smirk. He leaned back and gave you a guilty look. "Huh."

"Huh?" you repeated, and he twisted around to scan the shore.

"Coulda sworn I saw 'em..." he said, scratching his chin and trying to hide his smile. You gasped and shoved his shoulder, pushing him away with a laugh.

"Liar," you teased.

He shrugged and kicked his legs up so he could float on his back. "Guess we'll never know."

"You're unbelievable," you told him, attempting to sound annoyed but you knew your voice held no conviction. He just grinned and closed his eyes with a sigh. You followed his lead and leaned back so you could float, your body rising and falling with each soft wave while you ignored the arousal that flared between your legs. Looking out towards the sea, you spotted various boats speckling the skyline.

"So a yacht, you said?"

"Mhmm. Two days. If you get seasick, I got pills that'll help."

"What are we going to do for two days?" you asked.

"Eat. Drink. Jet-ski. Maybe check out some small islands or somethin'," he replied, eyes still peacefully shut.

"So we're sleeping on this yacht?"

He cracked one eye opened and looked at you. "Yep," he answered. You swallowed and looked back towards the beach.

"That means we'll have to share a bed," you said, feeling ridiculous for being so nervous at the prospect when his tongue was practically down your throat moments ago.

"That a problem?"

You shook your head. "Of course not."

He smiled and closed his eyes again. "Good."

Shit. You were in trouble.

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[hisui-dreamer]

never too late

Characters: Jade, Kalim, Idia, Malleus

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions, bot proofread

Word count: 4.1k+

Notes: same as the last two, all the name ideas are in japanese. if it makes you uncomfortable, you can imagine that reader is japanese

also wow classical music makes me so inspired i wrote so much

Part 1✧Part 2✧Part 4✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Miharu (翠晴) with 翠 meaning "green, emerald, jade" and 晴 meaning "clear, fine, serene"

your daughter has straight teal hair and slightly angular eyes that are a complete replica of her father's

the name you chose for her has a strong connection to jade, also representing the peacefulness you found in Jade's presence

she's a quiet child who always has this calm smile on her face

she's loves being independent and hates asking other people for help

there are some times when you have to hold her and tell her "hey, you can rely more on your mother you know?"

she doesn't look like she wants physical affection, but when she's accomplished something, you'll notice her staring at you in anticipation

when you reach your hand over to pat her head for a job well done, she smiles so contentedly and just melts at your affection

loves playing around with plants and fungi, and thankfully she's quite good at managing them, so sometimes you can save money on groceries

loves swimming in the ocean, but much prefers clinging onto you in the water

will turn to her eel form if in bodies of water for too long, so you're careful about what times or places have fewer people

incredibly intelligent and good at quick thinking, always curious to learn more about fungi, magic, etc.

seemingly calm when you told her about her intelligent and sly father, but soon after learning about him, she'll ask questions about him a lot and start practising magic more

and when she finally accomplishes teleporting you two to him, you're in a pantry that smells of fresh tea leaves, and he's looking as elegant and charming as ever as he pours water into the teapot, his hair is sleeked back and the grace exudes just puts you in a trance

Jade's eyes widen as he beheld a sight that only seemed possible in his wildest dreams. There, standing before him, was the person he had loved so deeply and had thought lost forever.

"My love... is it really you?" Jade whispers, his voice quivering with a mix of disbelief and hope. His heart thuds in his chest, the sound reverberating through his entire being.

Tears glisten in the corners of his eyes as he closes the distance between you, his steps quickening with a sense of urgency. He envelops you in a tight embrace, his arms holding you firmly, afraid you might disappear once more. "Oh my pearl, how I longed to turn back time and not have let you go, to have kept you here with me," he whispers hoarsely, his voice trembling with a mixture of joy and sadness.

Jade is showing more emotion than you've ever seen and you're both crying and holding each other tightly

eventually, floyd barges in to tell Jade azul's complaint about how long he's taken to make the long-forgotten tea

when floyd sees you, he immediately tries to come over and squeeze you

but Jade is having his moment so he lifts you and keeps you away from floyd's grasp

pouting, instead floyd diverts his attention to Miharu, who's just curiously staring at him

eventually eventually azul shows up to see why everyone has disappeared and he's incredibly surprised to see you two

he complains that Jade will be busy for a while then, but you can see his eyes are teary and there's a soft smile on his face

for quite some time, Jade is incredibly alert when it comes to you, always paying attention to your needs, your feelings, and if you get up in the middle of the night for a bathroom break, he wakes up with you and waits outside the door until he can hold you again, and then he'll carry you back to bed

he didn't realise how important you had meant to him until you were gone, how lost and empty he felt, so best beware, he's never letting you go again

oh he's so cute with Miharu!!! building terrariums together and comparing notes and cooking mushroom meals together

father-daughter swimming sessions!!! sometimes floyd and azul join

definitely pranks azul as a trio, but azul can't get mad at her hahaha

you can tell Miharu is so enthusiastic about spending time with uncle floyd

Jade cries crocodile tears that his dearest daughter prefers his brother over him

and Miharu just tells him "well you belong to mommy, so i'll have uncle floyd"

the twin eels can't say they're unhappy with that arrangement, now can they

and don't forget mama and papa leech! they love spoiling Miharu with trinkets and treasures they find!

Jade's smiling genuinely more than ever, and you can't believe how lucky you are to have both him and Miharu in your arms

You direct your eyes towards Miharu, and his gaze follows yours, a tender smile tugging at the corners of Jade's lips. "And this... is she our child?" he asked, his voice filled with awe. He crouched down, his hands gently cupping her face, his fingertips tracing the familiar features.

"I'm so sorry," Jade confessed, his voice filled with raw emotion. "I've been such a terrible father, I've missed out on so much of your life,"

Miharu's hand instinctively rises to meet his, her small palm finding solace against his cheek. A gentle reassurance emanates from her touch, and her voice, soft yet resolute, pierces through his self-doubt. "It's okay, daddy," she murmurs. "It's not your fault.

Without hesitation, he pulls her into a warm and encompassing embrace, enfolding her in his arms as if shielding her from the world. "Oh, my darling, you are such an angel," Jade whispers against her ear.

Hidaka (陽夏) with 陽 meaning "sun, sunlight, positive" and 夏 meaning "summer"

your son has spiky white hair, glowing tan skin, and ruby-like eyes that often sparkle with joy

you named your son after his father's sunny disposition, and the warmth in scarabia that you look back on fondly in your memories with him

hoo boy you got yourself a piece of bouncing sunshine

he's so bright and happy and warm and there's always a wide smile on his face that makes anyone who sees it feel re-energised

will often do things on impulse out of pure curiosity, but if you tell him off he's immediately apologising and hoping you're not mad at him

snuggles so much!! the first thing he does when he sees you is run up and jump into your arms

he's always willing to share what he has with others, and is friendly with everyone

though he has a big appetite, he's not picky about food and will happily eat anything you give him

he's not the smartest and is rather oblivious much like his father, but he makes up for it with how passionate and motivated he can be

but when he's determined, he can be surprisingly smart

when he heard about the kind and brave man his father was, he was visibly shaking in excitement, firing question after question

and before long, his determination to reunite his family brought the two of you into a dim room lit by a single nightside lantern

Kalim sat at the bed clutching a turban you had gifted him, his face has matured and lost most of its baby fat

Kalim's lips are parted, his breath catching in his throat as he sits there, rooted to the spot. "This... this can't be real," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, as he takes a tentative step forward, his heart pounding loudly.

His feet move as if guided by unseen forces. His eyes fixate on your face, searching for any sign that this is not a figment of his imagination. A fragile smile begins to form on his lips, the corners of his mouth quivering with a mix of disbelief and joy.

His steps quicken, echoing through the room, each one carrying him closer to the person he thought he had lost forever. And then, in a burst of exhilaration, he is by your side, his arms encircling you with a strength born from the depths of his soul.

"It's you," Kalim gasps, his voice filled with raw emotion. His grip tightens, his embrace both gentle and fervent as he twirls you around in the air, a whirlwind of emotions propelling him forward. Laughter escapes his lips, an expression of pure elation and gratitude. "Thank the heavens you're back! I never thought I'd see you again!"

oh he's crying waterfalls nonstop, you and Hidaka try to comfort him and wipe his tears but he only cries harder at your touch

at this point, jamil bursts into the room,

alert and thoroughly confused why Kalim is crying in the middle of the night

though when he sees you, his expression visibly softens and after asking a few questions to confirm your identity, he genuinely welcomes you back

his reaction to Hidaka is "oh no another one" but with the way he lifts him into the air and the teasing smile on his face you can tell he's not completely serious

after graduation, Kalim worked hard to inherit the Asim family business and has grown to become a successful businessman who cares for his workers and people

jamil willingly offers to take over Kalim's role for a while so that he can spend time catching up with you two, and it's clear from their exchange their relationship has improved a lot

Kalim, despite having seemingly matured, clings onto you like a child and you feel things haven't changed much at all

as the heir, he has been pressured to get married, but it didn't feel right for him when he still longed for you

so he's incredibly glad you can now permanently be the person who stays by his side, showing his affection by showering you with gifts and snuggling with you any chance he gets

he's great with Hidaka too! they're both super energetic and curious though, so occasionally jamil or you have to step in and be the reasonable person

so many impromptu trips on the magic carpet with the three of you just exploring places and going wherever you want!

he's also very very cautious about your security, all of a sudden he has a wife and a healthy heir, so undoubtedly there are some eyes turned to you

but Kalim has grown stronger and wiser to be able to protect what he cherishes, so he's not letting any harm come your way

Kalim gently pulls back, his eyes flickering between you and the little boy who bore an undeniable resemblance to him. "You've brought us such an incredible gift," he whispers, his voice tinged with awe. "A child, our child. I can't believe it..." His voice trails off, trailing into a breathless hush as he tries to comprehend everything.

Bending down gracefully, Kalim positions himself at eye level with Hidaka. "Hello there, little one," he murmurs, his words floating on a cloud of softness. "I'm Kalim, your...dad." The weight of the word lingers on his tongue.

Hidaka's face lights up like a radiant sun, a beacon of pure joy. Without hesitation, he lunges forward, embracing Kalim in a tight hug. Laughter bubbles up from within him, filling the air with a melodic symphony. "My daddy!" he exclaims, his voice a chorus of excitement. "I've always wanted to meet you!"

Kalim's tears fall freely once again as he wraps his arms around Hidaka, holding him close.

Honoka (火華) with 火 meaning "fire" and 華 meaning "flower, splendour, brilliance"

your daughter had bright yellow eyes that seemed to shine in the dark, and seemingly normal curly blue hair, until it would act in a similar way to Idia's hair when she became emotional

you named your daughter after her father's fiery hair, his inner brilliance and potential, and of course, the idea of a flower blooming in the underworld (Persephone vibes hehe)

she's the child who's quiet and introverted on the outside, but has so much to say when she's alone with you

most of the time she's generally soft-spoken, mumbling and acting shy with strangers

but oh wait? there's a pop-up arcade of her favourite show??? gremlin child activated

ridiculously good at games, even if she just learnt the rules, it's very like she'll end up being the winner

you used to spend a lot of time styling her hair, but there were too many instances where soon after finishing styling, her emotions became too unstable and her hair turned into flames

still braidable, just not explainable to strangers

she's kinda like a cat in the sense that she'll act like she doesn't care or not want your touch, but when you pat her head or brush her hair, she just sits still and beams at your affection

definitely clings onto you when there are too many strangers and she's scared

ridiculously smart and good at math and technology, and she had no issues learning magical theory from you

when you told her about the brilliant but shy man her father was, she was dying to meet him when he sounded so similar to her

and after running some tests and calculations, she connected her magic to Idia and the next moment you know, you were in the Styx science lab, with Idia, his hair tied up, his eyebags worse than ever, standing right in front of you

Idia's heart skips a beat as he catches sight of your figure emerging from the radiant light, a surreal moment that defies all expectations. "OMG, it actually worked..." he exclaims, dropping his tablet to the floor, forgotten in his rush towards you.

With each stride, the weight of years apart seems to evaporate, replaced by a resplendent glimmer of hope that grows brighter with every passing moment. His palms grow clammy, but undeterred, he continues his determined approach, craving the warmth of your presence.

He finds himself standing in front of you, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The room seems to shrink, narrowing down to just the three of them, the air heavy with anticipation.

Idia's voice quivers, his words delicate as they tremble in the air, like a fragile melody woven with threads of longing and regret. "I...I can't believe it's really you. I've missed you so damn much." His voice cracks with emotion, his vulnerability laid bare as he reached out to hold you.

Idia's crying and Ortho's right next time him congratulating his success, though there's a loving and emotional tone to his robotic voice

he's holding you so tightly and crying and he just melts into your arms and warmth

soon after graduation, Idia began working more and more at styx to inherit the family business

but a side project of his for the longest time was opening a portal where you could go back and forth between two worlds

and miraculously, his system connected with Honoka's magic and you were back!

idia's incredibly nervous and surprised he has a daughter, and he has a mild panic attack before he's a bit more calmed down with your and Ortho's help

but once things have settled down a bit, you'll start living comfortably with your family in styx

though idia may be busy at times, he always has ortho with you or some cameras near you so you won't suddenly disappear on him

you're basically irreversibly a part of the shroud family now, and in his mind, you really didn't get to choose

his anxiety about you leaving keeps him up at night, but when he wakes up from nightmares and you're the first thing he sees, he slowly calms down and curls his body into you to feel more of your warmth

gaming sessions with Honoka!! he introduces all sorts of his favourite games to her, though you make sure they're not too violent and inappropriate knowing him, and they bond over playing and introducing games to each other

family game nights with you four playing basically Mario party or co-op games!!

and though Idia's still working on breaking the family curse, even more motivated now because he doesn't want it affecting Honoka, he's so grateful fate has finally given him this happiness, to be able to live together as a family with his most cherished people

Trembling with a mix of excitement and trepidation, Idia knelt down to meet Honoka at eye level, his voice filled with a gentle warmth. "Hey there, kiddo. It's... it's really nice to finally meet you." His words carried a hint of awe, as if he couldn't quite believe that this precious little being was a part of him.

Honoka's eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and recognition, her small hand reaching out to touch his hair. She uttered her first words, a tender melody that danced in the air. "You have the same hair as me... Daddy?" she asked curiously.

Tears welled up in Idia's eyes as he comprehended her words, a tender smile graced his lips. His voice choked with love and gratitude. "Yeah kid, I'm your daddy." He pulls her into a hug, "Let's play lots of games together, yeah?"

Keitarou (蛍太郎) with 火 meaning "firefly" and 華 meaning "eldest son"

your son has black hair that fades at the tips to a blue reminiscent of the sky right before sunrise, and shimmering emerald eyes with a reptile-like slit in them

you named your son after the night you first met his father who manifested as fireflies, and a reference to the nickname you chose to call him

your son is very polite to strangers, but he struggles with getting along with his peers

he'd love to make friends, but his aura comes off as overwhelming to other people, so unfortunately he does feel a bit lonely

but he loves it when he's at home with you, when you shower all of your affection onto him and he feels so loved and cherished

he loves his mama so much he always wants to help you with chores and whatnot, but unfortunately he can be rather clumsy and oblivious which leads to more problems being made

but in those situations, you always show him the correct way of doing things, while also reassuring him it's okay he made mistakes, what's important is learning from them

super clingy and cuddly! sometimes he becomes territorial and his dragon tail appears and curls itself around your limbs

you have masterfully disguised his budding horns by wrapping his hair around them, explaining to others than he liked this Halloween costume so much he wanted it done everyday

being half fae, he's incredibly talented at magic and it really does come as second nature to him

when you told him about his charming yet fearsome father, he was really curious about this figure, but also a part of him wondered why his wonderful mama would choose someone like him?

well, mama seems to miss him a lot, and Keitarou loves nothing more than seeing you happy, and all of a sudden, you're standing in the throne room or the dark gothic castle, and right across the room was the King of Briar Valley, his expression stone cold and cautious until he met you eyes

Silver and Sebek, positioned in a defensive stance, braced themselves for whatever entity would emerge from the swirling portal. As the portal dissipated, revealing the figure within, Malleus gasped, his breath catching in his throat. A surge of emotions overwhelmed him, an electric current coursing through his veins.

His steps quickened, propelled by an overwhelming desire to bridge the chasm of time and distance that had separated you for far too long. The distance between you closed swiftly, his graceful stride carrying him closer to the embodiment of his deepest longing. The words that slipped from his lips were laden with a tenderness and longing that only you could evoke.

"My dearest Child of Man, is it truly you?" Malleus murmured, his voice a fragile whisper, as if afraid to shatter the fragile reality that had materialized before him. His outstretched hands trembled, yearning to cradle you once more, to feel the warmth of your presence.

A mixture of awe and reverence coated his words as he continued, his voice barely audible but drenched in profound emotion. "You came back. It's been so long, far too long..." His voice trailed off, swallowed by the weight of the years that had separated you.

he's so shaken the rain has cleared up to bring about a beautiful rainbow that hovered over the castle

silver and sebek go to get lilia, and it's a heartfelt family reunion

they've all seen how Malleus has returned back to his hollow shell of existence after you left, and they're so glad his eyes are glimmering with emotions once again

though some are more direct about it, and others felt the need to rant about how cruel it was to leave them (we love you sebek)

though he's been urged by his advisors to quickly marry and start producing an heir, he's adamantly refused because he firmly believed nobody would ever make him feel the same way you did

there are some advisors who are secretly unhappy with the fact that the queen is human and the new heir is half-human, but nobody would dare say a word when they see the Malleus Draconia act like an oversized puppy dog with his head in your lap

plus, Keitarou magical prowess and intelligence easily put them in their place

Malleus, with your return, has grown more openly dramatic and affectionate

for example, if you mention you like a certain flower, the next day the entire garden is replanted to that exact flower

do calm him down a bit so he won't be too extra with his love language

Keitarou and Malleus sort of have this rivalry between the two of them to get the most of your affections

but they do eventually reach a truce when they both agree you're the most important thing in the world

but you know, general lighthearted sabotage on both ends, Keitarou wants to sleep with his mama, so papa can sleep alone yeah?

no it ends up with the entire family sleeping together and you're sandwiched in the middle

well, at least it's a happy family of two possessive dragons and possibly a baby princess coming on the way?

Keitarou hid behind your legs, his small frame peeking out to catch glimpses of the man standing before you.

"Hm? Is he... our child?" His voice carried a soft tremor, as if he dared not let himself believe in the possibility. But your nod, filled with affirmation and a love that transcended time, set loose a cascade of emotions within him. A serene smile graced his features, radiating warmth and a profound sense of peace.

Malleus turned towards Keitarou, his eyes tender and gentle, a wellspring of paternal affection flowing freely. "Hello, young one," he began, his words carrying a weight of significance that only a father's voice could hold. "I am your father, and it is a pleasure to meet you."

Keitarou's wide eyes glistened with a mix of wonder and cautious hope as he listened to Malleus's gentle words. "Hello," he murmured, his voice filled with a blend of innocence and an innate longing for connection. "I... I'm Keitarou," he continued, his voice wavering slightly but growing stronger with each syllable. "It's... it's nice to meet you, Father."

Malleus's smile widened, mirroring the joy and relief that flooded his own heart. With open arms, he enveloped Keitarou in a warm embrace.

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

Part 1✧Part 2✧Part 4✧Masterlist

[bruisedboys]

No bc I need finnick to lovingly scold me over not eating all day and make me food and just be so protectively doting. you slayed with those casual dominance headcanons

thank you gorgeous! I hope u don’t mind, I’m using your ask to post a full blurb based on the hc’s :) I already had it written when you sent this in, and it’s kind of the perfect ask for it so!! thank u <3 here’s the original drabble if anyone wants it

finnick odair x fem!reader / finnick loves you and is bossy

You’re tangled up like a pretzel on the sofa when Finnick finally gets home. He’s been out swimming all morning and you’ve been (rightfully, in your opinion) quite miserable. It’s not your fault you like him so much — he’s lovely and handsome and perfect, and a handful of hours without him has left you a bit of a mess.

He appears in the doorway, the salty breeze following him in. He looks wildly handsome, his golden hair all windswept, his eyes searching for you.

You leap up. “Finnick!”

You swoop on him and he catches you easily, laughing softly as his strong arms wrap around your upper back. He smells like the ocean, salty and crisp, fresh. He hugs you so tight your feet leave the ground.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says into your hair. You hear the smile in his voice, it’s not hard to miss, and you decide you want to see it, so you pull back. Like you thought, he’s smiling a dazzling smile that combats the sun in its brightness. He’s so happy to see you, and it makes you feel electric.

“Hello,” you say back, your voice sticky with love. You push his pretty hair back from his face, card you fingers through a rogue curl and tuck it behind his ear. His hair’s still thick with salt — hopefully he’ll let you wash it for him tonight. “I missed you.”

Finnick’s grin grows impossible wider. “Mm, I can tell.” He takes his face in your hands, thumbs dragging across your cheekbones. “I missed you, too, pretty girl. What’d you do while I was gone all day, hm?”

You hum something incoherent. You’ve barely heard his question, too caught up in his soft touching, his gentle voice and his lovely names. Your eyelids flutter under his affections. He touches you like you’re something beautiful made of marble, like you’re not just a girl. He certainly doesn’t make you feel like just a girl.

Finnick laughs at your obvious pleasure, your inability to answer his question. “Sounds interesting,” he teases. He gets his hand under your chin and tilts you up gently to look at him properly. “Did you eat already, sweet thing?”

You think about it and realise you honestly can’t remember if you even ate at all today. You shy, because you know what Finnick’s reaction will be. “Um. No?”

Finnick raises his eyebrows. “No? Did you eat at all?”

Barely. You were too busy missing him to think about something so unimportant as food. Has it even been lunchtime yet? “I had half an apple for breakfast,” you admit.

Finnick sighs. His arms drops to your waist, warm and heavy. “It’s half four, honey,” he says. Way past lunch time, then. “You know that’s not good enough.”

He’s only telling you off because he cares, but you still feel awful when he looks at you like that. “Sorry,” you say quietly.

“Hey, don’t be. It’s okay.” He chucks you under the chin and smiles at you. “Sit down, I’ll make you something, okay?”

Finnick starts to move away. You follow, eager to be near him. “I’ll help.”

He looks at you, raising a quizzical brow. “No, you won’t.”

“But—“

“Sweetheart.” He puts a firm hand on your shoulder, pressing down lightly. “I said no. I’ve got it.”

There’s a sort of sternness to his tone that makes your stomach churn. You imagine arguing back would only result in more of it, and though you actually do quite like when he tells you what to do, you don’t want to irritate him. Still, you pout at him dramatically before stalking off to the sofa again.

You hear Finnick chuckling at your dramatics as he disappears into the kitchen. You resume your position of miserable pretzel, curled up and sulking while you listen to the sounds of pots and pans, the tap running, the stove being switched on. It takes less than ten minutes before you get bored and wander into the kitchen. Finnick’s at the sink washing carrots, his back to you, with all the ingredients for your favourite soup laid out on the counter.

You try to be as inconspicuous as possible as you pull out a chopping board and a knife. You only get so far as to have them both in your hands before Finnick’s on you like a hawk.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding exasperated but unsurprised. He comes up behind you to take the knife from your hand, sets it on the bench and then turns you around by the shoulders. He pushes you back towards the living room. “Do you ever listen?”

Even though he’s technically scolding you, you can hear the amusement in his question. He’s not mad. You might even say he’s having fun.

“Finnick,” you whine, struggling to stay put with his manhandling. You dig your heels into the floor, though you know it won’t work because he’s really strong when he wants to be. “Can I at least sit with you? It’s lonely without you.”

Finnick stops in his efforts to steer you out of the kitchen. There’s a pause, and then he sighs, and you know you’ve won.

“Alright, yes,” he says, in a tone that suggests admitting defeat. “Fine, you can sit with me.”

You spin around in his arms, pleased.

“But you’re not allowed to lift a finger,” he says, hands on your shoulders keeping you firmly in place. “I’ll do the cooking. You just sit and look pretty for me, okay?”

You beam. At least it’s something. And at least you get to sit with him, if anything. “Okay.”

Finnick looks at you with something akin to amused affection for a handful of seconds, and then shakes his head, smiling. “You always get your way, don’t you?” He asks softly, almost as if he’s talking to himself. His warm hand strokes a path down your neck and over the slope of your shoulder.

You want to tell him that it’s not your fault he’s always giving you what you want. You don’t think that kind of attitude would bode well for you being allowed in the kitchen.

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iii

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 5.3k+

Warnings: some time skips (none too huge), oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, lots of introspection, tornado of emotions, morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, themes of abandonment, mention of love bombing, reoccurring nightmares, sleep paralysis, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, death (minor character), life-threatening accident (major character)

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: ANGST ANGST ANGST...don't say I never warned you hahaha. Anyway, once again, I had an amazing time writing this! (although nervous af 👉🏼 👈🏼) Just FYI, there are some time skips as this starts a few weeks after the gala! So to clarify, it’s now 3 months since oc’s divorce was officially finalized, as in done (the process itself took way longer). The chapter continues from there and yeah, the pace is picked up. Okay, let’s go! Enjoy! 🥰

series masterlist | next >>

Fresh linen. Warm breeze. The smell and sound of the ocean.

You know this place too well, like a memory you hoped to have forgotten. Why are you here now? You glance around, taking in the familiar details—the blank ceiling above, the soft comforter that curls around your body like silk against your skin, and delicate rose petals scattered at the foot of the bed. It’s exactly as it was before — it feels exactly the same; too quiet, too peaceful, and too good to be true.

The sunlight streaming through the window is blinding, yet it draws you in with a force you can't resist. Carefully, you stand up, your feet meeting the cool wood floor, and you shiver. Each step you take towards the window feels heavier, like wading through water. When you reach the window, you see the sandy beach below, the waves beating rhythmically against the shore. It’s beautiful, but the painful kind.

To the left, a young couple, not much older than yourself, their hands tightly intertwined, as if afraid to let go. To the right, an older couple sitting further up the beach, comfortably silent as they take in the horizon, reminiscent of their many years together. You always dreamt of achieving the latter, yet here you stand, having neither, and the chances of ever obtaining it growing dimmer with each passing day.

For many, this was supposed to be a place of happiness, a symbol of love, promises, and new beginnings, but not for you. For you, it was a cocoon, trapping you in a deceptive comfort. You close your eyes, trying to steady your rapid breathing, yet it doesn’t prove to be of much help. Images from your past that you’ve tried blocking out of your mind time and time again suddenly resurface — the arguments, the tears, the feeling of everything and nothing at the same time.

“You’re up early,” His voice startles you, causing you to spin around in a panic. At that moment, your heart tightens in your chest, and a cold sweat forms on your brow. You thought you were alone. You’re certain of it. Yet the sight of your ex-husband standing only a few feet away, his hair still damp from his morning shower, is enough to leave you completely speechless.

"Why are you here?" you whisper, your voice trembling.

"Why are you here?" he counters, his dark eyes piercing into yours. "Isn't this what you wanted? To remember us, to remember how it felt to be together?”

What? This isn't making any sense. Why is he talking to you as if he were a ghost? Your eyes search frantically around the room until you spot it—the wedding band on his finger. No, not again. You hear yourself plead, but the words don't leave your lips. All at once, the room begins to feel smaller, the walls closing in on you. You're stuck in another manifestation of your past, this time reliving your honeymoon, three years ago in Greece.

"I didn't want this," you say, your voice barely audible. "I wanted to forget this."

"But you can't forget, can you?" he says, stepping closer. “You remember this view. You remember the floors and the walls. You remember that we had our first time together here and promised our devotion to each other."

“That’s not fair, Jungkook," you reply, taking a step back, "it's not fair at all, you left me. You don't get to patronize me like this."

“We both know our marriage came with stipulations, __. So when did I ever give you a reason to stay? Or to love me?”

You’re back in the bed, the sheets now suffocating rather than comforting. The sound of the ocean is louder, more insistent, drowning out your thoughts. You want to scream, to run, but you’re paralyzed by the fear, the guilt, the regret.

"This isn’t real,” you say to yourself, tears streaming down your face. “I’m dreaming, none of this is happening.”

“You can't escape what we had, or what we lost. We’ll always be here, together __, in this place,” he says softly, reaching out to touch your hand.

"No," you whisper, pulling your hand away. "I need to wake up. I need to let go...of you."

The room fades, his figure dissolving into the shadows. The sound of the ocean becomes a distant murmur as you fight to open your eyes. Wake up, please wake up. It's your own pleads chanting in your head. Finally, with a gasp, you awake, the nightmare diminishing like vapor.

“Fuck,” you curse, fingers gripping your sheets, “just another damn dream.” Rolling onto your back, you take a deep breath before reaching out for the glass of water on your nightstand. Its coolness soothes your dry throat. You reach for your phone next, checking the time—4:47 AM. Too early to start the day, too late to attempt falling back to sleep.

Your thumb hovers over Jimin’s name in your text threads. It would be 10 AM where he is. You consider sending a message, but you find yourself at a loss for words. Forget it, you lock your phone and rise from your bed, you’ll go for a walk instead. Yeah, it’s brisk outside, but the fresh air will help clear your mind.

After tossing on your warmest coat and scarf, you head outside, the sun beginning to break over the horizon. At first, you wander aimlessly, lost in thought as you pass the odd person or two on the sidewalk. One individual accidentally knocks into you, yet he's quick to apologize. You easily understand their rush; perhaps they've just finished the night shift and are eager to reach the comfort of home.

You imagine their loved ones who must be waiting for them. You could be wrong, and maybe you're biased, but the image you depict is a future you once envisioned for yourself—one of laughter, love, and a warm family. It’s a dream you secretly carried as a child, amidst your unstable upbringing. But as the years passed, what was once a lifelong aspiration felt more and more elusive, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. It seems, in the end, it was just a dream…nothing more.

Of course, you've achieved other goals instead, success in your career for one. It's what you wanted most the more you became an adult. Even before Jungkook came in the picture you were thriving. Yes, you needed investors to expand, but you had already made a strong name for yourself, hence the reason his company even reached out to you for a partnership in the first place.

The second, and more formidable goal you’ve achieved was saving your company. You built your business with an earnest heart, good morals, and an ambition to serve a community. You couldn’t let it all be washed out by a larger, greedier industry giant. You had to do something. Too bad your judgment was skewed the day you saw a similar ambition in Jungkook’s eyes; he was just as determined as you to save what was his.

For a while you got what you wanted, stability for your business. But you got too invested, too short-sighted to anticipate that one day, it would all feel hollow without someone proper to share it with. Alas, your prior hopes, the ones you thought were buried long ago, began returning to you as if they were an overwhelming tsunami.

You wanted warmth.

You wanted intimacy.

You wanted a home.

You sought companionship with Jungkook but no, you read the signs all wrong. Once you dropped the L word, his attentiveness towards you skyrocketed. He began calling you while you were apart, surprising you with little gifts, and setting more time aside so you could both take Bam to the dog park on free days. But then it all stopped. After months of showering you with attention, his efforts exhausted him, so he looked for the first exit out.

You remember getting the text one afternoon— When will you be home tonight? We need to talk about something. Selfishly, you hoped he was going to tell you that you could take that trip to Fiji together. You had been hinting at it for the last two weeks. Of course, you were wrong because the last time you checked, trip itineraries didn’t come with divorce papers. At that moment, you realized that Jungkook didn’t try to love you in the slightest, he tried loving at you; love bombing 101. Your ties are now completely severed.

Yesterday marked three months since your divorce was finalized. You didn’t cry like you thought you would, but you did meet with Melody that day. As your therapist, she offered you her empathy, validation, and perspective. You feel you’ve gotten better since you started meeting with her, finally beginning to heal. Yet the unsettling dream that haunted your sleep last night shows you there are many things still left to resolve, feelings you need to confront, but where to start?

You love your ex-husband, but why?

Can it even be called love?

And do you really need him to love you back?

While you can only offer fragments of an answer for the first two, you seem to have a better-formed answer for the last.

No, you don’t need Jungkook to love you. He’s proven to you time and time again that you are not the one he can bear his heart to. He’s always reiterating that he wants you to find someone else, someone more deserving of you, whatever that means. Likely, it’s all projection. Out of the two of you, he’s the one more likely to re-marry.

As for you, you’ll always love him, at least a semblance of it. After all, he was once a part of you. But what was once a part of you, doesn’t need to be anymore. You have to let him go...though you wish you didn't have to.

You continue walking straight until you find yourself drawn to a small park overlooking the city skyline. It's fairly empty, with only a few people nearby. As you settle onto a weathered bench, you take in the view before you. It stretches endlessly. Sunrises have always held a special place in your heart—the amber glow breaking through the abyss of darkness as if a beacon of hope.

"You'll get through this __," you reassure yourself, “one day at a time.”

“Happy six months, boss!”

A goofy, boxy smile graces the man’s lips as he leans against the doorframe of your office. You take in his appearance: crème-colored sweater paired with dark brown slacks, the fabric impeccably tailored to his tall, lean frame. His ebony hair is perfectly parted down the center and feathered out to either side of his face, giving him a soft, approachable look. The glasses are new though, round with a hint of gold. Though a minor accessory, they seem to tie the rest of the look together.

Classy, yet cozy, you hum silently, it suits him.

Everything about the way he’s dressed today complements his features—not that it could be any other way, as Taehyung could never not look good in something. You learned that the hard way when you opted against a gaudy shirt and pant set your stylists suggested he wear for a commercial. Taehyung, being a free spirit, decided to try it on for kicks, and yeah, it strangely worked. He ended up shooting the entire commercial with it on. That video’s gotten your business the highest engagement rate across all your media platforms to this day.

“Mr. Kim, does six months of working together really merit a celebratory drop-in?” You lean back in your desk chair, arms folded as you narrow your eyes at the man. You're taunting him, not that he minds.

“Please,__,” he starts, stepping further into the room, his presence effortlessly filling the space. “The only person that still calls me that is the intern who works on set with us. Makes me feel old, like I’m double my real age.”

“Well, you are older than both of us.”

Taehyung gives you the look, a mix of amusement and mild aggravation.

“Two years is hardly considered older, but if you’re done trying to prod me, I’d like to ask you a series of serious questions.”

“Okay, what?” You straighten your back, curious to know what he’s thinking.

“Red or white wine?” He waits for your response, eyes seemingly hopeful. You're unsure where he's going with this, so you delay your response, suspicious of the spontaneity of the inquiry.

“Red,” you respond, cautiously. Taehyung seems pleased.

“Strawberries or blueberries?”

“Strawberries, though I prefer cherries most."

“Science or literature?"

"Literature." You surprise him with this one. "I like books, vintage ones."

"Do a lot of reading in your spare time?" he asks.

"When I get some, yes."

"Me too. Tolstoy?"

"Occasionally," you answer. "Where are you going with this, Taehyung?"

He shrugs. "Just making conversation." He pauses before continuing, “I also happen to know a place that offers all those things plus private bookings. How about you and I go for dinner tonight, as colleagues? If you hate the wine, I’ll drink it for you.”

The weight of his request hits you like a ton of bricks. Apart from a handful of social events, you and Taehyung haven't exactly mingled outside of the office. His sudden invitation to go out for dinner takes you by surprise, especially considering the nature of your professional relationship. However, you can't deny the subtle shifts in his behavior, the way he's been checking in on you more often, especially since the Winter Gala. Weeks have passed since then, but, no doubt, the memory of that night still lingers in both your minds—the shaming from a bitter business competitor, the unwanted press shining a light on your divorce, and your ex-husband who so easily approached you like it was nothing.

Taehyung suggested for you to slip away through the back door with him, offering to drive you home himself rather than leaving you with your limo driver. But you declined, feeling embarrassed that he wasn't merely a witness to the night's events, but also made to be a spectacle himself. You never wanted him to feel like he had to pity you or coax you through your personal trials. Being a good colleague is one thing, but he didn't need to go above and beyond.

“I don’t know if I can join you tonight, I'm sorry. I have a lot to do,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. It's not far from the truth with the mountain of business reports and budget plans to look over. Though your business remains functioning, it's a lot to maintain, especially with the number of investors having withdrawn their support once news got out about your marital separation. It's unfortunate how much a person's situation and the things they've built can change on someone else's dime.

“You sure?" Taehyung tries again, careful not to sound pushy. "The place isn’t overly posh, but we could go elsewhere if you’d prefer."

“I’m sorry, Taehyung, maybe another time?” you say, fingers fidgeting with a few documents on your desk, a nervous habit you developed ages ago. “I-"

“I understand,” he says, his expression softening, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes before he masks it with a gentle smile. "I have a film shoot that might go late anyway. Speaking of which, I'm expected on set in about half an hour so I'm going to head out, but if you change your mind, you know how to reach me."

You nod, recalling having his contact in your phone. The two of you agreed it would be easier to coordinate meetings and schedules this way. "I will, thank you. Good luck with your filming."

As you watch him leave, a twinge of guilt tugs at your conscience. Perhaps you shouldn't have dismissed him so quickly, considering how insistent he seemed. It's as if he was genuinely looking forward to the affair.

No, you can't entertain it any further. You have no way of knowing how far the night might've led—it's best to leave Kim Taehyung alone.

When you declined Taehyung's invitation to get dinner, you didn’t expect it to result in not seeing or hearing from him for the next week and a half. As an endorser, he doesn't work at the office regularly, coming and going as needed and since you hadn’t had any promotional projects for him recently, his absence seemed normal at first.

But this was Kim Taehyung. The same Taehyung who loved making spontaneous visits to the company, especially towards the end of the week. He often came in once, twice, sometimes three times a week to talk with Namjoon, your secretary, in particular. Somehow, the pair had become friends, and since Namjoon’s desk was near yours, Taehyung would drop by whenever he saw your door open. So, not hearing from him for 11 days straight was strange, like he'd vanished.

It was now Friday evening, the clock pushing 5 pm. You consider texting him to make sure he's okay, but wouldn’t that be hypocritical? You had agreed with yourself to leave him alone. Maybe he was on vacation, perhaps at a vineyard, or had taken on another film project. Being a highly talented actor, Taehyung had no shortage of casting directors contacting him for their movies and TV shows.

Embarrassingly, you hadn’t actually seen any of his movies. You enjoyed a good rom-com now and then, like the ones Taehyung starred in, but you usually opted for something more mindless when you had the time to watch anything.

You can imagine the loyal following he has though, as Taehyung was the epitome of a "dream boat" with his natural good looks and expressive eyes. He must be good at kiss scenes, which must be especially difficult for anyone dating him. You know you'd have a hard time accepting it at least, the fact that your flawless actor boyfriend was off making out with equally beautiful co-stars on set, that is. Anyway, as your endorser, maybe you should try supporting his films a bit more. There had to be one that would catch your eye.

Curious, you open a new tab on your phone and search for him.

"Holy fuck," the curse leaves your lips the minute the search returns. Dozens of articles display on your phone screen at once, all covering South Korean actor Kim Taehyung's recent motorcycle accident. You checked the publishing date—six hours ago. “Taehyung’s in the hospital. He’s in the fucking hospital!”

Panicked, you leave your office to speak with your secretary.

“Ms. __,” Namjoon greets you immediately, a trace of hesitation in his tone upon seeing your frazzled state. “Is everything alright?”

“Joon,” you refer to him by his pet name, “Did you know that Taehyung’s in the hospital?”

“What?” He seems as shocked as you, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm.

“It happened this morning around eleven or something. It was a collision, a motorcycle accident. Oh god, he’s—he’s been taken to the ER,” you choke out the words, struggling to maintain your composure as you try recalling one of the articles you skimmed. “We have to go. I have to go right now.”

“I’m coming with you.” Namjoon leaps from his chair, grabbing his keys from his desk drawer. “I’ll drive.”

“No,” you stop him, “I don’t know how long this’ll be and you usually work until 5:30, so I don't want you to have to be stuck at the hospital with me. I want you to be able to call it an early night if you want. We'll take separate cars over.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll meet you over there then?”

“Yeah.” You nod back, clutching your keys harder in your palm. “Yeah, sounds good.” You turn around to head for the nearest exit, but your secretary stops you mid-step.

“__,” he calls you by your name, having known you for the past decade permits him to do so. He softens his eyes when he sees the worry in your own clear as day. “He’s gonna be okay. We have to believe that. Please drive safe.”

“You too,” you say, then disappear from his sight.

When you arrive, it’s a madhouse. Sirens blare as ambulances rush into the hospital parking lot, doctors and nurses race from room to room, and fans—so many fans—crowd outside, all waving signs of comfort and support.

“I'm here to see Kim Taehyung,” you say urgently to the charge nurse. She recognizes you immediately and throws you a look of distaste, but you’re too focused on the emergency at hand to care. “I’m sure you know who I am, but I need to see him. We work together, we're colleagues.”

“Ms. __,” she replies, surprisingly calm and collected amidst her obvious dislike of you. “I’m afraid he’s currently receiving serious medical attention and won’t be able to have any visitors at the moment.”

“I’ll wait,” you blurt out the words faster than you anticipate. You feel like you're eating your words from earlier about leaving him alone, but this is different—his life is on the line. "I can wait for him.”

“Visiting hours are only until 8 pm. I really don’t think—”

“Please,” you interrupt, your voice stern and urgent. “He's part of my team. He's my...friend. I have to know if he’s okay.”

The nurse hesitates, her expression softening slightly as she sees the genuine concern in your eyes. “Alright,” she finally says, her tone firm but kinder. “You can wait in the family lounge, but I can’t promise you’ll be able to see him anytime soon."

“Thank you,” you say, relief flooding through you. She directs you to a quiet room down the hall, away from the commotion where you're better able to calm your racing thoughts. You find a seat in the far corner immediately and send a quick text to Namjoon, letting him know where you are.

As you wait, the minutes drag by painfully slow. You can’t stop replaying the articles in your mind from earlier, the words “motorcycle accident” echoing like a mantra. How did this even happen? How bad was his condition? How much strain is this going to put on his acting career? You wish you knew.

A handful of nurses enter the lounge occasionally, calling out names and providing updates, but none of them are Taehyung’s. You find your ears burning every time the door opens, heart racing, only to sink back into your seat when it’s not about him.

Finally, you catch sight of Namjoon, his face mirroring your concern. He spots you immediately and rushes over, taking a seat in the chair beside you. “Any news?” he asks, his voice low and urgent.

“Not yet,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “They said he’s receiving serious medical attention and don't know when we'll be able to see him. We have to leave by 8.”

Namjoon nods, his expression grim but unwavering “We’ll wait together.”

"If you need to leave sooner than—"

"I know," he interrupts. "I appreciate it, but please let me be here too."

You sit in silence from then on, exhaustion beginning to weigh heavy on both your shoulders. It's not until 7:35 when a doctor walks into the lounge, his tired eyes scan the room until they land on you and Namjoon.

“Are you here for Kim Taehyung?” he asks. "I'm Dr. Min."

You nod, your heart in your throat.

“He’s stable for now,” Dr. Min explains, “but he's still in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can.”

“Can we see him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighs. “Only for a few minutes. And you need to be prepared—he’s heavily sedated and has sustained significant injuries.”

“I understand,” you reply, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.

Dr. Min leads you through a maze of hallways until you reach the ICU. As you enter Taehyung’s room, the sight of him hooked up to machines and covered in bandages nearly breaks you. You take a deep breath and step closer, Namjoon right next to you.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he remains motionless, his breathing steady and rhythmic. The severity of his injuries is evident in the way he lies.

“We're here, Taehyung,” Namjoon continues, noticing your slightly frozen state. “We’re both here for you. Please, fight through this. You and I, we're good pals, remember? Like brothers. You have to—"

Although the more collected one before, Namjoon begins to struggle with his words. You place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Having known him for 10 years, you know that despite his strong exterior, he has one of the softest souls you know.

"I think I have to go, __. It'll be better if I see him when he's awake. I want to stay longer, but I just don't know if I can."

"I understand, we can't stay much longer anyway. Go home and get some rest. Dr. Min will call us when he's awake and able to talk."

After you give him a hug, Namjoon leaves the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung. You end up pulling up a chair beside his bed and slowly reach out to touch his hand. It's instinctive for you, the need to feel his heartbeat overpowering any other thought.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Taehyung," you start, your voice a mere murmur. "You'll push through this, right? Like in the movies you film. I confess I haven't seen any of them yet, but—but I will! That's how I found out about all this actually. We hadn't seen you for nearly two weeks, so I searched you up. Not in a weird way though, okay? Not like...anyway, I'm sorry I said no to you that day. When you asked to go for dinner, it threw me off. This whole thing with my ex-husband just has my mind in fifty million directions, so I promise it wasn't you. I hope you didn't think that."

"You've always seemed to show up for me, whether it's for the good of the company or even a little emotionally in some aspects. With the reputation I have these days, I'll always be grateful that you chose to work with me. You have a good heart, Taehyung, so much that I think if we ever got close, I think it might be unbearable for me," you pause, a couple of tears slipping down your face.

Just then, a creaking of the room's door momentarily pulls your attention away. Dr. Min stands a few feet away, clearing his throat—a gentle but firm signal that it's time for you to leave.

"I have to go soon, but I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Even if you're still asleep or not, I'll stop in and sit with you for a while because...because I need to be sure that you'll be alright. Namjoon will come see you too when he's ready. But I'll see you in the morning, alright Kim?"

You squeeze Taehyung's hand gently before heading out of the room, thanking the medical staff along the way.

When you get home, the first thing you do is head straight for the bathroom. Your whole body feels riddled with stress and exhaustion, and you know that the only thing that can offer even the slightest amount of solace is the warmth of water.

Yet not four minutes after immersing yourself in your tub does your phone ring, demanding your attention. Being this late into the evening, you figure it has to be Jimin.

But you're wrong.

When you reach to answer the call, it's actually an unrecognizable number that's flashing on the screen. You hesitate for a moment, debating whether to answer or let it go to voicemail.

"Hello?" you answer cautiously, curiosity getting the best of you.

There's a brief pause on the other end before his voice comes through, words slightly muddled. "Hey, it's me," he says, his tone soft. "I've been...I've been thinking about my life, you know? About everything.

"J-Jungkook?" Your heart sinks as you quickly decipher the owner of the voice, but then it hardens. It's obvious from the slurring of his words that he's been drinking. "Why on earth are you calling me? And at this godforsaken hour too."

"I told you...I've been thinking about my life."

"I'm hanging up."

"No, please, stay on the line for five minutes. Please, I have to tell you...what I've been thinking."

"You have three minutes," you sigh, ready for anything (except what he was about to spring on you).

"I wanted to save my company," he continues, his voice wavering slightly. "For my mom's sake, you know? My dad owned it and stuff but she was the one who was behind all the technology...and that's why I married you. You...reminded me of her."

Your breath catches in your throat as he reveals the truth behind his actions, the raw honesty of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. You knew very little of Jungkook's mother, too, as he didn't speak of her often.

"And then...then there's the real reason I divorced you," he admits, his voice breaking slightly. "My parents had a terrible marriage, you know? My mom...she had to manage my dad's temper for years...he didn't love her at all. He just married her because she was smart and could make him rich. It made her so unhappy, but you know she loved him so much. She...she passed away when I was 16, and...and I didn't want that for you. I didn't want you to be trapped like she was, because I'm like my dad you know? My feelings are...weird... I never know what the hell I'm...feeling. I'm probably not making a lot of sense am I?"

"I'm trying to understand." You want to hang up here and now but every time he speaks, you cant bring yourself to do it. The pain in his voice cuts through you like a knife, and it's a side of him that you've rarely seen before.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry for being such a dumbass that day I got my stuff. That was like, six months ago and I still hate myself for it. I shouldn't have made an advance on you like that. I was...I was immature, and I wasn't thinking."

"After the gala," he continues, his words becoming more coherent as he speaks. "I...I felt even more guilty, you know? Because, I still have a photo of you and Bam on my dresser. It's small, but I've tried to put it away over and over and over again, but I can't do it. I don't know what's wrong with me...it's almost a year since we lived under the same goddam roof and I can still smell your perfume, I can still remember how you laugh with both your lips and your eyes...the way you scrunch you nose when—"

"What are you trying to say Jungkook?" You interrupt. "That you're sorry and can't get me out of your head, so you need my forgiveness to move on?"

"No! That's...that's not it at all. I mean, I do want your forgiveness but—"

"Well, what the fuck is it?" You hate how aggressive your voice is sounding, but the obscene amount of incoherent information he's revealing to you is overwhelming. "It's 10 freaking pm at night, I had a long day, I'm sleep deprived, and Taehyung's in the fucking hospital which is so distressing, so I'm sorry, but I can't handle any more of your cryptic messages!"

"I think I might love you," he finally says, his voice raising as well. "I know I'm...I'm being a dumbass, but I...I think I love you. I love you __, fuck!"

a/n: So....how are we feeling about Jungkook rn? Also, my darling Taehyung is taking one for the team here 😭 🤍 LMK what you think! Lastly, I understand the timeline of events is a bit tricky to follow, so if it helps I can put something in the series masterlist to help. Vote for jjk or kth!

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[inu-mxki]

happy valentines ♡

roronoa zoro x fem!reader / established relationship / fluff

“for you.”

zoro thrusts the small bunch of picked flowers rather unceremoniously towards you. from the way his jaw is clenched and how his fist is almost sapping the life out of the little arrangement of flowers, you can tell the swordsman isn’t accustomed to offering a heartfelt gift. but even though his approach isn’t exactly romantic, the meaning is there all the same.

“did you pick those?” you ask softly, placing a gentle hand over his bruising fist to ease the tension in his hand, allowing you to retrieve the flowers from his grasp, “they’re beautiful, ‘ro. thank you.”

“yeah, well,” he scratches the back of his neck, a rare nervous disposition about the large man before you, “the cook said somethin’ bout valentines, so…”

“sanji wouldn’t miss valentines for the world, sappy devil,” you giggle, smelling the freshness of the flowers zoro had clearly spent time collecting for you, “they smell delightful. such pretty colours, too.”

“sorry it’s not… from a store or somethin’,” he said, leaning against the ship’s railing, eyes fixed to the ground and hands in his pockets, “i, uh, don’t have loads of berries, so i just…”

you watch as he tries to explain why he hasn’t just placed a diamond encrusted necklace into your hands. as if the gift he had gone out to personally pick for you wasn’t enough. zoro was aware that sanji had gifted each of the girls a small heart shaped chocolate cake he’d baked first thing that morning, leaving them outside of your rooms with a scented card that read: “mon amie, happy valentines.”

zoro can’t bake. or cook. or craft like usopp can. he’s just a swordsman, he doesn’t have any delicate skills like that. but he remembered, a while back whilst exploring an island the sunny had docked at, you were entranced by the different types of flowers you’d never seen before; smelling each of them and then asking him to in turn. it wasn’t something zoro would normally do, but he smelt them anyway because it pleased you, and spread a sweet smile across your face.

all he ever wanted to do was make you do that. smile.

he feels your warm palm against his face, and looks up to meet your soft, welcoming eyes. you’ve always looked at him like that - like you accept him. there’s no one around, the sun setting in the distance and a gentle, calm lap of the ocean at the base of the sunny. zoro made sure to catch you alone, as to not entice the others to ruin the moment.

with a swipe of your thumb across his cheek bone, you reach up and plant a kiss to his cheek. his eyes close with content, soaking up the feeling of your tenderness. a tenderness he never knew he needed.

“zoro,” you say his name with a soft voice, and all at once the worries burdening his shoulders are lifted, and his body, his mind, feel at ease, “i don’t need you to buy me anything. i would take flowers you’ve picked yourself over anything berries can buy,” his hands leave his pockets and you feel them take your waist, squeezing lightly, “besides, i have everything i already need, right here.”

your run your hand down his bare chest, the shirt sitting on his back getting caught in the warm wind that sweeps across the deck. his eyes never leave you, watching every move you make as your lips press against his collarbone, causing a shiver to run down his spine. “i love you.” you mutter against his olive skin, and the grip on your waist tightens.

his large hand snakes around the back of your neck, gathering your attention, and he leans down to capture your lips in a deep kiss. zoro kisses with such passion, such meaning. he’s not great with words, everyone knows that, and expressing his feelings for you has always been a challenge. so, he does what he knows best; kisses you like he’s never going to get the chance to again.

“i love you,” he mumbles into the kiss, words you don’t get to hear very often, but are a pleasure when you do. it’s not that he doesn’t want to say it - he just finds it hard sometimes. but you know that. you know him, and his actions have always spoken in tenfolds. when he pulls away, he lingers close, so you take the opportunity to press one more quick peck to his mouth. it’s not very often you’re alone, after all.

“c’mon,” you say quietly, taking his hand in yours and lacing your fingers together, “let’s find a nice place to keep them, yeah?”

i do not own one piece or any characters associated with it

[moonferry]

OKAY here's part 2 of the "how the stardew marriageables would feel to hug" once again will be in alphabetical order !!

bachelorette version HERE

the bachelors (and krobus)

alex: alex loves working out and is obviously very strong. with this in mind, i think he'd be another person who accidentally hugged far tighter than he meant to. his hugs feel like sitting in a reclining chair - like one of the demo ones at a furniture shop. despite how tight he hugs you, you find yourself relaxing into him. plus, i just think it would be nice to bury your face in his chest, alex gently rubbing the back of your head and you telling him about your day. i think alex would smell like leather and maybe musky cologne. a bit more overpowering than the rest (his smell literally latches onto you, your clothing, or even the air around you.) it's not a bad scent tho, just very "masculine" in a way?

elliott: elliott's hugs are lovely! i imagine he has the softest hugs of all the marriageables (likely do to the copious amounts of skincare products/lotions he purchases, but that's just an added bonus.) hugging elliott would feel similar to hugging a silk pillowcase: nice, soft/gentle, and an overall enjoyable experience. elliott's hugs are the perfect "i just want a simple hug right now" kind. i imagine he'd enjoy wrapping his arms around your waist and complimenting you as the two of you hugged. elliott probably smells like an inkwell, with some pomegranate and maybe some ginger (and the ocean, of course!) very light and fruity (honestly you might steal his cologne a time or two.)

harvey: the man who brought this entire spiel to life.. harvey definitely gives the best hugs. his hugs feel like being wrapped in a comforting blanket or feeling the wind gently blow across your face as you sit outside and watch the sun set. i've mentioned this before, but i think harvey loves back hugs. something about having his arms wrapped around you, drawing small shapes on your stomach, and gently kissing your cheek just draws him in. i imagine harvey smells like coffee, a warm chocolate cake, some sandalwood and fresh pine. his hugs are perfect for when you both need to unwind after a stressful day. something about them (maybe it's his doctorly aura) makes your body feel calmed, like it's being healed in a way. legend says that harvey's hugs tend to have healing properties so 👀

krobus: he doesn't exactly have arms, so hugging you back isn't an option. at least not physically, that is. he somehow manages to transmit the feeling of hugging you into your mind and it causes your skin to tingle. however, if you were to actually hug krobus, i imagine it would feel similar to hugging a stuffed animal or a mystical cat. i imagine krobus would be very soft (possibly fluffy!) and his little wisp at the top of his head would rest against your shoulder. as for smells, krobus is a bit difficult. (obviously, coming from a life in the sewers, it's not going to be the greatest thing to smell) HOWEVER i imagine he would smell like black cherry or the "black ice" car air freshener.

sam: oh sam gives amazing hugs. unlike alex, sam crushes you on purpose. he's just very excited and full of love - he needs to share it by squeezing you until you pop! (not literally, of course). i think it's primarily a case of "cuteness aggression" where he just gets so overwhelmed with positive emotions from seeing you that he has to let them out by hugging you tight enough to crack a rib. you don't mind though, and even joke that he could take up practice as a chiropractor because, after hugging him, your spine always seems to become board straight. i imagine sam smells like strawberries, soda, and the beach, maybe a slight hint of desert mist. i like to imagine he also uses his height to an advantage and often picks you up when he hugs you, probably spinning you around as well.

sebastian: another one who i don't think is much of a hugger, especially if he doesn't know you that well. if he does warm up to you, though, he prefers side hugs or he prefers to be the one being hugged, not the other way around. full contact hugs always result in awkwardness and he'd rather avoid that. his hugs are a bit "colder" in a way and usually are finished within a few seconds. it's not that he doesn't like you, he just isn't a big fan of physical touch. however, if you decide to hug him, he will happily lean against you for as long as you want him to. if you drape your arm around his waist and let him lean into your side, his head on your shoulder, he may end up falling asleep. (yoba knows he needs it...) i think sebastian would smell like the outdoors: like a smokey campfire, like peaches, like the crisp, fall air, and faintly like motor oil.

shane: oh another amazing hugger. shane's hugs are very pillowy and sweet, also slightly addictive. it's very easy to sink into him and enjoy the moment. on the other hand, i feel like shane also enjoys being hugged. he loves having your arms around him, your head resting against his chest or shoulder (or in between his shoulder blades if you're back hugging him, this one's a real favorite). bonus points if you trace shapes onto his stomach or lower back, he goes crazy for that sort of thing. (but he'll never admit it, obviously). i like to imagine shane smells like cherry cola, maybe something outdoorsy or something light (ie body wash or soap). i don't think he would go out of his way to make himself a certain way. however, i do think it's hilarious that he has that line of dialogue where he's like ""Sniff*... *sniff*... mmm... what's that wonderful fragrance you're wearing? Eau de pepperoni?”" <- goober.

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Bad moon rising I

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 3.1k

Poly!lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4]

A/n: This is the first time writing for the lost boys, I will let yall know if there are any major warnings in each chapters or not. But I hope that you guys enjoy reading the first chapter.

‘Don't go around tonight

Well it's bound to take your life

There's a bad moon on the rise’

Your legs were killing you. 

After hours of sitting in the back seat of the Land Cruiser, you were growing restless. And Nanook didn’t really help when the dog draped his entire body over your lap, his weight making both of your legs go numb. 

You could hear the sounds of your brothers and mom arguing over which radio station they should listen too for the rest of the drive. The occasional static from the radio making you roll your eyes. 

Maybe your legs weren’t the only thing tired from the long drive, maybe the voices of your family were starting to drive you crazy. 

“Oh,” your mom suddenly said, turning up the music that was currently on. “This one is from my generation.” A smile inched its way on your face as you watched mom dance along to the music. 

Both Sam and Micheal turned to face each other, a soft grin playing other lips as they listened to the ole timey song. “Keep going.” They said together. 

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Mom said as she switched the channel. “My music isn’t hip enough for you guys.”

You leaned forward in your seat, hand resting on Nanooks fur to keep him still. “Hip?” 

“Yeah, you know. Cool, fresh, narly.” Your mom told you, bringing her hand up to do a surfers hand gesture. 

You glanced over at Micheal, trying to see if he too was hearing what mom was describing. He just gave you a playful eye roll, and a shake of his head. Not wanting to tell mom that nobody actually used those words in real life. 

“We’re almost there.” Your mom told you in a sing song manor. 

Glancing past Micheal you saw a billboard, the words Welcome to Santa Carla read across the front, an image of the towns beach drawn on cartoonishly. 

Sam let out a gag, his nose turnt up towards the window. “What’s that smell?” He asked, quickly rolling up the glass to try and block the stench from entering the car. 

Mom closed her eyes, taking a long sniff of the outside breeze. “That’s the ocean air, baby”

“It smells like someone died.”

You snorted at your youngest brothers comment, he wasn’t totally wrong. The saltyness that suffocated the air around you was a bit much, but you’d grow used to it, you all will eventually. 

“Look guys, I know the last year has been tough.” Mom said, glancing back at the rear view mirror at both you and Micheal. “But I think your really gonna like it here.”

You couldn’t count on either hands on how many times your mother had said those exact words to you three. It always starts with the ‘I know’ and always ends in your really gonna like this place. But, if you were being a hundred percent honest you missed back home. 

All of your friends and what’s left of your now broken family is all back home in Phoenix. And you know that mom is doing all that she can to keep everything positive, but deep down you know that the divorce is hurting her just as badly as it is hurting you and your brothers. 

As the car continued to drive down the road, you watched as the sign showed the back. It was packed with graffiti art and even a couple of stickers stuck to wood. But, what caught your attention most was the five letter word painted in black and red. 

Murder capital of the world.

Upon entering Santa Carla, you’ve noticed that there is just about any type of person you could imagine walking along the streets. There were girls in bathing suits, guys with halve shaved heads, groups of tourists, the locals, nerds, jocks. Hell you even saw a dog with its fur colored pink. 

You just hoped that at night the people were better looking. 

Mom pulled beneath the cover of a food shack, allowing everyone to step out and get some fresh air after ten hours on the road. Sam leashed up Nanook and took him to the bathroom, also venturing his new home town by himself as he did so. 

You woke up your legs as you stepped out of the Land Cruiser, the nerves shooting up and down your body, you wobbled a bit on your feet before steadying yourself against the car. You felt sweat begin to form beneath your clothes, causing them to stick uncomfortably to your skin. “Holy cow.” You muttered gently fanning yourself to try and cool off a little. 

You were used to the heat from the sun, but God, the humidity is what’s gonna kill you this summer.  

As you continued to fan yourself off, you noticed all the small shops that surrounded you. They were old and kind of antique-ish looking. But, past that laid the boardwalk, were you knew you’d be spending the remainder of you summer break and nights. 

Sam came jogging back towards the car, Nanook right on his tail. He stopped before mom as he pointed a finger at the boardwalk behind him. “Mom! Mom, there’s and amusement park right on the beach.”

Instead of acknowledging the said park, you watched as mom pulled out a small wad of cash. Placing it in Sam’s hand she gestured to a group of homeless kids rummaging through the dumpster. “Sam, tell those kids to eat something. Will ya’?”

As you watch Sam walk over towards the kids, you notice a telephone pole covered from head to toe in posters. Stepping away from the car and wandering over you read a few, hoping to catch a couple help wanted ads or even just something small enough to help out your family. 

Though instead of any job listing you did find a good amount of missing children posters. Actually, it’s just about a missing everyone poster. There is a little boy that looks about six, a grainy picture of him is nailed down with staples. And beside it is a man in what looks like his mid to early fourties, his balding head and crooked teeth makes you wonder who would miss a guy like that. 

Glancing past the telephone pole, you eyed the teenagers in the dumpster carefully. For all you know these kids could go missing next, and no one would try and look for them. 

The thought made your stomach twist in a discusted knot, the idea that you or even one of your brothers could turn up missing one day and nobody would bat an eye, didn’t sit right with you. 

A car honked from behind you, turning around you noticed that your family is back in the cars AC and that they are all waiting on you. “Y/n, sweetheart.” Your mom called, poking her head out the window. “We have to go, grandpas waiting for us.”

You quickly made your way back to the car, plopping back down in your seat as mom slowly pulled out of the food shack. The feeling of cold breeze in your face cooled you off a lot more than your hand did. 

After a while the car pulled up to an old two story house, the arch way made out of tree limbs and nails made you question how sturdy that would actually be in a storm. Once the car came to a complete stop everyone piled out, the dirt road beneath you dirtied up the end of your blue jeans. The bottom of your converse’s making little patterns in the grime. 

Micheal, who had decided to ride his bike for the rest of the drive, slowly unstradled the vehicle, his eyes darting around the front yard of the house. Wood carvings of animals and an old trailer was near the back of the yard, the fence that surrounded us was slightly spaced out and cut into sharp ends. 

“This is homey.” You muttered to micheal, the backpack that you carried felt heavy on your back after hours of not wearing it. 

Micheal hummed in agreement, albeit sarcasticly. 

Glancing back at the house itself, you took in the porch, it had one too many rocking chairs and wooden tables for you to count. There were even empty beer bottles rolling across the porch floor. But, you stopped judging the home style around you when you noticed a pair of legs laid out on the ground. 

Taking erie steps, you all cautiously eyed the body. Both fear and concern bubbling deep inside of you. Fear that this would be the first dead body you’ve seen and concern over who will come and clean it. 

Mom walked ahead of you and your brothers, crouching down by the head of the body. “Dad?” She asked, swiping hair out of his face as she did so. “Dad?”

“It looks like he’s dead.” Micheal stated, eyes glancing swiftly from his mom and the supposedly dead body before them. 

Mom shook her head, gently shaking her dad awake. “No, he’s just a heavy sleeper.” 

“Why is he asleep on the porch?” Micheal asked, trying to understand the older man. 

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, taking in the supposedly dead corpse in front of you. “Is the heat from the sun gonna make his body decay faster?” You pondered out loud, ignoring the glare your mom gave you. 

“Yeah. And if he’s dead can we move back to Phoenix?” Sam added on for you, receiving the same look your mom just gave you. 

“The both of you be quiet.” She scolded. 

Suddenly grandpas head popped up, his eyes half lidded as he held a smug smirk. “Playin’ dead. And, from what I heard doing a damn good job of it, too.”

You watched as mom playfully swatted at her dad, before leaning down and giving him a good hug. Sharing a quick glance at your brothers, they both held the same expression that you did. Confused and slightly baffled at how the old man acts. 

The inside of the house looked just like the cabins from Friday the thirteenth. The floor was wood, the stairs were wood, an even the walls were wood. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the refrigerator and sink were made out it, too.

You walked through the house with a cardboard box labeled kitchen, both Sam and Micheal right behind you. Though Micheal was carrying a barbell with a couple of weights and shirts on it, and Sam had a bowl on his head with tied up comics ontop. 

“This place is straight out of a horror movie.” Sam whined, as they reached the kitchen. “I wouldn’t be surprised if their are dead body’s buried somewhere.”

“It’s not that bad.” you tried to reason, placing the box onto the counter and cutting through the tape. 

Sam stared at you bewildered, “Not that bad? Not that bad!” He started to raise his voice, setting down the comics and bowl beside you as he continued. “There’s no TV. Have you seen a TV? I haven’t seen a TV.”

You shrugged your shoulders, taking a couple porcelain plates from the box and setting them in a cabinet. “Use your imagination.”

“Imagination?” The boy raised his voice a little bit higher. “You know who else used there imagination? The Torrence family, and they ended up trying to kill each other.”

“Ok, one this is not The Shinning. And, two, you kill me I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

Micheal chuckled at yours and Sam’s conversation, “Oh, you think this is funny Micheal?” Sam asked the irritation of no TV or even MTV was starting to get to him. 

“A little.” He told his brother, placing the barbell down and walking back towards the car. “But, we’re flat broke, Sammy. Can’t afford a new TV for this joke of a place.”

You walked back and forth from the car, box after box, cutting open and placing your stuff with Grandpas. It was tiring, but, you wanted to get it done now so that you could go to the boardwalk tonight. 

Though your brothers on the other hand, weren’t as helpful as you were trying to be. 

Sam ran through the living room, swaying between the boxes that littered the ground as he sprinted away from Micheal. The said older boy was running down the stairs, he hoped over the railing near the bottom and took off after Sam. 

You were pulling out a vase from a box, tearing off the bubble wrap and placing it perfectly on the table. You took a small step back and eyed the spot, debating if you should move it one way or another for it to look right. 

But, as you stepped back, you acidently stood right infront of Micheal’s path. He collided with your side, sending you both tumbling to the ground. “Dammit, Micheal!” You shouted, quickly getting up just as your brother did. Continuing with his chase after Sam, you immediately ran after him. 

“Hey, guys, no running in the house.” Mom called out to the three of you, though no one paid her any mind as you all just continued to chase one another. 

Sam stopped before two sliding doors, shoving each of them open. You and Micheal caught up with your brother, you about ready to shove Micheal for knocking you to the ground, when you saw what laid behind the double doors. 

Taxidermy animals laid on the table in front of you, some were even hung up to the ceiling because there was no more room on the surface. The three of you stood shocked at the room, you more disturbed that so many dead animals were cut open like they currently were. 

“I think we found the dead bodies, Sam.” You told him, referring to your earlier talk about grandpa hiding dead corpses. 

Sam let out a snort, eyeing the room with interest. Micheal leaned up against your side, his elbow coming up to rest on your shoulder. Even at pratically the same height he liked to remind you which of the two was the tallest. 

“Talk about Texas chainsaw massacre.” 

“Rules.” A voice suddenly called out, bringing each of your attention to grandpa who had a cardboard box in hand. “We got some rules around here.”

He gestured with his hand to follow, which you all did begrudgingly. The old man led you to the refrigerator, and upon opening it you saw a sign that read, ‘Old fart’. You hid your amused smile behind your hand as Grandpa began to explain the rules. 

“The second shelf is mine.” He stated matter of factly, easing the sign to show a couple of beer bottles and a box of Oreos hidden behind it. He waved a finger at all three of you, “Don’t nobody touch the second shelf, ya’ hear.”

You nodded along with your brothers, grandpa then waddled out of the kitchen leaving you to trail behind him. You watched discustedly as Micheal began to shove his finger in Sam’s ear, the younger boy trying to push him away when Micheal wrapped an arm around the poor boys neck. 

Clearing his throat, Micheal directed his attention back at grandpa. “Hey, grandpa? Is it true that Santa Carla is the murder capital of the world?” He asked, refusing to let Sam go from his grasp. 

Murder capital of the world. 

Those were the exact words you’d read off the back of the billboard. You hadn’t known that Micheal had read that aswell, although he appears to be taking the towns chosen nickname more jokingly than you had. 

Grandpa slowly turned back around to face the three of you, his eyes darting across each face. “There are some bad elements around here.” He told you, though his voice seemed to be a lot more serious than anything. 

Sam finally shoves Micheal off of him, “Woah, wait a minute. You mean to tell me that we moved to the murder capital of the world?” He asked, getting close to the old man’s face. “Are you serious grandpa?”

You watched as grandpa took his time with his next words of choice. “Well- let me put it this way; if all the corpses buried around here were to stand up at once, we’d have a serious population problem.”

That did about anything but soothe your racing mind. Are we gonna get killed here? Are you actually going to go missing and nobody would care? Could Sam, Micheal or even mom turn up dead one day?

Your thoughts immediately went back to the missing posters, all the untraced people that had disappeared off the face of the earth. And not one of them had been found. You don’t think your gonna like it here all that much, you concluded. 

Mom suddenly sauntered in the living room, a stack of hats resting ontop of her head. “Oh, Dad. You’re gonna give them nightmares.” She told him, not wanting to deal with three teenagers wandering into her room at night complaining about what grandpa had told them. 

Grandpa waved his hand, dismissing her accusation. Changjng the conversation, he picked up a TV guide that sat on the end table, waving back to you and your brothers he began to explain another rule of his. 

“Now, when the mailman brings the TV guide on wensdays, sometimes the corner of the address label will curl up.” He pointed to the address label on the guide, the corner slowly thrusting itself up towards the ceiling. “You’ll be tempted to peel it off. Don’t. You’ll end up ripping the cover, and I don’t like that

He tossed the TV guide back on a different table, making his way back to the taxidermy room. He yanked the sliding doors together and they closed with a great, smack. “And stay out of here.”

Grandpa then walked away, though not before Sam stood in his pathway, excitement rising in his chest. “There’s a TV?” He asked, slightly crossing his fingers for the man to say yes. 

“No. I just like to read the TV guide. Read the guide and you don’t need the Tv.” He then walked away, leaving Sam with a disappointed look. 

“See,” you told him, walking towards a couple of boxes that were laid about the living room floor. “Now, you get to use you imagination.”

Sam pointed a finger at you, “When we go crazy, here- and we will, you’ll be the first that I kill.”

You pushed Sam out of your way with your shoulder, balancing the box on your hip. “Then be prepared for me to haunt you until the end of times, Samuel Emerson.”

A/a/n: Hello and thank you for reading the first chapter :) Now we won’t meet the boys until the next chapter, but I am debating if I should just make that chapter about you meeting them or add on. I still haven’t decided. But thank you again and the next chapter will be done as quickly as possible ;)

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Tonality [5]

Pairing: Prince!Geralt x Princess!Reader

previous Chapter

Summary: “The white wolf wants you. He’ll have no other.” As you grieve the loss of your father, your mother marries the king. Whilst you struggle to acclimate to your new life, you begin to suspect the interest your new brother has in you is less than familial.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Darkfic, Step-cest, Medieval/GoT inspired AU, Genre Typical Violence, Mild Descriptions of Violence, (Future)Smut, Dubcon/Noncon, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: OMG I’M SO SORRY. this chapter was so hard to write and it kept getting away from me, because i really wanted to pivot hard into some of the main plot points. i really hope you enjoy it, please drop me a comment and let me know even if you didn’t.

“Come.” Your mother’s voice is firm. Her mourning veil just barely outlines the shape of her face, as her lips move beneath the fabric. It billows behind her as she walks down the darkened line of empty pews toward the front of the little chapel, a flickering candle held steady in her gloved hand. 

Your father is to be buried tomorrow. 

You know his grave is already dug—a fresh square cut out of the dark earth next to his father’s. The thought of him alone in the dirt is enough to make your throat tighten, though no tears come. You have cried them all already; a veritable ocean. Even so, your dry eyes ache for lack of them.

“W-wait, mother, I—” You do not want to see it, the vacant thing your father’s soul has left behind. At the end, you could barely recognize him in the fragile body decaying in his sick bed. You catch at her sleeve with numb fingers, lowering your head in shame. “I do not want to see—” Her icy fingers wrap around yours, long and thin, her jagged nails digging into your skin. 

“We must each place a stitch upon the shroud.” You wince as she presses the long needle into your stiff hands. “It is our duty.” Only when you accept it does she release you, and for a moment, you see her lips quirk cruelly beneath the veil. You tremble as your mother steps aside, your breath catching as you see the shape of the body on the altar. 

Just behind her is your father, his shroud dotted with the shapes of dead flowers and bare trees. It does little to quell the horror you feel to behold him, though, his thin outline visible through the shroud, limbs folded and delicate like a baby bird.  You remember what he looked like two nights prior, his rheumy eyes dull and deep set into his skull, skin thin and sallow. He looks small now, too, beneath his shroud, and you find it hard to believe this withered corpse had once been a great mountain of a man. A good man, a strong man, now reduced to the barest scraps of skin and bone. 

“Stitch.” Her command fills every inch of space, in the chapel and in your head. And though you want nothing more than to close your eyes and be gone from this place, your body will not obey. You raise the needle. 

“Please, mother—”

“Stitch.” Her voice is like iron nails in your skull. Blood drips from your nose, and you taste the warm copper of it on your lips. You pinch a corner of thin fabric between your fingers, and push in the needle, pulling it through until the knot at the end of the thread catches. You lower your hand to the shroud as you sew another stitch, and as you do so, your fingers brush your father’s sunken cheek, and you retch. 

You cannot stop—

She will not let you. 

You look down at your father’s body with tears in your wide eyes, and as you do, a scream builds in your throat. You pinch his lips together between your forefinger and thumb. Delicately; like you would the hem of your gown for a curtsey— and sew another stitch through the meat of them. He is beginning to rot, now, you can smell it over the cloying scent of incense.

“Mother stop!” Your scream is swallowed by the heavy darkness of the empty chapel. Your mother sighs, her breath curling against your ear. 

“How else can we make sure the dead don’t speak?” She threads her fingers through yours as she pulls your hand toward his sunken eyelids. You pinch the stiff flesh between your fingers, holding it taut for the needle. 

“Now close his eyes.”

You wake with a start, sitting up in bed as you cover your mouth with one hand, fingers searching for the thick black funeral thread—but of course, you find none. The dream clings to the edges of your vision like spider silk, the taste of decaying things still heavy on the panicked air you draw in. A ra sob wrenches its way out of your throat as you press the heels of your palms against your closed eyes. 

Perhaps I am mad, after all.

Ain’t supposed t’see the dead ones. Maybe Madge’s old superstitions had borne fruit in your own mind. You recall the symbol she made with one hand, finger on thumb, finger on thumb, before spitting down into the dirt as you left your father’s burial. She’d shaken her head then, some the silver-gray locs piled on top of her head coming loose. Ain’t supposed t’see them. They stay when you see, them, Lady. 

They stay.

“No!” You throw the blankets off of yourself, lurching out of bed and stumbling towards the wash-bowl on the dresser. The thought of that day fills you with the same cold dread you have come to know too well. You’ve little choice in your dreams; the specter of his burial hanging over you like overripe fruit. But here, in waking, in the chill autumn daylight, you have the power to turn your thoughts to other things. 

At least, you try to. 

The water is shockingly cold, but you are grateful for it, staring down into the porcelain bowl. A knock at the door startles you, and you jump.

“W-who is it?”

“Kassandra, Majesty. Might I come in?” 

“Yes,” you sigh. “You may.” You pat worriedly at your swollen eyelids, and you frown at your reflection as the door swings open. Your mother has an effortless sort of beauty, one that needs neither rouge nor powders to enhance—a trait you certainly do not share. Your disturbing, sleepless night is written plainly on your face. 

Kassandra sets the tray down in the sitting area, before turning to you with a worried expression. 

“Her Majesty hopes you are well,” she says, nervously tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear with dainty fingers. “As you were not at break-fast this morning.” 

“I was… I did not sleep well.” You shake your head. “I trust my mother made her displeasure quite clear.” She stifles a laugh. “She’s good at that.”

“She did.” Kassandra gestures to the tray, porridge and an assortment continental fruit cut into bite size pieces. “You should eat, Lady. While it’s hot.” You pick uninterestedly at the porridge until it is mostly gone, along with the tart green grapes and sweet winter melon. At the very least you do feel better for it, or at least, more present—more grounded in this world, not the dream one. 

You clear up the remains of your breakfast, piling the dishes neatly back onto the tray. In the armoire, you note that more Rivian style gowns have been hung, your light Redanian dresses folded neatly and shunted off to the shelves on the side. Your mother’s thin excuse makes you wrinkle your nose in distaste as you finger one of the heavy sleeves. “Much too light for these Rivian winters, Dear,” she’d said, patting the neatly folded dresses. 

“You won’t need them.”

The truth remains unspoken, but you know it still—she does not want you to need them. You pull a heavy crimson dress from its place and begin to undo the lacing. Kassandra clucks her tongue at you. 

“Highness, please. Allow me at least one task.” You roll your eyes in response.

“I believe you are capable of more than dressing me—and that I am more than capable of dressing myself,” you reply. You change into a fresh shift before shrugging into the dress. You twist around to reach for the lacings, but Kassandra shoos your hands away to do them herself. 

“You’re doing them wrong.” She chides you gently. “Up for lift, down for compression, my Lady.” Kassandra nods at you in the mirror and then positions your body so that if you crane your neck just a little, you can see her hands as she easily threads the thick ribbon through the eyelets. “Opposing sides. Like this.” 

You purse your lips. “We don’t wear these dreadful things in Redania,” you mutter, your breath hitching as the corset tightens. She laughs before stepping away, brushing loose lint from the folds of the heavy fabric. 

“Even so, our fashion does suit you.”  You can tell she wants to say something else, the way her mouth opens and then closes, her lips pressing into a thin line. 

“You’ve another correction?” You ask, gesturing at yourself with a chuckle, but she shakes her head. She glances at the door, as though reassuring herself that it was still shut.

“No, no, I—I do not mean to be insolent, Highness,” Kassandra begins, “but I do not think I have ever heard you say you have rested well within these walls.” Your smile turns brittle and tired. 

“No. I have not. And your concern is not insolence. I am grateful for it.”

“Healer Janna—her draughts have not availed you?” You hesitate, wondering if you should describe the shape of your demon, give it form and substance outside of your mind. You shake your head, steepling your fingers together to stop them from trembling. 

“It seems the dreams that plague me require more than nightroot and dried frogspawn to satisfy them.” I see my father. I see him dead a thousand ways. 

“Healer Janna’s draughts for sleep and pain are as close to magic as they’ll allow in the White Keep, you know that.” Bastard’s magic. You do. You think of Father Rame’s disgusted expression. He does not seem the type to suffer a witch to live. “But I have… there is another. A woman—they call her The Dock Hag.” Her voice is a low whisper, as if she fears the good Father ears will ring with her heresy, even here. 

“And she can… she can rid me of these dreams?” The prospect is a tantalizing one. “You know her? You have visited this woman?”

“I—yes. I met her. Once.” Her smile is sad. “When I was small, and the older Ladies had need of her.” Kassandra’s words are aged, heavy with the weight of years that both do and do not belong to her in equal measure. “And then again, for the memories.” 

“She…” You cannot bring yourself to say it. Kassandra nods, the smile going brittle and crumbling from her face.

“Not many Lords will claim their bastards, Highness, if you will forgive my candor.”

In your mind’s eye you see a small Kassandra, attending her own mother, most likely, or perhaps even an older sister or cousin who… had need of this woman. The witch who had taken their babies—

And then burnt their dreams out. 

“What did it cost?”

“Nothing special. Gold.” You let out a relieved sigh at her words. That, at least, is an easy enough problem to solve. Kassandra cuts her eyes at you. “Are you going to go? To see her?”

Perhaps Madge was a superstitious old northern goat—But maybe she was right too: the living are not meant to mingle with the dead. Perhaps it is some guilt that drives your father’s image to the forefront of your mind, some secret thing that the specter of his death clings to—you cannot know. 

But the witch might. 

—

The east stair is narrow, cut roughly out of the stone as if it were an afterthought. The iron railing is pitted and mottled from the salt in the air, and it rattles dangerously as you grip it. The stairs themselves are uneven, still slick from the inconsistent rain that had stopped only hours before. Every step feels as though you are lurching forward, being pulled down the long winding stair to the paving below. 

There are more ways to enter and exit this keep than the main gate, Majesty. 

The east stair wound around the back of the White Keep like a snake, the steps hidden in the stone like a secret. As you take another cautious step down, your foot slips and you gasp, the railing shaking as you cling to it. You steady yourself, locking your trembling knees tightly as you recite Kassandra’s instructions. 

You will take the east stair down from the parapets over the chapel. Through the gap in the wall is the city. Go straight to the docks, ask for the Hag.” She had not wanted to stay behind, though you had convinced her with a stern look and an order to send away any who came knocking at your door till you returned. You would need her to provide a believable excuse in the event that anyone came looking—and an empty room would be cause for alarm, especially with you… “ill.”

Below you, the city glitters with light even as the dark begins to deepen. Beyond it, the sun sinks into the sea, lingering on the horizon before disappearing completely. Like Kassandra had said, near the foot of the stairs—twenty feet back, and behind a column, but near enough—is the gap in the wall. It is overgrown thick with dying ivy, the orange leaves already turning spotty brown at the edges. 

Crushed leaves litter the hood and shoulders of your cloak as you start to squeeze inside, the stone catching at your clothes. You push your way through the narrow passage, panic coiling in your gut at the feel of the unyielding pressure at your chest and back. Your fingers meet open air at the next push, and you practically drag yourself out into the streetlight, fingers digging into the stone. 

The misty street that greets you is practically empty, and what few people there are do not seem to have noticed that you have joined them from nowhere on the wet cobbled street. Hurriedly, you brush dirt and discarded leaves from your cloak before you adjust your hood, angling it down over your eyes. You keep your head down, your hands clenched into trembling, nervous fists. Every heavy step you take away from the keep sets the warning bells in your skull to ringing, as gooseflesh rises on your arms. 

It isn’t too late to go back. It isn’t. Not too late to turn around, slip back between the ivy covered crack in the east wall and seek your mother’s counsel once more—and go to sleep, knowing that you will see beyond the veil again. 

The thought spurs you onward. 

The streets are even more unfamiliar in the growing dark, and as you watch the lanterns flare to life to chase it away, you swallow nervously. There is so much to see, here—too much. As you approach the city centre the market is still bustling with activity, the shops open and windows bright.

You spare yourself a few moments to watch the people. A woman buys bread, her son playing in her skirts, a man pulls shut the door of the tavern across the way, a blacksmith’s hammer falls rhythmically like a drum, the chapel’s bell rings for evening prayer—there is so much here, the sheer amount of everything almost dizzies you. A woman bumps your shoulder as she passes by, and it stirs you out of your reverie. By the time she turns to apologize, you are already gone, hurrying off through the square. 

The air turns salt with brine the closer you get, and you lick your dry lips, tasting it. The night had been thick with sounds in the city center, but the further you travel from it, the more quiet the streets become. It is eerie, the stark difference between these silent, empty streets and the lively square only moments ago. 

The last time you had been to the docks was when you’d stepped off of the ship, in the scant few days before your mother’s wedding. Now, the narrow streets look different, unrecognizable from the snatches you remember through the carriage windows. You look in one direction, and then another, frowning.

“You’re lost, Sweet.” There is no question in the old woman’s voice. You see her then, standing beneath the street lantern in a pool of pale light.

“I—I am looking for—”

“Me, Sweet. You’re looking for me.” The shadows fall away from her face without her moving, like the light has only just decided to accept her. The Witch’s white hair is wild about her face. And her face… she is a severe beauty, like wind whipped ocean waves. The years define her jaw, sloping in gentle strokes down around her eyes, and her ears slope upward into gentle points. She is older than your mother, though you know this not by sight but because you simply… know it. An uncanny feeling that has grown in the back of your mind that she is like you, but… un-like you, too. 

She is an elf. 

It is not just the ears, but the air about her, an ethereal quality that surrounds her as thickly as the shawl about her shoulders. It is in the delicate set of her jaw, perhaps, or the distinct lack of canine teeth in her amused grin. You take a halting step forward, and then stop, wary.

“You are the W—you can help me?” The Witch wraps her shawl tighter about her shoulders, and fixes you with a hawkish look. 

“Don’t know that yet.” She purses her lips. “Shall we do this in the street? Or will you oblige me my own roof?” You nod hurriedly, and follow her as she turns quickly on her heel down the street. You are close enough to the docks to hear the water as she approaches a small house, pushing open the door. You follow her inside, halting briefly at the doorway. There is dried heather inside, hanging in a braided bushel on the arch. She watches you step inside, her dark eyes narrowed. 

“Shut the door behind you,” she snaps, flicking the edge of her shawl over her shoulder. “Never met a Princess raised in a bloody barn.” You brush aside the bushels of dried herbs hanging from the low ceiling as you make your way inside. 

The Witch rounds the other side of the table, where you see the evidence of her unfinished work. A grindstone, laying on its side, with half-ground herbs lying in the bowl. 

“How did you know?” You ask as she picks it back up, the sound of stone on stone filling the room as she resumes. “That I was looking… for you.” 

“I always know,” she replies, somewhat exasperated. “Like a rabbit knows a fox.” Her sharp eyes find yours once more. “What ails you, sweet Princess?” There is mockery in her tone, though you dare not take umbrage at its presence. “A suitor you wish to beguile? A fair maiden you wish to remove from his eye?” Her gaze drops down, and then darts back up again. 

“Or perhaps an unseen consequence?” 

Your throat tightens. 

“No, I—my dreams.” You say. “I dream the most terrible things, and I—I want you to take them away.” 

The stone stops. 

“Come here, child. Into the light.” The Witch holds out her hand, beckoning you forward. “And take down that stupid hood, you’re not hiding from anyone here.” She clucks her tongue at you as you approach, fingering the edge of your hood reluctantly. She already knows who you are—though you are not quite sure how she knows. With one hand, she reaches for your face. You do not flinch away from her—you do not fear her, though perhaps if you were smarter, you suppose you would. Her touch is gentle as she tilts your chin up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

The fire crackles in the hearth, louder for the silence. 

“And what do you dream?”

“I see…” You swallow. “I see dead things.” She peers into your eyes, her pupils wide. “I see my father.” You tremble as she steps away, your mouth suddenly dry. “These dreams, these-these nightmares, you can stop them, can you not? You can—”

“I’ll not hear more about what I can and cannot do from the maid in the high castle,” she snaps. “And they are not dreams, though you walk through them in yours.” With her other hand,  she reaches beneath her collar, producing a thin leather cord. There are all manner of things tied to it—feathers, beads, and small, clean animal skills that shine dimly in the firelight. There is a long black needle there, too, hanging by its’ eye. 

“There is a spirit tethered to you.” She turns your hand over, stroking her fingers over the lines in your palm.  She snaps her fingers, motioning for you to give her your other hand. “By great sorrow—” The Witch squints, bringing your hands closer to her face. “Or rage.” She drops your left hand, holding onto your right. “I can no more remove it than I could your shadow.” 

“Tethered?” You repeat. “These are—they are dreams, they are not real—” You sputter in protest, but the Witch merely looks at you, orange firelight dancing in her dark eyes. 

“If they are only dreams, why do you fear them so?” You cannot answer. “They are messages. You should be grateful for them, there are few feats quite as great as bridging the divide between us and those who have gone before, Little Queen. Your father cannot watch over you forever.” 

“I am a Princess.” The Witch smiles. 

“Is that right?” She grasps your hand, gripping your index finger hard and watching as the tip reddens. You flinch as she pinches the needle between two thin fingers. “Come now, Sweet. Mustn’t be afeared of a little pain.” She jabs it into the meat of your finger, and you yelp, tugging uselessly at your hand, but her grip is iron. 

“Ouch!” With a twist of her hand she swipes the fat drop of blood from your fingertip and flicks it into the fireplace. It does not fizzle out, but instead lands on the topmost log, bubbling until it turns black. It smells like ozone—not copper. You do not know why, but you tremble a the sight of it. You have come here to have something taken away, but as you watch your blood crack and burn, you feel as if perhaps something is being given instead. 

“What does this mean?” You turn to her. The Witch rubs your blood between her fingers, sniffing the residue for a moment before wiping them clean on a rag. She does not answer you right away, staring thoughtfully at the thin line of black smoke curling from the fireplace. 

“Please, I—”

“It means, Princess, that we are kin, you and I.” She tilts your chin back as you stare at her, wide eyed. She runs the tips of her fingers over the narrow curve of your left ear—not pointed, not like hers, but… You push her away before you can stop yourself, clutching at your chest with your other hand as if to calm your racing heart. 

“This cannot be true, it—it cannot!” 

“Less than half,” she continues as if your sputtered refusal had never been spoken at all. “Less elf blood in you than I could hold in my hand, but aye, kin we are, still.” The Witch looks you up and down, and this time, there is pity in her gaze. “I cannot take your dreams.” Cold spreads through your trembling limbs. “You must release them yourself.” 

“Release them? How?” She cups your face, and the movement of her thumb over the swell of your cheek is almost affectionate, though the words she speaks next send a cold chill down your spine. 

“No fear, Little Princess. No fear.” For a moment, you swear her eyes go gold, and Geralt’s voice echoes again in the space between you. Before the Witch can say more, you quickly dig the gold out of your pocket, tossing the coins down onto the table as you flee. You do not register her cries to stop, to wait as you barrel through the door, throwing it shut behind you. 

It is raining again, hard sheets of cold water pouring down from the dark, angry sky. You can hear the sea raging against the docks, water crashing in thunderous waves up against the harbor’s weathered stone. Your head is spinning, full to bursting. You are elf-kin—perhaps? Maybe?

Your mother had never seen fit to mention that minor detail—and for that matter, neither had your father. You tug your hood up roughly over your head and turn your face down, away from the cold rain pelting against your skin. Had he even known? 

Would he have even wanted to?

Perhaps I can just ask him myself.

The thought makes you shiver, wrapping your cloak tighter around your shoulders. I can no more remove it than I could your shadow. You do not know which is worse—having left your father behind alone in the dirt, or the restless specter of him living in your dreams. Your finger aches from the point of the dock witch’s iron needle, and you clutch your hand to your chest as you make your way back towards the White Keep. Above you, a white hot arc of lightning splits the sky, throwing up stark shadows against the row of dark houses. 

It is by that grace alone that you see the man. 

You stop short, your heart leaping into your throat. He stands in the shadows beneath the sagging eaves, his stony face surprised as your eyes meet. He steps forward with a heavy sigh, a gloved hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his hip. 

“Highness.” Your throat tightens, and you take a cautious step back as he comes into the meagre light offered by the street lantern above you. “Please don’t make this difficult.” His cloak is drawn over his chest, but you can see the shape of the armor underneath, jet black. 

Nilfgaardian.

 You turn—and run straight into a hard, armored chest.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” Duke Emhyr’s long fingers dig hard into your shoulders, hard enough to bruise. His black hair is slick with rain. He was waiting here… waiting for me. “I shall have to inform Lady Kassandra of your whereabouts,” he sneers. “She seems to think you are asleep in your bed.” You lift your heel and grind it hard into the top of his foot, and the Duke curses, his grip loosening. You pull away, but he manages to catch the edge of your cloak, pulling hard until you fall backwards. 

The impact knocks the wind out of you, leaving you gasping and dizzy, staring up at the dark sky. 

“We did not get to finish our little chat, in the garden.” He says, squatting down over you as you struggle up to your knees on the wet street. “I think we should do that now, Princess.” 

Your heart pounds heavily against your ribcage as you stagger to your feet. 

“No.” 

“It is not a request.” He motions to the guard behind you, and he grabs you as you struggle, wrenching your arms behind you. 

“Filthy witch,” he hisses, and you flinch. “You and your whore mother.” 

“Gavin, your manners.” He tuts mockingly. “I would be honored, Majesty, if you would accompany me for tea.” You stare at him in silence, the rain soaking through your cloak. “If you would, Ser Gavin.” He forces you forward, and you stumble. 

“It is late for tea, Lord Emhyr,” you snap, dragging your feet against the paving stones. “Perhaps a discussion with Her Majesty herself—” Ser Gavin grunts with irritation at your resistance and shoves you, hard. You stumble as the Duke makes an angry noise deep in his throat. 

“I’ve little stomach for lies.”  

A cold shiver winds its way up your back. You hear the threat though the words remain unspoken. The streets are deserted, and you cannot tell if it is the weather or the hour. Behind you,  clears his throat. 

“Here, my Lord.” 

The faded, splintering sign hanging above the door reads Madam’s Tea House, though by the riotous noise coming from inside, you suspect they serve a few things little stronger than tea. Ser Gavin places a rough hand on the back of your head, forcing it down as he steers you through the doorway. Your stomach drops as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

The air stinks of ale, sweaty skin and something more pungent and sour that you cannot identify. There are people everywhere, draped across tables, lounging on pillows and pinned against walls in various states of undress. Your throat goes dry, at the sight of the bare-breasted women sprawled over the tables, their dresses rucked up around their waists. A woman with white painted cheeks and cherry red lips steps quickly out of the way as you are shuffled through, her eyes lowered and lips pressed into a thin line. You understand their choice of venue now—

No one will even remember you were here— and no one will remember when you are not.

As if sensing your rising panic, Ser Gavin’s hand tightens on the scruff of your neck, and with the other hand, he grasps your shoulder. On the raised dais in the center of the dim room, a woman twists lithely, scarves gripped in each of her dainty hands. Gold rings dangle from her bared nipples, matching the one in her nose. Your eyes meet and for a single moment, for a single step, she falters.

The crowd at her feet turns on her in an instant, jeering and spitting. The same men who had watched her dance with silent awe now mock her openly, insults dripping from their lips along with stray drops of ale. 

“Let’s get a new girl up here. One who can remember her bloody steps!”  There is no end to the praises of men when one is perfect—nor an end to their venom when you are not. The truth of it is as plain as the room Duke Emhyr and Ser Gavin force you into. There is a bed with a bare, stained mattress upon its dilapidated frame, and a wooden chair stands between it and the weak fire in the hearth. 

“Sit.” Emhyr instructs you with a bored gesture, and when you do not  comply, Ser Gavin squeezes your shoulder hard until you gasp from the pain of it. You lower yourself reluctantly to the chair as the Duke watches, and you get the feeling that he enjoys it, watching you be forced to heel. If not my mother, then me. Through the silence, you can hear the muted noise of the brothel outside. As uncomfortable as it is for you, you hope it is doubly so for them. 

The Duke stares at you, his eyes narrowed. 

“You wouldn’t see it, not at first,” he says. The disgust drips from every syllable, like he is speaking of something unsavory. “The way you favor them.”

Your heart pounds even as you feign ignorance, schooling your features into shocked offense at his words. He cannot know that this is the second time you have heard them this evening, that you are already itching to get to a mirror to confirm these revelations for yourself, because you do not even know if they are true. The memory of black blood curdling in the hearth is enough to set the uncertainty in your lead filled stomach rolling. 

“I know not of what you speak, my Lord.” The words feel fragile, like they are made of glass. “There—there is still time to let this be nothing but an unpleasant misunderstanding—”

The duke stands in front of the hearth, his hand resting on the mantle. The curve of his back speaks to his weariness, and you wonder if he has been looking for you all night. 

“You and your whore mother have upset the order of things quite a bit, here. Whatever other things you may be, you are not unintelligent enough not to have seen so.” He turns, the fire reddening his cheeks and setting the whit es of his beady eyes ablaze. “Two seasons of talk and courtships undone in a month—and for a woman who is too old to bear a new heir.” 

“His Majesty has an heir,” you remind him. “Or have you forgotten? If you disagree with your king’s decision, you are more than welcome to challenge it before the court a second time, though Their Majesties might not be so prone to leniency given the circumstance.” His jaw tics at the reminder of his position—and yours—but the sly upturn at the corners of his mouth do not disappear. 

“So the Witch does inspire loyalty in you.” He squats in front of you. “Do you know what we do to witches, in the North?” He asks, fingering the dagger at his belt. “Father Wolf is the devourer of all things. Even savages.”

 “Ever since I stepped from boat to shore I have heard that word, and I cannot help but wonder,” the words pour through the gaps in your gritted teeth, and you hope he chokes on the broken glass of them—“if you have ever uttered them looking in a mirror.” 

He raises his hand, as if to backhand you across your face, and you duck down hunching your shoulders to prepare for the blow. It does not land, however, and when you look cautiously up at the duke, he is staring behind you, locked above your head. There is a fourth presence in the room now, one you feel pricking at the back of your neck. 

“No, no, continue.” The drawl that fills the empty room is both shocking and achingly familiar. “I would see the treason with my own eyes.” Geralt stands in the doorway, filling it to the brim with the width of his shoulders. Water drips from his sodden silver hair, though he makes no move to push it back from his face. His hand rests openly upon the sword hanging at his hip.

“That way it passes fewer lips on its way to the king.” 

Duke Emhyr’s eyes go wide, and then angry. 

“I protect the crown, and you call it treason,” slowly,—almost regretfully —the duke lowers his hand. “Can you not see? Can you not see how they twist—” Geralt turns his gaze to you, and somehow his golden eyes seem darker. Harder. 

He came for me.

Ser Gavin fingers the pommel of his sword nervously, playing at the thought of unsheathing it, but too craven to commit. Still, he stands between you and the prince, and does not move. The duke’s rambling of treason and bewitchery continues behind you, rising to a fever pitch as you approach the door. Briefly as you turn, you see him, his face red and lips flecked with frothy spittle as he flings a long, accusing finger towards you.

“They will poison this empire, it’s people! You cannot allow them to sit the throne, it is treason to do it knowingly, you must act!” The fire burns bright in his wide eyes, and you see reflected in them the same vicious zealotry that burned in Father Rame’s. “That which is rooted in rotten soil cannot grow! I will not stand idle while we are destroyed from within.”

In the spaces between his words you can see the calculation. He’s chosen death, you realize. You taste it in the air before he speaks, the power of his decision already shaping the world around it, like chaos—but not the kind they shunned. It tastes like the air inside the chapel; the still, thick air, perfumed so that the smell of his body would not leak further than a few feet beyond his corpse. 

“You know the truth of what I speak, Majesty, you must see that His Highness is not himself! He pants after the elf-bitch, like a man possessed! It is unnatural, you must—you must see it!”

Geralt’s mouth creases with anger. “I see your distrust in your King has bred treasonous discontent. I see your desire to rise above your station would have you slavering after my father’s throne like the dog you are.” He steps into the room then, and you watch as the Duke’s hand closes about the grip of the dagger strapped to his waist. “Your dedication to this fiction will cost you.” 

You had not been able to see Geralt’s other hand, positioned behind him, his arm taut as though he were dragging something heavy. He steps aside, and your heart leaps into your throat as you see why—

A dead Nilfgaardian soldier lies behind him, dark liquid pooling thickly underneath his armor. The duke sees it too, his body tensing. 

“If you will not serve your people, if your father will not protect them, what choice have you left me?” The duke murmurs, the words underscored by the quiet ring of steel as he unsheathes his blade. You jump up, knocking the chair over in your haste to get away from him. You trip over your skirts, stumbling forward as Ser Gavin grabs for you, his hand knotting in your cloak. 

“You will let her go.” Geralt delivers the instructions as truth—no ultimatums. 

“Oh, aye,” Emhyr, nods, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “On that we agree.” You expect him to lunge for the prince, to hear the sharp clash of steel on steel, but you do not. Instead, his face fills your vision. “You may go wherever you wish, now, Lady.” 

You taste death on his words and in the air, and when he steps away, his hands are empty. There is a strange coldness in your belly, and slowly, your hand drifts up to investigate. The leather grip of the dagger is warm, but the steel is cold, so cold you can feel it all the way inside. It’s strange, the way it doesn’t hurt, the way the blood does not feel hot on your trembling hands but cold—

The death Emhyr had chosen was neither his own, nor Geralt’s—but yours. 

Dimly, you are aware of Geralt, of your body tucked tightly against his, the sound of steel on steel, the feel of cold rain on your face. Weakly, you lift a hand to your belly, your fingers slipping on the handle. Geralts hand closes over yours.

“You must leave it, Doe, you must. I know it hurts.” It doesn’t. You want to tell him, but you cannot find the will to move your lips. You feel your grip slacken on his cloak, your fingers releasing themselves without your permission as your vision tunnels. Geralt tells you not to close your eyes, and the words echo far off in the encroaching dark. 

I have to, you think that perhaps the words escape your slack lips in a low mumble, but you cannot be sure. 

Just for a little while. 

to be continued…

next chapter

[violet-eng]

REMEMBER ME POOKIE? (THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FOLLOWING I APPRECIATE IT ♡♡♡♡

So Just think about it if zongli is your boyfriend right image he shows his dragon parts to u like tail and tongue scales horns👹👹👹

And dragon is a type of lizard so dose that mean he breeds whit his tongue and tail and he always wears gloves JUST THINK ABOUT WHAT GOODIES ARE UNDER THERE😚😚😚 GROWING FINGERS.

do u think he has 2 cocks?

You.Need.Jesus... And so do I...

About the 2 cocks thing... I asked an expert (my college friend) and she said yes...

Btw I took a little creative freedom bc I had this "jealous scenario" long ago and wanted to try again some interaction with hybrid Zhongli.

Also, in case you want something more casual then just tell me and I'll give it a try.

Order ready. Enjoy.

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Jealous Hybrid! ¡Zhongli! x fem!reader | NSFW 🔞

Summary: You traveled to Fontaine where you became close friends with Neuvillette. That's why when you return to Liyue and Zhongli SMELLS Neuvillette in your clothes, he goes feral and (basically what was previously asked).

Advertencias: smut 🔞. MDNI. Established relationship. Dirty talk. Does this count as fucking a monster? Zhongli hybrid sex. size kink. Incorrect use of the dragon's tail (not just once, but twice 🎶fancyyy🎶). Two cocks. Piv, anal. Fingering. Does tail sucking count as a bJob? Unprotected sex. Overstimulation. Dacryphilia. Basically, daddy Geo goes wild.

4.1 k words.

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In a few days, you will return to Liyue Bay, to your comfortable apartment in the center above the jewelry store, next to your beloved Zhongli, who has not stopped answering your letters since you left for your work trip to Fontaine. The immense city had completely amazed you, and dazzled by the avant-garde facades of its buildings, the days had felt more like a vacation than work.

Despite the ostentatious façade of the city, you miss home and the delicate architecture between the mountains that guard the city. You also miss the ocean, so different from the primordial sea, full of ancient legends and tales of war. Most of all, you miss your dear counselor at the funeral parlor. Zhongli had been very encouraging about the idea of your trip, especially knowing how much you were interested in working at Meropide Fortress.

This, in your lover's words, would give you a fresh perspective and update your knowledge of the law, as well as a useful contact like the Duke. However, your dear Zhongli did not expect that your thirst for knowledge would be overshadowed by a reluctant desire to help the helpless.

Wriothesley was the first at Fontaine to notice this, so he didn't stop you when you offered your knowledge and help during a trial at the Opera Epiclese, a murder case that was quite scandalous, but not enough to horrify you…

As a paralegal, your knowledge had become indispensable in subsequent trials, so much so that you spent more time in the office of Iudex Neuvillette than in the Fortress. One day you had to attend to a poor robbery victim, the next day you had to observe the petitions and lawsuits of a Sumeru traveler who had come to town, another day you had to make sure that Liney had not been sued for one of those dangerous magic tricks, and then you had to return to the Opera for more cases… and so on for the months you spent there.

Mornings and afternoons you were busy, surrounded by paperwork and research. Fontaine's technology was indeed a welcome relief, and you counted the days to return to Liyue with plans for those strange machines….

As long as the sun was high, you kept your mind on your work, whether it was at a trial or in Monsieur Neuvillette's office. But when the moon rose, and even the Iudex warned you that you had worked too hard, you enjoyed the tourist wonders the city had to offer. The cuisine was very different from Liyue's, the clothes and the songs… ….

Neuvillette, like the good ruler he is, as a result of all the help you had given him, dedicated himself to being your guide during your stay there.

You had found in the Iudex a pleasant companion, whose stories and knowledge consumed you with curiosity. He reminded you of your Zhongli in many ways, and in that ancestral spirit they both radiate… After all, both of them had been great ancestral dragons at some point in their lives.

The farewell from Fontaine had been anything but sad, you had promised to come back, the Melusines had obliged you… and they had given you a box of macaroons. The return to Liyue is much easier than the departure, and when you finally see the red-and-green tiled roofs of the atavistic buildings, a warmth floods your heart. Home… you're finally back.

You hadn't told Zhongli about your return, so he's surprised when he catches your scent while drinking tea near the Wanmin Restaurant. He puts the cup down on the table and, with a subtle movement, closes his eyes, concentrating on the scent emanating from your skin. Yes… it is definitely you, it is the scent of your hair, the balm of your lips, the smell of the cream you use to moisturize your hands… how he missed that smell… how many times he had masturbated smelling your clothes, in the dark solitude of his apartment, longing for you to come back to him and let him take you on the floor, on the table or wherever…

He could perceive every bit of your cinnamon scent, of the lavender cologne you had bought a few months ago, of the floral soap with which you washed your clothes, even the new smells, the dew from the plants of Fontaine, the scent of the flour with which they prepared their famous cakes, the outflow of the sea in which you must have swum, and… what is that smell?

Zhongli frowns, no matter how expressive his face contorts as he turns his head toward the cobblestone streets of his city to meet your figure and your surprised, almost disappointed expression.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," you complain as you embrace him from behind and leave a kiss on his head, how much you missed the scent of his dark curls, the feel of the softness of his hair… the scent of the man he is… you can't wait to have him on top of you that night…

"I smelled you from miles away," he mentions as if it were something banal, though in a rather stern tone of voice. You can't help but dive into the deep doubts of that foul smell. It seems familiar to him…

"I missed you too, my dear… Ah… It's been a long trip, but I had fun… I learned a lot," you say smiling, "Wriothesley was very kind to me, he gave me a lot of freedom to work in the Fortress…" you begin to tell.

The Duke, Zhongli thinks, no… that smell doesn't belong to him….

"Clorinde saved me from trouble when I first came to Fontaine…" you continue.

No… neither did she, Zhongli tells himself.

"Oh, Lady Furina was also very hospitable to me, even though she had a terrible flu when I first started working with the Iudex Neuvillette… oh, I almost forgot to mention the Hydro Dragon to you," you laugh, "you two have a lot in common…"

That smell… that reptilian stench of primordial water. So that's the name the vermin is using now…

Zhongli, smelling Neuvillette's perfume on your clothes, on your skin, can't help but think of all the days you spent with this man… being with him instead. He starts to feel a burning spark inside him that could explode any moment. Jealousy, people would tell him, he would call it thirst for death and war….

For the rest of the afternoon, all he hears from you is how wonderful and interesting Monsieur Neuvillette is… Neuvillette this, Neuvillette that, Neuvillette complimented me, Neuvillette helped me… Although you talk little about him and more about the other friends you made during your stay in Fontaine, in your territorial friend's mind it feels like you're explaining to him what a catch Monsieur Neuvillette is, a dragon who's not afraid to rule his country... while he…. Well

"I didn't think he was such a dragon," you comment, recalling the time Liney insisted Neuvillette to show him his original form, lying that it was his birthday, something the kindly Iudex, who cherishes the friendship of such an interesting being as Monsieur Liney, cannot deny.

"Did he show you his draconic form?" asks Zhongli, as if out of a trance.

"Only for a few minutes, but that was only once. I think I saw him more often as a dragon-human hybrid when we were working in his office late at night," you comment, very unaware of the pressure cooker Zhongli is turning into.

How comfortable Neuvillette must have felt, Zhongli thinks, to show himself to her like that… did they…? No, he reproaches himself, y/n would never do such a thing. And surely Neuvillette was just being kind to a guest like her, who had been so helpful during her stay there.

"Well," Zhongli adds, in the mood to change the course of the conversation, feeling a little more relieved, shedding his primitive instincts, "how was the weather?" he already knows the answer… rainy as usual… ….

"Pretty sunny," you reply.

And that's the breaking point for the great Rex Lapis, who has so patiently endured this conversation.

You hadn't realized how quickly night had fallen on Liyue when Zhongli led you by the hand at a brisk pace to your shared apartment. His grip is strong, like a heavy chain on your wrist, and his steps are longer and faster.

"Zhongli," you mutter between gasps at the performance you must give for this feat… After your long journey, the workout is going badly for you, "slow down".

"Yes… practice," he says, "because soon you will ask me to go much slower."

Your voice catches in your throat, while a few hours ago you had the idea of intimacy with Zhongli, you were expecting something slow and loving, as it usually happens when you return from your crossings… not what this man has in mind.

You stumble up the stairs, covering your face in embarrassment at the curious looks of your neighbors as they watch the unchanging funeral consultant drag his girlfriend up the stairs and into the confines of his apartment.

"Zhongli, stop it," you say once inside, breaking free of his grip, "what will the neighbors think?"

"That I'm fucking you until your legs stop working," he says, locking the front door.

"Don't say things like that," you squeak as you cover your face, your face red as a tomato.

"I wonder if you were this embarrassing when you were with your dear, respectable Iudex Neuvillette," Zhongli whispers, a hoarse undertone rising from his throat.

"Wait, Zhongli, it's not what it looks like," you try to defend yourself, though your words seem futile as the former Archon has you pinned against the wall, his entire form dwarfing your diminutive humanity.

"I'll tell you what it looks like," Zhongli says, slurring his words, despite the darkness, you can see his figure changing, growing in front of you, and his eyes, like two amber fireflies, piercing, are the only glimpse of light in the house, "it looks like I have to remind you who is the only dragon that can impress you, who is the only dragon that can eat your pussy and penetrate you until you're split in two."

"Zhongli!" you try to push him away, even though deep down something has started to smoke between your legs.

"I can smell how I turn you on," Zongli hisses, sinking his nose into your neck and brushing your cheek with his… horns?

"These…" you bring your hands up to his head, running them along the curve of the appendages that spring from his forehead, tangled in a spiral.

"Do you like them?" Zhongli muses, so deep and seductive that your skin bristles and your core soaks at the mere sound.

"I've never seen them before…" you say, your voice cracking, something besides Zhongli's hands caressing your hips and sliding up your thigh.

A tail… you'd be sure it was a tail if it wasn't for the darkness…

You turn your face away from Zhongli to watch him closely, noticing a certain look in his amber eyes, a pupil of an unfamiliar shape, and the way his smile shows you his sharp, gleaming fangs.

"I hate that you smell like him," he growls, shaking his head, "you should smell like me."

"Zhongli…"

"Is that all you can say?" he teases, sensing the eager tone in your voice, the nerves coursing through you from the tip of your nose to your toes, overwhelming your body in a rising flame of bubbling pleasure.

Zhongli is subtle as he leads you to the carpet, lighting the fireplace with his breath of fire on the way, illuminating the room and drawing a gasp of surprise from you.

Zhongli's figure towers over you, slender, almost monstrous. You find yourself propped up on your elbows, your skin brushing against the fabric of the carpet, while before you were wondering why he didn't leave you on the bed, now you understand, and that is that he wouldn't fit.

"Do you like what you see?" asks Zhongli, a proud smile on his handsome face. He kneels over you, cupping your frame between his thighs, to remove his clothes, which would have been torn by now but for the subtlety of his movements.

The thin fabric of his cloak falls behind his back, as delicate as lilies in spring, while his vest slides under his shoulders, tracing the slender figure of the ancient Archon. His tie is undone with a practiced gesture, and his white shirt opens in two, revealing the sculpted figure of the man above you.

The golden details of his skin reflect the fire of the hearth, and his chest, as fiery as the flame beside you, rises proudly before your incredulous gaze. The distance between his shoulders has grown, his chiseled muscles flexing with every movement. He undoes his gloves with his teeth, and as perverse as you look, you can't help but wet your lips with your tongue. His digits, like the rest of his body, have grown in size.

"I can read on your face the myriad fantasies that plague your depraved mind," he muses, adding a snaky sound to the end of the sentence.

Saliva drips down your throat, sweat trickles down your forehead, and your fluids begin to soak your core, all wet.

Zhongli is very skilled at undressing you, he has always taken his time for this kind of prelude, warming you up for him and adjusting your body to his eager caresses… but this is not just any situation… no, in his mind, in the mind of the powerful and ancestral ruler of Liyue, the goal is not to show you what a fervent and devoted lover he can become, but to rip all traces of the unwanted water dragon from your head and body.

"Careful," you mewel as you feel his claws growing and tearing at the fabric of your blouse and skirt.

"If these rags are so important to you, you know I can buy much more graceful ones that flatter the divinity of your figure," he orders, he's a tough nut to crack… and damn, that makes you…

"It's not the clothes…" you look for support on his shoulders, he moves you as if you were a rag doll, "I'm afraid you'll rub my skin…"

"Precious," he inhales deep into the skin on your shoulder, "I'm very skilled at moving when I'm with you. I would never allow myself such an atrocity, to bruise this pristine skin would be punished with the worst of punishments".

"Still," you whisper, and he gives you a golden look, expecting what you will say, with a calm but instinctive depth, you feel the flame of his lust grow and spread.

"Calm down," Zhongli says, laying your back down on the carpet again and parting the fabric of your bra with his claws. Your breasts heave after the release, your face turned sideways with crimson cheeks. "You look so beautiful when you're embarrassed," he adds, dipping his nose between your breasts, taking a deep breath of your eager, warm scent, bathed in eroticism and anticipation.

Zhongli slides his nose over your belly and then between your legs, over your soaked lingerie. Without taking his eyes off you, his eyes locked with yours in an iron grip, he slides the elastic of your garment around your hips, sliding the thin fabric down your thighs and then your ankles. The movement is slow and painful, but exhilarating, just as the image he gives you by smelling your underwear is exhilarating.

His beautified figure towers over you, the fabric clenched in a fist to his nose, where a deep sniff brings Zhongli the ecstasy that no recreational tea leaf could ever provide. The nectar of your sex is the only delicacy he needs that night, whether in his mouth or around his cock…

Throwing the lingerie aside, Zhongli places his hand on his pants, ripping the dark fabric tightly from his muscular legs to reveal not one, but two huge, thick, throbbing cocks eager for you.

"What the fuck!" you exclaim as you watch Zhongli's monstrous appendages slam into his abdomen.

He seems to ignore your expression as he buries his face between your legs, kissing the inside of your thighs, inhaling the juice inside of you as it oozes from your center… Well, he tells himself, it doesn't smell like Neuvillette, at least not here.

"Do you hear me?" you call, lifting his face by the horns, "do you have two cocks?"

"'Indeed, yes," he answers, taciturn as always, "what a crude way to question me about my nature, dear," he says, while you notice his tail waving behind him, wagging from side to side like a predator about to hunt. .

"Did you learn these manners on your wonderful journey to the Nation of Justice?" Zhongli asks as his tail wraps around your thigh, grazing your skin with its scales as it moves closer to your center.

"No… but it was a coherent question I asked," you argue with him, so vainly that you look pathetic.

"And I guess you didn't learn how dragons mate either?"

"The Iudex and I," you start to speak, but your voice stops when you feel Zhongli's tail tempting your folds, "He and I never… no…"

"Too bad," Zhongli replies, "because at least his tail would be softer than mine."

The words catch in your throat, a gasp as Zhongli spreads your legs and the rough skin of his tail slowly slides into your pussy, shaping the surprised, wet, velvety walls around him.

"Ahg!" You cry out between painful moans, you haven't even had time to get used to his thickness and he's already reached the bottom.

You writhe on the rug, your hands clenched tightly against the fabric of the rug as Zhongli holds your legs apart, watching the embarrassing way your pussy clenches around his appendage.

Your back arched as you heard him laugh, sending vibrations to your center, as if everything in it was somehow connected.

"Nothing to add?" he asks, almost mocking you.

"I~…mmhh~" you mewl as your chest rises and falls heavily, waves of heat gather in your belly, the thickness of his tail hurts, burns, but he touches you in every place you could want, even though it seems if he went any further he could reach your throat, "Ahg~"

"Too big?" he asks, pulling back just in time to hit your cervix again.

"Ah!" you moan hotly.

"Speechless?" Zhongli plays with your mind as he withdraws again, this time further, to sink deep inside you again, this time harder.

You can't help but let out a high-pitched, almost heartbreaking scream as you feel him plunge his tail all the way in, welcomed by your walls as they get used to him. His tail is long, largely due to his draconic form, so each time it curls up to penetrate you, it reaches the bottom with a crushing fall, pressing down on the rubbery spot that suffocates you.

Zhongli crosses your legs over his shoulder and pumps his tail into your pussy as if he's cleaning something inside you. Your back jiggles in this position, your waist moves at the stimulus of his thrusts inside you, your throat emits the most outrageous cries of pleasure you've ever made.

He goes in and out, rubbing every corner of you in synchronicity and fervor, little patient with your tolerance and abusing your limits. It excites him to see you screaming for him, and it excites him even more to see pearly drops sliding from your eyes, glistening like the juices overflowing from your abused hole.

"Ahhg~ yes, yes~" each word shouted between moans and sighs, deepens in Zhongli an instinctive way that he has wanted to show you for a long time. Each thrust accelerates, becoming frantic and jerky, each stroke brimming with power, and his hands wrap around your legs, holding you in place so you don't move as he ejaculates inside you.

His tail spasms painfully and suddenly you feel a familiar warmth explode inside you. he has cum inside you, you know it because you are aware of the sensation of his seed overflowing from your pussy… although you doubt that it came from his tail…

"You…" you gasp, mesmerized by the dark new sensation Zhongli has given you.

"Looks like you enjoyed it more than I thought," he smiles, a dark smile.

His tail emerges from inside you and slides over your stomach and waist, turning your body until your knees and palms touch the carpet.

"You're not very swollen yet, are you?" he asks.

"Well, I… ah!" you moan in mid-sentence as you feel his fingers sink deep into you, almost as long as your insides, reaching the deepest valleys of your insides, "Zh…. Zhongli~."

He moves his fingers inside you, bigger and thicker than you remembered. He pulls them out to leave your fluids on his cocks and plunges his fingers back in to lubricate your ass this time.

"I never dared to ask you to do it from behind," he says as he spreads your buttocks with his hands, exposing your small hole to him, "perfectly made for me," Zhongli whispers to himself.

You feel his thick member slide into your pussy, your entrance getting used to his new length as it throbs around him. Almost immediately he enters your ass, slowly working his way inside you, your hole welcoming the new guest with contractions that elicit guttural moans from Zhongli.

"Not so hard, darling," he growls, "or you'll make me cum," he adds, placing his hands firmly on your hips, avoiding the way your body trembles at his intrusion.

"It hurts~" you let out with a moan, because indeed it hurts, but the feeling of being so full makes your body feel like you are on cloud nine, experiencing sensations you have never felt before. "Mmhhh ~ Zhongli ~," you unconsciously move your hips back and vulgarly ask him to start his thrusts.

"I'm going to move, dear. Need you to hold on as long as you can," he says, leaning into your ear, the warmth of his breath flooding your neck and cheek. He doesn't want to hurt you, in short, he's jealous of your new friendship in Fontaine, but he didn't want to make you a victim of his feelings. He loves you, he is madly in love with you, and that is why he is willing to show you, in the most draconic human way possible, who is the only one who deserves to have you.

"Please," you beg, grinding your hips against his, feeling his cocks sink deeper into you.

Zhongli, like the ardent lover he is, doesn't keep his beautiful lady waiting, not after how well you've just taken him. He rubs your insides with his cock, eliciting mellifluous moans from you, and in an arduous retreat, he enters you again, all the way in, again and again and again.

The sound of skin against skin fills the room, Zhongli rushes into you at a frenetic and almost deadly pace, one second you feel empty and the next you are completely full, his appendages bruise your insides, shaking your insides and churning your belly in skillful movements.

He throws his head back, enjoying the way you clench around him, completely hooked on you, trapped in your vicious holes. He takes one of your breasts in his hand, massaging the soft, sweaty flesh under his fingers as heartbreaking screams leave your throat, his tail trailing up your other nipple, wrapping around it as one of his hands massages your clit.

You're completely pampered by his limbs, screaming his name as if it would save you from the overwhelming storm of pleasure consuming your body. Your face is contorted with pleasure, your eyes are in the back of your head, your heart is pounding against your chest just as Zhongli is doing inside you. All in perfect synchronicity.

The climax of pleasure comes when Zhongli takes your hands and places them behind you while his tail splits your lips and slides over your tongue, down your throat. All your holes are completely filled, all subdued by him, entering relentlessly without stopping for you to rest.

Zhongli grunts and moans as he feels your throat close to his tail and as your ass begins to shake around his cock. And he does it even more when he thinks about how beautiful you will look completely bathed in his cum. That's why when he comes inside you, from your mouth and pussy, he can't help but move away from you to get a clear picture of you gagging as you try to just swallow his contents, and as the milky fluid gushes from your butt under your thighs.

You cough and wipe your lips with the back of your hand, looking over your shoulder at the way your legs and ankles are soaked with hIs seed. Dragon stuff, you think, because he's never given you a load of this size before.

"Charming," he whispers, enchanted by the image your corrupted form offers him, "divinely accommodating and beautiful. The most precious treasure I have found on my long journey," he adds, crawling towards you, wrapping your body in his arms as he surrounds you with his figure in fluid movements, pressing you against his chest.

You feel Zhongli's chest vibrate, and the way he has put you on his chest, between his arms, and covered you with his tail, gives you the impression that he is holding you in a shelter, you, his precious treasure.

"Tomorrow I will make you a nest, I have to build one so I can take care of you and our cubs," he whispers above your head.

"Did it really occur to you that I could cheat on you with another man?" you ask, taking advantage of the fact that Zhongli has let down his guard.

"It was my mistake to let my foolish thoughts control my actions. In fact, I think you are the most loyal person I have ever met in my life," he replies.

"If so… why doubt me?"

"Because you are too good for someone like me. Because your sense of help and perseverance is more like that of a dragon who decides to take care of his people than one like me… who leaves them to their own fate," there was a hint of melancholy in his words.

"You have been a good ruler, my dear Rex Lapis. Liyue is more than ready to be ruled by humans…don't think that you have left it to its fate…especially when you walk through its streets and talk to its people," you smile as you caress his chest.

"My dear y/n, you always have the words to make my cold heart warm and smooth," he plays with the strands of your hair, "I am deeply sorry that I ever doubted you…in the near future I will make it up to you, and maybe in the distant future we can remember this as a simple and shameful mistake of mine," he adds, joining his lips to yours in a kiss that shows you his painstaking sincerity, the doors of his emotions wide open for you.

Zhongli's tongue slides into your mouth, giving the kiss a more naughty touch… and you don't know how, but suddenly you find yourself at his mercy again, stretching your pussy with his two cocks inside you, shaping your walls with relentless attacks.

"I want to see you with a swollen belly," he moans, "you're going to be a beautiful mother…" he says, opening your legs, digging his claws into your thighs, watching as his two cocks disappear into your hole.

Now that you think about it… maybe Zhongli is in heat…

[dhampling]

one fem!reader, 2k

“Mummy and Daddy’s evening off though, love? Really?”

“Oh shut up, you horrid thing. I know.”

-

astarion is a newly-minted girldad. that's it. that's the plot.

word count: 2,028

an: fluff, fluff n more fluff. no smut this time. soon. promise. parts ONE and TWO linked respectively but can be read alone.

-

“She’s asleep, Astarion!” 

You are wide eyed, furious; speaking in a whispered shout at your husband.

His pale hands flit across the ties of your shirt, frisking every which way they turn. You slap them off like flies on fruit.

“Even more reason to take advantage of the situation, if you ask me.” He murmurs hungrily in your ear, hands now circling down to your waist to tug on your waistband.

“It’s a fine job I didn’t ask you then!” Gritted teeth. Eyes aflame. Cornered against the dresser.

The crib beside your bed holds your infant daughter - skittish and fresh to a world wholly unknown in every sense of the word. She rests rarely and wails often for company in these early months of being alive with you both. Pallid and red-eyed yet beautiful beyond comparison and entirely yours. 

Seeing you together brings him joy unparalleled. 

He has, genuinely; never been prouder of anything of his doing - saving the Sword Coast is a drop in the ocean that is completely and utterly awash with love for your youngling. The mistaken mess of his own bastard elven vampiric genetics now born unto another. This time it would be right. The hunger, the rot; the abuse and neglect, they were hundreds of miles away.

He would make it right. 

But it was already so. She was here, and you all cried together in that dark, sweaty birth chamber. His great guttural sob at her birth, wracked with emotion he never knew he could possibly be permitted to feel on this immortal coil. Your genuinely feral howls of pain turned weeping with pure joy.

Two full days of agony unlike any you’ve ever endured and she had arrived, breathing; wailing; skin of a changeling in birthing viscera and lungs keen to rival any bellow of the Gods.

Astarion weakly clinging to you both; tears salting your lips and wetting her tiny head for hours on end. 

The great weight of another being on your shoulders. His sincere - yet cliche - fervently whispered oath to her just moments after being placed in his arms.

She is home. She is loved beyond any unit of measure. She will want for nothing, and she will never know anguish like that of her parents and their complex lives. No matter who she is or what she becomes, she has two people who are in her corner. She will be fierce if she so desires. Cunning. Witty. Roguish. Barbaric. Horrid. 

It didn’t matter. It never would. 

She was yours, and his; and she would always have a choice.

He had spoken with her for hours, the nurse whispered to inform you once you had awoken from the deepest slumber of your life. Even then when you looked he was hanging over her small form in her cot, running his lithe fingers over her tiny hands and feet in a repetitive soothing pattern. 

When you queried the topic of conversation he simply looked at you with a grin so lovesick it would flip your stomach completely. Butterflies.

-

“We deserve a bit of fun though, darling. Mummy and Daddy’s evening off? No?” 

Astarion pouts, wrapping his arms around you - still pinned against the dresser - and inhaling your scent deeply. 

You return the gesture and cough reactively.

“You stink of Noblestalk. I know your tricks.”

You playfully shove him away and tiptoe from your room to the landing, the pale elf hot on your heels.

“I have never stunk in my life, thank you.” He sulks. 

You pointedly stop to look at him, before picking up a basket of waiting laundry and descending the stairs. He follows.

“I’m trying to fuck you, dear. Don’t make it weird.” He rolls his eyes and huffs. 

You hum. 

“Corpses tend to smell awful.” 

“Warning.”

“You started it.”

“Touché.”

A beat of silence.

“Mummy and Daddy’s evening off though, love? Really?” 

“Oh shut up, you horrid thing. I know.”

“You’re getting rusty.”

He captures you in a kiss as you reach the bottom of the stairs, slow and patient. Holding your free arm to keep you close. 

“Look at me. I’m the epitome of the fatherly jester!’

Waggles his free hand.

‘I have been blessed with brains and humour anew by the birth of our daughter, clearly.’

He grimaces.

‘Not necessarily superior versions of either, but I - am - changed.” 

From the moment of her conception you’d felt it. An old wives’ tale. The night you’d agreed to mother a brood alongside him, you knew she was there. That she was her. That she was brewing as something brilliant deep inside you and nothing would be as it was ever again. 

He’d called it ridiculous, gestured wildly and rolled his eyes to the deepest hells, but a hazardous hope never left them until you’d far missed your bleed and it was confirmed to be true.

From that moment onwards, something shifted even further in Astarion. 

The domestic tether to your townhouse in the city - no longer just a convenience to remain a steady base for you both, but a fundamental part of his scene setting, to plant roots and grow together. Two centuries of rot and abuse, and his reward was finally nearing completion.

His nesting phase began far earlier than yours and with greater intensity than you could’ve matched even without the issue of your later-heaving belly. Entire pinboards tacked with decadent fabric swatches for every occasion - be it swaddling or nursery curtains. Tailor’s tape around his neck each morning and notebook in hand to note your measurements and take inventory of your wardrobe; ensuring you never looked awry or felt anything less than wholly comfortable. 

Because gods forbid ill-fitted clothing stand in the way of you and your brutal vomiting spells, obviously. A pointed click of his tongue as he fixes your sleeve.

In the middle months of your gestation, the typically discerning clientele who visited you and Astarion in your tailor’s store at the dead of night were the first to become privy to the news. Rounder by the week, flushed; brimming with a deep fatigue and yet somehow absolutely aglow.

Children to be fitted for yet another presentation evening placed sleepy hands on your belly with a saccharine softness. Their parents jostle you - sometimes in congratulations, sometimes to whisper in sheer curiosity. Dhampir are a notoriously rare breed, and you’re certain there were rumours of a third party involvement in the process.

‘No, no. We just tried really, really hard.’ You’d smile, as if in a blissful stupor from just the recollection. He’d turn to you with his ridiculously brilliant hearing; needle between teeth, brow raised; lips upturned in a slight quirk. Devilishly handsome, never anything less.

-

You drop the laundry basket in the kitchen corner. A stuffed bear falls from it. Clive.

A pause.

“You never asked what I did with that shirt, you know.”

It takes you a moment to recall which shirt he’s referring to. He sits at the table and watches you lazily.

“Which? The one for Mr. Chugley? I didn’t think it needed much by way of adjustment, at least?”

A stale piece of burnt toast sits on the counter untouched. You bite and chew and bite and chew like a woman who has never once tasted a morsel so divine; so untainted by the evils of hot butter and a filling bronze crunch.

“Oh - Bunt? Gods, no.’

He sips his stone-cold tea. A fresh film wobbles on top.

‘Bunt Chugley.”

A snort of laughter sends it straight back through his nose and out onto the table. You begin to choke on your toast.

“Bunt Chugley.” You giggle, crumbs spilling from your mouth.

Astarion stands to wipe himself down, creasing over with an escalating laughter.

“Bunt Chugley.”

He waggles his hands, eyes heavy lidded with lack of rest. 

He looks purely maniacal.

“That’s- that’s what we should-’

You stop for breath, cackling now; hands over knees for a brief moment.

‘We should call the next one Bunt Chugley.”

He launches into a wheezing fit.

“How- How would that even work, darling? Like Bunt Chugley Ancunín, or- or-”

“No! No, no. Just that. Bunt Chugley.”

You hold both hands to your eye as if framing a canvas, looking through the gap at the ludicrous proposition in front of you. 

He takes a moment to still. Smiles at you dopily.

Crosses the floor and brings both hands down to your waist with a gentle grasp.

“I am so sorry, my love.” He grins and holds his forehead against yours.

You look at him, dazed.

“Hmm?’

He simply looks up. 

A profoundly gut-wrenching wail becomes apparent to you from above. Your face falls.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Astarion.”

-

He’s up the stairs before you can comment further, swiftly darting back into your chambers and grinning with an unbridled joy - though, you note, with lack of rest that grin is beginning to look more insane by the hour.

“Sweetheart! My darling girl. Shush now. You’re sounding something absolutely wicked.”

You watch on from the doorway, arms folded; stale toast in hand and jaws meeting in a firm chew.

He’s far too good with her. 

It somewhat surprised you at first just how innately fatherhood came to him, but as he picks her up and cradles her intently it’s as if there are fractures of his own childhood coming back. How he was loved, how he was held. 

A piece of him, now alive and breathing again after all these years of death.  

He coos at her, bouncing her small frame gently in his arms and hushing her with each wail. It takes very little for soft mewls to take their place as she reaches aimlessly in his direction. 

He leans towards her grasping fingers and allows her to take one of his ringlets from the front of his head as he kisses her tummy. She’s enthralled by him; recognises him. She wants to know more of him. 

As he lifts his head her grasp remains firm.

“We have some work to do on your sleight of hand, I think. Not to worry.” 

Ever so gently, he unpicks her fascinated fingers and kisses them all in tow. Her face looks almost ready to crumple before he reaches for one final kiss on the very top of her head.

“There, now. All better. Back to sleep?’

A gurgle. A puzzled blink.

‘Absolutely. Mummy does look particularly radiant today, doesn’t she? I’ll be sure to send your regards.”

He catches the smile on your face. Winks your way.

“You’re getting the baby to flirt on your behalf now?” You tease.

“That’s the lady of the house to you. She was simply passing on her praises.” He whispers as he places her back into her crib and steps back fondly. Sidles over to you as you finish the last bite of toast and pulls you in for a soft kiss.

“Stop playing coy. I know you feel the same way I do.’

He whispers down at you.

‘You want another one, don’t you?’

A kiss on the very top of your head.

“You’re projecting.” You smile.

You can’t deny him for long, he knows this. You don’t particularly want to. 

Since becoming a mother you’ve taken to parenthood almost as naturally as he has; and when the topic has come up since you’ve struggled to say no and mean it.

“Think, though. The sooner we try again, the sooner we can begin building our little mercenary force.” He looks at you with the face of a man who thinks he’s just had a really good idea.

“Oh! Yes! You’ve sold me!’

You pull him into a long kiss, the kind that still makes you swoon after all this time together. He tastes like cold tea and smells so clinical you can’t help but laugh heartily as you pull away.

‘That Noblestalk is getting to me. Have a bath and try again with a little less?”

He scowls before narrowing his eyes in thought.

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“It just might, my darling dearest.” 

You wink this time.

The bath starts running before you’ve fully made it back down the stairs.

[loviingpedri]

💋 me thru the phone - joão félix

prompt: it’s hard doing long distance.

warnings: grammar issues, one suggestive comment

click to help palestine

credits to owners for all images

the moon reflected in the window as the trees are shaking from the wind. raindrops covering the glass, slowly falling down.

staring at the picture frame of you and your boyfriend on the nightstand, you sighed.

long distance was very difficult. joão was in portugal for a little vacation, while you were in spain for work and university. joão was in and out of your apartment, meaning there was barely any contact or conversation.

he tried his best. he was the sweetest boyfriend you could ever ask for. you smelled the fresh pastel tulips in the glass vase. lost in your thoughts, and about to pick up a book, a sudden noise shocked you.

ring ring

a smile formed on your face as a picture of joão holding floki in front of a sunset on a mountain, next to him was you. a memory appearing of how your lips felt against his cheek. a scent of ocean, wood, and citrus flowing through the air.

swiping to answer his call, you were met with a smiley, tan, and dark brown eyed guy.

“hey.” he says on his white couch.

“hey, how are you?” pulling your (his) hoodie over your head to get comfortable, he could tell something was on your mind.

“i’m doing pretty good. did you get the flowers i sent?”

“yeah, i did. they’re really beautiful.” flipping your camera to show him. he admired the pink tulips, reminding him of you.

“i noticed your hoodie. wonder where you got it from,” noticing his smirk, you tried to hide your face in the camera. “is something going on? you don’t seem very talkative.”

you don’t wanna admit it, but he was right. usually, you would explain in detail on how your day was. quiet on you either meant you were mad at him, or just weren’t having a good day.

“i’m okay. not really feeling talkative today.” you gave him a small smile of reassurance. he wiggled in response, not buying the response. he shrugged it off instead of trying to push it on you.

“you look good. i’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.” honestly, that small comment made you want to lay flat on your stomach, kicking your feet in the air with a soft pink rising on your cheek.

“thanks. how’s your vacation going?” trying to control your heart rate, you decided to change the topic.

he smiled as you were fixing your hair, trying to noticeably look good for him. “it’s chill, not very eventful. sometimes i think about how i should’ve stayed with you though.”

“you know i would’ve never let you do that. you needed a break.

“yeah, i know. its been awhile. i really miss you.”

with a little sarcastic hair flip, “i’m so glad you miss me,” his laughter made butterflies fly in your stomach. “but really, i miss you too. especially when you would make hot chocolate during rainy nights. i crave it literally almost every day.”

“is that the only thing you crave?” he winked at you. your smile dropped at first in shock, but you two were dying in laughter.

“ew joão, that’s so gross.” you said in between laughter.

“if i had the opportunity to climb through the phone and kiss you, i would take it.”

“and people say romance is dead.”

rolling his eyes, you saw a glimpse of an open suitcase. it was filled with clothes neatly folded and ready for a trip. you furrowed your eyebrows.

noticing your face, “what’s wrong? did something happen?”

“are you going somewhere? i thought you weren’t leaving for another 3 weeks.”

laughing it off, which you did not find it funny (cause where is he going 🤨🤨🤨), he noticed you were being serious. you did not take the hint at all.

“y/n, don’t be sour. i’m going to fly over there tomorrow morning.” your mouth flew open. he didn’t even mention it.

“what? when did you book the ticket? you didn’t tell me anything.”

“calm down, i started packing this morning. i honestly couldn’t wait to see you anymore. i just booked the tickets literally 5 minutes ago.”

“i should probably clean the apartment a little bit then.” scrambling out of bed, ready to spot every dust speckle.

“don’t worry about it. i’m just ready to see you.”

“you should sleep early then for your flight. i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

nodding his head, “kisses?” you rolled your eyes. he think it’s so funny how you kissed the camera one time before hanging up. now, he wants you to do it every phone call.

blowing a kiss at the camera before quickly hanging up in embarrassment, you could see his cheeky smile. you laid in your bed, thinking about what just happened. you were kicking your feet, ready to see him.

[not34624]

could you write a drabble/ fic abt baking with denji? ty and have a good morning/night!

BAKING WITH DENJI warnings: fluff, gender-neutral reader,suggestive(?), reader gets called 'handsome' (1), no beta read, spelling/grammar mistakes will be fixed, ooc denji(? I tried my best) REQUESTS : OPENED - CLOSED

notes: thank for your request! I hope this is meets your expectations, I wasn't sure if you wanted this to be just fluff so I made it a bit suggestive(?) nothing to crazy tho, enjoy! <3 ( this was really nice to write since I use to bake lol )

Denji used to not be a big fan of baking or even cooking for that matter until he met you, you were always cooking and baking for him. He remembered when you made him a cake and a batch of cookies for his birthday which almost made him start crying since no one had ever done that for him. . It was when Denji was watching TV when he began to smell the yummy scent of your baking. He went to investigate what you were doing in the kitchen. You stood in the kitchen with an apron wrapped around your waist as you grabbed a bowl that had the cake batter already as you began to pour it into a round cake pan. You didn't notice him until you felt his arms wrap around you as he rested his chin on your head.

Your body jolted when you realized it was just Denji.

“Don't scare me like that, Denji!” he ignored your small complaint by asking you a question “Whatcha doin’?” He asked.

“I’m just baking a cake” you smiled softly as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his eyes sparked as he looked at you with a smile, if he had a tail it would definitely be wagging side to side.

“Can I help decorate it, pleaseee?!” Denji begged, Denji wasn't very good at decorating cakes, they were decent ugly whenever he would decorate but you couldn't bring yourself to say no to the boy, you sighed and nodded.

You put the round cake pan into the oven, you set the oven to 180 degrees so it could get baked.

You cleaned the counters that you were baking on while you waited as Denji sat on the floor watching the cake bake inside the oven. after 25 minutes, the ocean dinged signaling that the cake was ready. you carefully took the cake out the oven as Denji grabbed a big enough plate to fit the cake on, you carefully dumped the cake onto the plate. "Can we decorate it now?" Denji pouted as he looked at the cake that was fresh out the oven, you should tell him no so the cake could cool down so you could decorate the cake properly but once again you had a hard time saying no to denji. "Be a doll and go grab the icing you want to use" you smiled softly as Denji quickly went to get the icing, "can we put sprinkles pleasee!" Denji asked. "Of course!" Denji quickly came back as his arms were filled with different color frostings which were white,orange,blue,pink and black. "Wait here while I go get something, okay?" You said and Denji nodded, You were going to use piping bag but when you came back, Denji had already started decorating the cake (poorly) with a butter-knife. You set the piping bag down and grabbed a butter-knife like denji and began decorating, it was messy and sticky. Denji kept getting frosting on his arms and hands. You notice that Denji got white frosting on his fingers which gave you a small idea. "Denji" your tone was soft "Yes?"Denji turned his head to look at you, you grabbed his hand which was sticky with frosting. you gently licked on his white frosted covered fingers, you gently suckled on them some of the frosting getting on your lips. Denji felt his breath hitch as his face began to heat up as he watched you lick his fingers in a less innocent manner, he looked like he was to faint at any moment now. as you pulled Denjis finger out of your mouth, now clean. his fingers coated in your saliva. "I..I could have just washed m..my hands" Denjis voice hoarse, you laughed as you looked at Denji with a teasing smile "I know, but you prefer my mouth, no?" Denjis heart-felt like it was going to exploded. His cheeks red and flushed. "you're so handsome..fuck" Denji mumbled as he eye-ed you up and down with a flustered face. And after all of the messing around and teasing, the cake was finally finished! it was ugly, yes. but that didn't matter to you or Denji as long as you spend time with one-another, the cake was a mix of colors and had dumb doodles on it like tiny pochita made from orange icing and a poorly drawn stick figure of aki and power and the words 'I <3 COCK' and some silly cat doodles made by you (any of the ugly doodles or writing was made/written by Denji) and by the send of the night, Denji's face and hands were covered in frosting and cake. end note: IM NOT DEAD, FEEL FREE TO REQUEST ANYTHING! I WRITE BASICALLY ANYTHING, I've been busy so I haven't been writing sorry but I'm finally getting back into it!<3

[yanderestarangel]

♡‧₊˚✧˖°💌 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲 | 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐭𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

TW: ftm reader, v!sex, oral (f!re), dirty talk, afab anatomy, reader is a femboy, wearing skirts, sex without a condom, praise, rough sex, dom!homelander, dark concept, degradation, dom!homelander, male x male, porn plot, smut, use of aphrodisiac, creampie.

A/N : finally a request from homelander! yey! For some reason Tumblr doesn't let me answer my asks anymore, but hey- I took a screenshot of all the ones I'm going to make >< so sorry if your order isn't notified!

⸺ It was a miracle that you caught the attention of the most feared man in all of America, the most powerful man in the entire world, Homelander.

You were just a normal kid who worked at Vougth's main headquarters, taking care of the schedules of some secondary supers; however, you soon felt the pair of oceanic blue eyes burn you - the infamous hero staring at you from afar, practically fucking you with just one look, he drank in all your curves - from the stockings that squeezed your thighs, to the short skirt that you wore, in addition to the breasts shyly hidden through the blouse you wore.

You had awakened something in him, something he didn't know how to put into words, he was always a more submissive man in bed but you made all his sexual fantasies create another type of direction, he wanted to fuck you like a beast - like a hungry animal, beautifully destroy every piece of your delicate body and make you his boy.

So, you were lovingly notified with a mild threat from the company board, either you had a meeting with the hero of the seven, or you lost your job.

And you didn't hesitate to choose the first option. The meeting was at a luxurious restaurant in the city, closed to just the two of you, the hero seemed more polished, more... Different? An improved version of the man you saw fighting with everything and everyone in the buildings every day - the smell of fresh cologne coming off him also made you try to close your thighs, feeling your core get wet every time you saw his muscles flex under the fabric tight blue uniform, you had never paid due attention to him, so it surprised you to see him so... Attractive, as if a new light was placed in your eyes and mind, as if with each touch you wanted more and more - perhaps the aphrodisiac he put in his perfume would have helped, but you would never know it.

He was a gentleman, treating you like a prince, like his prince - carrying you in his strong arms to his apartment, you were adorable, and you were as he expected you to be: shy and wet. Your sweet scent of excitement and desire filled every atom around him, so it wasn't difficult for Homelander to convince you to let him into your house... It was too easy, even, and as soon as the door closed, a predatory smile covered his features. of the blonde man, as he towered over you like a mountain.

"-Are you nervous baby? there's no need.. I'm going to make you feel good pretty boy... lift that skirt for me... now." You couldn't help but feel weak in the knees as you did as he told you without protest, exposing your wet, needy flesh for him and for him. Homelander smiled, his piercing blue eyes fixed on your exposed, glistening pussy. He moved closer, his presence looming over you, radiating power and dominance- His hand reached out, his fingers brushing the lace of your panties.

"-Good boys are rewarded... Now, let's see how wet you really are." he whispered hoarsely, his voice sending shivers down your spine. His touch was electrifying as he slowly pushed your panties to the side, exposing your throbbing clit and your slick folds to his hungry gaze. "-Such a receptive little slut for me" His fingers dug into your flesh with more force than they should have, leaving bruises that would later turn into sickly beautiful property marks - his tongue tracing slow circles around your entrance before dipping deep inside you. The sensation was unlike anything you've ever experienced before—his warm, wet tongue probing and teasing your sensitive folds, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your entire body.

You arched your back involuntarily against the cool concrete wall, moaning softly as he devoured every inch of your tight cunt. The lust was overwhelming, the sensations intensified by the knowledge that this sadistic hero could have anything and anyone he wanted, but he chose you - Moans fell freely from your lips as he continued to pleasure you, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to take your to the limit. Each stroke, each movement of his tongue, sent waves of ecstasy through your body, elevating your arousal to new heights.

You couldn't help but grip his hair, encouraging him, your breathing becoming ragged as you neared the peak of pleasure. Homelander sensed your imminent release and intensified his efforts, his tongue working faster, his fingers slipping inside you to increase the stimulation.

"-You like that don't you? Having me worship you?" he said with a roguish smile, eating you from the outside with even more intensity - however, when you were about to cum, the blonde took his tongue out of your pussy, making you feel a practically painful burning, begging on your knees like a puppy for him to fuck you soon, like the good boy you were.

Homelander's dominance over you intensified as he pinned you face down on the bed, his strong grip holding your head gently against the mattress - the pressure against your face felt a thrill of submission through your body, fueling your desire and excitement, you could feel his hard cock pressing against your ass, teasingly grazing your entrance with each movement. "-You like it rough, don't you, pretty boy..." he growled, his voice dripping with unmistakable horny.

"-You want me to fuck you until you can't walk straight, don't you?" Homelander's thrusts grew more intense and you could feel the pain building inside you - the pain sent waves of ecstasy through your body.

Your screams and moans filled the room, music to Homelander's sadistic desires. He leaned close to your ear, his voice dripping with a dark intensity. "-Do you think it hurts now, doll boy? Wait until I'm done with you," he whispered, his words fueling the fire of submission in your veins.

"-I'll take care of you, every inch of you, after I'm satisfied." Homelander's thrusts became more erratic, his breathing irregular, his balls hit your clit messily, making you breathless, with each slap on your ass or even the rough and sloppy way he squeezed your soft breasts, using the fabric of your skirt to further leverage each wild rhythm of your hips.

"-Fuck boy-! You take me so good... Good boy- good boy, just cum for me with that slutty pussy." When Homelander's thrusts reached a feverish level, he squeezed your head once again, his fingers digging into your hair. He growled deeply, a primal sound of pleasure as he reached his climax -- with one final, powerful thrust, he released himself inside you, filling you with his cum. You felt the heat of his release, mixing with your own wetness, as he continued to reach his orgasm. A feeling of satisfaction washed over him, and he slowly withdrew from you, his grip on his head finally loosening -- Homelander kissed your body tenderly, his lips tracing your skin, marking you as his.

"-You were a good slut, baby prince", he murmured, his voice filled with a possessiveness, giving you chaste kisses on the back and loving pats on your red ass from his own slaps. "-And I always take care of what's mine... Good boy..."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[dumplingsfordays]

Reading 30 Strales and omg Blade smelling like citrus sounds amazing. I've been playing for about 3 weeks and after fulling catching up on the trailblazer quests I was like dang blade kills people a lot right, he probably smells like blood 24/7 that's so gross. All this to say... reject logic, I agree that blade smells like citrus. Do you have thoughts on what any of the others would smell like?

what the hsr men smell like

ft. blade, gepard, jing yuan, dan heng, luocha, and welt

cw!: mentions of blood, no pronouns for reader mentioned, implied relationship, cuddling, swearing, super fluffy :)

note - thank you so much for reaching out to me omg 🥺 i reject logic too so that's how the whole citrus thing came to be ajsjdk. also i know absolutely nothing about colognes/fragrances so i'm sorry if i mess some of these up ;-; hope you're having a great day/night though pookie <3

and as always, thank you for reading :)

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blade

~ as mentioned above, def smells like citrus and bergamot.

~ sometimes you can catch a little metallic-y whiff of (cough cough) def not blood (cough cough), but it never lasts for long - when he hugs you, the smell of oranges invades your senses like a light summer breeze~

~ and don't get me started on how obsessed he is w this scent. if he stays somewhere for even 1-2 days, you know he's bringing along his 3 freakin citrus-scented candles!!

~ please run your fingers thru his hair when you're hanging out or cuddling. please. he will melt from headpats and your fingers will smell like his shampoo for the rest of the day, and since you love the scent of gentle lime, why not?

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gepard

~ omg this man!! he's totally giving cashmere + hot cocoa for some reason??? he doesn't really use cologne/fragrances and prefers his natural scent, but does use cashmere and vanilla body wash + shampoo.

~ like sure, after a busy day at work or training he'll kinda smell like sweat but will immediately take a shower when he gets home. he hates being sweaty and thinks it's icky if he does for too long-

~ and when you snuggle up to him for cuddle time on a day off, you just wanna stay there forever bc his scent envelops you like a blanket on freezing winter nights <3

~ overall very comforting and warm, just like Gepard himself!! (cries in human heater vibes)

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jing yuan

~ musk + cinnamon + a little bit of spice, and def uses cologne.

~ actually wants to smell nice and puts in the effort!! changes his sheets, washes his clothes, showers every day (but washes his hair every 3 days or so bc haircare)

~ speaking of haircare, this man's big on it. most of his haircare products smell like the aforementioned musk and cinnamon, but he uses this one cream that smells like cloves and you freakin adore it. sometimes you borrow it so that whenever you're going out and he's busy with his big boy general duties, it feels like he's with u <3

~ and ughhhh his bedroom smells like him so whenever you guys have le cuddle time you fall asleep almost immediately. ofc he eventually does too (bc he loves how u smell too pookie, don't tell him i said that though he would kill me aksjskd) and you're so warm and soft and how could he not fall asleep??

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dan heng

~ very ocean-y (salty?), small hints of eucalyptus and cypress as well. when he uses cologne he uses very, very little, but he actually has 2 separate colognes, one for the ocean-y cypress, and the other for the eucalyptus

~ i feel like this is kinda a bold statement but he uses bath bombs. like he gets a bath bomb that smells like mint, gets in the bathtub w it, and glides his thumbs over its surface bc he likes the texture-

~ he might not be the cleanest man in the universe, but he sure does smell like it!! something about eucalyptus and cypress and mint and a hint of ocean breeze is chillingly refreshing and tbh you kinda dig it :D

~ mornings w dan heng. omfg they are ethereal bc he literally smells angelic??? like a gentle freshness yk and the pillows smell like him too so lazy mornings are def a thing that you guys love sharing <3

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luocha

~ oooo he's kinda a wild card imo, but personally, i think that he smells like jasmine + honey (not just bc of his idle + technique!! pinky promise)

~ he lowkey smells a little like freshly-cut grass, very light n refreshing. however, jasmine takes center stage, and if you really bury your face in his long-ass hair, you can catch a whiff of chamomile :))

~ super big on herbal teas and honey as well - i hc that he brings a water bottle w him that's just green tea n honey so when you're close to his face (cuddling, hugging, etc) the honey adds this sweetness that blends super well w the aforementioned chamomile + jasmine <3

~ like jing yuan, super involved in haircare!! he does use less products, but you still freakin adore this chamomile shampoo that he uses. avid believer in aromatherapy, prob uses essential oils (not for curing cancer ofc)

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welt

~ coffee and amberwood!! both are deep and rich scents and he probably uses cologne in very small amounts aksjdks

~ coffee addict and the scent faintly lingers, so the amberwood is really more prominent, but overall i promise he doesn't smell like dust or smth, he's not that old he takes good care of himself :))

~ burns incense in his room bc it helps him relax and concentrate on his drawings, so he does have a little resin smell to him, but you don't mind bc it's actually quite comforting. he once almost caused a fire bc he dropped a lit match onto the carpet but we don't talk about that-

~ loves to hug you so whenever he does, you always feel so cozy and loved and aaaaa ya'll are so cute i can't <3 and since he's pretty tall he sometimes rests his head on top of yours and hugs you from behind like that and you melt immediately bc it's like a blanket!! but smells super nice!!

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[h5eavenly]

Carousel┃H.HJ SMAU

Fifty- Flickers Of The Past II.

Warnings: heavy angst, hyunyn being stupid, sexual assault (it's not graphic or detailed but i put a little X right before it in case it triggers you and you want to skip)

wc: 9.1k

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The air smelled sweet, filled with glisters of memories and feelings you promised to bury last year. peaches, fresh and an abiding reminder of the oaths you had splintered between you and yourself. an oddity that only seems to be right in the tight space of Hyunjin’s room. Light blue colored walls equivalent to crashing waves of the ocean alongside the saltiness in the air sweeping in through his window has you slowly seeping in an almost comfortable siesta. Summer, the beach, the sweetness that had lingered on your tongue are all alluring you to the love embodied in him. You find yourself in the same mazes of vows you repeat to yourself, whispering to every passing pink colored rose that you will stop soon, you’ll just love him till next week, till next month, next six months, till the end of the year and you will stop then.

Yet his bracelet is still tight around your wrist and your heart is singing his name as if no other song can even exist at the same time as him.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin

Hyunjin

Hyunjin who was mere inches away from you. He is sprawled on his bed. The sound of his pencil gliding across the papers of his sketchbook in drawings you’re unaware of fills the silence in the room. Along with his rust covered fan, providing assist to the growing heat of the sun. You turn your head from where you’ve been lying on his carpeted floor, a pillow he threw at you earlier is beneath your crossed arms as you stare at him. As if mountains of worlds had nestled themselves between you, and you are nothing but a worthless rock at his doorstep, without cease for even a moment, a brush of his eyelashes over his cheeks when he blinks your way would surely be enough.

You long for him.

An invisible string ties itself around your ankle and holds you in place and swears to keep you in check. Never too far in. Never too excited, never too hopeful, and filled with infinite patience.

Hyunjin has grown a little taller with the passing days that had blended into your junior year of high school, his shoulders a little broader. Hair strands growing longer at an uncomfortable length right at the nape of his neck. You know all these silly little things, all the little details that have made their way into your memory and taken their claim there, having your eyes follow him whenever he’s near had become second nature. Spending time in his small room, listening to all the lectures his mom threw his way. Whether it be his worsening smoking habits or telling him to cut off his hair already. It’s all so unnecessary to remember but you do, you always do. The weight of them grows heavier each passing day and you wonder how your mind finds space to keep him.

And when Hyunjin finally notices your adoring eyes, never with the same adoration he looks back at you with a raised brow. A different glint in his stare that has the weight on your chest grow into an even more of a substantial threat, has your heart picking speed in yearning that’s never gonna be met.

How more foolish can your heart ever grow to be?

“Why do you keep staring at me? Are you in love with me or something angel?” The curl of his smirk brings faux annoyance to your features, wearing them proudly to hide the darkening color of your cheeks.

“You wish, asshole.” You grumble under your breath, turning your head like his walls are more worthy of remaining crumbs of your attention. Hyunjin only snorts in reply, resuming the scribbles of his pencil.

How foolish is all you can say to yourself when you move to stand up, ignoring the tugging of the string around your ankle, telling you to sit still. A warning that falls on your deafening ears.

You’re continuously losing yourself only to stumble upon yourself too far in. too excited, too hopeful, and never patient enough.

“What are you drawing?” you ask with a playful smile on your pretty face, endearing and more than anything dangerous. Hyunjin uses his body as a cover, stretching his arms to shield his sketchbook from your eyes.

“None of your business.”

“Come on. Show me” you pout, trying to peak at his hidden drawing but to no avail.

“No,” Hyunjin is stubborn, almost childishly so. It shows in the way he tries to keep sketching even with how uncomfortable his position has become.

“Hyunjin.”

“Y/N.”

“Show me.” You order for the last time, crossing your arms with squinted eyes that only makes you even look more adorable, he tries not to find you endearing as he sits up. Legs crossed on his bed and with a teasing smirk he slowly shakes his head at you.

You attack him, jumping on top of him with broken giggles and hands reaching for his sketchbook that he grabs first. An advantage in his longer arms as he pushes it under his pillow when he falls back on his sheets with the force of your body.

“You failed yet again, how sad.” He says mockingly, circling your wrists with his hands and holding you still on top of him. You fall quiet, way too aware of the position you placed yourself in, on his bed and on top of his body, in between his scent and all his belongings. The brush of his palms on the skin of your wrists, his breaths have his chest falling up and down and you feel it. You feel him under you. Your heart is constricting in your lungs with each breath of his.

“Let go of me.” You huff, wrestling against the hold he has on you.

“You jump me and now you’re telling me to let you go?” he teases, an amused look on his face as he watches you fight in hopeless attempts. He moves to hold both of your wrists in one hand while he uses the other one to sit up “Don’t tell me you’re shy now?” he muses as he brings his face closer to you and you lean back before a blush sprouts on your face. An undressing of your emotions that you run away from me.

“As if. You’re ugly and you smell bad.”  You feign disgust, lips curling into a tight-lipped smile that you know annoys him.

“You’re heavy anyways.” He grumbles, rolling his eyes at you as his grip on you finally relents and you roll off him with a breath of relief that you hope he won’t notice.

“Hey, I’m on a diet.” You whisper, refusing to look at him and keeping your eyes glued to his ceiling. You try not to think about his hand brushing against yours when he lies next to you.

“Clearly it isn’t working.”

It’s a joke, one that he had thrown at you one too many times, yet it still stings. Right at the same scabbed scar your mom had been picking at ever since you could remember, it won’t close. There’s no way for it to close and his words only dig deeper at it, it falls right into it and you once again feel like nothing but a big open wound. You fall quiet, in a sadness that cannot be explained. It is between your overflowing feelings for the boy next to you and the lack of remorse you feel for your own self-hatred.

“What are you thinking about?” Hyunjin asks, propping his head on his elbow, and turning to the side to look at you. He stops the growing frown between your brows with his pointer finger. It doesn’t belong there, surely doesn’t when you look at him with those soft eyes of yours.

“School dance,” you lie.

“What? No one asked you and now you’re sad?” He raises an eyebrow at you, pushing your face away with his pointer finger when you attempt to bite him.

“Actually, I got asked three times just today.”

“Oh yeah? By whom?”

“Han from chem class, Ryujin from math and your friend Seungmin.”

“Seungmin asked you to the school dance?” he snorts, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his face. Your blue feelings are pushed to the side for now.

“He didn’t tell you?” You tilt your head to look at him and the simplicity of how you act is enough for him to hold his breath, makes his insides churn and he finds himself falling into the nameless lullaby his heart sings around you. Soft, tender, and confusing.

“You better have said no.” he whispers as his fingers reach for you in scarce honesty when they brush the strands of hair over your forehead. No one has ever touched you this softly before, no one has ever been this soft when they looked at you, no one has ever managed to have you before him.

No one has ever made you this clumsy, this careless with your heart. How could you let it be stolen so easily? How could you fall for someone who carries angels in his eyes and the benevolence of the sun in his fingertips? And how could you possibly still languish after him, in hopes for him to ever look at you?

“Why? Are you scared I’ll date your best friend?” the fingers that have been gently twirling your hair turn cruel, pulling at them slightly with enough vigor to sting and you wince in pain, slapping his hand away.

“What the fuck Hyunjin?”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“Okay you didn’t have to pull my hair.” You complain with a pout, stealing his breath and anger away with your mere existence.

“Sorry angel.” He sighs before gently massaging the spot where he pulled and you melt, right under his touch and on top of his sheets. Becoming one with everything that is owned by him, one of his many folded clothes in his closest and lodged between his pencils and erasers. There but not loved enough by him to pick you up.

“What about you? Did anyone ask you?” your heart is on the edge, bearing it to him and you realize it’s stupid.

“Yeah, but the boys think I should go with Lia. They’re saying we look good together or whatever.” He speaks so causally, as if your heart isn’t in the palm of his hand and he just squeezed it with so much force it started bleeding. Aching in maroon and abandoned, akin to a deflated balloon that isn’t fun to play with anymore.

“What do you think? Do you know her?” he asks, looking down at you through his lashes and you break into pieces, the fondness in his eyes is polished, sharp enough to be plunged into you.

Of course you know her, she fits right in with Hyunjin. With the ability to shine through crowds of people and grabbing the attention of every human they pass by. With glitter in their skin and golden sparkles in their hair. They’re everything you’re not. She’s everything you’re not. You who only appears to be some abomination.

“Yeah, I think you’d look good together.”

You’re not sure what kind of answer he had hoped for but you’re more giving than you’d like, your heart is your first enemy, unfair in the way it keeps calling for him even though he never answers.

“Maybe we should go together,” Hyunjin hums, rolling off his bed and stretching his arms above his head in a dramatic manner. At your eerie silence he looks back at you, a pause in his gaze before he grins.

“As friends you know? It would be fun.”

“mhm.”

The silence lingers, settles itself into your bones and around your bleeding heart, and it’s only there to remind you once again of how foolish you are to even hope for a glimmer of Hyunjin, a glance. But it’s never going to happen.

Your hope goes as fast as it comes yet your yearning stays.

Your heart has never known peace, so it seeks solace in the inadvertent scars Hyunjin marks on you, seeks solace in the way you bleed for him. Being in love is so embarrassing it has you soaking his sheets with crimson, leaving behind evidence of your affection that you had promised one day you’ll let go of.

He’ll never look at you the way you look at him.

How foolish.

Months pass by alongside the seasons, turning the weather into frigid wind and collecting clouds every now and then that pours rain over your city. Cold and grey yet summer remains in Hyunjin, in his smile and the dip in his cheeks, in the crinkling sides of his eyes when he’s happy and the scent of his bodywash. It keeps you warm even on days like today where the wind kisses your bare legs with frozen cold lips. The sight of him on the field, running in passion towards his ambitions is enough to have an affable feeling hugging your insides.

You sit by the sidewalk and watch like a little kid, on the bleachers, a home you find pride upon yourself to call. Your notebook that has filled with designs throughout the months lies in your bosom right where it always belongs, a page with an unfinished wedding dress is slowly coming to life between your dancing gaze and the flickers of your pencil. It’s a consequence of huddled thoughts that came to life on random night, turning you into a hopeless dreamer. Imagining yourself in different clothes that will fit whatever scenario your mind had conquered. Hyunjin is constant in each one of them.

This one by far had been the most absurd, you kept rolling in your bed trying to push down the thoughts that had invaded your head late at night, yet they remained. Despite the way you chastised yourself repeatedly you still rolled off the bed because the thoughts of drawing your own wedding dress hadn’t left your mind until it materialized itself on your paper. In your head you’re wearing it when you’re 26, old enough to know what you want and young enough to know you don’t need to waste any more time.

In your head Hyunjin is tucked in every little folder, pages upon page he filled out and in every little story you feed your delusions, he’s your knight in shining armor and in this particular tale he’s waiting for you down the aisle, his hair is even longer and it’s the mid of July, his mother is there and Hanuel who grew up too fast is tearing up. In your head Hyunjin loves you back just as much and when you face him his eyes sparkle with unyielding affection just for you. In your head everything falls perfectly into place.

“Hey Y/N.” your dreams are broken by your rather cold reality when Seungmin is sitting next you.

“Hi.” You clear your throat, a growing blush on your cheeks as you scramble to turn the page over. Refusing to be witnessed in your own acts of dreaming. His eyes flicker between the now empty page and you.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“Not at all.” You shake your head, pretending like you’re just about to start drawing. Your pencil leaves meaningless lines of graphite behind.

“You never gave me an answer, so I thought I’d come ask you again.”

“An answer for what?”

“The dance.”

“Oh. I thought I’d just go with Han since he asked me first.” You keep your eyes on your notebook, refusing to let a telling of your lie show. You hadn’t expected Seungmin to be sharp enough to cut through it all.

“You’re not saying no to me because of Hyunjin, are you?” your hand halts its movement, paused in their journey of discovering the existence of art without your best friend.

When you look up, gaze forward and they naturally fall on him you find yourself struggling to hold the pieces of your heart together, begging them to hold on for just a little more.

You lied they tell you, you said you’d move on you’d spare us this pain they yell, and you ache not because the sight of Hyunjin is devastatingly beautiful, not this time. You ache because Lia is there, right in his space and right where you don’t belong. You’re pushed to the side once more not by him but by your own infatuation that courses through your divine being. It’s cruel and violently honest when it whispers that this is how things were meant to be. When her hand is brushing his arm, there’s a gentle smile on his face, you fall apart, right on the bleachers you so called home.

“no. nothing is ever because of him.” If you repeat it enough maybe, then it will be true.

“It’s okay Y/N.” he says with his hand enveloping yours in comforting manner, tone soft just like his hands.

You kneel into a dream, where you’re loved by Hyunjin, and summer is always surrounding you.

Your friendship with Seungmin had bloomed in a serendipitous manner, taking your sorrowful days with a momentary bliss that you find yourself looking for when being around Hyunjin gets too overwhelming, too heavy for your shoulders to carry. You look for Seungmin when the weight of your very own sentiment overflows your sanity. The string around your ankle burns, too tight, too hot so you run. Away from Hyunjin and right into Seungmin.

Seungmin was so different than Hyunjin, he was soft where Hyunjin was rough, and dark where Hyunjin was light. It was comforting in a sense that you found hard to explain just because you related to him. A familiar murkiness that had lodged itself in your destiny for as long as you remember. So, you bare your soul to Seungmin, in all the little things you can’t show to Hyunjin, he’s there.

You hadn’t anticipated the fall of it all.

✘

It was a gloomy day, dreadful with rain drenching your clothes in misery you were not conscience enough to grasp it. So, you look for leverage in between the walls of Seungmin’s room, in the flooded clothes he had handed you, you don’t get to dwell on his kindness, on the warmth his clothes provide you because he’s in your space as soon as you’re out of the bathroom and he’s pinning you against the nearest wall, harsh and revolting he presses his frostbitten lips to yours.

Your gasp is swallowed by his monstrous desires and your hands are the weakest weapon, barely are when they push at his shoulders.

“W-what the fuck are you doing?” you shake, terror taking claim on you when you notice how wide blown his eyes are.

“Come on. It’s not like you didn’t know I wanted you.”

You fall into a tussle, right on his floor and you’re overpowered by his figure and then he’s pinning your hands to the ground with unbreakable force. An unrecognizable vile flicker in his eyes, one that you hadn’t noticed before and it has your chest tightening around your heart, struggling to breath as your eyes well up with terrifying tears.

“Seungmin please let go of me. Don’t do this.” You plea with desperation lacing your voice and it cascades down with your tears, achingly familiar with fright.

“It’s okay Y/N. You don’t have to fight me this will be quick.” He voices darkly and your panic grows, translating in the trashing of your legs, futile attempts to break free “No! I don’t want this let go.”

His grip on you grows unrelenting, harsh and it burns when they tighten around your wrists, his hips press your body into the floor, and you feel trapped between him and his dirty floor. It has nausea building in the pit of your stomach and anxiety running through your veins.

“Please Seungmin.” You break and he pauses, eyes dancing over features “Why are you crying Y/N? Did you seriously think I spent all that time with you because I cared? Do you really think someone who’s broken as you is worth anyone’s time?” his words sink themselves into your bones, needles into your flesh and you shake your head. He almost coos at you, hand cupping your cheek as they brush over your tears but they’re endless, almost as endless as your pain.

“Who are you even saving yourself for mhm? Hyunjin? You realize how ridiculous that is right? You should be thankful that I’m giving you a chance and touching you right now. No one else would.”

That night, Seungmin had managed to use every little secret you told him against you, mumbling them into your skin until they became the entirety of you. Your wounds, deep and ugly, too hideous to show are all what makes you, you. And resentment fills you at the trivial thought of your existence. A mere cobblestone that only ever holds everyone else back, has everyone stumbling on you.

You leave Seungmin’s house not even half a person anymore but simply nothing, and you find comfort in the nothingness in your mind, a comfort in the numbness that washes over you with the rain. A silly part of you prays the water washes away the feeling of his hands on you, his lips and maybe to steal your mind with it. So, when you wake up none of this would be real, it would be all just a stupid nightmare that gives you temporary panic.

It has your feet following a familiar route in search of comfort, for a rush of sun that would be lovely enough to sanitize you, yet you’re only allowed to wither away in the cold when you see Hyunjin with Lia right outside his house, he’s holding an umbrella over her head and a hue of pink, and yellow surrounded them. A barrier you’re not allowed to break with your greys, so you leave, a whirlwind of emotions carries you through the night, stormy and ghastly.

Catastrophic of the ever so-called love you held onto, it takes you right to the beach, with frigid air, you weep, wishing for yourself to liquify with the water to be taken away, you wish to dissipate, become one with the wind or maybe to deteriorate into nothing but stardust that will fly away, not big enough to be seen or bright enough for intriguing stares. But you stay, you’re there upon the sands and you’re there in cracks of your painful misery, in the heartbreak flooding you with an immense type of agony, resembles the first heartbreak you experienced while witnessing your father’s betrayal. You’re there right betwixt in the sickening layers that coat you.

You wonder how much of your mother has she left in you? The anger, sadness, and the constant waiting for a man to look back at you only to be pushed aside for someone else, someone better someone who’s not always lingering with insanity in their love. How much of your mother’s destiny are you forced to live? Was this heinous heartbreak in your blood or could it be washed away by the winter rain?

The second time you feel utter despair in your life, you die, leaving behind your body unbeknownst to your departure.

You avoid Hyunjin for three full weeks. It all happens so easily amid fake excuses you throw at him. You no longer wait for him after practice and instead you rush home with half-truths like your mom wants you to be home. You watch Hyunjin’s light grow dimmer and dimmer you each time you avoid his eyes, each time you flinch when he touches you and each time he smiles at you, you drown in your shame. In the memory of his friend’s hands on your body, you have been tainted, inside and out so you must leave. How could you stay by his side when he’s so bright it blinds you.

So, you lock yourself away in ignominy, it takes over you every time you and Seungmin are too close in the same radius and a breath of relief escapes you whenever he passes by and pretends you’re not there, he doesn’t look your way and you grow thankful, somehow indebt to him because now you can pretend none of it was real.

Your running and Hyunjin’s burning for you all accumulates to one random Monday, an aching in his heart that draws him to you, looking for you in the faces of everyone he passes by, in the voices of all the girls that talk to him all day but they’re not you. He looks for you in his sketchbook that has been filled with portraits of you he craved carefully, with heedful attention yet they don’t compare to you. Nothing ever compares to you.

His life was a chaotic mess, noisy and he strives on mayhem, has felt it bloom in the middle of his chest and into the districts of his jumbled-up brain. But you’re so different, you’re in the wind, soundless and gentle, you’re in the masses of the ocean strong and beautiful. So, he learns to love you in silence, from a distance. Hyunjin learns to love the moon just for you while you convulsion in loneliness and yearn for him. Constantly missing the sunlight.

“How was your test?” Han holds the door of the class open for you and you pass by him with a thankful smile, your scent loiters right under his nose.

“Not too bad, you?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything right.”

“As expected of you.” You smile at him, and he immediately looks away with pinking cheeks that you don’t seem to notice, too busy checking through your answers as you navigate your way between the students to your locker.

However, Hyunjin who has been waiting for you right by at it notices, it has his fingers digging into the flesh of his arms in anger. Fresh out of a practice that wasn’t his best. Does not help him in the slightest and instead adds fuel to his already growing anger, it runs straight through his blood, tainting it green with jealously he didn’t know what felt like till he set his eyes on you. It claws at him, plasters itself right in the center of his chest and compresses it into painful tugs.

Why was it so painful to look at you sometimes?

He grits his teeth when the boy next you he doesn’t recognize wraps his arm around your shoulder in caution when you almost bump into one of the students clumsily and you smile at him, mumbling words that he cannot hear, letting another person that isn’t him touch you. It isn’t him so why are you letting it happen?

“Y/N.” He calls when you ‘re close enough and still haven’t spared him a look, too busy listening to whatever nonsense the nerd next to you is saying. Why are you letting a loser like him even be this close to you?

“Oh! Hyunjin.” Your eyes lit up when you see him and yet he fails to notice. Too blinded by his growing possessiveness.

“This is han! From chem class. Remember I told you about him?” Your tone is too cheerful for his liking, and it makes him even more confused, growing angrier at the glowing smile on your pretty face. You were supposed to preserve that for his and his eyes only. How do you dare to throw it around so casually as if it wasn’t dangerous. As if you hadn’t stolen a piece of him with that same smile.

“Hwang Hyunjin, right? I saw your game last week! Dude you’re insane.” The nerdy boy – lanky and comely – Han rambles on, extending his hand out to the taller who doesn’t move an inch. Keep his figure leaned on your locker and his stare hardens into a glare.

“Hyunjin!” you scold in a hushed whisper when Han awkwardly retracts his hand, Hyunjin doesn’t even look at you, keeps his stare glued to the boy as if he looked away something that will only anger him is gonna occur again.

“Okay well! I guess I’m gonna go.” Han’s voice cuts through the awkwardness and the building tension between the glared stares of you and Hyunjin “I’ll see you tonight?” he turns to you, and you nod enthusiastically.

“What was that?” you ask, facing Hyunjin with a raised brow.

“I should be the one asking. What the fuck was that? What does he mean see you tonight?” Hyunjin scowls, features twisting with bitterness.

“The school dance is tonight. I told you he asked me.”

“And I told you we should go together.”

“I didn’t agree to that.” You reply nonchalantly, pushing his shoulder and he moves away from your locker, for you to open it and rummage through your stuff, looking for the book of your next class.

“I don’t know why you’re so against us going together.” He almost whines, annoyed and frustrated at the walls you refuse to break down. At the fact that you have been avoiding him for a while now. He only ever craves you, yet you remain unattainable in ways that only drives him crazy, so he’ll settle for a segment of you, no matter how small or big.

“And I don’t know why you want us to go together so bad.” You shut your locker, throwing him a side look and Hyunjin bites his tongue in attempts to swallow his words down hoping you won’t notice his fidgeting.

“I don’t think Han is good for you. He looks at you weird.” You roll your eyes at his futile tries and he’s growing hopeless.

“We’re just friends, Hyunjin.”

“Friends don’t go to dances together Y/N.”

“What about us then?”

“We’re different.”

“How exactly are we different?” you raise an eyebrow promptly at his words and Hyunjin sighs, defeatedly brushing a hand over his face. He doesn’t know how to answer you, doesn’t know how to tell you that you have contrived to crave open his heart and sat yourself inside. So, he falters instead, hoping your eyes contact is somewhat fulfilling enough for you to listen for once.

“Just go with Lia. Weren’t you telling me all about how pretty she is?” Hyunjin groans louder than you anticipated, capturing the attention of the people around you and so evidently obvious with furiousness when his eyes widen, fliting across your feature “why are you bringing her up now? I don’t understand you Y/N.”

“I don’t understand you either Hyunjin!” you retaliate, your own frustration grows at this seemingly endless discussion that seems to be heading nowhere in direction. At him pretending like he won’t toss you away again when he sees her.

“Just fucking go with me Y/N. Please.” There’s desperation lacing his voice, like he could crumble and fall right at your feet and cry, but he won’t ever tell you about the truth of his feelings, a coward in the act of facing you, facing his growing emotions for you.

“Unless you give me a valid reason then no. you don’t get to order me around.” You shake your head at him, there’s splashes of hurt on your face that he misses, a deflated hope that pokes at you and a hue of grey that reminds you once again of how impolitic you are, and he misses it.

You walk away taking your shine along with you, it drags behind you and leaves the hallway growing cold, cruel, and dark and it looms right on top of his head and body. Filling his limbs with the pain of feeling for you.

Your figure grows further and further away, almost mockingly evoking the stinging reality that he won’t ever get to have you, you’re always slipping between the cracks of his fingers easily. Each time he thought he had a good grip on you, you managed to escape. Leaving him only with a figment of you.

Hyunjin is always missing you.

Later that night when your mother has helped you in a red dress that fitted right onto your body like a glove, there’s a rare almost proud smile on her face as she looks down your reflection in the mirror.

“Your body looks perfect darling.” Your smile doesn’t even look like it belongs there when you force it, your own reflection stares back at you in pity and you wither away alongside your confidence that dies slowly with the brush of her hand.

“Thank you, mommy.”

“I’m so glad you’re not going with that Hwang kid. I was scared you’re gonna end up stuck on him forever.” At the mention of his name your heart falls in your chest and breaks, then it hangs in the air, like it wraps around your throat and you’re fighting against it to breathe.

“He’s not as bad as you think.” You try to defend, tone weak and nowhere near convincing, nowhere near as he is in your heart.

“Your dad saw him smoking with the shady kids from down the street. Trust me when I say he’s not good for you.” She rambles on, disgusted and judgmental as she starts to fold the abandoned yellow dress you refused to put on despite your mom’s likeness, you couldn’t put it on without feeling like a phoney. It resembled the sun too much and you couldn’t bear to feel Hyunjin on your skin anymore. You couldn’t bear to be the only person to be standing in this love anymore.

“Crushes come and go Y/N. believe me when I tell you boys like Hyunjin are never the smart choice.”

Your mother’s words echo in your mind, bumping into the walls of your brain and begging to find meaning in them, truth in the pain that lingers in your chest because of him. Your fingers brush over your bracelet delicately as if his initial is his face and you wish for your warmth to reach him. This feeling bumping life into your heart is lonely, embarrassing and more than anything: persisting. Stubbornly so as it feeds you hope that only breaks your back in half, leaving you walking home only half a person, never full.

You keep selfishly buying specks of the unforgiving sun, collecting them one by one in your soul, keeping count of everything without much effort. It may be fleeting. A minuscule fragment of his smile, his dimple, the mole under his eye. You buy all the time you could afford and spend it watching him unravel his youth in his hobbies, soccer, drawing, dancing and just like a proud mother you cheered, a loving father you had waited and a good friend you listened.

But none of these things could ever change who you are, none of these things have made Hyunjin look at you and he never will.

you who’s still living life in darkness just needed to embrace the truth for once.

And that’s why you had promised yourself to live tonight as a normal teenager would, not a girl who’s broken down by the weight of her dad’s betrayal, not a girl who’s pitifully wilting away with great ardor for her best friend but rather a free human. Akin to a bird flying away from the shackles of the contents of your own flesh, recklessly so-called heart. So, you tilt your head with a smile when Han hands you a bouquet of red flowers that matches your dress when he picks you up, you let him guide you through the crowd with a hand on the end of your back and you let him dance with you, a beam on his face that’s almost as bright as the sun. Almost. And you tremendously cling to it. In pitiable ambition to forget about the existence of Hyunjin just for a mere a night, perhaps a mere moment that quickly turns into you pretending. Throwing yourself a silly play where you’re laughing with your whole chest and there are no residues of stubborn heartbreak that plastered itself onto you. A play where you’re the puppet and you are the puppet master, urging yourself to run away and hide from your own desires.

It's all feigned indifference when Han’s arms are around your waist and he’s pulling you closer, it’s not summer and it’s not genial. But perhaps summer was just not your season, you’re nothing close to a rose, nowhere near pretty petals and you will never be redolent. You’re something akin to stem thorns, grotesque and you’ll stab anything that touches you.

Your play ends too soon when Hyunjin is pushing through the crowds of people, fueled by rage and your confused stare when he’s standing in front of you. It all happens too quickly, your gasps mixed with everyone else around you when his fist collides with Han’s jaw. A gruesome play steals the show instead. It’s all a result of Hyunjin’s cowardness and your self-hatred. Han is only a victim that gets run over in the process.

This is it then, the point of no return.

"Y/N!" Hyunjin calls out to you, breathless and high on adrenaline when he follows you. As if he hadn’t just left a crime scene behind. As if Han wasn’t a bloody mess left behind, an aftermath of his foolish and pathetic attempt to take false claim over you. You, and that’s it. It’s all what he ever wanted.

"Leave me alone!" you shout back, walking faster and away from him. Needing to get away from him with your tears clinging to your waterline like pearls.

"Can you stop running away for once? That's all you fucking do. Face me for a change." he yells back angrily, frustration seeping into his words. And you stop abruptly in your track, turning to face him with venom filled expression and like a sick twisted bastard he’s happy you’re showing him emotions other than nonchalant.

“Maybe I’ll face you when you stop fucking acting like a child that throws a tantrum every time things don’t go his way.”

“What was I supposed to do? You iced me out, you won’t even look at me!”

“So, you go and hit my fucking date?” you yell in complete frustration, your voices echo in the empty street and you explode, overflowed with anger and longing has you marching back to him “Just who the fuck do you think you are Hyunjin? What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re what’s wrong with me Y/N! can’t you fucking see it? You’re everything that’s wrong with me.”

“Then fucking me let me be Hyunjin. If’ I’m so awful if I’m so wrong, why do you care?” your anger evaporates, blends into the waterfall spilling over your cheeks in an achingly familiar manner, burns and you’re nothing but a child pulled together with anger and resentment for the world.

“You’re my friend of course I care.”

“We can never be friends Hyunjin.” You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief as you turn to walk away but he stops you, a hand wrapped around your forearm.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” When you try to break free his hold on you tightens.

“What are you trying to say? What do you mean we can’t be friends?” He questions, voice cracking with his every word.

“I can never be your fucking friend. I can’t pretend anymore. this will never work.” The pain in your voice matches the one starting to swim in his eyes. A part of you scolds you, chastises you for being so cruel how could you inflict pain on him? You should fix it now.

Yet you stand still, remind yourself of the string that wraps around your ankle and when Hyunjin’s grip relents, growing gentle, you break free with a sniffle.

“So, this is it? You’re just gonna leave me behind?”

“You will never understand.” You bitterly chuckle.

“I will never understand what? Y/N Tell me.” He urges like your words had physically hurt him, settled in his heart, and tore it apart.

“You will never understand that I am fucking in love with you!” You feel as if the world around you stills, your own words hang over you, right under the star-speckled sky you had finally confessed to your biggest sin in a blood-soaked dress.

“I love you, okay? No matter what I do this love won’t leave me alone it consumes every fiber of my being, and I can’t do anything but stay still. I can’t be me anymore I can’t exist without you yet being next to you kills me. I don’t know how to do anything but let it take over me completely. it has spread through me like a disease I can’t get rid of it.” You breathe out with a heaving chest.

Choked by your own tears and the spikes of love that were stabbed in your throat finally dies, killed by your affirmations of affections and your salty tears. It’s bittersweet, the love on your tongue and the upcoming end. But then Hyunjin is in your range, dangerously close and he’s pulling you into him and into an unexpectedly dangerous kiss. It’s bittersweet but then it’s only sweet, in his honey dripping lips, peaches and fruity.

His kiss is dizzying, like a carousel going so round and round that you’re almost flying into the night.

“Say it again.” He whispers, the tenderness in his voice washing over you and when his thumb brushes over your cheeks, wiping away your tears it casts a flicker of hope into your fragile heart. ”Please tell me you love me again.” He speaks again and you can only cry, looking for answers in his eyes to the growing confusion in you.

“Tell me you feel the same way I do. Tell me you’ve loved me like I’ve loved you all along.” He pleads with unguarded vulnerability.

“You love me?” The words tumble from your lips in a rush, coated in disbelief and for the first time you let your hope grow, let it flop its wings in your chest and take space.

“I’ve done nothing these past two years but burn for you. I see your face in my reflection and hear your voice in my head. I find your love in the silence of my chaos. I don’t know how to be anything but in love with you Y/N.”

“But how? How is this possible?” Your tears are akin to a river, endless and forceful. When Hyunjin wipes them, they only multiply as if they’re aware of how something like this could not be your reality.

There’s a newfound emotion in Hyunjin’s eyes, in his smile when he rests his forehead against yours in earnest attempt to flower this hope alongside you “How could it not be possible when I’ve found you in every passing moment I breathed? How could it not to be possible when I know I’ll love you till the very last star in the sky burned into oblivion?”

You’ll always remember the night everything changed, the night you stopped falling in love and instead was taken away with it, the night you started walking into love with Hyunjin.

It’s all so fresh in your memory, the beginning of the end, the way it ended when it never really began. It’s all so fresh and it all felt real in your heart even when three months later Hyunjin has missed more dates than the ones you went on. When he left you alone in the hallways of your school. Leaving you once again to grow lonely in the tomb of your short love. It all falls apart before you get to blink.

The yearning for Hyunjin subsides and is replaced by the yearning for him to put you first. You could tell that despite your importance in his heart he grew accustomed to your presence way too quickly. He doesn’t get to miss you long enough because you’re always here, on the bleachers waiting for him, stood up in public waiting for him, and wide awake in your bed waiting for a text back.

You’re always in a state of waiting, like you’ve been in the cold for far too long, you wait for the warmth of the sun.

The lonesomeness melds into your being, becoming one with you and follows you like a shadow. Glued and unseparated. So, you settle, for less, for mere specks of sunlight and you close off. On all the unspoken words that dig your grave deeper and deeper, pulling you right into the darkness you believed you’d be able to run away from.

Fate has managed to prove to you how bloodthirsty it is yet again, sinking its fangs into you and sucking every bit of life that runs through your veins. It’s in the way your life starts to crumble once again.

In the middle of the week, your mother finds you in the living room. A glare plastered on her aged-up face. A cruelness dousing the edges of her scowl when she stands in front of you, hands crossed on her chest.

“Your father saw you with Hyunjin.” She declares as if you should be ashamed and you could only sigh in response, tired in the way your shoulders deflate.

“So?”

“I thought I told you to cut him off already. Your father is angry.”

“I don’t care what my father thinks.” You stand up, already checked out from this conversation and heading towards the stairs.

“You must care. We’re moving away by the end of the week.”

“What? And you’re just telling me this now?” You exclaim in frustration and your mother’s scowl only deepens, displeased with the raise in your voice.

“Just listen to your father Y/N.” she orders like you aren’t human and in that moment, you feel like you aren’t. you melt onto the ground beneath, and you leave everything behind, your skin, your bones, your very self.

Later that night you’re sitting on the edge of your empty bed, your phone tightly clutched in your hand it buzzes with an incoming call, and you wipe your tears with the back of your hand, picking it up seconds later.

“Hello?”

“Hey angel.” His voice is airy and comforting in a way that could only be glued to him. And you swallow down your sob. At your silence he sighs.

“Are you upset with me? I know I promised I’d walk you home today, but practice took longer than I expected.”

“it’s okay.” You whisper a lie, it’s never okay and you have accepted that it never will be. You did the math and now you know there’s no way for you two to last. It was a new revolution, a terrifying one knowing that love isn’t always enough.

“Look out the window baby.”

When you pull your curtains, his figure looking up at you has every negative emotion in you dissolving into nothing but a feeling of abandonment. You realize at the end of this night you’ll be the one to walk away yet you still feel like you have been betrayed. It seeps into your bones and makes them shake, spreading through your spine in painful terror when he brings a singular pink rose before him.

“You love pink roses, so I got you this. Forgive me?” He grins up at you, eyes morphing into their usual moon crescents and your chest tightens in an inhumanly possible agony.

“I’ll always forgive you Hyunjin.” You could only hope the darkness of the nights aids in hiding the tears brimming in your waterline.

An hour later and you manage to find yourself settled upon the familiar sand of the beach. A heavy feeling takes claim on your soul, taking over every cranny and nook of your being and you let it. Because what are you if not defeated, what are you if not a quitter. You grew tired of constantly fighting, resisting with your fists balled up. So, you let go, in honor of all the secrets you’ll take with you, all the white lies that will remain white. Hidden away from Hyunjin because you refuse to take away his shine, you refuse to be the reason he loses trust in the beauty of the world.

So, you’ll play the villain, you’ll welcome his resentment for you with open arms and a crying face.

Tonight, the ocean is a witness to your ending just as it was a witness to your beginning.

“I’m gonna miss you.” You whisper to Hyunjin who sits next you, unknowing of what’s about to come and he leans into your palm that had cuddled his cheek. Nuzzles into it with and places a soothing kiss right into the lines of your palm, draws a map with his lips that will always lead you back to him.

“I promise not to make you miss me anymore.”

A year

Two

And three later you know there will be moments where your hearts will reach out for each other. And so, you lean forward, taking his lips for yours in a gentle kiss, tender, delicate and you tattoo farewell onto his lips.

“You don’t have to promise me anything anymore Hyunjin.” You hadn’t realized you started crying until his eyes flitted across your features in worry and confusion.

“What’s wrong angel?” raw concern laces his tone, and you deem yourself unworthy so you stand up and he follows blindly, a choked sob wrecking its way through your body as his arms embraces you, his heart aches in attempts to hold yours, to ease it and you don’t have the courage to tell him it’s not enough.

“I’m sorry about everything I promise to make it up to you baby.” He tries and tries and tries and it’s almost too late, so you break free of his hug and you attempt to smile at him, unsettling with your tear streaked face and it has his heart dropping right between you two.

“I don’t think we have time for that anymore jinnie.”

“What does that mean?” his eyes search yours in panic, as if they’re sensing your plan.

“I love you.” You ignore his question, standing on your tiptoes to place a short chaste kiss on his lips “I’ll love you for as long as I live.” You whisper against them, a rare truth of yours that will surely linger in the silence he always runs away from. You realize it then, both of you are constantly running so how is it possible for you to ever meet?

“Why are you talking as if you’re saying goodbye Y/N?” his eyebrows furrow and he’s never looked so desperate for an answer.

“Because I am.” Your sweaty palms squeeze his and you can’t understand why you can’t stop forcing your lips into forming a smile. Part of your brain tells you, you want Hyunjin’s last memories of you to be you smiling but it’s so foolish, specially so when you can’t stop crying, when your tears are leaving a trail of hideous evidence on your cheeks.

“You’re leaving me?” The pieces of the puzzle are suddenly falling into place and the pain flashing in his eyes is a reminder of the blood on your hands. The blood on your feet when you step on his heart.

“I’m sorry Hyunjin.” Your words are nothing but a broken record that you repeat to him, to yourself, to your memories and to the beach and then you do the only thing you’re good at, you run, choking on your tears as you walk past him and Hyunjin does the only good thing he’s good at, he chases you.

“what do you mean you’re sorry Y/N? if this is about how I treated you these past months then I’m sorry I promise to try harder I promise to spend more time-“

“It doesn’t matter!” you interrupt him with a yell, a cry for help to not make this harder for you “none of this matters Hyunjin. Let’s just end this before it’s too late.” The words taste foreign on your tongue, you never imagined yourself to mutter them not when you were a carbon copy of your mother, a woman that will always put love first, because what are you if not a cracked stone desperate for love.

“Please Y/N.” and what is Hyunjin if not a mere being desperate for crumbs of you, it’s in the way his eyes shine with tears he hadn’t shed since his father died. Sparkling so beautifully it’s unfair when he’s on his knees for you.

“Please stay. Please don’t leave me. I can’t breathe when you’re not near.”

“Please just let me let you go.” Hyunjin cries at your words and you wonder when did your relationship turn into you two constantly pleading for different things the other cannot afford. Cannot fulfill.

You feel it then, more than ever, more than you were alone in love. You feel centimeters between your bodies stretch farther and farther. Building itself into mountains you cannot climb and oceans upon oceans you cannot cross. You’re suddenly paralyzed. A weak human who never learned how to swim, you never learned to love correctly and how to unlock your heart without a shadow of your lies lingering right around the corner and ready to take over.

So, you leave Hyunjin like a torn-up piece of paper behind you, a poem of broken promises and loving touches that only turn to venom and keeps him awake at night.

You realize you spent half your time wishing for him and he was yours you spent it fighting for his attention, wishing for him to put you as priority and when you lost him you kept wishing to be remembered. You were always wishing, never satisfied. So even when the sun shines the next day, you’re still aching all over.

Three days later Hyunjin strolls to your house, his sketchbook in his hands and apology on his tongue dissolves when he finds it empty. The cruelty of your actions dawns on him, and it breaks his heart into a million tiny pieces, impossible to put back together. Your face in his pages remains unseen to you and instead stays in between his belongings. His muse is gone, and you turn to be a distant a memory. He breaks over you then he hates you, and it blends into him missing you only for him to hate you again.

He realizes he never really knew you, a part of you had always managed to stay hidden. Just like the moon. There was no moment in time when he had all of you and so he resents you.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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