#i should go back to my jb au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baekhvuns · 2 years

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I wish I could retire soon but alas 😭 despite feeling like an 80 year old I MUST WORK

Lmao I just saw Dylan's video what the fuck is going on and one of my friends was like "I've never seen Zootopia, I should watch it soon"

You're right Park Seonghwa is dangerous, he lures people in... and you can never come back. Siyaisyajhdhahsshh I'm not scared just angry and envious lmao

It's maaaaad, I hate the weird tension between ifans and kfans, it's usually the ifans who get mad though, like Atinys and Stays, they're so annoying when it comes to Korean fanbases. But then Korean fans mob idols at the airports, so many stalkers out there too...

Yes pre-recordings can be crazy, but I was lucky cause the first time I went to see Ateez they also let some of us stay for Stray Kids, and later when I went for Skz I got out and people were queuing for Atz, but they had some free spots and I went in again 😭 so it was worth it. Overall it was an experiment, my friends and I wanted to see how it all works. If I take the meat out it won't be the whole experience jahdushshhs also the egg?!

Omg your friend better have fun for all of us! Who do they bias?

SM is Europephobic for sure 🤡 after years of me giving them money, sigh. Ok Shinee was here, then both Taemin and EXO for MuBank Berlin, Kai was here for the festival, but come on

My non-existent boyfriend definitely does not compare to Seonghwa!

The new Hybe group should collab with Enhypen since they have the vampire/werewolves concept

I'm so sorry about the ebook website, I know it's a huge loss especially for academic purposes 😭🔫 maybe it'll be back somehow? Like Torrents or Pirate Bay, I remember they tried to take them down multiple times until the arrests happened ☠

His Hehetmon, Baek you didn't.....

Someone said this about The Fabulous, maybe it's not legit, but I remember seeing comments that the show is indefinitely postponed because some major plot points happen during Halloween? Btw Shinee, NGDA2 2nd anniversary was yesterday can you believe...

Absolutely, more bonuses if you have to work on a project with Hwa or he's your tutor/vice versa, but in your head you see those sinful hips and the dangerous tongue 😳

Idols obsess over JB or Shawn (didn't know he was Canadian lol) yet barely anyone cares about 🇨🇦 :/ what's this

That fallen angel AU I'm listening 👂

Lissssen Seonghwa must be over the moon because Star Wars replied to him three times yesterday 😭 maybe some brands on Twitter are doing good things after all. Now give him some free stuff, you've been flirting with him for a while. I wish KQ let him respond

My friend also said she's become Seonghwa's bitch and that's absolutely pathetic kusydhsgdhsgsgs and that he looked stunning 👀 but something I'm especially happy she posted about on Twitter and Reddit is how a lot of people talk about Hwa's visuals and demon tendencies only, but not about his incredible performance skills overall and his commitment to singing live as much as he can. I always feel like a biased delulu whenever I say he deserves more credit, because yeah I know he's one of the most popular members, but still he has so much to offer

SHUT UP THOSE PHOTOS. I have to force someone to go to another pop-up for me, because I'm not immune to soft photoshoots :( also THE BLANKET. And Lego flowers I'm kms-ing. Look at all the photos it's so cute the mannequins though osyssmshsjgsshjs.

I got Hongjoong on that quiz and I pretty much agree. What about you? - DV 💖

hi hello!!

I wish I could retire soon but alas 😭 despite feeling like an 80 year old I MUST WORK

LMFAOOOO THE RETIREMENT AT 50 NOT COMING SOON 😭😭😭 mo bc what is this life, graduate at 23, get a job by 24, get married by 26, have kids by 30 and then wait for death to come get u 🤨

Lmao I just saw Dylan's video what the fuck is going on and one of my friends was like "I've never seen Zootopia, I should watch it soon"

FBWKDHWK THE UNIVERSE MANIFESTED ZOOTOPIA FOR US 😭😭no bc why the fox kinda 🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️

You're right Park Seonghwa is dangerous, he lures people in... and you can never come back. Siyaisyajhdhahsshh I'm not scared just angry and envious lmao

seeing his live photos just know, i can’t believe this man’s real ?????? LIKE HE SMILES AND IM 📉📈📉📈📉📈📉📈📉 his skin is so prefect??? AND YUNHO?? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT MAN ????

no ur so right, most of the time ifans mad over things they don’t understand about the sokor culture 😭😭 and immediately it becomes problematic bc it doesn’t fit their views 😭😭 now that stalking is officially law in kr hopefully they gET THEM TO JAIL AND LEAVE THEM THERE !!!!!

JUST SWAPPING LINES CASUALLY AND SEEING THE MOST VISUALLY STUNNING MEN 😭😭🤚🏼 HOW TO BE YOU !!!!!! the scenes behind must’ve be so articulate and detailed omg,, CLOSE UR EYES AND INHALE IT BESTIE CHARACTER GROWTH

Omg your friend better have fun for all of us! Who do they bias?

bestie she cannot speak atm due to screaming, AND YUNHWA I BELIEVE MAYBE EVEN A LITTLE HONGJOONG but seonghwa’s photos????? 🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️idk if i can share but 🔫🔫🔫

????

SM is Europephobic for sure 🤡 after years of me giving them money, sigh. Ok Shinee was here, then both Taemin and EXO for MuBank Berlin, Kai was here for the festival, but come on

NO SERIOUSLY THEY USED TO DO SO MUCH FOR EURO but ever since nct its all america tour america this 😭😭🤚🏼 sm’s main fans come come from asia and euro yET THEY DONT SEE THAT ANYMORE smtown euro when 😭😭

My non-existent boyfriend definitely does not compare to Seonghwa! //// The new Hybe group should collab with Enhypen since they have the vampire/werewolves concept

hoping one day a hwa drops on both of us 🤲🏼🤲🏼 YES AND HOPEFULLY HAVE THOSE NICE SONGS TOO THAT FEVER ONE ESP

ive been looking for torrents def! hopefully they come back again under a diff alias bc coleen hoover it’s on sight 🔫 $100 per book 😀 <3

His Hehetmon, Baek you didn't.....

it’s almost like the industry is not trying to eliminate the entire word instead of having to blame the govt 😭😭 ngda 2nd anniversary??? wHAT DO U MEAN???? ALREADY??? TWO YEARS SINCE HEAVEN DROPPED???? WHAT THE FUCK???? no bc ngda truly is so superior, every track is so carefully chosen and its so beautifully performed by taemin i can’t wait for what he shows after military

Absolutely, more bonuses if you have to work on a project with Hwa or he's your tutor/vice versa, but in your head you see those sinful hips and the dangerous tongue 😳

ANON. HELLO. hear me out what if he’s the junior-

Idols obsess over JB or Shawn (didn't know he was Canadian lol) yet barely anyone cares about 🇨🇦 :/ what's this

no tbh we don’t claim shawn mendes <3 disrespectfully <3 ryan reynolds tho >>> YEAH WHERES ALL THE MAPLE BLOODED KPOP IDOLS 🤨🤨

That fallen angel AU I'm listening 👂

<3 something like this

IMAGINING HIM WIDE EYED JUMPING ON THE BED YELLING “STAR WARS SUNBAENIM!!!!” brands doing good for him when is DIOR AND YSL PULLING UP 🤨🤨🔫 GIVE THAT MAN FREE LEGO SETS IM BEGGING

LMFAOOOO BRMQBDMWBDMQBDKW THIS ENTIRE ENTIRE PARAGRAPH!!!!!! EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS 1000% FACTUAL !!!!!!! i ghost wrote this, i was beside u in spirit while u wrote this,, becoming hwa’s again is like a experience my friends a hwa biased but she’s like “i saw him and it felt like i got to know him all over again” truly what a fascinating man

STOP IF THESE PHOTOS ARE GOOD WHEN THE SEASONS GREETINGS DROP THEN WHAT??? WHAT ABOUT THOSE PHOTOS 😭😭😭 ARE U GETTING THE BLANKET FBWMBDMSVDEK

I got Hongjoong on that quiz and I pretty much agree. What about you? - DV 💖

omg i saw the hong one and it said ur a lil fruity 😭😭 i got yeosang!

when i tell u i m just a hole

???? san second lead??? 😮‍💨

my turn when

this your guy?

WHAT???

m-model hwa

#✉️ : ask #dv 💖 anon

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janiedean · 4 years

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fic excerpt for regencyfemdom2020: song for orphans (the witcher, geralt/essi daven)

... so, I’m here bringing you the based-around-the-peterloo-massacre-au written for @regencyfemdom2020 starring my witcher het rarepair of doom which got... very long and I couldn’t manage to finish, so I’m posting the excerpt with the first explicit scene on here hoping that I finish this monster in the weekend or early next week. HAVE FUN.

warnings & such: the original fic is nonlinear so this should be standing on his own, but for context: geralt has just run from the aforementioned peterloo march and went to her place to get help, she’s still a singer in taverns, he’s a waterloo vet and works at a blacksmith’s shop and not making great money and that’s all you need to know for context to get this I think /o\ hopefully the whole thing will be up soon!! for this chapter there’s just explicit content without specific kinks but the rest will actually have some /o\

***

“Please,” he had blurted, “can I - can I come in?”

Essi had opened the door at once, that dark blue dress of hers looking the same shade as that pretty sky as she gasped and let him in, asking what in the bloody hell happened to you, and he could just say nothing as he crashed on one of her kitchen seats, and he still hasn’t said nothing since then, just standing still, blood falling from the wound in his arm.

She had disappeared after he sat down, but now she’s back with what looks like a bucket full of warm water, a rag and - needle and thread?

“Off with that shirt,” she says, and he can’t help thinking that he likes that her fingers are rough, with callouses covering the tips all over, even if her fingers are soft and slender. But it’s good. It’s good, and she smells like verbena and not lilacs, and it shouldn’t get to his head to this point because he knows she’s only doing this out of decency and because they’re, well, friendly, they’ve been since Jaskier introduced them that night, and it’s already a miracle she hasn’t turned her head the moment she looked at him as most women tend to do -

“What the hell,” she says, “is this?”

He shrugs.

“I was at the march.”

“I know that. What the hell happened, that’s what I’d like to know,” she says as she cleans blood off his arm, and he wishes he met her before he got shrapnel in his stomach, which she’s most likely going to notice the moment she’s done with that.

“They called the army on us,” he grits through his teeth. “Should’ve figured that out.”

She shakes her head, hair brushing against his skin, feeling so soft Geralt has to shudder.

“That’s -” She shakes her head. “I don’t think I have words. You weren’t even armed!”

“How do you know that?”

“Oh, I’m only friends with Jaskier and you and I am in that tavern most of my time, surely I would not know the plans. Please,” she says, putting thread through the needle and starting to stitch his now cleaned wound.

Her fingertips are rough.

He never wants them to move from his arm.

“This is deep,” she says, shaking her head.

“Got worse in the war,” he shrugs. “Though at least in the war you knew people were after you.”

“Doesn’t make it any better,” Essi goes on, the needle easily fixing the wound up.

“... You’re good at that,” he says as it reaches the end of it.

“My trade is in taverns,” she half-smiles. “All of us have to learn it at some point. Here,” she says, tying the knot on the thread, “it should hold.”

He nods. “Thank you,” he says, “I guess I should -”

“You haven’t seen the bruise on your damned back, Geralt Rivia,” she interrupts him, “you’re not going anywhere and your - father, mentor, whatever he is to you, can handle it for once.”

“He did say I should not come -”

“And I can see you both care for each other, but I think you need to lie down and I have a bed.”

He stops dead in his tracks, looking down at her blue eyes, which are uttermost fucking serious.

“You aren’t - offering me your bed,” he whispers.

“I am,” she says, “and you need it.”

“It’s not proper -” He starts, unable to stop even if being in her bed right now seems to be exactly the one thing he wants, or maybe not the one but certainly very much so.

Essi laughs, sounding almost delighted by that interruption, before she takes his arm and drags him towards the first room in front of the kitchen where she fixed his arm.

“I sing ballads in taverns for a living, Geralt. I also compose them, but that’s not quite the point. Do you think I have given a single effing damn about property since I was old enough to understand this was the life I wanted?”

Put like that, he supposes she’s right. No woman who wants that life and has it actually would care. And yet -

“You shouldn’t,” he says, “it’s your bed, I do not belong -”

All breath leaves his lungs as she shakes her head, puts her hands on his shoulders and just pushes him down on the bed, making sure he sits - now she’s looming over him, in that pretty blue dress, and he’s shirtless and without his shoes on and she can see the shrapnel in his stomach and how thin he has gotten lately and why the jacket didn’t fit him, and then one of her hands is in his hair, running through it so very softly, eyes staring into his as if she doesn’t find the color revolting as most other people do -

“Do you remember,” she says, “that first evening when we met?”

He nods, all speech having left his throat.

“Do you think,” she says, “I hadn’t taken a good look at the entire tavern first?”

“I - suppose you would,” he admits, “but -”

“And do you think that I would have looked straight at you while singing those lines in that song out of no reason?”

He gasps, remembering them at once. They’re etched in his brain, after all, but -

“That was to say,” she smiles, a bit tentatively but still looking down at him, and oh hell she knows who came before her, he told her something, Jaskier certainly told her more but they’re friends, why wouldn’t he, and all he can smell is verbena and it’s clearing out the smell of blood from before, “that if you think you do not belong in my bed - well, you don’t have to belong in it, but you’re wrong. I might quite like that plan, all in all.”

“You wouldn’t,” he breathes, knowing his hands are shaking.

“Oh,” she says, “I would, and I thought I made that clear.”

“Since - since then?” He replies, quite unable to wrap his head around it because there is just no way she saw him and thought -

“Since the moment I laid my eyes on you, I think, and I should like to correct your very much wrong assumption, if -”

Essi never finishes that sentence because he can’t - he reaches up with the hand not attached to a stitched arm and puts it behind her neck and drags it down, and when his lips meet hers he feels like fainting - her mouth is smaller than the last one he kissed, but her tongue is hot and wet as it crashes against his and her fingertips are rough and careful as they run through his dirty hair, undoing the ponytail and letting them fall around her hands as she drags his head forward, her knees going around his thighs as she moves into his lap on the bed, her hands moving back to his face after, almost cradling it as they kiss, and maybe it’s that he can only smell verbena everywhere but he thinks he can taste it in his mouth too and he wants it to fill up his throat until it’s everything he can smell and taste - no blood, no dust, no memories of lilacs, and her breasts are pressing up against his chest as she moans into his mouth and gasps in delight when he grabs her waist and pulls her closer.

“Fuck,” he blurts when they part, “fuck, you - you want this, you want -”

“I guess I should have been a bit more forward,” she breathes against his mouth, “and yes, I do,” and then she’s pushed him down, back on the mattress, hands running over his chest, and it might be too thin and too scarred but she doesn’t seem to mind as she leans down and trails kisses along it, and then she’s moved back up and kissed his mouth as she raises up her skirt and takes off her smallclothes, and she’s smiling as she looks down at him and motions for him to lay back with his head on the pillow, moving forward -

He doesn’t even let a second pass - the moment she leans down, sitting on his face, her cunt right over his mouth, he buries his face inside it, tongue twirling around the soft, wet flesh inside her thighs, the smell overcoming him in the best way as he feels her thighs clench around his face, and suddenly he doesn’t even feel pain in his back anymore nor in his arm, not when she’s running her fingers into his hair and pushing his face in deeper and moaning his name in that pretty, pretty voice of hers as his tongue circles her clit and then moves inside her again for he doesn’t even know how long until she’s sobbing his name as she spills all over his face. He groans, drinking it up, his tongue licking her clean until she stands and moves back, and he groans again as she sits on his chest, smearing it with her spend.

“You - you do want this, don’t you,” she asks then, hand grasping Geralt’s hip, those rough fingertips pressing into his side.

“Yes,” he whines, not caring how it sounds, “but I thought there was no way you would -”

“Oh,” she says, “I would,” and then she’s taking off his old belt and those trousers that really don’t fit him anymore, and her slender, strong fingers are wrapped around his cock and she’s stroking him fast and hard as she moves back up with her head next to his, and he keens when she does, realizing that he hadn’t feel good like this in - in months, fuck, he can’t remember the last time he did, and she’s kissing him again as she keeps on stroking him, and then she grabs his hand and moves it in between her legs and he gasps when he feels how wet she is, and then she’s stopped jerking him off but she’s moved over him and on him and she just sank on his cock and he wants to scream and so maybe he does, not that she tells him to be quiet so why should he -

She’s all warm and wet and tight around him as her legs clench around him and her hand reaches back down and grabs the back of his head and pulls him forward, kissing him again, taking one of his wrist and putting his hand on her breast, and god it fills his palm completely, overflowing a bit, and she moans when he lets his fingers squeeze it a bit, and fuck he’s not -

“I can’t -” he says, “I won’t last -”

“No one said,” she breathes back, “that it was a one time only thing and we can’t do it again,” and - he’s coming inside her at that, unable to keep it in, and fuck he’s - it feels so good he can’t even think, he had thought he had forgotten how it felt and he had given up on feeling it again with someone he actually wanted, and then she goes still and her legs clench closer and she screams his name as she grasps on to his shoulders and he can’t think anymore, he doesn’t even want to, and when she pulls out and swears under her breath and moves over and sits on his face he immediately moans against her cunt again before putting his mouth on it, his tongue licking her clean as she moans and screams his name above him, and he can barely feel any pain at all by now as he presses his head in deeper and lets his tongue run over her cunt hoping that she comes on his face again soon, and when she does not long later, fingers running through his hair and telling him she’s this close just before she peaks, long and hard and right over his face and mouth, he just knows that if she really meant it before, if she wants him to belong in her bed -

Maybe he might really never leave it.

He certainly won’t right now, and he won’t for a very, very long time.

#RegencyFdWeek #geralt x essi #essi daven #geralt of rivia #my fic #me: oh wow wait i should absolutely do the regency au with PEOPLE BEING POLITICAL #me 10k later with 2/3rds of fic to go: oooops #anyway thanks to the anon who bitched about me writing this ship last week #it's 100% this long also thanks to you #will i just throw 30k on that lonesome tag this weekend i might #ANYWAY #have at it i'll just go back and try to finish it and the other jb one

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wolviecore · 3 years

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Actually so excited for a thing like,

Jug’s style hasn’t been explored in the show because his clothes are hand-me-downs/whatever he can afford. When he left the trailer and was homeless, he carried everything in his backpack and i'm sure he only fit a few clothes in there- and they were probably practical clothes, like clothes that would keep him warm in winter but cool in summer. He didn't pack or dress based on style but on functionality/ and even then they were mostly hand-me-downs.

Little Jughead always being drawn to soft, clean, and fuzzy textured objects. It was such a stark contrast from FP and Gladys’s sharp-edged and rugged appearances that it was almost startling, but only one of them minded rlly

(Gladys, who would tell Jug not to act like an entitled spoiled brat) But FP had a mean old man that breathed down his neck for almost everything, and he didn't want to look at Jug and see himself, so he was fine with the difference

FP’s alcoholism worsened tho, and he knew he needed to change. He also knew it would take a while. Woke up one night to Gladys packing and he begged her to take Juggie too at least until he can go completely sober. He says goodbye to his babies and pretends it doesn't hurt when JB scoffs.

He gives Jughead the beanie because it's the softest item that caught his eye a while back, and he was saving it but..now is better than never he figures. Jughead is protective of the beanie for this reason. His dad gave it to him.

Few years pass, and as soon as freshman year of hs is over, he runs away to riverdale. Bc sure, FP kept in touch the best he could but the babie wanted his dad

And jughead is soft. FP can see it, Tall Boy’s cynical eyes can see it, hell, the whole Sunnyside Trailer Park can see it. Jughead’s cut from an entirely different cloth, something much more innocent and pure and easy to hurt than the rest of them.

The kind of cloth Riverdale rips apart for shits and giggles. So yes, FP makes SP and the Serpents watch over his son, once they start school.

Toni smiles, and says they’ll be twinning, curling a strand of her pink locks around her fingers, and then maybe she’ll get the serpent queen spot by inheritance.

Fangs is an excited puppy abt making new friends, as per usual.

SP is conflicted, because he does not want to offend FP, but from what he hears, his boy is everything he was thought to hate; by description alone, Jughead sounds fragile, and delicate and sensitive and just..*Soft*

and he doesn't know how to deal with that bc the men around his life (read:bad dad) always told him those were weaknesses and he should hate that

FP says not to let Jughead know abt it, his boy may be a piece of sunshine, but hes stubborn as a mule and does not let ppl take care of him. This has to stay between the and thats final bc he wouldn't be able to let Jughead leave if he decided FP was not trustworthy

Jug spends a month in riverdale high when the snake gang makes their appearances; quick infiltration, see the target, get out. Easy peasy.

Not on Cheryl Blossom’s shift, they're not.

Jason is still dead in this au, bc that's how Cheryl and Jughead become close. He understands her coping mechanisms and is there for her all the way instead of feeling bad and going back to treating Cheryl likes she's nothing but an evil Queen B

A scene where Cheryl is crying in the bathroom and Jughead happens to pass by. He’s so concerned about her bc he knows how rock bottom looks like, and Cheryl, with her messy mascara staining her snowy cheeks, tear stained eyes burning with pain, he can't help but step in

He asks Cheryl if she’s ok and she’s like “My makeup is ruined. I look hideous.” Jughead is really sympathetic and is like, “Cheryl, pain isn’t always pretty. It’s okay.”

Jughead letting her cry, and not those “pretty, barely there sniffles. She's in pain but like, she can’t be ugly, she’s still hot” NO, like gut-wrenching, gasping, real CRYING.

He helps her fix her make-up because they still have class and he handles her with so much care and gentleness. Let it be known that the Jones boy melted the ice queen’s heart

From then on Cheryl is fiercely protective of Jughead up from her glamorous spot on the throne, within the shadows, like a lioness protecting a playful cub. Because yeah, she’s soft, but she won’t let Jughead know that because, reputation. (He knows anyways.)

LET CHERYL AND JUG BE BESTIES/THEATRIC GAY SIBLINGS

like fuck shsjs Cheryl is a lesbian jock and Jug is her little gay twink protectee that she has slumber parties with thank you

#jughead jones #riverdale #fp jones #southside serpents #fangs fogarty #toni topaz #cheryl blossom #cheryl x toni #jughead x sweet pea #jugpea #swughead #riverdale au #riverdale imagine

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 2 years

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Psychogenic Fever/Stress Induced Illness

@sicktember 2022 Prompt #12

Fandom/OCs: CottageVersity AU / Sick!JB (student years)

Title: I Would Have Stayed Up With You All Night

Words: 1228

Inspiration: Read Thad and JB’s other fic here.

Author’s comments: For whatever reason it took me forever to decide what to do with this prompt until I realized I’d already created a character that canonically has stress induced fevers lol. I didn’t expect to go back to Thad and JB’s university days again, but it is the CottageVersity AU afterall. This is set a few years after their other standalone fic when JB is still in grad school and Thad has just finished.

"JB? Are you here?" Thad called, shutting the door to their shared apartment behind him. "I brought you food."

"Where else would I be?" came the irritable reply from the back bedroom.

Thad rolled his eyes as he kicked off his shoes. "Is that a rhetorical question or do you want me to answer? Guess what, I will anyway. School library, city library, cafeteria, bagel shop, one of your group mates' dorms, or one of the four coffee shops within walking distance come to mind. And those are just places that I know you've studied in the past month. I can add half a dozen more if you want to look at the whole semester. So I think it was a pretty fair question."

"I'm really not in the mood for the smart assery tonight, Thad, so save it," JB snapped.

Thad sighed quietly but didn't push it. He made his way to JB's room with the takeout he'd brought for him, pushing the door open with a little knock.

JB was sitting on the floor with half a dozen books spread around him and looking very frazzled. His hair was a mess, as if he'd run a hand through it many times and the color was high on his cheeks, but his eyes looked tired and red. Thad sat down on the floor across from him and set the styrofoam container down beside him pointedly. JB glanced at at with muttered thanks before returning to what he was writing. Thad didn't move, and sat quietly watching JB study for a bit. JB was agitated, muttering to himself, scratching at his skin, fidgeting with his pencil, writing and erasing over and over. He seemed hardly aware that Thad was there. Suddenly JB spoke, making Thad jump:

"Not nearly enough. I'm so far behind on citing my sources, and I can't get this section to flow properly, and I should have already started on the next bit."

"...huh? What are you talking about?" Thad asked, confused.

JB glared at him. "What do you mean what am I talking about? My thesis. You asked me a question and I answered it."

"I didn't ask you anything about your thesis," Thad said quietly. “I didn’t say anything at all.”

A strange look flitted across JB's face, but he decided not to reply, ducking his head to return to his notebook instead.

"How long did you sleep last night?" Thad asked casually, after letting the quiet linger for a bit.

JB reddened even more. "Three and a half hours," he mumbled.

"That's a nap, JB. That's not sleeping."

JB shrugged, not meeting Thad's eyes. Thad slid around so that he was sitting beside his partner. Reaching up a hand, he gently began to rub JB's sweaty back. JB flinched at the initial touch, but didn't pull away, and in fact moved almost imperceptibly closer.

"You're shivering," Thad said.

JB nodded. Thad fetched him a sweatshirt, then sat down beside him again, returning his hand to JB's back once he had donned the extra layer.

"When did the fever start?" Thad asked softly after another few moments had passed.

"Three or four hours ago is my best guess," came the even softer reply.

"Have you checked it?"

JB shook his head. Without another word, Thad fetched the thermometer from the bathroom. JB knew the drill well, and knew it was futile to argue, so he opened his mouth absently when Thad returned, and held the device in his mouth as he continued to study. Thad grabbed it as soon as it beeped.

"One oh one point eight. Too high for you to be studying. You and I both know you're basically useless with a temp above one oh one."

"This isn't just another exam week, Thad. This is my thesis we're talking about. And I'm so far behind."

"By whose timeline?"

"Mine, of course. The only one that matters."

"I don't want to argue with you. Obviously this is important. But you can't keep working and stressing like this. You'll never survive until the due date. You need to eat and sleep."

JB only shrugged again, and Thad resisted the urge to shove him. He hated shrugging. Gritting his teeth, Thad tried another tack.

"What do I have to do to convince you to go to bed and sleep off that fever? Or at least take a break to eat? Preferably both."

"I dunno, Thad. I want to eat. And rest. But there's too much that needs to be done."

"What's stressing you out the most?"

JB didn't reply and seemed to be casting around for an answer, but Thad noticed his gaze kept hopping to the stack of books piled up on his desk.

"You said you're behind on citing your sources… how many need to be added?"

"Couple dozen," JB mumbled, yawning.

"Then I'll do that. I'll update it for you. As long as you promise to go to sleep, I'll stay up and work on it."

JB was about to protest but Thad cut him off, guessing his arguments perfectly. "It's not cheating. You did all the studying. It's just writing them down in APA format. Tedious busy work. But it needs to be done, and you need to rest. So I'll take care of it. And I'm off tomorrow anyway. You would have done the same for me when I was doing my thesis."

JB visibly relaxed, as if a weight had fallen off his shoulders and a tired smile wobbled its way onto his face. "You are a lifesaver. That is… exactly what I need."

"Good." Thad stood and stretched. "I'll give you five minutes to get to a good stopping point. Then you're going to eat, and then you're going to bed. Shower optional."

"Shower required," JB mumbled. "I feel disgusting."

"You are very sweaty," Thad agreed. "Okay, then food, shower, and sleep in that order."

JB knew when it was useless to argue. This was also the exact sequence of events he desperately wanted and needed, so he went along with the plan gladly. The best part of the evening, though, was after his shower, when he came out to find Thad curled up in his bed, arms open invitingly.

"I'll do the sources tonight, I promise. But not before I make sure you hold up your end of the deal and sleep."

JB crawled into Thad’s arms eagerly. Bone-tired, sick and cold, all he wanted was to be held. Thad hugged him against himself tightly, covering him in tender kisses.

"I'm glad you finally saw reason," Thad murmured. "I was prepared to stay up all night with you if that's what it took to convince you."

"Convince me how?" JB was already nearly asleep, his words slow and slurred, yet Thad could hear a smile in his voice.

"Oh, the usual tactics. Manipulation. Reverse psychology. I probably would've hidden your textbooks at some point." Thad made his voice as soothing as possible, like a lullaby. "But if all else failed, I know your greatest weakness. When you were least expecting it, I would've wrapped you up in my arms just like this and hugged you into submission. There was no way you were going to argue with that."

If JB had heard any of this, he gave no sign, for he was already fast asleep.

#sicktember 2022 #Prompt 12 #CottageVersity AU #sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever #thad and jb

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alreadyblondenow · 4 years

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The morning and evening star | Johnny Suh

Johnny Suh x female!Reader

▸ too much fluff, too much smut, angst, prince of Egypt AU, slave reader ▸ Part of NCT Historical AU Collaboration hosted by @puppywritings ▸ In ancient Egypt, the Pharaoh is referred as “Morning and Evening Star”

Summary: Fighting the battles for his kingdom and for his ill father, Johnny, a prince of Egypt was given a beautiful gift the night before a great war starts. The given gift, which is you, gave the prince a very hard time but soon your heart softened the moment you allow yourself to get to know him. As you both fall in love sooner than expected, you thought that Johnny will give you your freedom but he can’t because that means letting you go. Johnny treated you as a gold and you became his most precious jewel. He kept you inside the palace, gave you a place to paint on and kept you in his life for as long as he can. But not long enough.

Word count: 8,441k Warnings: Smut, Smut, Smut, its a Johnny fic what do you expect?, mentions of slavery (if that bothers you, please click away), mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of sadness, self doubt, possessiveness, unprotected sex, oral sex (female), rough sex, slight exhibitionism, fingering, mentions of bruises, spitting. Mentions of other idols, and Johnny’s parents. Pregnancy, (if that bothers you please click away), mature themes, murder, family betrayal, mentions of gods bc hello its Egypt A/N: Pure fiction. Inspired by my favorite movies that I grew up watching with my family during family movie nights.. haha. (Troy, prince of Egypt, Exodus: Gods and kings, Tangled, and Gods of Egypt)

Taglist: @doyounglover @puppywritings @commentgirl @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @wonderfulkoreanpop @ethaeriyeol @suhpersonic @sunshinedhyuck @sighreal @jb-hope94

To William, thank you so much for this wonderful collab! I’m lucky enough to join last minute and I hope this fic gives justice to your wonderful collab. Thank you so much!

On a beautiful quiet night in Egypt, under the dark sky that's full of stars, a young prince is out on the terrace to look at his kingdom and admire it even with the slightest light. The moon shines beautifully and so he expects that that is a good sign that the night will be even more beautiful.

A royal banquet is waiting for his presence. Another gathering where the richest families in Egypt wish the young prince to bring peace, victory, and finally put an end to this war against the enemies.

“I can already feel the weight of my father’s crown mother, what should I do?” Johnny asks his mother as they accompany each other to the royal banquet.

“You do the right and wises thing, my son. Be a better pharaoh than your father,” his mother advises. Caressing his son’s face before they enter the room and telling him to have long patience with the ignorant people who are going to have a word with him tonight.

When everyone welcomed both the prince and the royal wife, they all cheered happily, shouting and howling for the prince while the blaring sounds of percussion and tambourine started playing. Men and women were always mesmerized by Johnny’s perfect built, architects and sculptors are dying to make him their inspiration and make him a big statue. Even the beauty of every gold he’s wearing in his body right now has no match for his natural handsomeness and godlike features.

“My son, who has fought many battles for me over my reign since I was declared ill, will be the one who will lead you to peace and victory,” he pats Johnny’s shoulder before he continues and looked to his assistants. “So before a great war starts tomorrow, I present to you this gift,” he nods and signals his assistant to bring it in.

And when people started to make way for the gift, loud grunts, and nonstop whining were heard across the room… while the people just watched the guards drag her in to be presented to the prince. “Amusement my prince,” one of the assistants says and pushed her further in front of the prince.

Johnny then lowered himself to check the gift that's been presented to him. Left and right he turned the girl’s face to admire it, and when he finally smirked because he liked the gift, the girl spits on his face. Loud whispers of shocked people surrounded the room, telling the girl that she has no respect for the prince of Egypt. Of course, Johnny can’t let his people see that it’s alright for a slave to disrespect him, and so he did something… something he’s not going to be proud of but will surely wow the people watching.

He grabbed a glass of wine, drank a mouthful and spit it on the girl’s face in front of everyone, and poured the remaining wine from his cup on her clothes. “Be careful slave” the prince says, pointing a finger that has a big golden ring around it to remind her who she’s talking to. “Dry her off and lock her in my room. Go,” he commands and the guards responded immediately.

The royal banquet carries on without even bothering further about the slave. Everyone drank delicious sweet wine, chattered nonstop about their richest and the things they desire in life and bid the prince of Egypt good night before they all went home.

But even though the night carried on as it should be, his mind can’t stop reminding him about the awful thing he did earlier. And so after the royal banquet, he asked for a tray of fruits and brought it to his room… for you.

Behind the thin curtains of his bed, he sees your silhouette and shook his head as a sign of disappointment to himself before he apologizes to you. He joined you in bed, sat so far away but still, he saw that no one tended to you, that no one helped you or even gave you dry clothes. “Why must you disrespect me like that?” Johnny left the question as he disappears for a minute and returned with a damped cloth and his sleeping robe. He hands it to you because he wouldn’t dare touch you without your permission, but instead of accepting the kindness that the prince is giving to you, you rolled your eyes at him, sat up and kept your distance.

“I’m sorry” he whispers but you heard it. “I may be a fool or I act tough in everyone’s eyes, especially my father’s but my mother did not raise me like that,” he added and reached for the damped clothed and came near you. Johnny wiped your face carefully like he is not the future pharaoh of Egypt and humbling himself for you.

After cleaning your skin, you shamelessly removed your clothes in front of him and looked straight into his eyes to search for lust and to finally finish this long night. And just like those men and women, architects and sculptors who lusted over his body, Johnny… lusted for you.

If you strip away every gold in Johnny’s body tonight, you will see goosebumps around his skin. He very much wants to have you tonight and pleasure himself but he still feels very guilty about what he did earlier. Almost as if he felt that he’s not worthy of you.

“If I give you pleasure tonight and have me as much as you want and as many as you like, will you free me?” you ask crawling near him wearing nothing but a cheap necklace. The prince then caressed your face, traced the curves of your body while looking directly into your eyes, showing you that he wanted to accept your offer so bad but not tonight.

“Tempting. But tonight, you rest” he says softly, trying so hard not to kiss you down the mattress and hurt you so good for the whole night. But even though he would rather do filthy things to you, he reached for his robe and made you wear it to bed. “May I be forgiven before I sleep tonight?” he says, smiling weakly and pushing you slowly to the mattress. He sat next to you while waiting for your answer.

“Only if you forgive me from what I did”

He chuckled and got up from the bed to leave you finally so you could get your rest. “Then it's settled. Let’s start again tomorrow when I come home… if… I’ll still be alive” he says, and left a sweet smile.

They say that men who will go to war the next day never get a peaceful sleep not unless they exhaust themselves from pleasure and eventually sleep like a baby. And that’s when you realized that the prince of Egypt sacrificed his sleep for you. Now you feel even more guilty because you took away his very chance to sleep peacefully for the last time… if he dies in battle tomorrow.

But for Johnny, knowing that he put a decent woman in bed and earned her forgiveness is better than pleasure or getting to enjoy lust before a battle. You were sleeping like a baby, he thought. The whole night he sat on the chair beside his bed, guarding you, and admiring you. Until the sun finally showed up and it's time for him to go.

The battle was bloody as expect but Johnny did not expect that their army will fall on the first day of the war. His soldiers needed to take him back to the palace and protect him from there, even though he wanted to fight until his dying breath. Not run like a coward and let his men die.

The soldiers brought him back safely, but Johnny was not pleased. He arrived at the palace furious and more than angry to his general that he yelled at the nurse who is supposed to treat his wounds and his maids to clean all the blood and dirt on his face and body. Johnny is hurt, physically but his pride is crushed, and that hurts even more than his wounds.

He was repeating the battle plan and their strategy in his mind over and over again to look for holes, to look for people to blame but he just can’t. Until eventually he fell asleep even though he’s in so much pain.

“You” the head of the nurses points at you, “you treat his wounds. Or else his majesty will die because of infection and it will be on your account “ she gave you the things you needed to treat a wound properly, complete expensive materials and ointments to heal the bruises faster but the problem is you don’t how to use them. You’re not stupid and you know a thing or two, but the person whom you’re about to treat is not just anybody, and that makes you nervous alone.

Quietly, you entered his room. It was cold and only a few candles are lit and you see his majesty curled up in a ball. Vulnerable, in pain, and suffering emotionally.

Before you even touch him, this scenario reminded you about his kindness the other night. How he touched you so delicately and how he wiped the traces of expensive wine on your skin so gently. Now it's your turn. You started by stripping off his armor, the golds, and silvers that protect him until he’s exposed with nothing but the minimal cloth that covers his manhood.

Carefully, you wipe away the dirt on his face until his handsomeness is visible again, closely you make sure you did not miss a spot and clean him well. Touching his big arms almost felt like you’re committing a great sin, his chest looked so strong even though it’s covered with bruises now which you’re going to take care of in a few minutes.

Then he wakes up and he sees you treating his wounds.

Glad to see that it’s you who’s taking care of him because for some reason you make him soft. He let out a sharp sigh and in an instant, you were shaking for you thought he will shout at you. But no. “I think I may have a broken bone, can you help me get up?” he weakly asks you.

“O-of course,” you slightly panicked but you did your best to support him with all your strength.

“Give me some water,” he says and you followed, helping him drink so he wouldn’t move too much. "You know you’re not a maid here. You’re a gift. A gift to me” he says sternly like he wanted you to take his pride. “Thank you. For taking care of me in my vulnerable state, sleep beside me I’m in pain”

And without hesitation, you did. This time, it's you who’s guarding him to his sleep. Although it hurts you to watch him suffer like this, you didn’t have a choice but to further take care of him.

On the next day, the nurses treated him the right way and adjusted his broken bones which made him feel better in an instant. You thought you will be released by then because you’re completely useless to his majesty, but you realized that he’s only keeping you for his pleasure and nothing has happened between you two yet.

So in the meantime, you decided to make yourself useful and learn the basics of treating a wound and make sure you know exactly what you’re doing whenever his majesty feels any discomfort.

He healed for days. Did not speak for days. And still, he hasn’t touched you. Oh you wish he would already so you can guarantee your freedom. Your family should be worried by now and probably thinks that you’re already dead. You can’t help but think about your family, your ill father and your younger brothers who need you, in which you can only sigh as you think about it while you take a breather at the palace terrace.

“I bring good news,” a voice disturbed you and your thoughts, “we are winning the war,” he said weakly.

“Ah. But you don’t sound so pleased? May I ask why?” you turned around to face the prince and slowly came closer to him.

“Because I am here resting and healing while my men fight in the war when I should be leading them” the disappointment in his voice is obvious. He pulled you closer to seek comfort, holding you by the waist and keeping himself calm by smelling your unique scent.

“Lead them once more when you’re healed. For now, rest so you can go in battle with them again. You’re next to your father, and if you die on that battlefield then who will lead us?” bravely you soothed his strong back, feeling him shiver once your fingertips made contact with his skin and your warm palm gives him great calm.

“You remind me of one specific person,” he says, and you wonder if it's one of his lovers, “you remind me of my mother. Who is a great queen of Egypt” and right then and there you feel guilty for judging a loving son who respects his mother so much. Hearing those words from him made you happy and proud of yourself because now you feel useful.

He pulls away from his soft embrace and looked deeply into your eyes, asking for permission to do something to you but he’s not saying anything. It’s his eyes who are doing the talking. “You may,” you said and let out a nervous giggle before the prince finally planted a kiss on your lips.

A kiss that’s wet and quick but made your whole body warm and you wish he would kiss you a little longer but who are you to request?

“I’ll take you somewhere private,” he said when he stopped the kiss and smirked.

And so in the middle of the night, you followed the prince to that private place he told you. Hand in hand you walk in the dark, exchanging whispers when you ask him something and he answers you.

“Close your eyes” he whispers and you followed immediately. Feeling him walk away for a few seconds and then he’s right behind you, feeling him motion you towards somewhere. And when you opened your eyes, what you just saw took your breath away.

A sky full of stars shining brightly and beautifully. You can’t take your eyes off of the sky because you’ve never seen anything like this and even though your neck already feels tired from looking up, you look a little bit longer and savor this very moment. “So this is where the prince of Egypt go whenever he’s tired? I assume?” you asked, smiling like a fool because you’re still mesmerized.

“Yes. This is where I think, hum a few songs, and be myself. No judging eyes, no wars- it’s quiet right? The only part of the palace where it’s really quiet. When I become pharaoh my room will be placed here and I will curse who dares to ruin my peace” he giggles to himself and points at the nearly done construction. The future bedroom of the new pharaoh, big, lavish, and peaceful. It suits him.

“I’m so tired of worrying and thinking about the future” he admitted weakly, closing his eyes and resting his head on yours. Embracing you from behind and caging you with his strong arms. Of course, this bold move made you nervous, the prince of Egypt is keeping you in his arms right now, who wouldn’t?

“Then you must rest,” you said and he only hummed and let out soft sighs.

“Can I have not only your lips but your whole being too?” he asked with the utmost care, careful not to offend you or make you feel like a whore. Then suddenly you feel his lips on your skin, cold lips that felt heavenly, soft lips that you imagine to be on yours. but he’s placing sweet kisses on your neck that made you gasp sharply, close your eyes and accept what he’s doing.

With heavy breaths and soft moans, you try so hard to let out a few words “Do you even need to ask? You’re the morning and evening star you should do as you please,” you croak.

And because you have given him your consent, his kisses became intense that you’re sure you felt his teeth brush on your skin. And because of the pretty sounds that he’s making it is very much obvious that he is enjoying himself especially now that his big hands are roaming free around your body. Kneading your breast and telling you that they’re soft while his mouth is near your ear and he nibbles your earlobe as he pleases.

He twirls you and made you face him before he devours your lips once again, kissing you with want and with a mixture of lust while motioning you towards the huge bed. He sat on the edge of the bed, making you stand still in front of him, “Virgin?” he asked shamelessly, you shook your head 'no' shyly. “Shame” he added before he stands up and removes his robe, exposing himself to you. Now you understand why everyone in Egypt lusts for him.

Gently he runs his hands on your shoulder, untying the knot that secures your dress and letting it fall down at your feet. “Beautiful,” he says.

The night wasn’t exactly hot but the prince made you sweat in bed the whole night. He was careful but all the things that he did to you were rough, he was very stressed and tired indeed. The way he kisses you, the way he bites your neck and mark you his, the way he holds you in place while he thrusts so roughly. All you can do is whine deliciously, groan and let out sharp gasps and heavy breaths.

Again, he was rough but you loved everything that he’s doing.

“Last one and I promise to give you rest,” he said with ragged breaths. Lips on the side of your face while his big hands knead your breast from behind and preventing you to fall on the mattress. You arch your back as much you can so you can manage to take the overstimulation and sensitivity but the prince is fucking you good that your knees are about to give up.

When he is so close to his sweet release, he pushed your body on the mattress and slapped your left ass cheek one too many times before he pulls out and pumps his cock away from your hole.

Weak. Tired and aching. You curl your body and hug yourself as you wait for the prince to cover you with his warmth again. But not long after he came down from his sweet release, he is holding you by the ankle and the next thing you know he is hooking his arms around your legs, spreading your folds and running his fingers on your wet slit while watching you lose your mind and beg for him. His tongue was heavenly and he was licking you slow like he’s waiting for you to calm down and accept the pleasure that he’s doing. Up and down, he licked you slow and listened to you wherever you want him on a certain spot. And when you had your sweet release and let out a high pitched moan, you did not beg for him to stop and you chose to overstimulate yourself.

“You sleep in my arms tonight,” he says, kissing you sweetly before he lies beside you and spread one arm to keep you close.

Although you're both exhausted and tired from pleasuring each other, that is not the reason why you and the prince stayed up until the sun is rising. The whole time, he was playing with your fingers, caressing your body and feeling his fingertips glide on your skin while he listens to you. Listening and not just hearing you talk. He was keeping the conversation with you, throwing you a lot of questions, hard and easy ones. It was his first time knowing someone he fucked.

“Tell me more” he says, leaving a kiss on your shoulder as you enjoy your comfort while you lie on your side and admire his godlike features. He was asking for more stories about your childhood because he didn’t have one. He was giving you kisses in exchange for your stories that make him feel alive and present in this world.

“Are you not tired?” you asked him with a smile.

“Talk until I fall asleep” he drags you near him so he can cage you with his strong arms and keep you close until he wakes up. He closes his eyes and waited for you to talk again, drawing small circles on your back so you know that he’s still awake.

“Paint, I love to paint,” you said, and told him stories about how the colors make you feel alive and whenever you paint, you feel free. You were talking and talking and talking until you got too carried away and did not notice that he had finally fallen asleep and you decided you should too.

In his arms, you slept well and dreamt about home. You see how your family welcomed you home and their faces were clear as day, almost as if you’re not dreaming. Ever since the prince showed you kindness, you’ve been sleeping better and for that you are thankful. But for now, your beautiful sleep needed to be disturbed for a very sweet kiss woke you up.

“You smile in your sleep,” the prince says, greeting you good morning and seeing his naked body first thing in the morning. You sat up from the mattress and covered yourself with the Egyptian cotton blanket, squinting your eyes to protect it from the bright sun. “Good morning my gift,” he greets you again, caressing your thigh under the blanket. Oh its too early to commit sin but the way he makes you feel good with his finger is inviting. “Spread your legs,” he says, and so you did.

Up and down he moves his two fingers in your very wet slit, you almost feel sorry for ruining these expensive sheets with your juices, but what can you do? The prince wants you soaked. “You were so amazing last night that I dreamt about you,” he came closer to you and removed his fingers to join you under the blanket and position himself in between your legs.

“You had me under the stars last night, are you going to have me under the sun too?” You asked with a playful tone, giggling under the covers with him and enjoying the closeness of your body. He is a big man, but his warm body feels good on top of you. Skin to skin, chest to chest, while his manhood is inside you. “You’re rather gentle now,” you added, letting out a soft moan and smiling weakly at him.

“It’s too early to be rough” he smiles and grabs your waist, thrusting deeper while he kisses your neck and marks you wherever he wants especially on your chest area, or swipe his tongue on you and devour your sweet lips.

“Thank you, I still ache from last night” you inform him, returning his sweet kisses with a smile and soft giggle that is soon replaced with a delicious moan.

“Apologies then, what do you feel now?” deeper and slower he goes. Making you feel every bit of him by stretching you so good while he holds your hand and kisses them while he thrusts. “Not going to l-last longer” he says and gave you a few sharp thrusts, making your breast bounce then did not hesitate to pull out and pumped his manhood away from you, ruining the expensive sheets with his thick cum.

He feels so warm and weak, groaning while you watch him pump his cock in front of you. What a sight. The prince looked so hot. All naked and glistening as the morning light shines upon him. “Do you know it's a crime to stare at me like that?” He asks with a smile. It was a joke but you can’t help but think that you’re lucky enough to see him like this, to look at him with lustful eyes to hold him whenever it pleases you.

“W-were not yet done?” you ask when you saw him spreading your legs again, oh his stamina is unbelievable. He didn’t answer your question but instead, he kisses your lower abdomen and kissed your body and breasts until he reaches your lips. And there’s that feeling again that the world is stopping whenever his lips touch yours, you like what’s happening and you don’t care if you’re not home anymore. Or maybe that’s the lust talking.

“Where did you learn how to kiss like that” it was not a question, he just simply wanted to let you know that your kisses do something to him. And while kissing you, the prince felt something he has never felt before. He was quite sure that it’s called admiration and want. He is slowly becoming possessive with every swipe of his tongue on your lips, he is slowly falling into your charms with every touch of your hands on his chest and the way your hands roam around like he is yours.

“I know I promised your freedom but can you stay a little longer?” he kisses your hands and kept them close to his heart. A gesture that is saying he is requesting, asking politely, and leaving you the decision because he respects you.

“I’ll stay” you answered without hesitation because it is what your heart wants. He has been nice to you, although he needed to put an act first but his true colors were inviting. “With two conditions,” you added, stopping him from attacking you with kisses.

“No lies and don’t die whenever you go to war,” you said sternly to which he’s very happy to hear.

After that beautiful morning, you and the prince spend your entire day naked in his comfortable bed, enjoying the lovely weather of Egypt and its calm breeze. Talking and exchanging stories, knowing each other deeper and accepting each other through honesty.

Then night after night the prince have you on every corner of his room or wherever he pleases. Making beautiful and lustful memories all around the palace. And whenever you’re both clothed and decent, he walks with you and shows everyone that you now have a special place in his life, something you’re never going to get used to but slowly it sinks in. You started dressing up in expensive clothes because he says so, giving you expensive jewelry all around your wrists and your neck. But most importantly, he is giving you more reasons to stay with him.

One fine day while you were waiting for Johnny with a book in your hand, he arrived very excited and was in a rush to bring you somewhere. Perhaps another secret place where he can fuck you? Or a surprise picnic? You really have no clue. But when you finally arrived at the place where he is very much excited to show you, every wild guess disappeared for you know exactly what the place is for.

Different colors of vibrant pigments, all came in different sizes. Paintbrushes from small to big ones made with soft hairs. And the canvas… is the place itself. “Johnny, this place is huge. I feel so small,” you said, feeling dizzy with how high the walls are but you are very much excited to paint on those.

“Paint all you want from now on, I know how you miss your home. I hope this will suffice” he gently pats your head, cup your face, and kissed you. “I have to go somewhere… dangerous again” he informs you, hoping to get a positive reaction from you.

Well, you can’t stop him and you know that all too well. You were quiet and if you’re being honest you don’t know what to say, but you do know that you want him to go home in one piece. “Remember your promise,” is all you can say to him.

“I won’t die” he giggles and intertwines your fingers with his.

When the prince left the next morning, you can’t help but worry for him and be scared that something bad might happen. But whenever you remember his bright smile when he promised you he won’t die, your heart warms instantly and you can finally get on with your day.

Using the gifts that the prince left you, you painted for hours and hours, from sun up until sundown. Sleeping on the floor next to the paints rather than the huge and comfortable bed because you can’t handle the cold there. And whenever you’re taking a rest from painting, you still spend your time alone rather than make friends and talk to the maids.

It was lonely when Johnny is not around. You don’t know when will he arrive, and worrying will do no good so you waited patiently instead. Day after day you did the same things. Paint, eat alone, be alone, paint some more and sleep on the cold floor.

Until finally, a pair of arms surprised you, encircled perfectly on your waist and you can finally feel that familiar warmth again. You put down the paintbrush and tried turning around to welcome him home with kisses but he stopped you. “I look filthy” he said, but you did not care and still turned around.

To your surprise, you almost did not recognize him. His face is full of dirt and blood, small and big bruises on his face but thankfully no broken bones this time. He was quiet. No sweet kisses for you and obviously he’s tired. “We both look dirty” he giggles and reached for your hand to wipe off the paint from it, “what you did here is beautiful” he said and pulls you to a hug which you returned without having second thoughts.

He recognizes your paintings. He is sure that it's from your home, memories from home to keep you happy perhaps. Johnny searched for anything or something that says you missed him too while he’s away, perhaps a sunflower? But he found none. Little did he know, that you missed him terribly too that you chose to sleep on the floor.

After your quick reunion, you washed his face, treated his wounds and decided to take a warm bath together. The silence was deafening and so you talked and talked until he finally says something.

“Do I make you happy?” he asks sincerely while scrubbing your back and pouring warm water on your skin. Bathing with him brings you a different kind of calm. You nod your head ‘yes’ to answer his question, caressing his thighs underwater. Then you feel him kiss your neck softly and encircle his arms on your waist underwater.

“I’m setting you free” he says.

And those words made your heart ache in an instant that you turned and faced him with worried eyes. You should be happy by now because finally you can be free and see your family, but why are you sad? He just came back and now you’re going to be separated again?

“But” he added which made you nervous even more.

“It pains me to let you go. That’s why I promise to take care of you and love you day and night… if you choose to stay” you always see him as an honest and sincere man but now his sincerity is different. It has a mixture of hurt and hopelessness like he already knew you’re going to leave him that’s why he made such an offer and confessed in the middle of a huge bathroom and while taking a bath.

“A few months ago, I told you I’ll stay and that’s not because I’m doing you a favor but because I really wanted to stay with you. I’m still choosing to stay-“

He cut you off with sweet kisses until water splashed on you and him, there are tears in his eyes but it wasn’t visible because of the water. Happy tears that only you can give him.

And that is how your story with Johnny started. It started with doing what your heart wants with all honesty, choosing to love each other and stay together. After that very momentous bath, he became Johnny to you and not the prince of Egypt, but the man you chose to love from now on.

YEARS LATER

Life with Johnny was never easy but it was full of love and he had kept his promise. Everyday, day and night he loved you more and more each day. And eventually, fucking was replaced by passionate love making which something you both love doing.

“So good” he groans and lets out soft moans while you bounce your body on top of him, driving him crazy and make him beg for more. You intertwined your fingers with his, sucking his fingers while your roll your hips deliciously. He can be rough with you in order to drive him mad, but you, you need only lustful eyes, your womanhood, and your tongue.

“Ooooh-“ he groaned a little louder than before and shoots his thick cum inside you while you drill your hips make sure you won’t miss a drop. “I hope you get pregnant this time” he said with ragged breaths, encircling his arms around you and placed sweet kisses on your face and on your lips.

You’ve been trying to have a child now but the gods are not in favor of it, so you and Johnny decided to try until you succeed. Usually, one round is not enough for the both of you but when you both realized that it’s going to be like this forever, there is no need to exhaust yourselves anymore because you can simply make love again tomorrow.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how many babies are we going to have in the future?” your question made him laugh. The sound of his giggles vibrates on your body because you’re too close with each other and you can’t help but laugh with him too.

“A lot,” he simply answers your question and kisses you before he covers your body with a thicker blanket.

Life with Johnny is sweet, not because you’re now comfortable and he showers you with gold. But because he showers you with the love you deserve and he now takes care of your family too and even provided your father’s medicine. Even though you haven’t seen them in years, now they know that you’re in good hands for you write to them and let them know that you’re well. But for Johnny’s safety, you didn’t dare tell them that you are in a relationship with him.

It may be sweet and comfortable for you, but it is not always like this. Of course, there are hard times that you have to face with Johnny. Like when his advisors see you as his whore and not someone whom he truly loves, when his father did not accept you and almost took away Johnny’s right to the throne, and when you planned on running away so the people around him can stop doubting him as the future ruler. All these problems but Johnny chose you. Always.

“I love you”

He whispers and caressed your face while watching you sleep. Having one last look before he starts his day without you and faces yet another stressful day.

Now that his coronation is getting near, many people have been seeking his attention and had been trying to rebel against him. He may be a great fighter, and he honors the throne, but the people around him do not see him as someone who can rule and solve the nation’s problems.

Heartbroken. That’s what he feels when he thinks about being king in the next few weeks.

“My uncle and cousins are active lately, seeking the people of Egypt’s hearts, courting them, and feeding them lies. My own family... is planning to overthrow me” he informs you. Frustrated and stressed beyond you could have ever imagined. It pains you to see him like this.

“I am no advisor. But be strong my love and still do your best to rule, prove them wrong” you encourage him, trying your best to give him strength. But all he gave you is a sly smile and a kiss on the forehead, leaving you to go and study more about the things he should know for his kingdom until eventually, you find him asleep on his desk. Shivering from a cold night and all you can do is put a blanket around him.

After a few weeks, Johnny is crowned king of Egypt. A celebration that’s very beautiful but you’re not allowed to stand near him because you’re a slave and people will recognize you. But you know all too well that Johnny imagines you being on his side.

They say that the crown is naturally heavy but if it weighs too much that even your heart can’t carry it, then you are not fit to rule. And that is exactly what Johnny feels right now, but trying is the most important thing for him. Running away from his duty is not him. He will continue to try and be a better pharaoh than his father.

“Where have you been?” you giggle and soothe his strong arms that are encircled around your waist. Accepting the kisses he’s giving to you for it has been far too long since the last time you’ve been together alone. He had been working hard for his nation, he looked tired than ever.

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful” he says while looking at the sunflowers you painted on the walls. A thousand sunflowers for the gods, in exchange for Johnny’s safety… or a child, if they permit. “I visited our room last night, but you weren’t there. I knew you were here but I needed to go already. I’ve missed you so much” he turned your body so he could see you finally, cleaning your hands full of paint with his own clothes. A gesture that simply tells you that whenever he’s with you he’s just a simple man who loves you so much and not the king of Egypt.

“I’ve been sleeping on the floor. I’m in a rush to finish this so I can finally offer something to the gods and they can grant me my wish” you rake his long hair away from his face.

“Now, now, that’s not how a future queen of Egypt should behave, my love” he smirked and you rolled your eyes, picking up the used paintbrushes and cleaning them.

Then you realized he said something.

“Say that again, my love” you request as you watch him come closer to you with a smile. “Was that a question? You never addressed me as someone-“

“Will you marry me? Be the queen of Egypt and become my wife? Be my best advisor, help me to be a better man?” he finally said it. Straight forward and will all honesty, as always.

“Y-yes. Of course, I would like to be your wife. But your people won’t allow it,” you answered excitedly. Eyes with tears that continuously flow. He cupped your face and thanked you for saying yes, not caring about your concern for he doesn’t care what others will say.

The celebration of being engaged is continued in your shared room with wine, fruits, hope, and dreams. It was a night a fun night with your future husband where you enjoy the company of each other after such a long time. Johnny made sure that you made the right decision and promised you a better life.

“What more could be better? We have everything already Johnny” you put a grape in his mouth before you lie beside him.

“What was your prayers to the gods again?” he asks, out of nowhere. To be honest you did not expect he would be interested. “Maybe I can give it to you instead?” he added and it instantly made your heart full.

“My first prayer is, for your safety wherever you go. Nothing scares me the most than knowing that wherever you go, your life is always in danger my love” he tightens his embrace, silently thanking the gods for bringing you into his life.

“And the second?”

You breathe deeply first before you answer him, “A baby… but your safety comes first” you said sternly, pointing at his chest and drilling your pointer finger on his skin so he knows how scared you are. He caught your hand and kiss it one too many times.

“I love you, I promise to be careful so we can make babies during our marriage,” he promised sincerely.

On the next day, Johnny’s first agenda was to tell everyone about the good news. At least its a good news for him, but not for everyone. His father, advisors and other members of the elite society were disappointed upon hearing that he wants to marry a slave.

When Johnny became king, all of Egypt starved. That’s why everyone thinks that being married to a slave and throwing a big wedding is not appropriate.

“Do you think I’m a pushover? I am the morning and evening star, your king, and I kept this nation together and kept it safe with all my power. You owe me your lives. And I am not seeking your approval, I am simply telling you that I am to be married to the woman I love. Besides, I don’t want to see your faces on my wedding day and ruined it for me”

Silence ate the room and only the sound of afternoon winds surrounds the room. “Dismissed” he commands and they immediately left, leaving Johnny alone with his thoughts.

The wedding was simple and private because it is what you wanted and thankfully Johnny is not a fan of grand celebrations too. You both thought that the gods will spare your wedding day and give you a peaceful day just this once. But no, because a murder took place in the palace and it happened while you and Johnny are enjoying your wedding night.

He is deep inside you, thrusting roughly but with care at the same time. Hands on your waist to keep you in position as he fucks you from behind and leave kisses on your shoulders.

You were moaning so good, while you grip the sheets and part your lips, telling your husband how you feel and beg for more.

Until his advisors entered the room uninvited and have no care for privacy. Johnny quickly covered your body and hid you behind him. “YOU HAVE NO RESPECT!” He shouted so loud that you were sure everyone in the palace heard him.

But still, his advisors did not move an inch and waited for him to stop shouting.

“Our king... y-your parents have been murdered”

And that is when everything turned black in Johnny’s eyes. He put on his robe, ran towards his parent's room and saw the gruesome murder.

He didn’t understand why but he was heartbroken and very much angry that he punished all the guards on duty that night and everyone staying at the palace except you.

Well, you wouldn’t think that you’re not being punished. You’ve been feeling sick for days already and you have been having morning sickness more often. Then you realized you haven’t bled yet and immediately called a nurse, a good friend whom you can trust to confirm if you are with child.

You are.

And that is your punishment. Knowing that your prayer has been answered but Johnny is grieving and is away from you. Not seeing your husband and knowing that he’s out there punishing people, punishing innocent people makes your heart break. Apparently, asking for a peaceful life is too much.

Finally, Johnny found out who plotted his parent’s murder. And it is no other than his cousins who wanted him to give up the throne. And because of that, his anger grew much worse. Now he does not only punish people but also put them to death for Johnny believes that he is being betrayed by the people around him.

It has become the darkest time in Egypt.

“The is the only place that I can show my weak and grieving side. I’m so tired, my love. This is not me but all of Egypt is mad and wants to kill me. What can I do?” You hush him and gave him a tight embrace which he accepted and returned. “Do you want to kill me too?” He asks you and you can’t believe you’re hearing this from him.

“Never. I did not paint a thousand sunflowers for the gods so that I can wish you to be gone” you sat on his lap and reached for his hand, putting it above your belly. Hoping that he understands what you’re saying.

He did. But he wasn’t happy.

And all you can do is understand him because he is going through so much right now.

“The gods must hate me so much to give us a child during these dark times” he said bitterly.

You didn’t have a choice but to get up from his lap and place a kiss on his temple. You may miss him. So much. But it is useless to have a conversation with someone who’s full of hatred towards the world.

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m blinded with anger” he tried reaching for your hand but you refuse and lie on your side of the bed. Closing your eyes and remembering the happy memories you had with him over the years.

“Do you know what’s on my mind?” you did not answer him, “I would like to give up the throne and live a simple and fruitful life with you but I can’t. Kings don’t run away from battles” he says. Keeping you close and leaving kisses on your clothed stomach. Chanting apologies and saying how much he loves you before you both sleep.

Day after day, Johnny became even more scared for you and especially for your child. Now that you have a chance to be a family, Johnny is even more obsessed with fixing everything using his own ways but everything is not going according to plan. The assassins weren’t satisfied yet and they have been killing innocent people that Johnny trusts. And his cousins won’t admit the crime that they have been doing for Johnny lacks proof. It frustrates him greatly.

Now that you’re with child he stays with you from sun up, to sundown. He doesn’t care if people are uncomfortable with seeing the king with a slave, all that matters now is your safety. He is scared to the bone that he carries his sword around him and does not go to sleep so he could guard you in your sleep.

“I used to do this during your first nights here. I guard you in your sleep and watch you smile as you dream. But that’s maybe because back then we have peace. I’m sorry I can’t give you a peaceful life”

As Johnny continues to think of many ways on how to protect you, he kept you hidden in your museum and watched you paint. It calms him. And as he looks around the place, he looked long and hard at your artwork and remember the days when you used to miss home. Then he realized that it is the only way to keep you safe. The only problem is you will not agree on it.

“You do know that when I leave and they found out that you’re all alone now, they will not stop until they kill you then take your throne” you said sternly. Hearing his plan about sending you home makes you angry and misses him already.

“As long as I fight until the end. The only way to stop them and keep you safe is to give them the satisfaction of killing me. No one knew about our child, please listen to me my love. This is the only way that I can give our child a peaceful life” he begs.

You don’t want to admit that he is right and you don’t have any other choice now. But leaving him pains you greatly, that even just thinking about it scares you.

Eventually, you and Johnny plotted your escape and made you go home safe. With the help of your family and a few soldiers, they managed to get you out of the palace without anyone noticing it. But you can’t let go of Johnny’s hand. You kissed and kissed until there's no more time left to be together. You said your goodbyes and final promises to each other and accept your fate.

“I’ll find you in our second life, whatever happens. Live my love, live happily” he says and removed your tight grip before he disappears with his soldiers. And that is your last memory of the man you loved.

It was the darkest moment for the both of you.

Johnny knew that being away from you will not be easy and it will make him weak in an instant. In fact, it made him crazy. Everyday, he goes to your museum and seeks comfort with your paintings. Constantly thinks about you and pray that you are well and healthy.

“Finally, you’re safe” he murmured.

After a few days, the news that the king is dead has spread all across Egypt and everyone celebrated. Everyone except you and the few people who knew the truth about the assassination in the palace. Hearing them celebrate sickens you for they don’t know how Johnny struggled to keep his nation alive and safe and that he is not the enemy, the true enemy is the one sitting on the throne now.

Hearing that he was assassinated in your museum broke your heart for you knew that he longed for you until his dying breath.

After all, the thousand sunflowers you painted for the gods did not go to waste. But it was your second wish that they granted and not the first.

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morewonders · 2 years

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I saw @noblealice answer these questions and thought it seemed fun, so here we are.

last song: on Spotify it was I Don’t Need Your Love from Six the musical (OBCR), but that’s not accounting for the two hours I spent last night looking up various stage Elphabas singing No Good Deed on YouTube (the JB as Fiyero news awakened something in me, what can I say)

last series: I watched the Alias Grace miniseries from 2017 the other day and it rattled my brain. In the last few weeks I also watched Love Life S2 (CHIDI ANNA KENDRICK!) and Partner Track.

last concert: Florence + the Machine, and the week before that it was Backstreet Boys, so September is going swimmingly so far

last movie: The Last Letter From Your Lover on Netflix, which I mostly enjoyed, though I found it baffling that they had Shailene Woodley, a face that definitely knows what an iPhone is, as the character in the 1960s rather than modern day. Felicity Jones was RIGHT THERE. Also I was trying to place where I knew the modern day love interest from and then gasped IT’S FRANK!!! (from Station Eleven)

currently watching: Never Have I Ever S3, and I just remembered Abbott Elementary is back.

currently reading: A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske, which I absolutely bought the second it came out and then failed to read for an entire year. But we’re in it now!!!

current obsession: after I saw Six I was like “maybe I SHOULD watch The Tudors” and proceeded to watch four seasons of a not great show that ended in 2011 just to get more queens. Justice for K Howard, her song in the musical is simultaneously the most heartbreaking and the BIGGEST bop. (Aragon and Boleyn: “am I a joke to you???”)

currently working on: the Kate/Anthony sports AU that somehow hit 7k words the other day. HOW. I also have my other two WIPs (follow-ups to my s2 AU and modern AU) but, like, they’ve been going for like three months now and I keep adding shit but can’t seem to make them form a coherent narrative. Sigh.

favorite color: dark green

spicy/sweet/savory: oh my god sweet, 100%. though there are days when I’m like “if I don’t eat an entire bag of salt and vinegar chips I will absolutely die.”

#about me #things nobody asked #if the spacing on this is atrocious forgive me/blame the Tumblr mobile app

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juleswolverton-hyde · 3 years

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Not by the Moon | 08

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing, eating disorder (personal experience, don’t be a bloody twat), heavy(?) angst, Werewolf!Jaebeom trying to be a normal boyfriend

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV.

I am seeing a trend starting to develop where every chapter turns into a behemoth that makes me not want to edit it at all. Nevertheless, I pulled through on this one despite being in the middle of a 32-hour work week and being absolutely exhausted.

Summer holidays, you said? I only see extra shifts and little me-time nor writing time and inspiration. That said, though, be prepared for some heavy worldbuilding because the plot thickens.

Also, and this has been edited in the previous chapter, a new special someone makes his debut in this chapter. Is this also a hint about whose story is next?

Who knows?

I don’t know.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

“Jaebeom? Jay!” I nudge the big man’s shoulder to signal for him to step aside so I can turn the stove off before the burned pancake catches fire. “That’s the third one in a row.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly. “I- I have a... I can’t focus.”

“Is it because of this morning?” If so, then that makes two of us. However, I tried to forget as best I could by working with timed productivity sprints instead of writing the article on Bruges in one go. It worked fairly well until lunch time came around.

That’s when I, too, couldn’t escape the claw mark.

The image of it flashes before my eyes once more, joining my thoughts with his if his blank look is anything to go by.

How did it get there? What did you do?

“Yeah. Morning. I... I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, this should be a nice evening. A cozy night in. You deserve my attention, for me to,” his breath tapers as he finishes the sentence, “be here.”

The quiver in his lips makes the roof of my mouth dry up and my mind empty save for gut-stirring concern, unable to think of a proper response. Nevertheless, I look for words to say what seems best. Like I did this morning when I went to get his medication. “How about I take it from here and bake the pancakes? You already made the batter and I can’t let you do all the work.”

“I like cooking for you.”

“I know you do, but it’s fine. Really,” I gesture at the couch by the living room window, which provides a glimpse of the small balcony, “sit down. I’ll call you once dinner’s ready.”

“Y/N,” he reaches out for my hand yet only dares to hold my fingertips, “I’m sorry I can’t be more.”

The crack in his voice breaks my heart. But its the vulnerability written across his normally stoic face which tears me apart at the seams. Whatever he means, it’s nothing to do with this morning. Rather, it’s about him as a person, the wonderful man he is.

Throat blocked by something I can’t swallow, I scan his attitude for any hint about what he truly means. “What’re you on about?”

Let’s just forget about it for a little while and be a normal couple. I promise I won’t run away despite what happened.

Unfortunately, Jaebeom dismisses the question to make a point I wish he didn’t. “We both know what’s ahead. But, sometimes it’s as if you’re avoiding the inevitable.”

I let out a deep sigh, caught red-handed. “I’m not, because I know or, rather, can guess where this is going. I just don’t know how to respond at times. And I don’t want you to feel bad so I try to keep the mood high as best I can. To, well, keep us both happy.”

“Is your avoidance of food also part of that?” he asks, carefully formulating the question while keeping a close eye on any change in my demeanour.

“Yes.”

“I hate it when you don’t eat.”

“I know, but if you knew the reasons behind it, you’d understand why it’s difficult for me. Although, I want you to know that I’m trying to keep my promise to you and eat when you tell me to.” I cup his cheek, lovingly swiping my thumb to and fro over the tanned skin. “It’s really hard to escape your determination. You’re very insistent on things.”

“Too much?” Eyes dim and glistening with withheld tears, he nuzzles my palm.

“Sometimes.” I kiss the tip of his nose and smile, a sign of happiness that’s only half a lie. “It doesn’t make me love you any less. Now, let me be a proper girlfriend and cook for you.”

Regardless of the wonderful sight of Jaebeom wearing an apron and being absorbed in his element in the kitchen, it’s equally as wonderful to have something to eat tonight. Secretly, I would rather have made a healthier and less calorie-rich dish, but we both need a bit of a reprieve from last night. Thus, for the sake of us both, I’ve decided to let go of my rules for a little while.

To enjoy something sweet.

As wholesome as the sight of the wolf man seated on the couch, knees pulled up with round gold-rimmed glasses balancing on the bridge of his nose as he reads the novel he apparently borrowed from my bookshelves. I should write a little note on the title page and give it to him as a present so he’ll have one of my books like I have his.

They’ll be on his shelves for as long as we’re here.

Be there even after he’s gone.

Then they will return to me yet still be his.

He will still be with me.

The pages filled with his love.

It’s everything that will be left of him.

His legacy.

His remains.

The thought leaving me filled with bittersweet affection, I cut the fruit to put on top of the pancakes while gradually using up all the batter. Were it not for the move to the cottage at the end of the month, I could easily be content here if he’d ask me to move in. Wherever we are, evenings like these might become a common occurrence, a splendid reward at the end of a long day at the office.

They could turn any place into our home.

The long road of the lone wolf would finally come to an end.

Because as long as he’s there, I’m home.

“Mind your head.” Despite the warning, Jaebeom nevertheless puts a hand on my head while he opens the cupboard above to grab two plates.

“I was just about to say dinner’s ready.” I let out a breathless laugh, hardly hiding the sobs at the thought of one day having to live without his touch. “Talk about timing.”

For a second, a curious expression treks across his face. It passes by too fast to properly describe it, but it seemed to be triggered by the meaningless remark about his return to the kitchen.

When a dangerously short and sharp breath escapes me, he swallows it with a kiss. Perhaps it’s the sorrow of knowing a storm lies on the horizon that makes me delusional, but a soft whine rises in his throat each time he kisses a stray tear away as he peppers my face in small pecks.

Satisfied he has taken the sadness more or less away, the corners of his mouth curl into a lop-sided smile as if nothing happened. Notwithstanding, it isn’t hard to figure the blissful ignorance is merely feigned. “Right. Timing.”

Our gazes lock and neither of us says a word until he perks up and motions for me to step back. “Fork and knife.”

Discombobulated by the shared confusion, I indeed set a step backwards so he can open the drawer. In the meanwhile, as Jay sets the dinnerware down, I put the final pancake on the stack and set it down in the middle of the table.

Chest puffed out, I clap my hands. “Dig in.”

Like yesterday, Jaebeom insists on doing the dishes while I settle down for the night. However, whereas I gladly did before, I now do with an uneasy mind. Arms wrapped around my knees, my thoughts run down a familiar dark path.

I ate too much. Maybe I should go home and do a workout. Then again, I really don’t want to even though I have to.

“Y/N?” The faint though surprising mention of my name breaks the imaginary stones weighing down my shoulders. I snap my head to the side, almost headbutting the wolf man who has appeared at my side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Lips pulled into a wistful smile, I scratch him under the chin in hopes of distracting him to the degree he won’t be able to ask further questions. “I’m tired, that's all.”

Unfortunately, Jaebeom is like a guardian who somehow notices a lot despite his absent-minded demeanour. Henceforth, the topic is all but abandoned.

Without warning, and as effortless as if he were picking up a book, he lifts me up from the couch to hold me in his arms. Instinctively, I clutch his loose black shirt to have a grip of something in case I fall. It’s an ungrounded fear since his arms are sturdy, but it’s comforting nonetheless to have something to hold on to.

My haphazard action elicits a low chuckle that makes my heart skip a beat, although it almost thumps out of my chest again as he rests his forehead against mine. “Let’s go to bed.”

“It’s only eight o’clock,” I sputter, chest tight and no breath sufficient enough to lift the sensation. “Besides, I- I don’t have any fresh change of clothes or toiletries or a pyjama.”

Did he turn the central heating up?

“Doesn’t matter. Can borrow. You. No, that’s not right. You… you can. You can borrow clothes from me. Also, I think I have a spare toothbrush somewhere around here.”

“Jay,’’ As best I can, I try to keep my tone steady though the words come out too fast and uneven regardless, ‘’I think I should go home.”

If I don’t and I won’t get in some more exercise, I’ll gain weight and slowly go back to how I was.

And I’ll lose him.

Back to square one.

Loveless.

Despite the effort, I can’t prevent the crack in my voice as I weakly tug at his shirt. ‘’Let me go.’’

“No.’’ The gentle kindness has malformed into rough sternness, translated in a sound similar to a growl. ‘’You need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” I retort, more ferocious and sharper than intended though the equal harshness might help to drive the point home.

For a split second, he snarls and bares his teeth. Simultaneously, a flicker of a second personality passes across his mismatched eyes.

The calm ocean warps into a watery grave with high waves on a stormy night.

The hazelnut cracks to set that which it contains free.

His lashes abruptly flutter shut, as he lets out a pained gasp. Beneath my fingertips, his chest caves as if an imaginary fist has dealt him a blow in the guts.

And in mine as well.

Rippling flesh.

There’s… there’s no… Jay, what is happening to you?

I hold on tighter to the fabric, hyperventilating while trying to refrain from bursting out in tears.

There has to be something I can do! But what? What do I do? How can I make this stop?

How do I get you back?

Withal, shivering lips parted to beg for guidance, are interrupted by a shake of the head hanging low. Slowly, Jaebeom looks up, a light layer of sweat on his skin. Our gazes lock, but whereas the wolf man’s was filled with savage chaos, it’s now returned to the stern tranquility it held before the attack. Nonetheless, an uncomprehending whimper betrays the fact that whatever happened wasn’t experienced consciously.

The rage was beyond him.

Outside him.

Another’s.

Still breathless, he scoffs, the sound gruff and overtly disagreeing. “Let’s watch the moon and stars.”

There is no chance to ask any questions about the swift changes in demeanour since he promptly moves to the hallway and up the stairs towards his bedroom. The bedframe of the two-person bed also functions as a bookshelf which takes up the entire right wall, the shelves stacked with second-hand paperbacks in various conditions. An empty picture frame is placed on his side of the bed, a pair of glasses next to it.

Jaebeom puts me down on the navy wool blanket on the edge of the bed and leans in to steal a kiss, which is easy to do considering I’m too shaken to offer any protest. Nor do I feel the comfort of his lips. “Take your clothes off. I’ll go find you pyjamas.”

A tad reluctant, mind occupied by guilt and terror, I start to undress as he rummages through the wardrobe on the other end of the room.

Left only in my underwear, I sit down on the edge of the bed. Although he’s seen me naked once, I still wrap my arms around myself to hide my body. A shield to protect a fragile ego housed in equally as vulnerable body flesh.

Afraid of what might happen when those ripples grow out of control.

Terrified of who he will become.

Of who he is.

“Don’t.” Jaebeom turns around with a black hoodie and grey sweatpants in his hands, eyebrows drawn together. He closes the drawer, throws the clothes on the bed, kneels, and firmly yet gently grabs my wrists to break the walls I put up. And I let him. “Don’t hide from me.”

Not understanding where the shame originates from, he grows still as he scrutinizes my face for clues. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Instead of giving an answer, I change into the makeshift pyjamas. The hoodie is oversized yet comfortably baggy while the sweatpants hang disconcertingly low on my hips. Fortunately, any skin it reveals is covered up by the top.

Continuing to avoid his gaze without saying a word, I crawl under the sheets. Face turned to the window, I pull up the blanket he drapes over me and bury my nose in it.

A wild forest and cologne with a musty hint of pages.

It’s undeniably him.

I don’t know what else to do or say. So, I let the silence speak for itself.

A language he is fluent in too despite his oftentimes loud demeanour.

The mattress dips under his weight when he lies down and rearranges the sheets to cover us both. An arm wrapped around my waist and legs tangled, Jaebeom pulls me flush against him, his chest warm against my back.

A sob rises in my throat when I feel his lips place a kiss on my crown with a sigh of contentment.

I don’t deserve this.

Us.

Him.

The fear of losing him to whatever is happening inside.

Then again, Life isn’t fair. It deals everyone the same awful hand and leaves it up to the player to make the best of it.

I guess we’re both dealt a crappier hand than others. That, or we play them wrong.

Can we win at all?

“Talk to me.” As loving and happy as the casual intimacy of the embrace is, as forgetful it could make me if only I’d manage to fall asleep, Jaebeom’s oddly sweet cooing keeps me awake.

Staring at the moon.

A woman as fickle as me.

And infinitely more beautiful.

Funny how I, too, am jealous of a celestial body.

In love with the heavens.

He continues when he notices I won’t be the one to break the silence, his intonation laced by a whiny undertone like a dog wanting something yet being denied what it wants. “You know what I’m dealing with. But...” he digs his fingers deeper into my hips, the grip iron-like without being painful, “I hope this is okay to ask, but what is it with you and food?”

The encouraging squeeze in my side almost has me bursting out in tears again. There has to be a price to pay somewhere in the shadows, the overwhelming sensation of being genuinely loved and protected must turn out to be as two-sided as the silver goddess in the sky. After all, Life is bittersweet.

“It’s only fair I tell you.” Especially after how open he’s been. Besides, there’s no opportunity to avoid the topic since we’d arrive at it sooner or later. And he deserves to know. In fact, I don’t want him to forget my brokenness the moment I tell him about it.

We both want each other to remember our own missing pieces.

So I sigh, turn over and bald my hands into fists to rest against the warm skin of his bare chest. As I speak up, I try to keep my voice as steady as possible. “I used to be quite a fat kid, to the degree the GP advised my parents to put me on a diet. Queue high school and social pressure which led me to perhaps work out more than is healthy and left me bordering on the edge of anorexia. There are still foods I won’t eat and days I’ll worry about my calorie intake, especially on the days I don’t work out.”

I can’t help the mirthless chuckle which turns into a rueful smile. “It’s the good old cliché. Just another soul broken for the shallow enjoyment and acceptance of others.”

Lips pulled into a stern line, the wolf man remains silent. Notwithstanding, his eyes speak volumes when I dare to look up at him, the ocean and hazelwood alight with a watery sheen. Perhaps it’s the comfort of his nearness or the familiarity of those one of a kind eyes, but he inspires a confession which I never thought I’d make. “Nevertheless, I’m getting better and it’s partially thanks to you.”

Morgan spamming me with ‘Have you eaten?’ texts and Bam making sure I finish my plate whenever we go out for food either here or abroad help a lot too. Nonetheless, it’s mostly the bookish wolf who makes me want to try.

And be a little better than before.

“What do they feel like, those days?”

“The bad ones?” Jaebeom nods. “They’re ridden with guilt and self-loathing.”

He leans in, leaving only a few centimetres of distance between our faces. His breath is warm on my skin as he bumps his nose against mine. “You’re feeling that way now.”

“I am.”

“Don’t.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re still you. Beautiful as always. And I’ll love you regardless of how you look. I like your mind, which is as weird as mine. The way you hold my hand, as if you’re afraid I’ll walk away. How you unconsciously squeeze it when you need my protection more. How you feel in my arms, soft and warm as a bunny.” He hooks his finger under my chin and tilts it upward to run his tongue over my lips and nose. “Love you. A lot.”

“I love you too.” I turn my head to nuzzle his palm, my face perfectly fitting into it.

Please, no ripples. Let us have this moment. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. Let me have him, just him as he is. At least tonight.

The secure affection of the touch transforms into something else when he glides the back of his hand over my cheek and folds his fingers over my throat. Testing the waters, eyes boring into mine to stop at the slightest sign of discomfort, he slowly closes off my access to air.

It’s funny how the body and mind react to certain situations. Whereas I normally would flinch and run in the direction of safety, there is no urge to run. In fact, the tingling in my chest travels down to rekindle a familiar heat between my thighs while my adrenaline-infused system aches for the wolfish lover. Henceforth, instead of jumping up from the bed, I spread my legs so Jaebeom can comfortably nestle between them.

“Let me prove it. Let me mate you.” The calloused fingertip journeying across the collarbone to the crook of the neck sends a pleasant shiver down the spine. Another electric shock follows at the coarse prickly sensation of his moustache rubbing against my skin as his soft lips kisses and nips at it. “It will only sting a bit, I promise. Please, the mark will look pretty.”

“No biting, Jay.” Reminded of our agreement this morning and the movement beneath his skin when his emotions seem to get the better of him, I pull him against my chest. Before he can protest I scratch his jaw exactly in the way he likes it, thus subduing his great ability to argue. “Not today.”

“It’s not... hm, k- keep go- What do- Bit higher. There. Like, hm, mhm, there. But... what normal-’’ Arms wrapped around my waist again and letting out a content hum, dark lashes flutter shut. For a moment, it seems he’s fallen asleep. However, his drowsy murmurs, while growing incomprehensible, still haven’t finished. “It’s not what couples do.”

“You’re learning,” I giggle, amused by the remark which sounds like a student recalling a piece of knowledge during a test and repeating it for himself.

Without understanding the knowledge completely. “What do they do?”

Staring at the ceiling, I run my fingers through his long dark manes as I try to come up with ideas about what we can do next. “Well, you’ve already given me your clothes. We could try jewelry next, maybe a promise ring. It’s an old-fashioned idea, but people who are promised to each other wear matching rings.

‘’What mean? Promised?’’

I say nothing of the faulty grammar of his question. After all, speaking becomes harder once exhaustion overtakes the body and mind. I have yet to find a sleeper being able to form comprehensible sentences. ‘’They’re sort of similar to engagement rings, but without the immediate implication of getting married soon.”

“Let’s get en- enga- enge-’’ Jaebeom lets out a groan, frustrated by his lack of speech. Nevertheless, it doesn’t perturb him enough to completely give up on the effort to properly pronounce the word he’s struggling with. “En. Gage. Ment. Engagement rings instead.”

I let out a breathless chuckle, amused both by his determination and the absurd proposal. “It’s definitely too early for that.”

“It’s not!” He barks, shooting up with a pinched expression on his face.

Scratching him like before, I manage to calm him down enough to make him lie down on my chest again. Nonetheless, his discontent shines through in the gruff scoff he lets out. “It is.”

“What if...” Prompted by the idea in his mind, Jay scrambles upright to face me once more. Lips parted, the feral sharpness in his mismatched eyes is replaced by a twinkle of barely contained excitement. However, the enthusiasm dims with a shake of the head and a low self-deprecating chuckle that ignites my curiosity. At the same time, it also tugs at the strings of my heart. “No, it’s wrong of me to ask.”

“What is?”

What were you about to say? Don’t keep it to yourself. Tell me!

“Never mind.” He lies down again, nuzzling my breasts as he snuggles up into me.

Then, he slips his hand under mine to lift and compare it to his. “Cute paw.”

Fine. Keep your secrets, you big burly bastard.

“Go to sleep.” I push him off of me, earning myself a disappointed noise which resembles a yelp. “On the other side of the bed, please and thank you.”

In the days that follow, the movement like water set astir under his skin continues to haunt my mind. In fact, it does to the extent that even the keys beneath my fingers seem to flow rather than be pushed down, causing me to flinch for the third time in a row.

For the past hour I’ve been trying to type out the notes on an interview with a chocolatier in Bruges and compose them into a coherent article. An otherwise simple task my mind won’t allow me to complete despite the attempts to remember the good moments we had recently. The video calls right before bed, the cuddle session a few days ago when we gazed at the moon, his enthusiastic texts about and photos of new recipes Jaebeom tried. None of it prevents the likely imagined terrible from destroying our happiness.

I’m going insane. He’s a normal person. Somewhat. I was jet-lagged and therefore not thinking clearly.

That’s why I thought I felt his skin move. I was delusional.

Drunk on him.

A buzz pulls me out of my reverie, the screen of my phone lighting up with a message.

Morgan: Starving! Found a new café thanks to a friend.

Y/N: Let me guess. I have no choice but to come along.

Morgan: There wasn’t a choice to begin with :)

Y/N: Of course not. What am I talking about, eh? See you in five.

Chuckling at the woman’s classic brashness, I shake my head, pack my belongings and head to the elevators.

Outside, regardless of the November chill, it’s pleasant. The sun shines brightly and the wind blows the little bundles of fallen leaves at the roots of the birch trees lining the street into motion, scattering them over the neatly swept pavement.

Winter is around the corner. God, I hate the cold. Hopefully, there won’t be snow any time soon.

I sit down on the bench under one of the birch trees, its branches already bare.

Autumn is truly ending now. Shame. I haven’t even had a pumpkin spice latte and cinnamon roll yet. Maybe I should ask Jay out and find a nice coffee shop where we can get them. After all, if he’s there, we can share the pastry. He’ll be happy and I won’t have to eat the whole thing. A win-win situation.

Enjoying watching the people pass by, each stranger essentially a book with a unique story that is yet not entirely different from someone else’s. Withal, the world feels colder without him, the missing part embodied in the unoccupied spot next to mine.

A delighted sigh on the right makes me snap my head around, alarmed at the notion someone has appeared out of the blue on the empty seat.

A woman clad in a white suit and matching fur-lined coat with pale skin and brown hair glowing copper in direct light stares contentedly up at the clouds. She’s in her very early twenties, although the freckles dusting her cheekbones and rosy cheeks might simply make her look younger than she is.

For a moment, taken aback and speechless, I cannot help but blatantly gape at the otherworldly stranger.

Wow, she’s like a goddess.

A stone sinks to the bottom of my stomach as a dark thought intrudes my mind. My throat dried up, I twist my wrists, the muscles stiff beneath my fingers.

Would Jaebeom like her? If he saw her on the street, would he... would he stop and stare? Prefer her over me or even try and give it a shot by introducing himself?

“It’s a bit chillier than I’d like, but at least it’s better than rain or snow.” The woman turns to face me, her features soft. “I hope spring will come again soon, though.”

I don’t get the chance to respond because a familiar voice calls out. Not that I would be able to form a proper reply otherwise. “You’re here already?”

“I happened to be nearby,” the stranger turns away to answer as Morgan comes to a halt in front of us, a puzzled expression on her face.

“I texted you fifteen minutes ago and you said you had to clean up. I thought you’d join us later.”

“The birth and after birth went faster than I thought so here I am.”

“I’m sorry, but what is going on?” More than a little lost, I look from one to the other in hopes of being given an explanation. “I didn’t know we’d head out with the three of us.”

“Right, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Brigid.” The dark-haired woman holds out her pale hand in greeting. “I work at the hospital as an obstetrician.”

“I’m Y/N,’’ I reply, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Lass,” wonder turned to a darker version of itself yet not saying anything, Morgan shifts her attention to me, “you look famished. Come on, let’s go.”

Offering a few muttered words of agreement, I get up and sheepishly tag along with the other women. As we walk out the street and round a corner, following the signs leading to the artist district nearby the university, I’m occasionally tempted to join the conversation. However, as soon as a short silence falls, I don’t chip in, unsure how to contribute to the small talk they seem to deliberately keep up in order to avoid a topic neither is keen to discuss. Thus I walk in urban loneliness, my train of thought displaced on my face as I let the ghosts of Jaebeom’s skin freely haunt my mind.

Right before the descent into the darkness of the rabbit hole, strong long fingers wrap around my wrist and hold it in an iron grip. The slightly painful squeeze interrupts my reverie.

Jaebeom?

I snap my head to the side to find Morgan standing there, leaning in a bit and her voice low. “We’re here.”

I don’t know how I’ve managed to ignore the bustle of students looking for a free spot on one of the terraces and loud conversations accompanied by the rustle of the paper bags hailing from the shops owned by self-employed artists. It’s also miraculous that I haven’t bumped into anyone by accident.

“Oh,” is all I say, looking at the café we’ve stopped in front of.

Wolf’s is spelled out in a modern font on the sign outside and above the door. A big window provides visitors with a view of the plaza. The interior is simple yet cosy, the white furniture warmed up by oak accents and the bare walls decorated with various art pieces, centered around wolves and various flowers. By the looks of it, they were all made by a single artist who likes to experiment with style every now and then. A few plants are dotted around the place as well to add a hint of free nature to the underlying strangely forest-like aesthetic.

A tall broad-shouldered man with short curly chocolate brown hair partially covering up the scar running over his left eye, strong dark eyebrows and a big koala-like nose stands behind the counter. Both of his arms and hands are decorated with various intricately designed tattoos. Whereas Jay is muscled yet lean, the tanned barista looks like a man who knows how to fight yet is a warrior in a society without combat.

As soon as we walk in, his lifts his head and turns to us. Playful lights illuminate the milky white of his left and raven dark of his right eye. A meadow of snow, its glimmer reflecting off of the smooth feathers of a wise bird. “Hi, welcome. Brigid, long time no see.”

Nobody seems to notice it, but his female colleague, a short woman with long flowy caramel brown hair tied into a ponytail who has her back turned to us and is busy extracting a shot, cringes at the merry mention of the woman’s name. Slowly, she steals a glance at us, hazel eyes sharpening when they fall on the woman in white. Nevertheless, she remains silent and quickly returns her attention to preparing someone’s coffee.

Looks like I’m not the only one envying her.

It is wrong to hate a woman for her beauty. Nonetheless, although it’s shameful, part of me refuses to associate with Morgan’s acquaintance out of a toxic mixture of spite and jealousy.

Such is the female nightmare.

“So this is what you’ve been up to,” Brigid muses, nodding appreciatively while inspecting the coffee shop. “You’ve got a nice thing going on here, Rome.”

“Please don’t call me that anymore. It’s Christian now. Chris or Ian for short.’’ Muscled arms crossed, he grimaces and shakes his head while looking down. Notwithstanding, the stern attitude melts into casual friendliness as a bright smile forms on his lips. ‘’But I do, don’t I? However, it’s not just me running the place. I’ve had some help.”

He turns around and motions for his colleague to come over. For a second she doesn’t move, darting glances to each of us like an alarmed cat checking for danger. Notwithstanding, though clearly tense, she warily approaches and halts at the man’s side.

Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when Christian places a hand on her shoulder. “In fact, Gráinne here still helps me out every day. She’s basically the second owner.”

“I- I’m not,” she sputters in a soft Ulster accent, fumbling with her fingers and her cheeks flushed, “I just work here some days.”

“You’re a bit more than a colleague,” her co-worker remarks, shoulders lowered and his tone holding more affection than would be the case when talking to a friend. A warm glow seems to form around him, ignited by the fondness he harbours for her.

Funny, Jaebeom wears that same expression when he’s with me.

“I’m not.” Gráinne stiffens, each word dripping with venom as she steps away, grabs a serving tray and puts the order she was preparing before being called over on it. “Get back to work.”

Lips parted, Ian watches her as she moves past us as fast and agile like a hunting cat without any further acknowledgement of our presence. I hadn’t noticed before, but beneath her apron, she is dressed in clothes reminiscent of the Victorian era. “I know she can be harsh and isn’t easy to get along with, but I’ve never seen her act like this.”

“Och, let it pass. She has every right to be pissed with you since you put her on the spot like that,” Morgan jokes though nobody goes along with it.

She likes him yet doesn’t see it’s mutual. Should I say something? Then again, this is their business, not mine. Furthermore, why would they believe me, a stranger?

So I remain silent.

And leave this to blossom however it is meant to in Fate’s hands.

The icy glare Gráinne gives Brigid behind her back sends a chill down my spine. Evidently, she is a woman not cross paths with once angered. Withal, as the fair beauty looks over her shoulder, the other woman restores her professional composure.

“You okay?” Christian asks as he watches her retreat into the kitchen, done serving for now.

“I’m fine,” she says thickly, the next breath hitching in her throat. Her focus shifts to the moon-shaped amethyst pendant around his neck. The ghost of a rueful smile forms on her lips, but it fades as fast as it appeared. “It’s not like I’m having a vision or something. Help them.”

She waves her hand dismissively when he doesn’t move, lips parted to say something yet at a loss for words. Notwithstanding, although I can’t see his expression clearly, it’s evident her feigned nonchalance is hurting him. “Go on.”

He clears his throat and forces himself into a rigid posture, frowning as he shifts his attention back to us. Finger hovering over the tablet functioning as a till, he stares at the display with an empty and distant gaze, which is as dull as the tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. “What can I get you?”

We place our order and settle down at the table by the window, neither of us offering a word of solace or dedicated to his colleague’s behaviour.

After a while, Christian comes up to us to serve the food and beverages. As he puts the plates with our sandwiches down, he and Brigid exchange looks like siblings telepathically conversing. Whatever it is they mentally discussed, it only leaves the barista a slight bit less worried though the grave expression plaguing him remains as he returns to the counter.

An expression which must be similar to mine since it prompts Morgan to speak up regardless of having her teeth sunk into sourdough bread, looking equally as somber. “What’s on your mind, lass?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head and stir my cappuccino with the vintage silver spoon next to the porcelain cup, smiling at my own silly assumptions of what happened now four days ago. “Everything’s fine.”

“Except it’s not.” The raven-haired woman cocks an eyebrow, far from willing to dismiss my worries. “Now tell me. Or, well, us.”

“It’s something to do with your lover, isn’t it?” Brigid remarks, head tilted to the side as she assesses me while sipping at her Irish Breakfast Tea. Her features soften when she notices she has hit a sensitive snare, evidently meaning no harm.

I pull back in my seat as I take a sip of my coffee, flustered and cursing myself for being an open book. There is no way out of this conversation since the current company is like-minded in their refusal to simply let the topic pass before it has been discussed.

I swallow, put the cup on the dish again and clear my throat. Fumbling with the spoon and eyes cast on the cappuccino’s silky milk foam, I tell them of what I think happened. The story sounds strange to my own ears, like a terrible fairy tale told by a chaotic storyteller who can’t tell it in a manner that makes sense regardless of how he manipulates the plot.

Afraid of their reaction, unable to fathom the slightest bit of sympathy and empathy, I look from one to the other. Fortunately, my silence can be excused by drinking the remainder of the coffee although it’s futile since the thirst has nothing to do with bodily needs.

“Sounds familiar.” The woman in white scrunches her nose in disgust as she glares at Morgan.

“He was different,” Morgan sneers through gritted teeth, jaw clenched.

“In essence, he was similar to her lover.’’ Brigid points at me though she remains focused on my best friend, her voice dripping with venom. ‘’Or should I say, is similar?”

“Since when does it matter what he is?” Thin lips painted plum purple curl into a mirthless smile, onyx locks shaking in discontent. “How hypocritical you’ve become. Forgetful of the past.”

“A past worth forgetting. It’s never too late to change your political opinions, Morgan.”

Great, now I’m the one to open Pandora’s box. I should have kept my mouth shut, changed the topic.

Desperate for help yet knowing he cannot do anything, I look for Christian among the other customers. Expression stern and standing as rigid as a statue, he watches our table from behind the counter. It appears he, too, feels the sense of danger increasing as the conversation carries on. Notwithstanding, as becomes clear from the apologetic shake of the head when our eyes meet, he also knows his hands are tied at the moment.

We are on the same boat, waiting to see how the situation will develop.

Playthings of Chance and Fate.

“We’re not here to talk politics,’’ the woman in question answers, covering her mouth with her hands while chewing on a bite of goat cheese and pomegranate seeds, ‘’but to have lunch like civilized and amiable women. To help our friend.”

“You’re right,” Brigid concludes. Nonchalantly, she pierces a piece of egg in her salmon salad and puts its on the bread provided with it, a bread called St Michael’s Bannock according to the menu. Then, she points her fork at me. “But the best thing you can do is leave him while you still can.”

“L- Leave?” Utterly confused, I look at the woman calmly eating her lunch. “Why would I do that?”

Who is she? What’s more, who is she to tell me to leave Jaebeom after what I told her? He needs help and support, regardless of what may or may not be there beneath his skin.

Unless she is on to something I am not and judging by the current circumstances, I won’t get an answer even if I dare to ask. Henceforth, if only not to snap, I clear my throat and swallow the vile words dancing on the tip of my tongue.

“Morgan can tell you why. All I can say is that it’s better to avoid men like your lover in the first place.” She coughs and takes a sip of tea to wash down the salad leaf stuck in her throat while the woman with hair as black as night chuckles darkly. Luckily, it is only loud enough for me to hear and Brigid is too busy preventing herself from choking.

“Sétan-, I- I mean Seán was the one to leave me, not the other way around. And we mutually agreed to part ways in favour of our own well-being.”

“Sure you did. Totally didn’t resort to throwing plates and other pieces of furniture because he rejected you.”

Morgan growls something under her breath, glaring at the woman seated next to me. However, Brigid doesn’t seem to notice the reaction she has provoked or is indifferent to it. “Or washed clothes at the ford where he so ‘happened’ to pass by. Funny how he died soon after.”

Ford? There are quite a few in Ireland, so where and most importantly, when was this? Then again, what are these two on about? Washing clothes in a ford, people dying, politics, lovers to leave. They’re like arguing voices from ancient times.

Moreover, there is the question of Seán’s life. Is he alive or dead? One moment she speaks of him as if he’s still here, but then why would Brigid remark he’s dead?

“You shut your whoremouth, traitor!” With a loud bang, Morgan slams her fists on the table. She stands up with an expression that makes me cower in fear despite not being the target of her wrath.

Behind the counter, Christian slowly comes into motion, carefully moving with the likely intent to inconspicuously circle our table and jump in if necessary. He flinches as Gráinne places a hand on his arm, holding him hard enough for her knuckles to turn white when he tries to escape from her grip in order to prevent the worst from happening. Notwithstanding, whatever the plan was, it goes to waste since he decides to listen to what his colleague tells him. Sighing deeply, he stands down although he continues to observe us.

Gráinne follows his gaze, which seems to be directed at the brown-haired woman in white, her personal target of envy. Her wolfishly fierce expression falters, growing as bleak as the ash of a great bonfire.

This time he doesn’t see how she comes apart at the seams.

Brigid calmly finishes her tea, daps her mouth on the napkin and stands up too. “Get over your crush. There’s no future for you with him. As for you, Y/N,” eyes oddly alight with motherly affection, she turns her attention to me, “and as a piece of advice from a friend, end this relationship while you still can. There’s only heartbreak ahead.”

“Thank you, but,” a wistful smile forms on my lips regardless of the urge to give into the savage nagging inside, “I can’t leave him because I made a promise to stay.”

“I see. Perhaps you’ll prove me wrong and the flowers will bloom in spring.”

And with those final cryptic words, she leaves the café after waving at the tattooed barista.

Or so Brigid intends, but her way is cut off by his colleague.

While clumsily taking off her apron she storms outside, clenching it hard and shivering as if she’s on the brink of tears.

“Gráinne? Gráinne!” Christian runs after his colleague, pale and eyes wide with worry as he comes to a halt in the doorway. “Where are you going? Gráinne!”

Brigid places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a consoling squeeze. After giving him an encouraging slap on the back she sets off, leaving the man standing there like a defeated soldier.

“Poor lass,” Morgan whispers as she watches the female barista pass the window. Something in her tone hints at a level of familiarity between the two.

“You know her?” I ask, frowning.

“I don’t think she remembers me.” She glances at Chris, who has retreated behind the counter. He has his head bowed, smooth black locks hiding his face from the customers. Trembling fingers entwined to conceal his distress as best as possible, he resembles a man of religion fervently praying for forgiveness. “And neither does he. I saw him and his close friend, Finn, once in the woods. No, it was his brother, Jor… was it? When he came to the island. Was that… who was that?’’

A mist clouds her ocean blue eyes, lost in thoughts far removed from this world and time. ‘’He was there. As for Gráinne, we met… somewhere. There was smoke, a burning body. It was- It was at… where? Fuck, I can’t recall. I think it was at his fu-’’ she abruptly cuts herself short to correct herself with a strange undertone in her voice, “not long after I... saw them.”

‘’Morgan, are you alright? You’re looking awfully pale.’’

Instead of breaking free from the spell that has taken hold of her, the reverie only seems to deepen. Rocking side to side, she clutches her arms to her chest. Her skin, although naturally pale, grows sickly like a walking corpse.

‘’I- I’m supposed to remember. I’m one of the few that do. No, he and I are the only ones left that do. I can’t forget. If I do, everyone will. I can’t… I can’t!’’

‘’Morgan!’’ I stand up from my seat to rush to her side. Rubbing her arms, I try with all my might to bring her back to reality from the depths of deliria. ‘’It’s all right, Morgan, nobody is going to forget. Please listen to me and follow my voice, use it as a guide back to me from wherever it is you are. Please, come back to me.’’

‘’May I?’’ Christian has appeared with a glass of water, which he sets on the table before crouching down at the woman’s side as well.

Gently he grabs one of her hands and holds it, talking in a voice that is surprisingly steady and soothing in spite of what happened mere moments ago. It’s rougher and more gruff, making it hard to distinguish one word from another if you are not well-acquainted with the speaker.

In fact, it belongs to a completely different person. ‘’Morgan, as long as there are people who remember, there is nothing to fear. The past has taught us that what might seem like the end isn’t necessarily truly the end. We are still here. We remember because you do and you remember because we do. You’re safe and sound. Instead, return and help me make her remember.’’

‘’Why, of everyone, did you have to fall for her?’’ Gaze blinded by her mind, Morgan reaches out to tenderly run her fingers through the barista’s hair. ‘’What makes her special?’’

‘’She understands.’’ A similar fog veils the misty white and dark eyes, Chris or, rather, the stranger pulled into the same realm of consciousness as my friend. ‘’She broke the chains that bound me and doesn’t allow me to slip into the shadows of what I once was.’’

‘’You’re all the same, aren’t you?’’

‘’It’s rare to find understanding and acceptance in a world naturally turned against you. So, please help me. Help me find her.’’ His voice breaks, the begging words coming out high-pitched like a whining wolf. ‘’Help me find my reason to stay in this world and not forget nor be forgotten.’’

The veil lifts, the spell broken with the whimpered plea.

Christian falls back, but manages to catch himself before his head hits the tiles. Refusing every helping hand from the customers hurrying over, he scrambles to his feet. Fortunately, he accepts the chair I offer him when his dangerous swaying almost causes him to hit his head against the wall.

‘’Are you okay?’’

‘’Yeah, I’m only dizzy.’’ The hiss he lets out flows over into a sound akin to a growl. ‘’And a splitting headache.’’

Morgan has a better return to reality, completely fine aside from a dazed mind. ‘’What happened?’’

‘’You tell me.’’ I search her face for clues, a sliver of the knowledge she is lying. However, I find none.

She is telling the truth.

‘’I… I don’t know. It’s the first time.’’ She clears her throat, brow furrowed. As if having heard a noise, she snaps her head to the side. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Drink your tea, eat a sandwich and go home early from work.”

She hands the glass of water to Christian. ‘’And you, you drink this and stay seated for at least five more minutes until the dizziness has faded. Are you nauseous?’’

‘’No. Although,’’ he dry heaves, ‘’never mind.’’

‘’Make it ten. You look as pale as a banshee.’’

‘’Speak for yourself.’’

‘’You’d make a pretty one, though,’’ Morgan muses when she returns her attention to me. ‘’Beauty makes suffering leading to death easier.’’

Apparently, her return to reality has left her as mad as a hatter so perhaps it wasn’t as good as I initially thought.

“Why on earth would you say that? Besides, what kind of comparison is that, us and a banshee?”

“One based on truth. Now,” she shoves the remainder of her goat cheese and pomegranate sandwich to me, “eat, rest up and get cracking again. We’ll be in touch and visit the new café I found yesterday later, alright?”

“Hey, not so fast. Where are you headed off to?’’

She can’t be serious. There is no way she is unaffected by what happened.

“Attagirl,’’ Morgan says as if I promised to heed her words, ignoring what I actually said. ‘’By the way, ignore what Brigid said and stay with your man. It’s plain to see how he makes you feel.”

“It is?”

“You’re glowing and you come alive when you speak of him. It reminds me of how I was with Seán.” She starts as if awakened from a dream, but tries to hide her awkwardness behind a sheepish smile. “Well, then, take care.”

“You too.’’ The two simple words, otherwise casual, are now carefully chosen in order to not to trigger another ‘attack’.

My gut tight and skin prickling thanks to her inhuman behaviour, I watch the raven-haired woman leave. I hold my wrist, my pulse too rapid to be healthy beneath my thumb.

Like I am at death’s door.

The next morning, there’s an article in the newspaper. A man’s been found dead at the edge of the bogs near town. The cause of his demise is unknown, but there are witness accounts who said they heard a high screech late the night before. In the days that follow, their names show up one by one in funerary advertisements.

A week later, none of the witnesses are alive. Moreover, nobody has heard the screeching since, though everyone remembers the description of the sound.

It was like the howl of a banshee.

#JB #Jaebeom #Im Jaebeom #GOT7 #GOT7 smut #Jaebeom fanfiction #GOT7 Werewolf AU #GOT7 x Reader #Jaebeom x Reader #Jaebeom smut #Werewolf!Jaebeom #Werewolf AU #Werewolf!JB #Not by the Moon

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winter-dayz · 2 years

Text

F*ck. I’m so in Love with You | 42 - The GOT7 Dorm

Y/N makes treat bags for all her favorite boys. GOT7 loves to tease their close friend.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Idol!Reader Idol AU; Slice of Life; Textfic Genre: Angst; Fluff Warnings: strong language, suggestive content

“Alright boys, I should head out!” Y/N laughed from her spot on the couch between Taehyun and Yeonjun. The older grumbled as she pulled her arm out of his grasp where they’d been cuddling. “I promised Jae this morning that I would go hang out at his dorm too.”

The other boys stood, giving her goodbye hugs. Beomgyu pouted, “Will we see you soon, Noona?”

“Of course!” She beamed, “I have to bring your Valentine’s gift tomorrow!”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened, while Kai snickered—knowing his sister had gotten all of her friends something. Beomgyu whispered, “A Valentine’s Day gift?”

“Yeah, I made all of my boys little treat bags. I’ll be by early~ in the morning to drop it off since I’ve also got to take some to the BTS, GOT7, and SKZ dorms before my girls and I go on v-live.”

“Oh…” Beomgyu frowned. Y/N didn’t notice though—she never did—while she ruffled Soobin’s hair affectionately and made her way to the door.

“That’s very sweet of you, Y/N-noona,” Taehyun smiled to cover his hyung’s disappointment.

“Of course, Hyunie,” She smiled once more heading out, “Okay! I’ll see you all tomorrow then!”

“Finally!” Youngjae shouted as he threw open the door to let Y/N in. “You took so long!”

“I’m sorry,” she hugged him before following into the common room, “I took the babies some lunch and ended up hanging out longer than I thought.”

Y/N waved as a chorus of hellos came from the room, taking a seat on a pillow placed in front of the chairs where Yugyeom and Mark were sitting. Youngjae pouted but sat down on the floor next to BamBam and across from her, leaning against the couch where Jinyoung, JB, and Jackson had taken.

“So what’s the plan for the day?” She questioned, leaning her head back to look up at Mark, who had started to card his fingers through her hair. They smiled brightly at each other, until Yugyeom reached over and flicked her forehead.

“We’re waiting on food delivery, but then we were just gonna play some video games.” Jinyoung said, not looking up from his phone.

Y/N nodded, and they all sat around doing their own thing. She felt at ease here. GOT7’s dorm had always felt like another home; right after her own dorm and the babies’ place. She didn’t feel the need to keep up a conversation or constantly engage with people for the sake of avoiding silence; she was able to just relax and enjoy her friends’ presence—and currently enjoy Mark’s absent-minded twirling of her hair.

Occasionally, BamBam would lean across the coffee table to show her a TikTok, or Jackson would excitedly show her something on his phone, but mostly the group was chill.

After a bit, JB excused himself to go accept the delivery and returned with several bags of takeout. Youngjae sorted through the food, fixing Y/N a small plate despite her refusal since she’d had lunch with her younger brother.

“I’ll eat hers if Noona doesn’t want it,” Yugyeom laughed.

Jinyoung shot the maknae a glare, standing from his spot to head to the kitchen, “If Y/Nie doesn’t want it right now, I’ll wrap it up for her so she has dinner later.”

Y/N gave her biggest puppy eyes and added loudly, “This is why Jinyoung-oppa is my favorite!” She suppressed her giggles as Jinyoung returned with a sly smirk.

Jackson gaped, “I thought I was your favorite!?” She let out her laugh, and he continued with a whine, “Did all of our time together mean nothing to you?”

“Be careful what you say,” JB teased, “Y/N’s guard dog might come after you again for flirting.”

“Aish… That was so embarrassing!” Jackson whined again, causing several of the others to laugh.

“Wait, what happened exactly?” BamBam questioned, tilting his head to playfully eye the girl across from him.

She giggled, “Wendy-unnie yelled at Jackson in one of our group chats because he was getting too flirty.”

BamBam smiled, “Does she yell at everyone who flirts with you? Or was it just reserved to hyung?”

“Just Jackson! She says he’s dramatic and easy to freak out.” Everyone snickered, except for Jackson, who sat grumbling on the couch.

“I guess I’ll have to test it and see if I can get her to yell at me too,” BamBam winked. Y/N’s laugh subsided as she felt her face heat up with a blush. “Maybe I’ll bring you a big gift tomorrow and shout about my love in front of your dorm!”

Youngjae rolled his eyes, shoving the younger. “Yah. You’re gonna get all of us in trouble with the media if you do that nonsense…” Everyone settled then, eating a bit more, before Youngjae eyed his best friend. “Out of curiosity… What are you planning for tomorrow? Anyone… special… you’re giving chocolates to?”

Y/N shrugged, “Not really. I made all of my friends treat bags since you all mean the world to me. I’m dropping them off tomorrow morning, by the way; I know you guys might not be here since you have a schedule tomorrow so I’ll just let myself in and leave them here… if that’s okay?”

JB nodded, “Of course, Y/Nie. Do you still know the passcode?”

“I’d never forget it!”

“Perfect,” the leader smiled at her.

BamBam stood to stretch and collect the plates, “Well, you can leave mine on my bed baaabe.” He teased once again.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the 97-liner’s playfulness, nearly choking on her water when Yugyeom tried to trip him.

Masterlist | FILY Masterpost | Previous * Next

Taglist: @soobin-chois

#bangtan sonyeondan #bts #blackpink #bp #got7 #red velvet #stray kids #skz #tomorrow x together #txt #reader #multi!idol x reader #angst #fluff #slice of life #textfic #f*ck. i'm so in love with you.#fily

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jae-daddy · 4 years

Text

Duff (6)

jaebum au series

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO! i guess too now “ plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, Heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception. but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: im sorry for posting after so long. i got busy with new year celebrations and then started struggling with a creative blog. not edited. hope y’all enjoy it! <3

“So, how is it working for the hot new Director?” Naina asked, watching you take a bite of the fries on your plate. You narrowed your eyes at her anticipating face, waiting for any drop of new information.

You frowned at her instead, “Naina, you ask me this every time we meet.”

Naina only pouted in reply, before picking up a fry from your plate and popping it into her mouth. Before you could complain, she lifted up a quarter of her wrap and dropped it on your plate, “I only ask because you never know when situations can change. One day your secretary and boss, and the next day, you both are hooking up on his sexy desk.”

“Did you just call his desk sexy?”

“Come on,” Naina blew gaping at you as if you were the one insane. “Have you seen that majestic dark wood slick piece of beauty?”

“Oh my god, the Director’s desk right?” Pam settled next to Naina. Naina gave you a told you so look, and you just rolled your eyes at their antics. You didn’t say anything as the other two ladies drifted into a conversation about how sexy furniture could be.

You would have normally joined them, and told them about the three thousand dollar coffee table at Heather’s apartment. But you couldn’t participate in their conversation. Not when your mind was elsewhere; somewhere so much more interesting and sexier than furniture.

What Naina had said had planted another seed in your garden of fantasies about Jaebum and you.

This time you imagined yourself spread on his dark wood desk. Your bodies holding on to each other, desperately trying to get closer as he fucked into you.

You swallowed, as you popped a fry into your mouth, making you choke. You coughed a few times to avail before your hands reached out to your friends who turned towards you with wide eyes.

God, this was so embarrassing. You were going to die from choking on a piece of fry at the company cafeteria.

“Y/n!” Naina and Pam panicked, jumping in their seats. They held your hand staring at you horrified and lost. You had such idiot friends, you were truly about to meet the devil any second now.

Suddenly, you were pulled up from your seat and arms wrapped around your waist. You felt the person behind you press into your stomach from behind, making you heave. The smell of rose and vanilla enveloped you as you felt softness behind you.

“One more time,” a smooth voice grunted into your ear. You nodded, frantically, before the person pressed once more. The piece stuck in your throat flew out. You fell forward, your arms catching the table in front of you. Arms covered in a grey jacket held you steady as you caught your breath.

You heard claps, and you were so embarrassed.

“Are you okay?” You turned around and your breath got caught in your throat from the beauty in front of you. Her almond-shaped eyes crinkled as she gazed at you with concern.

Her pouty pink lips drew into a straight line before her fingers gently brushed the hair from your face. Your heart skipped a beat at the touch, before you nodded, holding in your breath, “I’m okay. Thank you.”

The goddess in front of you smiled, her short hair brushing her shoulders slightly, “Chew your food properly, doll.”

She shot you a wink and walked away with ease and confidence. You remained standing there, your hand over your pounding heart.

“Wow,” Naina gasped from behind you. You slipped into your seat, seeing their face mirror your awe, “I think I'm in love.”

“Me too,” Pam and you replied.

You walked into the office after two quick knocks for the sake of formality, and to piss of Jaebum.

Jaebum hated it whenever you did something that an employee was supposed to do, especially when no one else was around.

Jaebum’s office was supposed to be empty with just him sitting on the couch, he worked from.

So imagine your surprise when you walked into his office to find Jaebum and the gorgeous woman from the cafeteria tangled into one another.

You noticed how she was slightly perched on the dark wood of the sexy desk your friends had gushed about. You noticed how Jaebum’s hands spread on her back, and how her head dipped into his neck.

“Oh,” was all that left you. You didn’t know if you should walk back out or stand there until they noticed your presence.

Jaebum noticed you immediately and untangled himself from the woman instantly. You bit your cheek to hold in the urge to roll your eyes. He was going to pretend that you didn’t just walk into a moment in case you went back and reported to Heather.

Typical.

All men are trash.

And you knew Jaebum was just like everyone else already. You knew that the moment he decided to jump the boat from you and Heather literally five minutes after meeting you. He was no different to every other sleazy shit head to walk this earth.

The caught look on Jaebum’s face told you couldn’t hide the distaste from your face as your eyes settled on him.

“Hey, it’s you!” Her smooth voice chuckled, “You work for JB?”

“Everyone here does,” you gave her a curt smile back.

She could have saved you from hell but that didn’t excuse whatever her and Jaebum were up to before you walked in.

Your eyes drew back to Jaebum. The top button of his shirt open, his hair a mess and cheeks flushed. Biting your tongue, you tore your gaze away from him and the mess he echoed.

“She’s my assistant, y/n,” Jaebum finally croaked out. His eyes watching you.

You looked at the iPad in your hand instead of the pair in front of you, “You have a meeting with Mr Mark Tuan in twenty minutes, and dinner with Jackson Wang at eight.”

“No mister for Jackson?” the lady rose an eyebrow at you.

You gave her a polite smile, “No.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer, before turning to Jaebum. She let out a sigh as she hugged him once more. Jaebum hugged her back hesitantly this time, aware of your dark eyes watching them.

He patted her back twice and she moved away.

“It was nice seeing you after so long, JB,” she smiled at him. Jaebum smiled back at her this time, nodding in agreement. She patted his shoulder before picking up her bag from the chair next to the desk. “Oh, before I forget, guess who is back in town and wants to get into business with you?”

Jaebum frowned, and you watched the pair, almost sulking from your corner.

Her smile brightened with secrecy that made you listen intently, “Park Jinyoung.”

Your heart stopped.

“Hey y/n!” You blinked back to reality to find Jaebum in front of you. His eyes staring into yours as he rose his brows in question, “You alright?”

The grimace formed on your lips before you could hold it back. You didn’t even know what you were feeling but it wasn’t pleasant.

You felt it towards Jaebum and how he was hugging that girl. Not because of your feelings, but because he was with Heather.

Not that you had feelings for him or anything.

God, this was so confusing. On top of that, he was back in town.

You felt your frown deepen into a scowl as you glared at Jaebum.

You hissed at him, making him jump back slightly, “Get ready for the meeting. I’ve sent you the report for the meeting already.”

He opened his mouth to something, but you cut him off, “With notes, sir.”

You turned and began walking out of his office.

“Y/n,” Jaebum called out, but you ignored him.

Your foot kept tapping against the carpeted floor as you watched the numbers increase on the screen. You hadn't been able to keep still since the moment you heard the news.

Im Jaebum was no help either. All you wanted was to be left alone but he kept on trying to talk to you or kept on sending you to get coffee.

He didn’t take a single sip of those five iced americanos he ordered. All the cups piled on the floor next to the couch he sat on watching you with those dark eyes.

As soon as the clock hit seven-thirty, you called for Jaebum’s driver and rushed out of the office. You didn’t head home, you didn’t even consider going home for a second. Your feet without hesitation led you to Heather’s apartment.

You entered the code, your birthday, and entered the chilly room blasting with the AC high.

“Heather, I need wine and a good movie for crying. You won’t believe what I just- oh MY GOD- AHHHHHHH!” A bloodcurdling scream escaped you, as you fell onto the wall behind you.

When your scream settled as you took in the figure standing in the pink robe belonging to your best friend, you straightened, confused.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You sneered.

“Wow, such a kind greeting for me,” Bambam rolled his eyes, before continuing to sip the glass of orange juice in his hand. You stared at him, your mind puzzled and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

“So what’s the tea?” Bambam smacked his lips before licking the droplets of juice remaining on them. He slammed the glass on the white marble, grinning at you. “Why do you need wine and a sad movie? Time of the month?”

“Why- What- How- Pink robe?” You stammered over your words pointing at him. Bambam stood there as if there was nothing weird about this situation. As if standing in nothing but another girl’s pink robe in a stranger’s kitchen was a normal occurrence for him. Your eyes narrowed at him, “Where’s Heather?”

“Y/n!” Heather appeared through her bedroom door. You took in her wet hair and silk robe, your eyes going to Bambam’s also wet hair. You frowned in confusion, and a fire blazed inside of you as an evil thought sprouted somewhere in the back of your mind.

Did they... Are they cheating on Jaebum?

Jaebum’s face from that night at the club invaded your mind. The smile on his face, the look in his eyes as he watched Heather with such softness, “It’s good she gets to live her life how she wants to.”

God. God.

What do you do?

You glared at Heather. Your eyes burned with betrayal from your friend and the anger that spread through your veins as you thought of Jaebum. You couldn’t bear to even imagine the sight of him heartbroken, defeated and cheated. You would rather the world end than see him like that.

“No, y/n!” Heather huffed taking a step towards you. The droplets from her long ember hair darkening the pink silk wrapped around her body. She took a step towards you and you almost took one back. But your feet remained still, as you saw the panic in her eyes, the desperation, “Let me explain.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that he is homeless?” You grunted at a dressed Heather sitting in front of you.

Bambam sat somewhere behind you, snorting, “I’m not homeless. Just low on cash and have no place to go.”

“That is literally homeless,” you turned towards him, giving him a smile.

“Basically,” Heather nodded, ignoring Bambam’s protest in the background. “I’m letting him stay here for a few weeks until his apartment problem is sorted out. I’m living at home anyways, but I came here today because I spilt coffee all over myself.”

“Oh,” you nodded. You weren’t completely convinced. She could’ve gone home, it was just ten minutes away. And why was both of their hair wet from the shower, when there is only one shower in the apartment. Maybe she might have kicked him out of the shower pulling ownership rank.

You had to believe her. There was no other explanation. The alternative was too cruel, and you would rather believe this than consider the dangerous alternative.

And how could you possibly not believe her? You knew Heather would do this in a heartbeat for anyone, she would do so much more then let others stay in her house. She had done the same for you once upon a time, she had done so much more.

She was even willing to buy you a house and you had to talk her out of it.

Yeah, there was no way anything was going on between Heather and Bambam. Whatever she said was the complete and absolute truth, there was no other alternative explanation needed or present.

Heather would never hurt someone else purposefully, she was pure and kind. She was not you.

“How come you’re here?” Heather asked, changing the subject.

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head.

“She's lying,” Bambam butted in. “She came in asking for wine and a movie that will make her cry. Something happened, or she’s on her period.”

Heather turned to you with a grave look, “What’s wrong, babe?”

You glared at Bambam, before turning to Heather. You let out a sigh as you picked your fingernails nervously. Heather instantly took your hands in hers making you meet her concerned green eyes, “What’s wrong?”

You frowned. Your lower lip trembling, “It’s -”

Ding Dong.

You and Heather turned towards the door, and then at Bambam. He let out an exhausted sigh, before he getting up, groaning.

“What am I meant to do? Send them away or- Oh, it's JB,” and without hesitation, he let the dark-haired male in.

Your frown deepened as you glared at the doorway he appeared through. His eyes landed on you right away and stayed on you. You held his gaze, your face darkening into a glare.

His rosy lips parted, his dark eyes filled with desperateness and despair as he held your gaze. It was as if all he saw in the room was you; as if the rest of the people, all disappeared.

It terrified you. It terrified you how this single moment made your heart flip and race. He terrified you.

“Oh good, you’re here Jaebum,” Heather spoke from behind you, and finally, Jaebum looked away from you. But it didn’t stay there, his dark eyes fell back on you, watching you intently.

Was he scared you would tell Heather what you saw in the office?

You scoffed at him, shaking your head as you looked away from him.

“Take Bambam out for a bit,” you heard your best friend’s sweet voice tell her boyfriend.

“I’m not a dog!” Bambam protested. Heather laughed behind you, but Jaebum and you didn’t as much as attempt to smile. Your eyes glittering with fire remained on him before you smirked at him.

You noticed his jaw tightened.

He was so pathetic.

You couldn’t believe you were worried about Heather cheating on him when he was almost dry humping another girl in his office. Well, you didn't see the humping, all you saw was the embrace, but you never know.

You can never know with guys like Im Jaebum, with their bad-news piercing and bad fuck-boy ways.

“Come on, let’s go,” Bambam began dragging Jaebum away, making him look away from you. “Clearly the ladies want us out.”

The door clicked behind them, and you felt your throat dry up.

Heather felt the tension too. She gently placed her fingers under your chin making you meet her gaze, “Now tell me, why do you need a sob night?”

“Heather,” you breathed. Your heart felt as if it would escape out of your chest. Your palms clasped sweatily, as you fisted them in your lap.

Two thoughts bounced around in your head, debating which one do you tell her.

Do you tell her about Im Jaebum who might have cheated on her if she hadn't walked in? Without any proof, without any certainty?

Or do you tell her what you wanted to, what had been bothering you since the afternoon?

“Heather,” her name left you shaky and weak, you gulped, your throat dry, “he’s back, and I might be seeing him around.”

Heather looked at you confused, and you continued, “He wants to get into business with Jaebum, and I'll have to be there.”

“Who, y/n?”

“Park Jinyoung,” you held in your breath.

Rage blazed through her emerald eyes matching the fire of her ember curls. She shot up from her seat, her fists clenched on her sides, “Fuck off if that asshole thinks he can come anywhere near you.”

You snorted, “He isn’t trying to come near me, Heather. He’s trying to do business with Jaebum.”

“I’ll talk to Jaebum to-”

“No.”

“No?”

You shook your head, “No, I can do this.”

Heather looked at you for a long moment.

You leaned into her, letting her engulf you into her arms, “Just let me be sad tonight and get ready for tomorrow.”

“My baby is all grown up,” She kissed your forehead, pulling you closer to her, “I’m so proud of you, but I’m always here for you.”

You nodded, you knew that.

The door of the apartment opened and you slightly turned to find Bambam walk in with four bottles of wine, “Are you guys ready to cry?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but giggle as he popped one open and offered it to you.

“Fuck yeah!” Heather cheered. You all turned to her, surprised. Heather didn’t talk crude, but tonight she didn't care to act proper. She just rolled her eyes, “Tonight, we are improper human beings.”

Bambam turned to Jaebum who stood a few feet away, “You in?”

His dark eyes travelled to you once again. After a long moment, he nodded, finally, tearing his gaze away from you and to Bambam.

“Good, go get the glasses,” Bambam ordered him laughing. He turned to the front and pulled out the remote, “Notebook, Titanic --”

“One Day,” you say.

They all gasp and stare at you. You just shrug and take a sip of the wine.

“You really chose heartbreak today, huh?” Bambam snickered, pulling up Netflix. “One Day it is. Jaebum get the tissues ready.”

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artaefact · 4 years

Text

promise?

↳ when he makes a promise to you

➳ 519 words | fluff, boyfriend au, slice-of-life au | im jaebeom x f reader | pg-15 | no warnings, just soft boyfriend jb

author’s note: this was supposed to be posted on jb’s bday but im late so lakdfjlas but i hope you guys enjoy this little drabble !!

prompt: im jaebeom

“Stay still.”

You groan in response to your boyfriend’s words. “How much longer are you planning to keep me still? my hands are itching to move.”

Jaebeom sighs. “I’m trying to paint your nails perfectly here. It’s your idea to do this, after all.”

“Babe, that was before I knew it would take you this long.”

It’s been three hours since Jaebeom start painting your nails. Being the perfectionist he is, he made sure every part of your fingernails is painted carefully.

“You’re going to scrub my cuticles off at this rate.” You watch him curse under his breath, dosing a cotton pad with the nail polish remover for the sixth time.

He shushes you. “Let me work in peace.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“But I’m not done with your nails,” he counters. “I’ll buy takeout from your favourite place after this, alright?”

Pouting, your gaze train on the fingernail he’s working on before staring up at his face. And for a few moments, you admire his sharp features, and you ask, “Do you know how hot you look when you’re concentrating?”

His hand with the nail polish brush jerks and he warns you with a playful glare. “Y/N.”

You grin, not missing the pink hues tinging his cheeks.

With an innocent smile, you pluck the nail polish brush from him with your free hand and cap it back on its container.

“Y/N—” His words die on his throat when you grab his collar, claiming his lips with yours. After a few seconds, he relaxes under your touch, cupping your face to deepen the kiss.

Once you both pull away, you say, “Why don’t we continue this later after we eat, hmm?”

Jaebeom nods hesitantly. “I’ll deal with your nails after we eat.”

A winning smirk adorns your lips and your eyes glint in amusement. “Deal! Now, let’s—”

“Wait,” your boyfriend stops you. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, buy food downstairs with you?”

“No.” Jaebeom shakes his head, and you pout once more. “You’re staying here until your nail polish dries off.”

“But—”

“You want to risk staining our matching sweaters?” Jaebeom asks, pointedly glancing at the new beige sweater he’s wearing.

Grumbling under your breath, you sit back in your first position and drum your fingers against the smooth surface of the coffee table.

“I’ll go out to buy us dinner.”

“Let’s go together,” you whine. “Plus, you should keep an eye on me just in case if I smudge my nails.”

Jaebeom shakes his head. “No, that won’t work. You wouldn’t be able to keep still, especially when it’s cold outside.” You make another attempt to argue when Jaebeom adds, “I’ll give you as many kisses as you want later.”

And you perk up at his offer. “Promise?”

He closes the distance between you, giving you a chaste kiss. “Promise. Stay and wait for me, okay?”

You nod, smiling from ear-to-ear before placing your hands on his broad shoulders — careful not to smudge your nails — and lift yourself on your tiptoes to kiss him again.

“You know I would always wait for you.”

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janiedean · 3 years

Text

... the tyrion/sansa hairdresser/mortician au no one was expecting but happened

well @meri-vaahtoaa I TOLD YOU IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN TODAY AND IT HAPPENED, have a for now untitled tyrion/sansa mortician/hairdresser au inspired by this post with bonus guest star jeyne p. u___u don't look for angst, also extremely background mentioned jb plus jaime & bronn being themselves in the backstory, have fun u__u

This fucking teaches me to be drunk around both my brother and Bronn, Tyrion thinks for the umpteenth time as he keeps on walking - he needs a damned salon and he needs it now but he also had to get out of the neighborhood because like hell he’s going to risk running into anyone who knows his father. That’s the… least thing he needs, honestly, as if his life choices aren’t already something he has to fight for every other moment and he can’t fucking wait to be out of the house, which should be soon -

If he doesn’t get thrown out of his internship because of his horrible drunk choices.

Why did they have drinks together, why did they have drunk bets, why did he bet with Jaime that he would dye his hair bright blue if he stopped beating around the bush and confessed to the bartender that he’s been into her since they started coming to that specific place for drinks because he chickened out of it for months, except -

Except Jaime went and did it and it turned out that she actually had been looking back and Tyrion hadn’t been wrong in that assessment, but then he had to do it and he actually went and used a do it yourself dye and -

Well.

He honestly can’t go and start his apprenticeship with blue hair that’s also… well, not even professionally dyed, and considering the arguments that it created the least thing he needs is going somewhere he’d be recognized.

So, he’s plenty out of the neighborhood, but he hasn’t found someplace that felt… well, not extra fancy. The second-least thing he needs is extra fancy shops where people would send looks his way that he could absolutely do without.

Also, it’s fucking hot. Why did he do that in the middle of summer again? And why couldn’t he have bet something more reasonable - right, it was Bronn’s idea and they were drunk. Fuck.

He walks a bit more, wondering if maybe he should sit down and check on Google Maps if he’s ended up in the only area of the city that doesn’t have any, and then he sees one on the other side of the road - fine, he stopped because he wondered who names a hair salon Beauty and the Beast, but it costs nothing to have a look from the outside, right?

He crosses the street and walks up to the door.

First thing, the pricing list outside it looks… well, it’s not cheap, but it’s certainly not the ridiculous fares they ask where his sister goes to have her hair done, which is exceedingly good since he doesn’t want to spend a salary’s worth of an average office employee to get that blue crap out of his hair. He looks through the glass door - there is just one woman inside getting her hair done, which is also good because the least people around the shorter the wait, it certainly does look clean and while the pastel aesthetic is maybe a bit too much for his tastes - everything is a pastel shade, from the light yellow on the floor to the pale pink and violet of the chairs and the powder blue of the walls… well, beggars can’t be choosers when it comes to it, and the woman on the chair is chatting amicably with the chestnut-haired girl doing her hair and doesn’t look like she hates being there or like she chose the wrong shop.

Also, it’s two PM and he knows this is going to take long. He can hardly afford to fuck around much longer.

He pushes the door open and walks into the shop.

“Welcome!” The chestnut-haired girl says, giving him a nice smile. “Sorry if I don’t come over, but if you sit for a minute my colleague will be back from her coffee break shortly.”

“Sure,” he says, “no hurry,” and he goes sitting on one of the pale violet chairs on the side - they’re comfortable, at least, and he considers taking out the book he brought with to pass the time, but then -

“Hello and welcome! Can I get you a glass of water” Someone else chirps from his side, and right, he did hear the door open -

Oh.

“Hi,” he blurts, staring into a pair of lovely blue eyes belonging to supposedly the other girl working here - she has long auburn hair styled in a french braid and is wearing a blue summer dress that pairs with her eyes perfectly and she’s smiling down at him as if she’s not horrified by his horrid dye-job, or by his presence in the first place, which is his general experience in this kind of shops, so - that’s good, at least. “And uh, thanks,” he says, realizing he is thirsty.

“Be right back! Sorry, I was taking my break but we have no appointments today, so I’ll be on your case very soon.”

She goes to the corner of the room and grabs a glass of water from a dispenser, then brings it to him - shit, he needed it.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“Er,” he says, “I dyed that hair for a bet but I was called for an internship yesterday, and I start on Monday, so… I need a removal. If it’s possible.”

The girl leans closer, taking a good look at his hair.

“Hm,” she says, “it might take a while, but I think it’s possible. It’s not a very good dye job, if I can say so.”

He snorts. “Oh, you can. Please, I did it and I have regretted it every moment since.”

“Well,” she nods, “you’re lucky that most likely no one will show up for anything complicated today then. Jeyne, can you handle other customers in case?”

“Sure,” the chestnut-haired girl replies. “As if I don’t know you’ll have the time of your life.”

She rolls her eyes, then goes to a wardrobe in the corner and finds him a towel, tucks it around his neck and lowers a chair near the small sinks at the bottom of the shop so he can sit on it - he does, feeling extremely thankful that it’s extremely comfortable leather, and he can hear her tutting about bad dyes under her breath as she washes his hair once, twice, thrice, and her fingers feel really good on his scalp but he’s not going to think about that now.

“Just for the record,” she asks as she rinses it, “do you just want the dye to go away or do you want a cut, too?”

“Hell,” he says, “I need to look presentable. I suppose the cut can’t hurt.”

“Will do,” she chirps again, “and by the way, never use that kind of dye again. Not with hair this nice.”

Tyrion would have toppled off the chair if his head wasn’t thrown too far back for it to happen.

“I have nice hair now?”

“You can feel it,” she replies, “under all this… this,” she says, shaking her head.

“I know,” he says, “bad choices.”

“Extremely,” she goes on, rinsing. “But don’t you worry. I’ll have it fixed.”

“Really,” chestnut-haired girl says, “Sansa is a pro with that kind of thing. You’re in good hands.”

Oh. So her name is Sansa. It’s pretty, he thinks.

“Well,” he says, “I can’t wait to see how you manage it. I’m Tyrion, by the way. Figures you should know if I know yours?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she goes on, and gives his hair a last rinse. “Right, can you move forward?” He does and she dries his hair with the towel, then goes to find a mantel that somehow he doesn’t drown in. “Please,” she says, “on whichever free chair you prefer.”

He picks an empty one two spots away from Jeyne and the other woman and lowers it so he can sit down, and then Sansa raises it up again until his still sadly blue head is at the right height.

“Hm,” she says, grabbing a lock and feeling it between her fingers, “from what I see here you’re a natural blonde?”

“Sort of,” he shrugs. He is - his hair isn’t as golden as his siblings’, but it definitely is on that shade. Not that he ever bothered to look into it. “Wait,” he says, fishing into his pocket, and then he grabs his phone and shows her a picture Bronn took of him and Jaime during Tyrion’s latest birthday party which is about the only one of his he’s kept there where you can see his actual color very well. She takes it, squints, zooms on his head, then nods and hands him back the phone.

“Well,” she says, “we’re going to have to use a color remover to take out the blue pigment, then apply some more pigment to allow for the proteins in the hair to adhere to it. Then… yeah, possibly mix a few different types of toners to reach the goal of your natural hair color, and it’s going to take a while, but we should get there. Nothing that terrible.”

“Er,” he blurts, “how much chemistry did you have to study to get there?”

She smiles a bit wider.

“Yeah, I know, but some people don’t like if we talk like that. It makes it sound complicated, I’m told.”

“Not at all,” he says, waiting as Jeyne, who has finished the other woman’s hair, goes to the back room to presumably get Sansa at least the color remover, “not like it’s not… sort of my thing, too,” he says, and then he bites his own tongue - why did he ever do that, now she’s going to decide he’s a creep or something -

“Really,” she says as Jeyne comes back and hands her the remover, “do lean your head back. And what it is that you do?”

He takes a deep breath and tells her.

—

“Oh, so you’re a mortician?” Sansa says happily as she keeps on applying the remover to his hair, her fingers pressing along his scalp as she rubs it in. To her credit, she doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s creepy.

“Well, apprentice,” he shrugs, “but yeah, working on it. And starting an internship soon. Where I can’t… look like this. But yes. Just going through my degree - I had a final a couple days ago. Fuck, it was so embarrassing.”

“Did they judge your hair?”

“Called it apocalyptic, but I aced it.”

“Nice. What was it about?”

“Embalming, mostly,” he sighs. “All the chemistry about formadelhyde I had to learn.”

“Fun fact,” Sansa grins, “do you know they use it in clothing?”

… He somehow had not known that.

“What? Really? They forgot to cover that part.”

“Well,” Sansa says, “I used to crash fashion school lessons, my brother’s boyfriend snuck me in. I learned a lot. I think it’s because of the preserving qualities, though I’m sure it wasn’t… all of it.”

“I mean,” Tyrion blurts, “it’s a preservative but it’s also a disinfectant. Destroys bacteria and their food supply, and it’s a dehydrator, there’s a reason why we use it that much.”

“Hm,” Sansa nods, starting to put aluminium stripes on his hair - fuck, he looks ridiculous like this, “one wonders why you don’t just use alcohol then? Because I thought it was kind of carcinogen.”

Well, she did listen to those lessons for sure.

“It’s cheaper,” Tyrion sighs, “a lot cheaper. It cuts costs. Guess I’ll resign myself to the cancer risk.”

She snorts. “Please,” she says, keeping on placing those stripes carefully, “I’m pretty sure that’s exaggerating a bit. There, they should rest for half an hour. I have to place a few calls now but if you want to read while I’m at it feel free to, just don’t move your head around too much.”

“Roger that,” Tyrion nods, and settles back in the chair.

He has a feeling it’s going to be long, but at least she’s very good company. Jeyne looks about to say something but then another woman comes in the shop and she goes to greet her, and Tyrion goes back to his Chinese sci-fi book that he’s really enjoying and hopes that at the end of it he doesn’t have to shave his head because that dye was that bad.

—

Half an hour later, after washing away the remover, Sansa has moved on to applying the first round of pigment to his hair - the blue did go out, but it still looks…. well. Bad. He can see it just looking at it in the mirror.

“So, she says, “is your internship at a funeral home?”

“Yes,” he replies, “it’s during the last six months of the degree, then you write your thesis and you get your license, and honestly, it’s a nice funeral home. I hope they hire me for good. Anyway, it makes sense. We need to have… experiences with, uh, cases, you know, uh -“

“You can say bodies,” Sansa grins brightly, “it’s fine. I know what you do in funeral homes.”

“Oh, thank God,” he blurts. “I’m sorry, uh, people tend to get queasy when I mention them. The bodies, I mean.”

“That sounds nonsensical,” Sansa shrugs, “what do people think happens when they die? Anyway, you can absolutely say that. Hm, here we go, I think these can stay. Another… yeah. Half-hour, forty-five minutes? Get yourself comfortable. I’ll go mix those toners meanwhile.”

Oh. Right. The toners. Fuck, he can’t wait for this entire dye business to be over. Honestly, he hasn’t done that when he was fifteen, he should have stuck with it.

He grabs his book back and starts reading it again, except that he finds himself wishing he could chat with Sansa some more and he needs to get that thought out of his head right now, no reason to set himself up for failure.

He reads on.

—

Later, she’s washed his hair again and she’s still mixing the toners.

“Yeah,” she says, “I think this need a bit more work, but I’m curious. Is there anything you don’t like about your school? Because you sounded really excited before.”

Did I, Tyrion thinks, but then again… he almost never talks about it to anyone except Jaime or Bronn because everyone else thinks it’s morbid, and somehow this girl who owns a wholly pastel shop actually seems to enjoy discussing the topic, so why the hell not?

“I mean,” he says, “I think we should do autopsies.”

“Oh, you don’t? I’d have expected it.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, “me too, and I think we should for, you know, completion and so on, but we don’t, so I guess I’ll read up on it.”

“But,” she says, “hypothetically,” and she’s kind of smiling slyly, what, “let’s say that someone wakes up while embalming them. What do you do then?”

“I mean,” Tyrion replies, slowly, “I think there’s a pretty huge difference between a living body and a dead one?”

“Sansa, please,” Jeyne says as she combs through the hair of the other woman, who looks… a tiny bit disturbed, but neither Jeyne nor Sansa are, so… who cares. right?, “never mind that you need a bit more toner, but I think there’s a thing named rigor mortis that’d make it pretty fucking obvious.”

“That,” Tyrion replies, “also if one gets stuck in a fridge for a few days I think you’d be dead anyway. Not to be, you know, morbid.”

Sansa mixes a bit more toner and smiles wider. Right. She was so fucking with him. “I mean, you did pump them full of carcinogen just before, right?”

“Right,” he laughs as she tells him to lean back and starts applying the toner to his poor roots, “we did, technically.”

“Just stay still,” she goes on, “it’ll be another hour, I think. Then I can cut.”

Well, he decides, at least this entire process is being not overtly miserable.

He leans back and lets her apply the toner and then cover it with the aluminium stripes all over again.

—

“So,” she says later while Jeyne is going through the third client of the day and he’s sitting on the chair again after his hair was thoroughly rinsed and washed for the umpteenth time — he lost count, honestly, but now it does look like his usual shade, sort of, he thinks, “can I ask what was this infamous bet about? Also, I can see your hair is naturally wavy — should I just trim the edges? Because I can see you cut it yourself and it’s not bad but you kind of hacked at them.”

“Er, yes,” he says, “sounds good. Wait, naturally wavy?”

“It is,” she says, “I can recognize it.”

“I, uh,” he coughs, “I don’t think I ever had it long enough to notice?”

“It’s the exact same as your brother’s,” she shrugs, “just a bit darker, but again, this should tide you over for a while. I mean, by the time it wears off whatever travesty you did to your hair in the first place should be fixed and it’ll be as before and no one will notice.”

“Then - I guess you can trim only and I’ll see,” he says, his throat suddenly feeling dry. No one ever compared him to Jaime in that sense without making it… well. About how he’s not the person with the good looks in the family, so this entire thing is just - weird. “Anyway, uh, you can ask about the bet. I mean, it’s just embarrassing.”

“I’m listening,” she says, cutting the edges of his hair slowly, and surely she puts a lot more thought it in than he does while cutting it, but then again… it’s her job and he learned because he didn’t want his father’s barber to go near his head.

“Er, so,” he clears his throat again, trying to figure out how to tell her the sanitized version of it while sparing her from all the family ugliness, “I was out drinking with the brother and the best friend at the same bar we’ve been going to for months because they have good drinks and the brother absolutely had a crush on the bartender, except that he came from a, uh, toxic relationship, let’s put it like that, and I thought he wasn’t going to fess up ever, so - we were drunk and it came out and I said of course I’d dye my hair that horrid color if he fessed up to her and like, I thought he never would but he actually went and did it and — yeah. I mean, glad for him that it went well but not my greatest moment.”

“Aw,” Sansa replies, keeping on trimming, “I like a nice love story. I imagine he doesn’t share our interest in formadelhyde.”

Why does his heart beat a tiny bit faster when she says our interest?

“No,” Tyrion shakes his head, “he’s more into nerding over Middle Ages weapons, but at least he didn’t tell me Six Feet Under was boring, so.”

“I loved that show,” she replies, “who’d say it’s boring?”

“It’s my favorite,” he shrugs a bit as she puts away the scissors. “And a lot of people, but it seems like you have good taste.”

She nods as she grabs some lotion that she supposedly has to pass into his hair before drying it. “And what about you?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, he had a nice love story going into port, so what about you?”

“Er,” he hopes he’s not blushing, fuck, he’s usually not — he doesn’t fluster, fucking hell, “I — really am not looking. My family kind of… fucked up the only serious relationship I had going for me and most people get put off at the whole I want to be a mortician thing, so.”

“What kind of family fucks up relationships for other people?”

“The kind we come from,” he sighs, “but at least he’s out of that circus and I’ll be the moment I graduate.”

“Nice,” Sansa nods, “now just hold on a moment and I’m drying it.”

He nods — she grabs an hair dryer and starts blowing it and yes, he can see she got the exact shade right now that it’s not wet anymore, and — well, of course it’s her job to make it look good but the more she proceeds the nicer it looks, and now he can vaguely see what she meant when she talked about natural curls, and also… it feels fluffier? Lighter? He has no fucking clue, but the moment she’s finished — well.

“Fuck,” he admits, “I don’t think my hair ever looked this nice in my entire life.”

She grins. “I know how to do my job. Another moment.” She sprays some more lotion on her hands and runs it through his hair again. “This was just for a bit of nutriment, but there you are. You know, if you treat it a bit more nicely you might not need it me to make it look good.”

“Yeah, well, and what if I’d like to come back here instead?” He blurts, not knowing what the fuck he’s aiming for, but then she grins back a bit wider.

“I always like making new clients,” she replies, “especially when they’re cute and they don’t only want to talk about the gossip in magazines. That gets boring after a while.”

Wait, did she call him cute?

“Tell you what,” she keeps on as she takes the mantel off him and waits for him to get off the chair and follow her to the counter, “let’s say I don’t give all new clients a ten percent discount but I do give it to the ones I like.”

What the fuck —

“So, here you go.”

She hands him a receipt… with a fifteen per cent discount. “But you have to promise me you won’t use that crap dye anymore. That’s probably more cancer-inducing than formaldehyde could ever be.”

He has to laugh at that.

“Fair,” he says, “I won’t. Maybe I’ll come back before my last final. It’s two weeks from now,” he says, slowly, “I might want to look good for it. As much as it goes, anyway.”

“Oh, I’ll make you look incredible, don’t you worry.” She takes his card, swipes it, hands him the POS. He’s sure he doesn’t let it drop just out of sheer force of will. The payment goes through, she gives him his receipt and he pockets it, his hand still sweating —

“I’ll see you to the door,” she goes on, and she follows him out.

“So, Tyrion,” she grins again, “see you in two weeks?”

“Oh,” he replies, “absolutely.”

“And let me know how the internship thing works out. I like to know what’s up with the clients I like,” she winks, and then she leans down and kisses his cheek before going back into the shop.

Tyrion just stands there dumbfounded and only takes a few steps from the shop, and he didn’t mean to eavesdrop but he hears Jeyne the moment he starts walking away and —

“Sansa, I know you said you’d be forward after that asshole Harry, but I never saw you being that obvious. You really liked our mortician or what?”

“So what?” Sansa replies, and Tyrion thinks he’ll faint. “No point in playing hard to get and all. When he comes back I’m absolutely asking him out for coffee or something. I did like him.”

“Good for you,” Jeyne replies, “he seems nice and you deserve a nice guy. Even if that dye was a really crap choice on his part.”

“Oh, if I have a say in it no bad dye is ever coming near that hair. It was so nice,” she replies, and at that point he leaves because he really shouldn’t be doing this and he will faint, but —

But he smiles to himself all the way home.

He thinks he’s never looked forward to a final that much, and if she does really ask him out for coffee, no way he’s being an idiot and saying no.

And if he’ll brush up on cool embalming facts before then, well, you can’t blame him, right?

End.

#sanrion #tyrion lannister #sansa stark #jeyne poole #sansa x tyrion #those are the tags i suppose???#my fic

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