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oceandolores · 2 months ago

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ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔦𝔬𝔫 | chapter I

General Marcus Acacius x f!reader

"in her eyes shone the sweetness of melancholy."

summary: In the grandeur of ancient Rome, you are the secret daughter of Commodus, living a quiet life as a servant in the imperial palace. Everything changes when you meet General Marcus Acacius, Rome’s honorable and stoic leader.

Though devoted to duty and loyalty to the princess, Marcus is drawn to you in a way he cannot ignore. A forbidden passion ignites between you both, and an affair begins—one that threatens the very foundation of loyalty, power, and honor. As you fall deeper into your dangerous love for Marcus, each stolen moment becomes a fragile, dangerous secret.

warnings: 18+ only, 14 YEARS AFTER GLADIATOR 1, ANGST, Fluff, A LOT OF SMUT, Unprotected Sex, Exhibition Kink, Age-Gap, Ancient Rome, mentions of violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, Politics, Sexism, Forbidden Love, Loss of Virginity, mentions of death, Innocent and pure reader, Loss of virginity, Infidelity, more warnings will be added throughout the story

Chapter I

masterlist!

next | chapter II

The palace is alive with preparation, a beast of marble and gold that never rests. Its veins are the labyrinthine halls, pulsing with servants like you, carrying trays of delicacies, wreaths of flowers, and jugs of wine.

Its heart beats to the rhythm of whispered orders, clinking metal, and the distant echo of the marketplace beyond its gates. Tonight, the beast awakens for another feast.

You adjust the folds of your simple tunic, careful not to brush against the elaborate tapestries that line the walls. Each thread tells a story of conquest, glory, and power—legends you’ve only heard murmured by those old enough to remember.

You are not part of those tales, nor their lineage. You are a servant, a shadow cast by the towering figures who walk these halls.

The kitchen is a tempest. The air is thick with the scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and sweet figs. Claudia, the head cook, barks orders, her voice slicing through the chaos like the edge of a Roman gladius.

You pass her with a nod, your arms laden with trays of fruit—gleaming apples, plump grapes, the kind of bounty the common people outside these walls could only dream of.

Livia catches your eye from across the room. Her presence is a steady anchor in the storm, her face worn but kind.

“Have you checked the wine?” she asks, her tone soft but urgent.

You nod. “It’s ready, Mother,” you reply, the word slipping out as naturally as breath.

She is not your mother—you know this much—but she is all you have.

The story of how you came to be here is one you’ve heard countless times: a baby abandoned at the servants' chamber door, cradled in a basket of woven reeds, with nothing to mark your origin save for a scrap of fine cloth that no one in your station would dare to own.

Livia found you there, swaddled in whispers of mystery, and against all odds, she chose to keep you.

Raised among the laboring hands of the palace, you were given no privilege beyond survival and no legacy but that of work.

The great marble halls and gilded frescoes became your entire world, a place as eternal and unmoving as the gods themselves—or so it seemed.

The servants’ quarters where you lived were nestled in the hidden bowels of the palace, far from the glittering feasts and marble statues.

You learned to scrub floors and pour wine long before you understood the language of wealth and power that filled these walls.

Your life had been carved out in the shadows, molded by the soft voices and calloused hands of those who raised you.

Today, like every other, begins in service to Rome's ever-churning hunger for spectacle.

The air hums with anticipation, thick with the scent of roasted meat and spiced wine, a stark contrast to the stench of poverty that lingers just beyond the palace gates.

“Are the platters for the atrium ready?” Livia’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“They are,” you reply, glancing at the polished silver laden with grapes and apples, their skins shining like jewels under the torchlight.

“Good.” Livia’s sharp eyes soften, though her expression remains tense. “Take the fruit out yourself. And stay close to the kitchen. Today will bring trouble, I feel it.”

You nod, understanding the weight of her instincts. Years of serving in the palace have taught her to sense the storm before it strikes.

As you lift the platters, Claudia, calls over her daughter, Alexandra.

“Go with her,” Claudia orders, waving a ladle for emphasis.

Alexandra groans dramatically but obeys, rolling her eyes as she grabs one of the platters.

“She can’t let me rest for a moment,” she mutters, her tone more amused than annoyed.

You chuckle softly. Alexandra has always been like this—bold where you are cautious, quick to speak where you stay silent.

She is your only true companion here, older by four years and infinitely more daring.

As you and Alexandra arrange the fruits on a grand table in the atrium, she leans closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “The Princess will be here tonight.”

You nod absently, focused on ensuring the grapes cascade just so. “Of course, she will. She is the Princess after all.”

“No, I mean, I haven’t seen her in years,” Alexandra continues, ignoring your tone. “Not since I was a kid. That was ten years ago. You know she moved out of the palace after marrying the general.”

You don’t reply immediately, your hands steady as you arrange the fruit. Alexandra has always loved to gossip, but you prefer to keep your thoughts unspoken.

“Can you believe it’s been ten years, and she hasn’t had a child? Not one with him,” Alexandra muses.

“Maybe it’s their choice,” you say quietly. “It’s not our place to wonder.”

Alexandra scoffs lightly. “I’m just saying, after her son—what was his name? Lucius?—after he was taken and killed by her brother, Commodus…” She trails off, her voice tinged with something between pity and fascination.

You remember Lucius vaguely, a boy with a quiet demeanor and a sad smile.

You were too young then to understand the weight of his loss, but the servants whispered of curses and tragedies surrounding the imperial family.

“It’s not good to talk about the great emperors like that,” you murmur, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Before Alexandra can reply, the sound of heavy boots echoes through the atrium.

The guards step forward, their polished armor glinting in the firelight. “Make way for their majesties,” one announces, his voice carrying over the growing murmur of the guests.

You and Alexandra immediately bow your heads, the platters forgotten as the twin emperors enter the room.

Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla are a study in contrasts.

Geta, an imposing figure, commands the space with a cold and calculating gaze. His every step seems deliberate, as if the weight of the empire rests on his shoulders alone.

Caracalla, by contrast, walks with an erratic energy, his pet monkey perched on his shoulder. Dondus, the creature’s name, chatters and hisses, a mirror of its master’s unpredictable moods.

You feel the weight of their gazes as they sweep the room. Geta’s lips curl into a smile—or is it a smirk?—as his eyes linger on Alexandra.

There have been whispers, rumors of an affair, though Alexandra denies them with a laugh.

Caracalla’s gaze lands on you, and for a moment, his expression softens. Unlike his brother, he has always been strange but oddly kind to you.

When you were a child, he would find you in the halls, offering you small trinkets or asking you to keep him company.

“Your Majesties,” Alexandra says again, her voice like honeyed wine, sweet but strong.

She curtsies with practiced ease, her eyes cast downward, yet her boldness hangs in the air, unspoken but palpable.

You follow her lead, bowing deeply, but your heart pounds in your chest like the war drums of a distant legion. In the presence of the emperors, the room feels smaller, the air heavier.

To serve Rome, you think, is to breathe in the will of its rulers, no matter how suffocating.

Geta's gaze lingers on Alexandra, traveling from her head to her feet, as though she were a statue he might commission or a possession he already owns.

His smirk deepens, the corner of his mouth curving with an indulgence that unsettles you.

“Alexandra,” he drawls, his voice smooth as polished bronze. “Why do I find the table half-dressed? Are my guests to dine on the promise of fruit alone?”

You glance at the platters, perfectly arranged but not yet fully adorned with the remaining dishes. Your pulse quickens; you know the punishment for displeasing the emperors can be swift, unpredictable.

But Alexandra, bold as always, doesn’t flinch.

“Forgive us, Your Majesty,” she says, her tone measured yet edged with defiance. “The final trays are being brought out as we speak. The delay was unforeseen.”

Geta arches a brow, his smirk turning sharper, more dangerous. “Unforeseen,” he repeats, as though savoring the word.

“I wonder, Alexandra, if you’ve grown too accustomed to... distractions.”

You know the meaning behind his words. Everyone does.

The whispered rumors of their affair swirl through the palace like incense smoke, clinging to every corner.

Her mother Claudia knows, though she turns a blind eye, perhaps thinking it wiser not to provoke the wrath of an emperor.

Beside him, Caracalla shifts, uninterested in the exchange. His pet monkey, Dondus, chitters softly on his shoulder, its small, beady eyes scanning the room.

Caracalla’s gaze falls on you briefly, but it is not unkind. He has always been more erratic than cruel with you, there is a peculiar understanding in his glances—a shared knowledge of solitude.

“Forgive us, Your Majesty,” you say suddenly, your voice trembling like a bird caught in a net. The words tumble out before you can stop them, and the weight of the room shifts.

Geta’s eyes snap to you, sharp as a blade. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve made a grave mistake.

But then he laughs—a low, indulgent sound that sends shivers down your spine.

“Ah,” he says, leaning slightly toward you. “The little dove finds her voice. How curious.”

You stiffen under his gaze, your knees threatening to buckle. It feels as though he is peeling back your very skin, seeking something hidden beneath.

“You’re the youngest servant here, aren’t you?” Geta muses, his tone light but with an edge that cuts.

“A curious creature, so quiet and unassuming. And yet…” He trails off, his eyes narrowing, as if piecing together a puzzle.

The weight of unspoken rumors presses against your chest.

The whispers about your lineage, the murmurs that you are more than a servant—that you are the illegitimate daughter of Commodus himself, a shadow of Rome’s bloody past.

You’ve heard them before, though never directly. Livia, your steadfast mother in all but blood, dismisses them as lies, the gossip of bored tongues.

But in moments like this, when Geta’s piercing gaze locks onto yours, it feels as though the marble walls around you whisper secrets only they can hold.

Secrets of your origin, of what blood may or may not flow through your veins, encased in the silent austerity of Rome’s cold embrace. You feel the weight of it, a shroud both invisible and suffocating.

Geta doesn’t believe the rumors entirely, but he cannot ignore them either. To him, you are a thorn he cannot pluck without proof.

If the whispers are true, if you are indeed the hidden scion of Commodus and the only living grandchild of Marcus Aurelius, you would be a danger to his rule.

Rome, after all, has loved its Aurelius lineage fiercely.

The plebeians would rally to your name like vines twisting toward sunlight.

Still, no woman has ever ruled Rome.

The Senate, the soldiers, and the gods themselves would balk at such a notion. But Geta knows that power is not always rooted in precedent—it is rooted in the hearts of the people.

And the people would love a descendant of Marcus Aurelius far more than they could ever love him.

“You wear the palace well,” Geta says finally, his tone dripping with mockery. “A little too well, perhaps.”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks but keep your gaze respectfully lowered. His words are like serpents coiling around you, their venom lying just beneath the surface.

Caracalla hums softly, breaking the tension. He strokes Dondus, the little monkey perched on his shoulder, as though soothing himself rather than the animal.

“Leave her, brother,” he mutters, his tone flat but carrying weight. “You scare the child.”

Geta casts his twin a glance, his smirk briefly faltering. With that, he straightens, clapping his hands once in finality. “Finish the table,” he commands, the sharpness of his tone slicing through the room.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you and Alexandra reply in unison, bowing deeply as the emperors turn and walk away.

Their robes ripple like molten gold, catching the light as though the gods themselves had woven the fabric.

The moment they are gone, you exhale shakily, the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding slipping from your lips.

The grandeur of the palace, so often a thing of wonder, now feels oppressive—a prison of marble and ambition.

Alexandra nudges you gently, her smile faint but reassuring. “It’s fine,” she murmurs, though the tightness in her voice betrays her unease.

You nod and return to your work, the routine motions of arranging platters grounding you once more. But the unease lingers, like a storm cloud that refuses to dissipate.

Later, after the feast preparations are complete, you retreat to the servants’ quarters. The hallways grow quieter as the palace begins to prepare for the night’s debauchery.

Your mother, Livia, finds you there, her expression tight with concern.

“Are you all right?” You nod quickly, not wanting to worry her further.

Livia’s sharp eyes search yours for a moment before she exhales heavily. “Stay away from them tonight,” she warns. “There will be soldiers, senators, politicians—men who think they own the world. And women and men from the brothels to entertain them. It will not be a place for a child like you.”

“I understand,” you say softly, though the thought of the gathering makes your skin prickle.

"Go to your chamber and stay there.” You nod, obedient as always, and Livia cups your face briefly before bustling away.

But as you walk toward your chamber, the stillness of the afternoon draws you elsewhere.

***

The sun bathes the palace gardens in a golden light, soft and warm, like an embrace from the gods themselves.

The sky is a flawless stretch of azure, and the air carries the faintest scent of blooming jasmine.

Unable to resist, you veer toward the gardens, seeking solace in their quiet beauty.

You make your way to the small pond at the edge of the grounds, where the world feels simpler, untouched by the weight of marble columns and imperial decrees.

This is your sanctuary, a place you’ve tended with your own hands.

The hedges are trimmed neatly, the flowers arranged in bursts of vibrant color—crimson roses, golden marigolds, and pale violets that seem to glow in the sunlight.

The pond reflects the sky like polished glass, its surface rippling gently in the breeze.

You settle onto the cool stone bench nearby, pulling out a small parchment and charcoal.

Writing has always been your escape, a way to make sense of the labyrinth that is your mind.

The words flow from you like water from a spring, each line capturing fragments of your thoughts and fears.

To live in the shadow of gods is to forget the warmth of the sun.

You stare at the words you’ve written, sentences about Rome and its people, the empire’s endless hunger that devours the poor while the rulers gorge themselves on the spoils.

It isn’t rebellion that drives you—at least, not yet—but a quiet, gnawing sense of wrongness.

You have lived your entire life within the confines of this palace, its gilded walls both a sanctuary and a prison.

Outside, beyond the Forum and its grand marble temples, the streets of Rome teem with despair. You’ve seen it, fleeting glimpses on the rare occasions you ventured beyond the palace gates.

Children with hollow eyes and grime-streaked faces.

Men broken by war or taxation, their shoulders bowed under invisible yokes.

Women clutching bundles of rags that you realized, with a sick lurch, were infants too still to be alive.

These thoughts weigh heavily on you as you sit by the pond, the garden’s beauty unable to shield you from the world’s harsh truths.

You lower your quill, pressing trembling fingers to your lips, when the sound of approaching footsteps pulls you sharply from your thoughts.

You stiffen, the air in your lungs turning to stone. It isn’t one of the servants; their steps are lighter, quicker.

This tread is deliberate, measured, carrying a weight of authority. When you glance up, your breath catches.

The man before you is not adorned with the opulence of the Senate nor the ostentatious silk of the emperors.

You know who he is. How could you not?

General Marcus Acacius.

Rome’s shield and sword, the hero of distant campaigns whose name is whispered with both reverence and fear.

You have never seen him in the flesh, for he seldom resides in the palace, choosing instead to live with Princess Lucilla far from its labyrinth of intrigue.

But his likeness is everywhere: etched in marble statues, painted in frescoes, immortalized as Rome’s protector.

Yet, here he stands, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if the gods themselves have sent him.

The crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders glints faintly in the golden light, its hem embroidered with intricate patterns that seem to tell the story of the empire’s conquests.

His tunic, simple yet stately, is cinched with a polished belt, a gleaming buckle bearing the proud insignia of the wolf of Rome.

Unlike the ornamental decadence of the Senate or the twin emperors, his attire speaks of purpose and practicality—beauty tempered by utility.

And his face—by Jupiter, his beautiful face.

It is a map of victories and sacrifices, weathered yet noble. The lines carved by years of sun and battle only enhance the sharpness of his features, as if the gods had personally molded him for their own designs.

His hair, dark and streaked with silver like the gleam of moonlight on a blade, curls faintly at his temples.

His beard, neatly trimmed, frames a mouth set in the hard line of a man who has spoken a thousand commands and swallowed a thousand regrets.

But it is his eyes that strike you most: deep, piercing, soulful-brown eyes.

They are the eyes of a man who has seen the best and worst of humanity and bears the weight of both.

Your breath catches as his gaze sweeps over you, taking in the sight of a young servant clutching a parchment like a shield.

He regards you with a sharp, assessing gaze, his eyes like iron tempered in fire—unyielding yet reflective.

His presence is commanding, a gravity that draws everything into its orbit. You are struck by how different he is from the emperors.

Where Geta and Caracalla exude indulgence and cruelty, Acacius carries himself with the disciplined grace of a man who has known the weight of true responsibility.

“Not many choose the gardens for their thoughts,” he says, his voice deep, steady, and tinged with curiosity.

It is a soldier’s voice, devoid of the honeyed pretense of courtiers.

You scramble to your feet, clutching your parchment to your chest. “General,” you manage, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

He raises a hand, the gesture more commanding than any shout. “At ease,” he says, a faint flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—crossing his face. “You are Livia's daughter?"

His question hangs in the air like the distant clang of a bell. You nodded, your name feels small in your mouth when you finally say it, barely audible against the rustling of the garden’s leaves.

Acacius nods, as though filing the information away. His eyes flick to the parchment in your hands. “A poet?”

You hesitate, “I... I write, sometimes. Thoughts.”

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming yet strangely grounding. He does not reach for the parchment, but his gaze lingers on it as though he could read its contents by sheer will alone.

“Thoughts on Rome, perhaps?” he asks.

His tone is even, but there is an edge to it, a subtle weight that suggests he already knows the answer.

Your throat tightens. To speak of the empire’s flaws to a general of its armies feels like standing on the edge of a blade.

Yet something in his bearing—a quiet patience, a restrained curiosity—compels you to answer honestly.

“Yes,” you admit softly. “About Rome. And its people.”

Acacius’s expression shifts almost imperceptibly, a shadow crossing his face. He looks away, toward the pond, his gaze distant now, as if seeing not the still water but something far beyond it.

“The people,” he repeats, almost to himself. “The heart of Rome. And yet, the heart is always the first to be sacrificed.”

The words are spoken quietly, but they carry the weight of experience, of battles fought not just with swords but with conscience.

You watch him, your earlier fear now replaced by a cautious curiosity.

"Do you... believe that?" you venture, your voice barely above a whisper, the words trembling like a fledgling bird daring its first flight.

Marcus halts, his crimson cloak swaying like the banner of a legion stilled in the wind.

He turns to you, his eyes—sharp as a polished gladius—softening for the briefest moment, as if your question has reached a part of him long buried under layers of duty and steel.

“Belief,” he begins, his voice low and steady, carrying the weight of a man who has lived lifetimes in service to an empire, “is a luxury in the life of a soldier. I deal in action, not faith. But I have seen enough to know that Rome’s strength lies not in its emperors, but in its people. And we are failing them.”

The honesty in his words strikes you like the tolling of a great bronze bell, reverberating through the quiet garden and deep into your chest.

It is not what you expected from a man like him—a hero to some, a sword-arm to the empire—but here he stands, speaking not as a general but as a man, his voice laced with something unguarded. Regret, perhaps. Or hope—fragile and faint, but alive nonetheless.

“Do you believe in Rome, little one?” His question falls like a stone into still waters, and you startle, unprepared to have the conversation turned toward you.

“I—” Your words falter, and you look down at your hands, clutching the parchment that now feels like an accusation.

But then, something inside you stirs—something that refuses to shrink back beneath the weight of his gaze.

You lift your eyes to meet his, the courage in your chest kindled like a flame drawn from embers.

“I believe in what Rome could be,” you reply, your voice steadier now.

“I believe in the Rome that lives in the hearts of its people—the ones who work its fields, who build its roads, who kneel at its altars not out of fear, but out of love. That is the Rome worth fighting for. But the Rome I see now…” Your throat tightens, but you press on.

“...has forgotten its people. It worships marble statues and golden coins while the streets crumble and the people starve. How can an empire endure when its foundation is so neglected?”

Your words spill forth, unchecked and unmeasured, and it is only when you see the faintest flicker of something in his expression—respect, perhaps, or surprise—that you remember who stands before you.

The weight of your boldness sinks in like a gladiator realizing they’ve overstepped in the arena.

“Forgive me, General,” you murmur, lowering your gaze. “I forgot myself.”

But Marcus shakes his head, a wry smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “Do not apologize,” he says, his tone gentler now, though no less commanding.

“You are young, but your words carry the wisdom of one who has not yet been corrupted by power. Few speak with such clarity, and fewer still with such courage.”

His gaze lingers on you, searching, and you feel it like the sun breaking through storm clouds.

“You remind me,” he says, his voice quieter, almost reverent, “of someone. He believed, as you do, in the strength of Rome’s people. He would sit in gardens much like this one, speaking of justice and duty, and wonder aloud whether the empire could ever live up to its ideals.”

Your heart quickens, the weight of his words settling over you like the cloak of a goddess.

The way Marcus looks at you—as though he sees not the servant, but the soul beneath—makes you feel for a fleeting moment.

“I am no philosopher,” you say softly, your fingers tightening on the parchment. “But it is hard to remain silent when I see so much suffering.”

“A Roman citizen has every right to speak of their empire’s failings,” he says, stepping closer now.

“Do not mistake me for a politician, child. I am a soldier. My loyalty is to Rome—not to the men who rule it."

You nod, the words settling over you like a cloak woven of both gravity and reassurance.

The air between you feels charged, alive with the kind of understanding that is rarely spoken but deeply felt.

You watch him, his form cast in the golden hues of the setting sun, the crimson of his cloak vivid against the muted greens of the garden.

There is something about him that draws you—not merely his reputation, not the legends whispered in the palace halls of his valor and victories, but him.

The man behind the titles and statues.

You swallow, your heart a restless bird in your chest. You should not linger, not with him, not now.

And yet, you find yourself unable to walk away.

Words rise to your lips, hesitant at first, but then they spill forth, tentative and careful, like a child offering a wildflower to a god.

“Forgive me, my lord, but shouldn’t you be inside?” you say, your voice trembling under the weight of its boldness. “The palace is bustling with your celebration—wishing you fortune for your campaign, for Rome’s glory.”

He turns his gaze to you, the faintest flicker of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “Rome’s glory,” he repeats, as though tasting the phrase on his tongue, finding it bitter.

He lets out a soft chuckle, low and warm, a sound that feels oddly out of place amidst the solemn grandeur of the garden. “Let them feast. Let them toast. I’ve no appetite for gilded words tonight.”

You blink, surprised by his candor. He is not what you imagined—not the marble statue immortalized in the Forum or the hardened general whose name echoes in the chants of soldiers. He is… more human than that.

“I’m waiting for my wife,” he adds, his tone casual, though his eyes seem to linger on you as if measuring your reaction.

Princess Lucilla.

The name hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of legend. Rome’s Princess. The only daughter of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor. You’ve never met her, though her shadow looms large over your life.

“She was delayed,” he continues, glancing toward the palace, though his stance is relaxed, unhurried.

Princess Lucilla, her legend precedes her, a name spoken with reverence, and sometimes, in hushed tones, with fear.

Your mother, Livia, has served her since she was but a girl.

Livia, who moves through the world with a quiet dignity, has always spoken of the princess with unwavering loyalty. “She carries Rome on her shoulders,” your mother would say, her voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. “The weight of a crown rests on her brow, even though it does not sit there.”

Your thoughts drift, but his voice pulls you back to the present.

“Your mother,” Marcus says, his tone shifting to something softer, more contemplative, “she’s a loyal servant to our household, isn’t she?”

You nod, feeling a strange warmth rise to your cheeks. “She is, my lord. My mother adores the princess. She always speaks highly of her.”

At this, Marcus smiles faintly. His expression, though guarded, carries a warmth that feels rare, as if he’s allowing himself a brief reprieve from his usual stoicism.

“Livia is wise, then. Lucilla is… more than most know. Rome sees her as Marcus Aurelius’ daughter, but to me—” He pauses, his voice lowering to something almost reverent.

“She is a woman of strength, far greater than any man I’ve known. Her loyalty to Rome and its people… it humbles me.”

For a fleeting moment, his mask of a hardened general slips, and you glimpse something deeper.

A man bound not just by duty but by love.

His words hang in the air, gilded with affection, and you feel a pang of longing, though for what, you cannot say.

“I’ve never met her,” you admit, your voice quieter now.

He turns to you, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “Lucilla?”

You nod, feeling suddenly self-conscious beneath his scrutiny. “I’ve only heard stories. My mother always told me about her strength, her grace. But we’ve never crossed paths.”

Marcus regards you for a long moment, as if seeing something in you he had not noticed before. “She would like you,” he says at last, his voice steady, though something lingers in his tone, a note of intrigue.

“Are you coming to the feast tonight?” he asks, the question catching you off guard.

You hesitate, glancing toward the palace where the distant hum of celebration filters through the evening air. “Servants are not permitted to attend such events, my lord,” you say, lowering your gaze. “I am only a servant after all,"

His brows furrow slightly, as if the answer displeases him. “Rome is built on the backs of those it calls servants. Do not diminish yourself.”

You blink, unsure of how to respond. There’s a weight in his words, one that feels both heavy and freeing.

Before he can say more, hurried footsteps echo through the garden. You turn, and there stands Alexandra, one of the palace attendants, her expression tight with worry.

“My lord,” she says, bowing her head quickly as her wide eyes catch sight of Marcus.

The respect is immediate, almost reflexive. General Acacius commands not just authority but admiration.

Men respect him, but women… they speak of him in hushed tones, a figure both distant and impossibly magnetic.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Alexandra continues, her voice trembling slightly under the weight of his gaze. “Your mother is looking for you,"

Marcus looks at you, his expression softening. He steps aside, the movement graceful despite his formidable frame, as though making room for your escape.

"Tell Livia my apologies for keeping her daughter here," he says, his voice low yet deliberate, as though each word is a promise carved in stone.

His gaze lingers on you, longer than it should, and it feels as though he is reading something beyond the surface—a map of your heart, perhaps, etched in the lines of your face.

For a moment, the world narrows to just this: the garden bathed in the golden light of a setting sun, the faint murmur of the distant feast, and the weight of his eyes, heavy yet strangely gentle.

There is something about you, his expression seems to say—something unspoken but undeniable.

You feel it too, a spark that flickers to life beneath the layers of duty, expectation, and fear.

“I’ll see you at the feast tonight,” he says, the words more a statement than an invitation, leaving little room for protest.

There is a finality to his tone, yet also a quiet insistence that stirs something within you.

Before you can respond, he dips his head ever so slightly—a gesture of respect, or perhaps acknowledgment—before turning and striding away, his crimson cloak flowing like a banner in his wake.

You bow reflexively, watching him disappear into the shadowed corridors of the palace, his figure swallowed by the grandeur of Rome itself.

Yet even as he leaves, his presence lingers, an echo in the air, a weight in your chest.

As soon as the sound of his footsteps fades, Alexandra is at your side, her face alight with barely contained awe.

“Was that… the general?” she whispers, her voice tinged with something between disbelief and reverence.

“Yes,” you reply, though your own voice feels distant, as though it belongs to someone else. Your thoughts are still tethered to the garden, to the quiet intensity of his gaze.

“By the gods,” she breathes, clutching your arm as though you might disappear. “He’s… he’s even more handsome up close.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Careful, Ale,” you chide gently, though there’s no malice in your words.

“I’ve heard so much about him,” she continues, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“About his loyalty to Maximus Decimus Meridius—the late general—and how he served under him during the great campaigns. They say he adored the princess even then. Some even whisper that his loyalty to Maximus was why he stayed so close to her after his death, marrying her to protect her.”

You glance at her, your brow furrowing slightly. “You know far too much for someone who spends their days in the laundry.”

She grins, unrepentant. “The laundry is where all the palace’s secrets come to dry.”

You shake your head, though her words gnaw at the edges of your mind.

You’ve heard the stories too, in bits and pieces from the older servants: tales of Lucilla’s love affair with Maximus, and Marcus’s steadfast devotion not only to his commander but to the empire itself.

A marriage born of loyalty, they say, not love. And yet, there’s something in the way Marcus spoke of Lucilla earlier that makes you wonder.

As Alexandra chatters on, her words a tide of gossip and speculation, your thoughts drift back to Marcus.

To the way he stood in the garden, his form framed by the soft glow of the setting sun. To the depth in his eyes, like wells carved by the gods themselves—deep enough to drown in, and yet you couldn’t look away.

You feel a strange restlessness in your chest, a stirring you can’t quite name. It isn’t admiration, nor fear, but something more complicated. Something heavier.

Marcus is unlike anyone you’ve ever known—unlike the indulgent senators with their honeyed words, unlike the cruel twin emperors whose laughter carries the sting of a whip.

He is a man of iron and fire, tempered by years of battle, yet beneath that hardened exterior lies something softer. Something… human.

And perhaps that’s what unsettles you most.

You’ve spent your life surrounded by women: your mother, Livia, with her quiet strength and unshakable loyalty; the other servants, who taught you to navigate the palace’s labyrinthine halls.

Men were distant figures, their power felt but never seen up close. Fathers, you’ve only heard about in stories—abstract concepts, not flesh and blood.

But Marcus is no abstraction.

He is real, tangible, a presence that feels larger than life yet undeniably mortal.

To see him, to feel him, is to glimpse a side of the world you’ve never known—a world shaped not by whispered orders or silent sacrifices, but by action, by conviction, by the weight of decisions made on the edge of a blade.

You shake your head, trying to banish the thoughts, but they cling to you like the scent of blooming jasmine in the garden. “It’s nothing,” you tell yourself, though your heart betrays you with its restless rhythm.

“Nothing at all,” you murmur, though even the words feel like a lie.

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 month ago

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Only The Lonely - Bucky | Oneshot

Summary: Late at night, the last train is Bucky’s escape from the chaos of his life—quiet and predictable. It’s his only peaceful moment. But when a stranger’s simple kindness interrupts his routine, what starts as an annoyance slowly turns into something unexpected.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Action, Comedy, Slice Of Life

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way I publish my book Arrogant Ex Husband in Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

1:00 a.m.

The last train of the night. The final hour before the city sleeps, when the world quiets and only a few remain in motion. Most passengers at this hour are creatures of necessity—night-shift workers dragging their tired bodies home, partygoers sobering up after a wild night, travelers in transit, students cramming for exams, or employees finishing late.

And then, there are the unpredictable ones. The lost souls.

It’s the perfect way to describe him. Bucky.

His job makes his life unpredictable—demanding, stressful, suffocating. Every day feels like it’s crushing him, the weight of expectations pressing down on his chest until it’s hard to breathe. But this train ride, the one just before the clock strikes 1:00 a.m., is his sanctuary.

It’s the only time his mind is blissfully empty. The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels on the tracks is a comfort—steady, reliable, unlike the chaos of his day. He listens to the low hum of the engine, the occasional screech as the train rounds a curve. He likes the way the train sways, how it rocks him gently, as if coaxing him to let go of his thoughts.

Most importantly, he likes being alone.

But tonight is different.

When he steps into the nearly empty car and heads to his usual seat, someone is already sitting there.

Have you ever felt that irritation when someone rearranges your kitchen and you can’t find the salt? That’s how Bucky feels. A simmering annoyance, irrational but undeniable.

He grits his teeth but says nothing. It’s public transportation—he has no right to be mad. Instead, he silently takes the seat across from the stranger, determined to ignore them.

At first, you don’t notice him bristling across from you. You’re relieved to see another person, especially this late at night. You’ve never liked taking the last train—it’s eerie when you’re alone—but it’s cheaper than a taxi, and money is tight. Working as a hotel chef is exhausting, and every penny counts.

“Oh, thank goodness. I was starting to think I’d be the only one on this train,” you say, offering a polite smile, hoping to make conversation.

Bucky doesn’t respond. He barely glances at you, his eyes dark and tired, fixed on the window as if willing the world outside to distract him. His shoulders are tense, his jaw set in a silent refusal to engage.

You sense his exhaustion and decide not to push. He’s tired, you think. Maybe next time.

The Next Night. When Bucky steps onto the train, he immediately spots you. Sitting in the same seat as before.

He exhales sharply through his nose, rolling his eyes. Not again.

As if sensing his presence, you look up and wave. It’s a small, friendly gesture. Bucky doesn’t wave back—he just nods, a curt, obligatory acknowledgment. He doesn’t want to be rude, but he also doesn’t want to encourage conversation.

The train ride is quiet, but Bucky’s peace is shattered.

The Third Night. This time, you both arrive at the station at the same time.

You smile when you see him. “Hey! We’re train buddies now,” you say cheerfully as you walk side by side toward the platform.

Bucky scoffs, a quiet, dry sound, but there’s no real malice in it. He glances at you briefly and catches the faint scent of caramel. It clings to you, sweet and warm, a stark contrast to the cold, metallic smell of the train station.

You’re talking about something—your day at work, maybe—but he’s not really listening. He’s too focused on keeping his distance.

Then, it happens.

A loud, unmistakable growl from his stomach.

The sound cuts through the quiet, echoing in the empty station.

You stop mid-sentence, blinking in surprise. Bucky clears his throat, his ears burning with embarrassment. He tries to appear nonchalant, but the redness creeping up his neck betrays him.

You stifle a giggle. “Looks like someone needs a snack.”

Bucky shoots you a glare, but there’s no heat in it. Just the begrudging realization that, for better or worse, you’ve become part of his routine.

You didn’t make a big deal of it—you simply reached into your bag and pulled something out. Holding it out to him, you offered, “Here, you can have this. We made too much in the kitchen today.”

Bucky glanced at the box in your hand. Before he could refuse, you added, “It’s monkey bread.” His gaze softened. It had been a long time since he’d had monkey bread. Hesitating for a moment, he finally took it. “Thank you.”

The sound of his voice surprised you—low and slightly raspy from exhaustion. It made you light up, a warm smile spreading across your face. “You’re welcome.”

The next evening, you boarded the train with a small container of cookies and handed it to him without a word. He didn’t say much, but the quiet kindness in your gesture spoke louder than words.

A few nights later, you offered him a neatly packaged serving of beef Wellington. “I can’t eat all this myself,” you said with a casual shrug. Bucky took it, feeling the warmth of the box seep into his cold hands. He wanted to say something but found himself at a loss for words, so he simply nodded, offering you a faint smile.

Then came fish and chips. “You’ll like this one,” you said, placing the box in his hands before settling into your seat. “It’s fresh.” Bucky chuckled softly, the sound almost foreign to him. He wasn’t used to this—someone thinking of him, sharing without expecting anything in return.

Day after day, you brought something new. Each time, he accepted it, and each time, he found himself looking forward to the brief exchange. Eventually, curiosity got the better of him.

“Why do you give me food every time we meet?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion as he studied you from across the train.

You shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “I just like sharing. Aren’t we train buddies?”

Your simple response caught him off guard. For a moment, Bucky was stunned. No ulterior motive, no hidden agenda. In your eyes, he was just a friend.

“I owe you,” he muttered, glancing away.

“It’s just extra food,” you said with a soft smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

That was the longest conversation Bucky had with another person, aside from those at his job. He thought only silence could bring him peace, but he realized that having friends could bring him peace too.

Then one day, you weren’t there.

He convinced himself it didn’t matter. Maybe you found a better job. Good for you.

But the train rides felt emptier. No chatter about your coworkers. No light-hearted complaints about your boss. No extra food in hand, given with that easy smile.

Something didn’t feel right.

Bucky found himself standing in front of the five-star hotel where you worked. He recognized the logo from the packaging you used. After asking a kitchen staff member about you, he was met with a puzzled look.

“She’s on the night shift. I’ve never met her,” the staff member said, scratching his head. “But I can ask my manager.”

Bucky nodded. “Thank you.”

Minutes later, the staff member returned, his expression more serious.

“She quit two weeks ago,” he explained. “Apparently, some guy came in and caused a scene—flipped a table, yelled about debt or something. The next day, she quit.”

Bucky’s heart sank. His chest tightened, and breathing felt harder.

Debt?

All this time, he thought you were the bright, carefree soul who brought light into his monotonous life. But now, he realized—you were the one hurting. Hiding behind your kindness.

He swallowed hard. “Thank you… and I’m sorry for bothering you.”

The staff member gave him a sympathetic nod.

Bucky walked out of the hotel, the weight of the truth pressing down on him. I never even asked…

He clenched his fists. He didn’t know anything about you—not your struggles, not your pain. But one thing was clear: He needed to find you.

👩‍🍳👩‍🍳👩‍🍳👩‍🍳

Bucky walked into his office during the morning shift—a time when he was rarely seen. Heads turned, confusion spreading among his coworkers as they whispered to each other. Bucky Barnes, the man who thrived in the shadows, was suddenly here in broad daylight.

“Is he… actually here in the morning?” one agent murmured.

“Maybe he couldn’t sleep,” another offered, but their eyes widened when they saw Bucky heading straight for the weapons locker.

The boss, a tall man with graying hair and a perpetual frown, stepped into the room just in time to see Bucky zipping up a weapon bag. His expression shifted from confusion to concern.

“Uhhh… Barnes, where are you going?” the boss asked, his hand resting on the doorframe as if blocking Bucky’s path.

Bucky didn’t pause. He slung the bag over his shoulder, his face unreadable. “Helping a buddy.”

The boss blinked. “Oh…” He nodded slowly, then frowned. “Wait. Who’s your buddy?”

“A train buddy,” Bucky said without missing a beat, securing the bag and striding past him.

The boss opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, watching Bucky disappear down the hall with a perplexed expression. “A train buddy?”

👩‍🍳👩‍🍳👩‍🍳👩‍🍳👩‍🍳

The basement was cold and damp, the air thick with the stench of mold and oil. The dim light from a single flickering bulb cast long shadows across the concrete floor.

In the center of the room, you sat tied to a chair, your wrists chafed from the rough rope binding you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at the group of gangsters lounging around, their faces hardened with cruelty.

One of them—a tall man with a scar running down his cheek—stood before you, arms crossed. “Your brother owes us a lot of money,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “And guess what? We don’t care where it comes from. You’re gonna pay it.”

Your voice trembled as you shook your head. “I don’t have the money. I told you, I don’t—”

The scarred man sighed, rubbing his temples as if dealing with a stubborn child. “Put her in liquid cement,” he said, his tone casual, like he was ordering a drink. “Then throw her into the sea.”

Your blood ran cold. Panic surged through you, and you pulled against the ropes, your breaths coming in short gasps. “No. No! God, please, no! Help!”

The men laughed, their footsteps echoing as they approached.

Then—darkness.

The flickering light went out, plunging the basement into complete blackness.

“What the hell?” one of the gangsters muttered.

Suddenly, the sound of a struggle erupted—thuds, grunts, the sharp crack of bones breaking. One by one, the gangsters fell. Some screamed in pain; others were silenced before they could make a sound.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your body trembling as the chaos unfolded around you. What’s happening?

Then—silence.

A familiar voice cut through the darkness, calm and steady. “You’re safe. Open your eyes.”

Your eyes flew open, heart racing. You blinked, adjusting to the faint light as the basement door creaked open, spilling in a sliver of light from the stairwell.

Standing in front of you, weapon in hand, was Bucky. His dark hair fell into his eyes, his jaw clenched in determination.

Your breath hitched. “Bucky?”

He moved quickly, crouching in front of you and cutting the ropes that bound your wrists and ankles. His hands were steady, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—concern.

As the ropes fell away, you flexed your stiff wrists, the lingering ache a reminder of how close you had come to disaster. “Why are you here? How did you find me?”

“Aren’t we train buddies?” he asked, his voice low and steady as if the answer mattered more than he let on.

You blinked, your chest tightening with a mix of relief and gratitude. Despite the chaos, despite the fear, here he was—your train buddy. Slowly, you nodded, a small, trembling smile forming on your lips.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “We are.”

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rothpie · 19 days ago

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❝FIDELITY❞ |part12

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: time jump, anxiety(?)

EXTRA -`✮´- JJ’s and Reader’s lock screen.

previous - next

Twelve Month Old.

Life moved fast. There was no denying it.

Everything happened in such a whirlwind that before you knew it, an entire year had slipped by. A whole journey you had managed to navigate, though, of course, not without JJ’s irreplaceable help.

The kitchen hummed with a peaceful kind of chaos, the sweet scent of strawberries mingling in the air. You stood at the counter, focused on decorating the cake while half your attention was tuned to the laughter drifting in from the living room. Small giggles, paired with JJ’s playful chuckles, echoed through the walls of your little home.

As you carefully placed sliced strawberries atop the creamy frosting, you glanced toward the living room. Your little girl sat in the corner, clutching her stuffed teddy with delighted excitement. Across from her, on his knees, was JJ, pulling the silliest faces imaginable to keep her entertained. Her infectious laughter seemed to chase away every ounce of exhaustion you felt.

For a moment, a warm wave of contentment washed over you. Sometimes, amidst all the chaos, it was these simple moments that made life truly worth it. Still, you forced yourself to focus. As much as you wanted to join them, you had a cake to finish—and today had to be perfect.

As you piped the homemade frosting onto the cake, you listened closely to the sounds from the other room. JJ’s low murmurs, the pitter-patter of tiny feet, and your daughter’s joyous squeals filled the house.

Even without seeing them, you could picture it all in your mind. A soft smile spread across your face as you worked on the cake for her first birthday celebration. Tomorrow, she would officially turn one. An entire year.

How had you made it to this point? Time had flown so fast you never even had the chance to ask, “What’s happening right now?” Everything had raced by, and now, here you were—your daughter, a whole year old. Twelve months gone in the blink of an eye.

The party wouldn’t be big. Just a simple setup on the back porch with a decorated table. Your parents would come, along with JJ’s friends and maybe a couple of neighbors. Mostly, it would be Liliana’s playmates from the park. That was all.

Even though she wouldn’t remember it, you wanted her to smile when she looked back at the photos one day. You wanted her to feel a sense of peace, a happiness unclouded by memories of the separation her parents had gone through.

In fact, you hoped those memories wouldn’t even cross her mind.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts. You set down the piping bag and turned to see JJ walking toward you, your daughter balanced in his arms. A wide grin spread across your face.

“She’s all worn out from playing too much,” JJ said, his smile as easy as ever. He started tickling her with his free hand, and the kitchen filled with her bright laughter. Just hearing it warmed you from the inside out.

“Oh, is that so?” you teased. Anytime they played too hard, Liliana seemed to go straight into what you called “hibernation mode.” She’d be asleep in minutes. Classic JJ effect. Joining in, you reached over to tickle her too, but you both stopped after a moment, not wanting to tire her out any further. She was already sleepy enough.

You stepped back slightly as JJ leaned in to check on the cake over your shoulder. His hand hovered dangerously close to the frosting, ready to sneak a taste, but when he caught your raised brow, he quickly withdrew.

“Almost done, huh?” he said, his eyes still locked on the cake like it was a masterpiece—or maybe just his next meal.

You nodded, glancing back at your work. “Isn’t that right, Liliana? Look what Mommy made!”

JJ pointed to the cake as Liliana let out a tiny laugh, reaching her hands toward you. Without hesitation, you scooped her up into your arms.

“Yeah, do you like it, sweetheart?” you cooed, giving her a gentle sway. Her head lolled onto your shoulder, and you and JJ couldn’t help but chuckle. Her sleepy demeanor was always the sweetest thing. She wasn’t an overly hyper child, but when she was tired, she turned into the most docile little angel.

“You really wore her out,” you murmured, stroking her messy hair with a fond smile. It was far from the neat ponytails you had done that morning—proof of how much fun she’d had with JJ.

“That’s my specialty,” he said proudly, tapping Liliana’s chubby cheek with a grin. He lifted her tiny hand and planted a series of dramatic kisses on it. “Swear she’s about to knock out,” he added with a lopsided smile.

You lifted Liliana and pressed a kiss to her plump cheek, unable to stop the warmth that filled your heart. This past year had been the best of your life. Every moment with her had been worth everything.

The first few weeks had been tough—what new mother didn’t struggle? But you were endlessly grateful for the people who had stayed by your side, supporting you every step of the way. Your parents had stayed with you, helping whenever they could. And then there were Cleo and Sarah—both absolute sweethearts who never hesitated to lend a hand.

Thinking back to the times when it was just the four of you always brought a smile to your face. And Sarah, oh Sarah. Her relentless efforts to declare herself “Aunt Sarah” to the world were both endearing and hilarious. If you’d let her, she probably would’ve gotten it printed on a banner.

And then there was JJ. You didn’t even hesitate to call him Liliana’s uncle. Because he truly was. He stood behind you like a fortress, always keeping you steady. Whenever you felt overwhelmed or doubted yourself, he was the one who wouldn’t let you fall. In the early months of your pregnancy, you had stumbled more times than you cared to admit, but once JJ became a permanent fixture in your life, that never happened again. He simply wouldn’t let it.

Of course, there had been challenges. But his unwavering support had made it all worthwhile.

Liliana’s tiny hands brushing against your face made you laugh softly. You kissed her little fingers and smiled. “If you can keep her entertained for just a little longer, I’ll finish up the cake and then put her down for a nap. Sound good?”

You glanced up at JJ as you spoke. He was leaning casually against the counter, one arm propped up while his free hand snagged a strawberry from the cutting board. Popping it into his mouth, he shrugged, barely pausing to enjoy the taste before muttering something nonsensical to Liliana, who giggled in reply.

JJ licked his fingers clean and reached toward you to take Liliana. “You know, I could do it,” he said with a mock-seriousness as he adjusted her securely against his hip. You watched as Liliana instantly settled, her little head coming to rest against his chest. The sight of the two of them like that filled your heart with warmth.

“I know,” you replied with a nod. But JJ didn’t look entirely convinced. His uncertain gaze lingered on you, as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. You knew he had a full plate—work often wore him out, and some days it was a struggle for him to even take time off. Yet no matter how tired he was, whenever you needed help with Liliana or anything around the house, he never hesitated.

Even so, you didn’t want to burden him more than necessary. Besides, it wasn’t a difficult task. Liliana was a calm child, and with her nap time fast approaching, she was already on the brink of sleep. JJ had clearly tired her out with all their playing. You were confident she’d drift off quickly.

JJ opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get the words out, a small, unmistakable sound broke through the air.

“Ma-ma.”

You froze. Completely, utterly froze. The kitchen fell silent, as if the whole world had paused with you. The strawberry JJ had been reaching for slipped from his hand and landed on the counter. His wide eyes darted to Liliana.

“What… What did she just say?” he whispered, his voice a mix of shock and awe.

Liliana, grinning ear to ear, pushed herself against him, her small face glowing with excitement. Before you could even process what was happening, she let out a gleeful laugh and bounced in his arms, nearly losing her balance in her excitement. Her tiny pigtails bobbed as she steadied herself.

This time, more clearly, she said it again, with determination. “Ma-ma.”

Tears filled your eyes. Your heart swelled in your chest, beating so hard it felt like a tidal wave crashing against your ribs. You took a step closer to JJ, your hand reaching out to gently stroke Liliana’s cheek. “She can’t possibly be saying that,” you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion. You wanted to scream with joy, but you held it in. You didn’t want to startle her.

JJ, still holding her, looked down at her with a mixture of astonishment and a soft, almost reverent smile. “We’ve been waiting for her to talk, but… Oh God,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t been sneakily repeating “Ma-Ma” in her presence, hoping to nudge her toward saying it.

You leaned in, kissing Liliana’s rosy cheeks, your heart overflowing with joy. If only you could’ve captured the moment on video.

JJ, who had been relatively quiet in the background, finally spoke, his tone tinged with playful sarcasm. “So… do you love me as much as her now? Or am I still in trouble for that time I ruined the cake?”

“What cake? What are you—” You whipped around to check the cake. Sure enough, one side of it had collapsed, the frosting smudged into an unsalvageable mess.

JJ winced, offering a sheepish smile. “We can, uh, get a new one, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite yourself. There, surrounded by the warm scents of strawberries and frosting, your little family shared a moment that felt timeless. For just a while, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only love, laughter, and the perfectly imperfect chaos of this life you were building together.

One Year Old

The living room echoed with Liliana’s joyful laughter. The little girl stretched out her arms, wobbling on her tiny feet as she worked hard to find her balance. Amid the colorful plush toys scattered on the floor, she seemed to grasp an essential truth: falling wasn’t as important as learning to get back up. With every step, her small feet trembled, sometimes tipping her forward precariously. But she was persistent. Even when she toppled over, she would immediately try again.

JJ sat on the edge of the couch, watching her with a proud grin. Setting his coffee mug aside, he leaned forward slightly and called out, “Liliana, careful now. Let’s not bump into the coffee table, alright?”

At that exact moment, Liliana stumbled again and plopped onto the floor with a soft “Oops!” Her wide eyes turned to JJ, as if asking, What just happened?

JJ was at her side in an instant, crouching down and holding out his hands. “Look here, young lady. Even when we fall, we get right back up, don’t we? Like a true Pogue.” His voice carried a playful warmth as he smiled at her.

Liliana babbled in response, her tiny, nonsensical sounds making JJ chuckle. She placed her little hands in his, using his support to stand up again. JJ nodded dramatically. “That’s my girl! Now, let’s try it again, sweetheart.”

Determined, Liliana let go of JJ’s hands, took a few wobbly steps, and fell once more. But this time, her giggle rang out louder than ever. JJ joined her laughter as you sat on the floor nearby, coffee mug in hand, watching the scene unfold. Their shared joy and Liliana’s little triumphs momentarily swept you away into a bittersweet reverie.

You couldn’t help but think about everything that had been and everything that could’ve been.

As you watched JJ hold Liliana’s hands and help her stand again, a faint melancholy crept into your heart. Her smile warmed you, but your thoughts wandered far from the present.

The turbulent times with Rafe felt like a wound tucked into the corner of your mind. The fear, uncertainty, and rejection you’d faced while carrying Liliana lingered, even as your life now brimmed with happiness. Liliana was growing up so fast. She was already halfway through her first year. And one day, the inevitable question would come: Where’s my dad?

The thought sent a pang through your chest. What would you tell her? The idea of saying Rafe’s name out loud made your stomach twist. But was it right to hide the truth?

Your eyes shifted to JJ, who was now walking hand in hand with Liliana, her little giggles filling the room. JJ raised his arms in mock triumph, shouting, “Pogue for life!”

You rolled your eyes at his antics but couldn’t suppress a smile. JJ had his way of turning any moment into something fun, and you let him. This was their time, a little world just for the two of them to share.

Still, you couldn’t ignore the impact JJ had on Liliana’s life. He wasn’t just a friend or a fun uncle—he was a loving guide. But would that be enough? Would his presence fill the gap in Liliana’s heart when the questions came?

Or worse—would she misinterpret his role in her life? Would she see him not as an uncle figure, but as a father?

Someday, Liliana would see other kids with their parents. She would want to compare, to understand. When she noticed the difference—that she didn’t have a mom and dad like the others—what would she feel? Would she long for something you couldn’t give her?

As Liliana’s laughter mingled with JJ’s playful banter, your thoughts continued to churn. But amidst the worry, one thing was clear: you would do everything in your power to be there for her. And so would JJ. Of that, you had no doubt.

“Hey, you good?” JJ’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You looked up to see him guiding Liliana as she toddled toward you, her tiny hands gripping his fingers tightly. A smile crept onto your face despite yourself.

“Come to Mommy,” you encouraged Liliana softly, your voice light with laughter. She babbled something in return, her tone cheerful as ever.

JJ winked at you, clearly proud of their progress. “Little Pogues never give up, you know,” he said, lifting Liliana slightly and twirling her in the air.

In that moment, the dark cloud of your worries lifted, if only briefly. JJ’s boundless energy and Liliana’s infectious joy silenced the unease in your heart. Her delighted giggle as she clapped her tiny hands filled the room with warmth, and you couldn’t help but join in the laughter.

These moments, you realized, were precious beyond measure. The future remained uncertain, but this—this love, this warmth—was everything. And for now, that was enough.

Three Years Old

The backyard glowed softly in the warm light of a summer evening. The table had been beautifully set, laden with delicious dishes that made the scene feel like a small celebration. Over in the corner of the yard, Liliana was busy playing with little flowers. She gathered daisies into her tiny hands, attempting to craft a small bouquet while occasionally pausing to marvel at the bugs crawling nearby.

For her, bugs were still a fascinating mystery.

JJ stood in the middle of the yard, holding a bottle of lemonade, shaking it lightly as he exclaimed, “Wait a minute, hold on! You’re telling me this now? You—my childhood best friend—are actually planning to get married? Like, for real? This is happening?”

Pope, his hands casually tucked in his pockets, smiled with quiet confidence. “I mean… yeah. The time just felt right. Who here didn’t see this coming?” He glanced around at the three of you, and you shrugged in response.

You honestly weren’t surprised. Cleo and Pope had practically been living like a married couple for ages. Sharing a house, sharing a life—the only thing missing had been rings on their fingers. And now, even that seemed to be taken care of.

Turning to Cleo, who stood beside you with an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes, you reached out and clasped her hands. Rising from your seat, you pulled her into a tight hug. “Congratulations, babe. But let’s be real—I knew this was only a matter of time.”

Cleo laughed, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. You adored her, truly. As you pulled back, she smoothed her hair with a smile. “Thank you,” she murmured, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “Honestly, if he hadn’t proposed soon, he was about to start sleeping on the couch.”

Both of you laughed, returning to your seats as JJ continued to hold court in the middle of the yard. He’d definitely had a bit to drink—not enough to be drunk, of course, especially not with Liliana around—but just enough to be fully basking in the moment.

JJ flopped backward dramatically, as if falling into an invisible chair. For a split second, you almost reached out to catch him. “No, no, this has to be a joke,” he said, pointing at Cleo with exaggerated suspicion. “Because the Pope I know? He doesn’t do serious. And now we’re talking about marriage? Cleo, are you sure?”

Without missing a beat, Cleo smacked him lightly on the head, earning an exaggerated yelp from JJ.

“Hey! That hurt!” he protested, rubbing the spot dramatically.

“Good,” Cleo shot back. “Maybe it’ll knock some sense into you.”

JJ raised an eyebrow at her, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, is that what you think?” he teased, leaning closer to you for backup, clearly trying to rile you up too.

Without hesitation, you pushed his face away with your hand, rolling your eyes as you grabbed a dessert from the table. A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. JJ, ever the entertainer, turned his attention back to Cleo, who was now watching the two of you with a look that was… curious. Maybe even amused.

You caught the glance and quickly shifted your focus elsewhere, pretending not to notice. Your eyes landed on Liliana, who was still engrossed in her flower-gathering mission. Now, though, you realized she’d made more than one bouquet—the two little bundles of daisies on the ground made your heart swell with pride.

Meanwhile, Cleo crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow at JJ. Her gaze darted between the two of you. “Look at this,” she said, her tone teasing. “Pope might actually be the most mature one here tonight.”

“Wow, okay,” JJ said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll give you that, Cleo. But I’ve gotta say—you’re a saint for putting up with him. Marrying Pope? That’s a big commitment,” he joked, grinning.

Cleo tilted her head, a playful glint in her eye. “Oh, no doubt about it,” she replied, nodding as if in agreement.

You laughed at their banter, thinking how these friends, once JJ’s alone, now felt like your family too. Thanks to him, yes, but still—there was no denying how much you adored them.

The cheerful mood seemed to envelop everyone. Even Liliana, who had been absorbed in her flowers, perked up at the sound of JJ’s laughter. She toddled over to the group, holding out one of her bouquets to Pope. “This is for you,” she said, her tiny voice filled with pride.

Pope crouched down, taking the bouquet with wide eyes. “Wow, thank you, little lady,” he said warmly. It was one of those heart-melting moments that left everyone smiling.

She went on to distribute her bouquets to the rest of you, looking so proud of her work.

Then, tugging at JJ’s pant leg, she said, “The flowers we saw the other day aren’t here.” She was referring to the pink flowers you’d noticed on a walk. JJ scooped her up with ease, lifting her high into the air. “How about tomorrow, we go find some of those for you, Lily?” he said, grinning as her face lit up with joy. He followed up with a series of playful kisses, her laughter ringing out like music.

For a few minutes, the evening revolved entirely around her. But as the hour grew later, it became clear it was time to start wrapping things up. While Pope and JJ entertained Liliana with a game of make-believe involving her dolls, Cleo jumped in to help you clear the table.

Missing an opportunity to spend a moment with her? Never.

“She’s such a sweet kid,” Cleo said, her tone warm as she started washing the dishes.

You smiled, nodding as you packed leftovers into containers. “Thank you. She adores you, by the way. Honestly, I think she’s smitten.”

Cleo’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Well, the feeling’s mutual,” she said, her voice soft. It was a small moment, but it spoke volumes, the kind of quiet connection that reminded you just how lucky you were to have her—and everyone else—here.

“Not like his father—thank God for that.” You couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t a particularly joyful smile, but the fact that Liliana didn’t resemble him in any way brought you some comfort. You didn’t know much about him anymore, not really. But the thought of even a part of your daughter resembling Rafe was enough to make your chest tighten.

“How’s he doing?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it. You hadn’t meant to ask. It wasn’t that you cared—it was just… curiosity. You wondered how he was holding up, what kind of life he was leading.

Still, it felt like a ridiculous question. You were about to tell Cleo to just forget it.

“Same as always,” she muttered nonchalantly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. She seemed to understand why you’d asked, even though you hadn’t explained. “We all grew up. Everyone’s got their thing going on now. I don’t even know if most people still bother showing up to parties. He’s running his dad’s business now. I barely see him.”

You didn’t know how to feel. As you packed leftovers into a container, you took a deep breath. What had you even expected to hear? At least he had finally gotten what he wanted.

He was happy, and you were too. Apart, but still happy. In the end, that was all that mattered.

Whether he still harbored anything for you, you couldn’t say. Your feelings for him felt… dulled, as if they’d been packed away and forgotten. Since Liliana had become the center of your universe, things like dating or romance didn’t even register. And you didn’t miss them. Liliana was still young; she needed you.

Maybe that’s why any notion of love, of attraction, felt so foreign now.

“This is normal, love. Whatever it is you’re feeling—it’s normal.” Cleo’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned toward her, realizing you’d been staring blankly at the container in your hands. You blinked a few times, grounding yourself.

Of course it was normal.

You pushed your hair back and gave Cleo a nod of agreement as you snapped the lid onto the container and placed it in the fridge. When you turned back around, Cleo was suddenly closer.

“You know,” she started, her tone shifting to something more teasing, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen JJ like this. He’s really changed. The difference between him back then and now? Night and day.”

You were confused by the abrupt topic change, but you didn’t comment. Instead, your gaze drifted toward the backyard. Through the glass doors, you could see Pope, JJ, and Liliana playing together.

“He’s good for you two, just like you’re good for him.” Cleo’s voice was softer now, almost like she was trying to coax a reaction out of you.

Your eyes lingered on JJ, watching him scoop Liliana into his arms and pepper her head with kisses. One of his hands was always hovering protectively near her, ready to catch her if she stumbled. A small smile crept onto your lips.

“Is it just me, or is there… something going on?” Cleo’s sly tone snapped your attention back to her so quickly, you almost got whiplash. Her expression was amused, her brow arched, and that same unreadable look was back in her eyes.

“What? Something going on?” Your voice was a mix of disbelief and nervous laughter.

Cleo stepped back with a shrug, her lips pursed in mock innocence. Meanwhile, your eyebrows shot higher with every second.

“I’m just saying!” she exclaimed, raising her hands as if she were completely innocent. The smile tugging at her lips told a different story, though. “A girl’s gotta point out what she sees.” She leaned casually against the counter, her eyes fixed on you with way too much amusement.

“Especially when there are two people too blind to see it themselves.” Her tone was light, teasing, but the implication hit you like a ton of bricks.

Your jaw dropped. “What? No—no, no.” You shook your head, the words spilling out before you even knew what you were saying. “That’s not… Cleo, come on.”

She laughed, the sound echoing through the kitchen. You stepped closer, almost desperate to make her stop. “Cleo, no. Just—no.”

The idea made you feel strangely unsettled. JJ? You and JJ? That was absurd. You were friends, and that was it. You’d always been friends, nothing more.

Cleo grabbed a dirty plate and turned toward the sink, seemingly unbothered by your protests. You leaned against the counter, trying to find the words to convince her.

“We’re friends,” you said, your voice firm but a little too quick. “That’s all. For three—no, almost four years—we’ve lived together. That’s it. JJ and I are just friends.”

Cleo turned her head sharply, and for a second, her movement startled you into taking a step back. Her eyebrow arched higher, almost disappearing into her hairline. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Cleo’s knowing gaze held you in place like a spotlight.

JJ and you were friends. Always had been, always would be. The thought of anything else—it felt… wrong. Like it would betray everything you’d built together over the years.

Cleo’s smirk only widened as she watched you flounder. “I—” you started, but nothing else came out.

The sound of the door opening made you jump. Your eyes darted toward it, and there they were—JJ, holding Liliana’s hand. For a split second, you felt like a teenager caught doing something wrong by their parents.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Cleo’s amused smile. You ignored it.

“She said she had to pee,” JJ explained, nudging Liliana gently forward. You quickly stepped toward your daughter.

“Yes,” Liliana confirmed, clutching her doll in one hand. “I have to pee.”

“I’ll handle it,” you said, smiling at JJ. But when his gaze met yours, you suddenly felt... weird. Cleo’s earlier comments were still fresh in your mind, and now, any interaction between you and JJ felt like it carried a weight it hadn’t before.

“I can take care of it—it’s no big deal,” JJ said with a casual shrug. He glanced down at Liliana, then placed his free hand lightly on your back. That simple gesture, one that had never bothered you before, now felt oddly charged.

You hated it.

This had never felt strange before. Nothing had changed—except Cleo’s remarks, which had now lodged themselves in your brain. Thanks a lot, Cleo. Really.

“No, no. I’ve got it,” you said a bit too quickly. You saw JJ about to insist again, but you bent down and scooped Liliana into your arms before he could say anything more. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Even his presence now made you uncomfortable—not because of anything he was doing, but because your mind kept wandering into territory it had no business being in.

You and JJ were friends. Just friends. Imagining him kissing you, or holding you in a way that felt too intimate, felt like a betrayal of that friendship. And you were sure of that.

“She’s got it, JJ,” Cleo’s sly tone cut in, and you took the opportunity to bolt with Liliana. You just needed a minute. Some space to clear your head. Surely, if you could shake off these ridiculous thoughts, everything would go back to normal.

“Go grab Pope and get in here,” Cleo called out behind you. “My back’s killing me. Your turn.”

Thanks a lot, Cleo. Really.

Three Year Old

The living room was dimly lit, a soft glow creating a calm atmosphere. You’d seized the opportunity of Liliana sleeping to make yourself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Meanwhile, JJ was pacing the room nervously, shoving his hands in and out of his pockets. He wore a pair of jeans and a simple shirt, but it was clear he wasn’t comfortable.

JJ adjusted his shirt collar, his chest rising and falling like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. Do I really need to do this? he wondered. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go on this date; it was more like he was searching for an excuse not to. A noise from behind snapped him out of his thoughts.

You peeked out from the kitchen with a smile, setting your cup on the table. “JJ, relax. It’s just a date, not a job interview.” His stress was written all over his face.

It’s just a date. It isn’t like he’ll marrying the girl tonight.

JJ stopped in his tracks, frowning. One hand reached up to rub his chin as if he was still weighing his options. Honestly, he looked ready to ditch his outfit, pull on something comfortable, and settle in for a movie night at home. He just needed one signal, one sign to justify staying—and he would. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “This feels stupid. I mean… it’s something a coworker set up. I don’t even know the woman.”

You leaned casually against the edge of the table, shrugging. This wasn’t the end of the world. He’d go, spend a couple of hours out, and if he liked her? Great. If not? He’d move on. It wasn’t like you were going to stop him. What were you supposed to say, anyway? Hey JJ, I don’t go on dates, so you shouldn’t either?

Ridiculous.

You had your reasons. Expecting him to share them was absurd. It’s not like you two had ever talked about dating or relationships. Not seriously, anyway. Although, you were pretty sure he’d had his fair share of one-night stands. You weren’t naive; the nights he came home late and went straight for the shower said enough. But what could you do? Judge him for it? He was in his mid-twenties, for God’s sake.

It wasn’t your business. If he needed that, he needed it. Just because you didn’t do it didn’t mean he shouldn’t. Especially when you two were… nothing.

Damn it, Cleo. You wouldn’t normally spiral into these thoughts.

By “normally,” you meant before that night Cleo talked to you. Before then, these kinds of thoughts were off-limits, a red line you didn’t cross. Now here you were, dissecting JJ’s sex life.

Of course, he could do whatever he wanted. Why wouldn’t he?

It’s not like he needed your permission.

Not that you didn’t have your own needs. But after years of going without, you weren’t exactly itching to jump into something casual. You didn’t want to leave your house, leave your daughter, and come back having spent the night with someone who didn’t mean anything to you.

Maybe someday, when Liliana was older—maybe you’d be ready then. But not now. Not while she was just three years old.

JJ’s nervous pacing snapped you out of your thoughts, and you cleared your throat. These ridiculous ideas running through your head were driving you crazy. He just needed to leave already so you could look at him like a friend again. “And that’s exactly why you should go. Who knows? You might actually have a good time. And at the very worst,” you said, pausing for dramatic effect, “you call me, and I’ll come rescue you.”

JJ laughed a little, his shoulders relaxing. “You’re a real hero,” he replied with a smirk, running a hand through his hair. He licked his lips thoughtfully before glancing at you again. “But if I do call you, will you actually come?”

You rolled your eyes. Was he seriously asking? “Of course I would. But not without letting you suffer a little first,” you teased. In reality, you’d hop in your car without a second thought—even though he had a car—and you’d go full drama mode if needed. Just for your friend. Yes, friend.

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. “If it comes to that, I’ll call. Promise.” He wandered around the room, checking to make sure he had everything. But as you watched him, something about it made you feel off. The idea of JJ going on a date with someone else felt… unsettling. You’d spent years side by side, and he’d never really left your orbit. Still, you were happy for him.

At least, you thought you were.

When he leaned down to kiss the top of your head before heading out, your eyes instinctively closed. He did it so casually, like it was nothing. But you couldn’t stop yourself from reading into it. Again. Thanks a lot, Cleo.

A few minutes later, JJ was out the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. And oh, how you hated being alone with them. Your mind always found the most nonsensical things to obsess over. JJ was a welcome distraction, and now that he was gone, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Because thinking made everything feel… weird.

Even though he has his own house, even though he paid the rent every month, he practically lived at your place. You had suggested it, and you didn’t regret it or find it awkward at all. But now, after Cleo’s comments, everything felt… suffocating. Like you were looking at your dynamic through a distorted lens.

Your eyes drifted to the clock, the hands moving painfully slow. How much time had passed? You couldn’t tell. Your hands tightened around your coffee mug without you realizing it. You hated thinking. You didn’t want to think. You wished Liliana would wake up early, even if it wasn’t time yet. Anything to distract you.

Who’s he meeting? What’s she like? The questions popped into your head unbidden, and you immediately despised them. Why do I care? you thought bitterly, shrugging to yourself. “What does it even matter?” you muttered under your breath. But the curiosity inside you wasn’t so easily silenced.

When your coffee ran out, you didn’t hesitate to pour another cup. Maybe you needed some fresh air or something. These thoughts swirling around in your head were absurd, and you knew it. You blamed it on the lingering toxicity of Cleo’s words from months ago. Ever since that conversation, it felt like you’d been poisoned.

As the hours ticked by, the silence in the living room grew heavier. Every passing second transformed into an expectation—would JJ send a message? You kept your phone close, glancing at every notification with urgency. But there was nothing.

You were ready, though—ready to rush out the door if JJ sent you a single text asking to be rescued. Or even, as he mentioned, if he called.

At some point, you couldn’t take it anymore and went to the kitchen, fixing yourself a snack. You tried reading a few pages of a book, even made a couple of trips upstairs to check if Liliana was still asleep. But your mind kept drifting back to JJ and his date. For a fleeting moment, you thought, “Maybe it’s going badly.” That thought didn’t bring relief, though—it unsettled you.

No, you’d be happier if things were going well. JJ’s happiness mattered. If he’d found someone who suited him, you’d convince him to pursue it. Maybe then, the tension between you could finally dissolve. But—then you wouldn’t see him as often. Neither you nor Liliana. Still, you knew his love for Liliana wouldn’t fade.

As the night wore on, you kept yourself busy in the kitchen, but your eyes constantly flicked to your phone. No calls, no texts. You were dying to know how the date was going but fought hard to suppress that curiosity. Even after putting your phone on silent and leaving it on the table, you found yourself picking it up to check.

Close to midnight, the front door creaked open. A few sounds of stumbling followed, grabbing your attention. JJ walked in, and it was immediately clear how much he’d had to drink. He was swaying slightly, the familiar exhaustion in his eyes telling you everything about his night. You were curled up on the couch, a book in hand, but as soon as you heard him, you looked up.

It hadn’t gone terribly—that much you were sure of. He was drunk out of his mind and—he hadn’t called. At least his demeanor suggested nothing had happened between them—enough for you to focus on your own business. Still, you couldn’t help but note that if the roles were reversed and you’d hooked up with someone, you’d probably have stayed the night at their place.

Crossing your arms, you watched as he wrestled with his shoes. “Well, since you made it home, I guess it wasn’t that bad,” you said, your tone laced with mockery to mask the mess of feelings churning inside. You hated yourself for saying it but couldn’t stop.

JJ let out a laugh as he struggled with his shoes. “Actually… it was awful,” he slurred. You watched him stumble toward you, surprised by his response. You’d expected him to say it went well—but here was the truth.

His eyes were red, and you couldn’t even guess how much he’d drunk. He dropped onto the couch beside you, head tilting back as he let out a long sigh. “She was sweet, but… I don’t know. Boring. And also…” He paused, his head lolling slightly to the side. His lips parted, and the smell of alcohol wafted over. “She wasn’t as beautiful as you.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. You tried to form a response, but no words came out. JJ, meanwhile, seemed to be watching your every reaction, almost as if savoring it, his drunken gaze locked on you. Clearing your throat, you fought to dismiss his words.

You were definitely going to kill Cleo.

Smiling, you raised an eyebrow and said, “Care to share the details?” in an overly casual tone.

JJ leaned forward, reaching for the coffee table. When you realized he was going for your water glass, you handed it to him, watching to ensure he drank. “Rachel thought I was—married,” he said, breaking into a laugh before taking a long sip of water, as if he’d been parched all night.

The words hit like a bombshell, and your eyebrows shot up as your eyes widened in disbelief. You hadn’t expected that. Now you were even more curious, but JJ’s water-drinking intermission couldn’t have come at a worse time. “Wait, what? She thought you were married? Why?”

For a few seconds, you just stared at him, lost for words. JJ, now done with the water, clumsily placed the glass back on the table and pulled his phone out of his pocket with some difficulty. He held it out to you before slumping back into the couch. As the screen lit up, it became clear. His wallpaper was a photo of you and Liliana hugging.

“She saw that and said something like, ‘You left your family to come here?’ Then she lost it.” He spoke nonchalantly, tossing his head back again. His eyes were nearly closed, his speech slurred to the point of incoherence.

Pressing your lips together, you held back laughter. You wanted to say something, but no words came. JJ misinterpreted your silence, continuing, “Honestly… it doesn’t really matter. Because…” He paused again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not more important than this.”

Following his gaze, you saw he was staring at the wallpaper on his phone. Your heart skipped a beat. JJ’s words were purely alcohol-induced—you were sure of it. Composing yourself quickly, you forced a small smile. “You’re going to have a killer headache tomorrow. Let’s get you to bed.”

Helping him up, you steadied his swaying form. Even though he insisted on giving Liliana a goodnight kiss, you managed to convince him otherwise and ushered him to his room.

Once he was in bed, you pulled the blanket over him and stood there for a moment, watching him. His face was peaceful, utterly vulnerable in sleep. In that moment, you felt like you understood him more than ever.

With a head full of swirling thoughts, you quietly left the room, closing the door behind you. But you knew—you wouldn’t forget tonight anytime soon.

Four Year Old

Outer Banks was a tangled web of memories for you. Going back wasn’t just about revisiting a place; it was stepping into a time capsule, into a life filled with complicated, conflicting emotions. The last few years with JJ and Liliana had taught you that no matter how safe you felt in the present, leaving parts of yourself behind was never easy. Outer Banks was the epicenter of your past struggles, losses, and, oddly enough, some of your most beautiful memories.

The morning Liliana excitedly babbled about the upcoming wedding, you found yourself waking up with those very thoughts swirling in your mind. JJ was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, laughing as he answered Liliana’s barrage of questions. To her, the idea of attending Pope and Cleo’s wedding was an adventure, something to look forward to. For you, it was harder to embrace. While you were happy for your friends, the thought of returning to Outer Banks weighed heavy on you.

“Let’s think this through,” JJ said, leaning against the counter, his gaze steady as if he could see the unease written all over your face. “I know this is tough for you, but it’s just a few days. I promise we’ll come straight back after.”

You tightened your grip on your coffee mug and looked at him. Of course, it would be easier for him—you knew that. But going back there with a child made everything feel different. People would do the math. When they asked Liliana’s age, the unspoken questions would surface. “Is it really that simple?” you asked quietly. “Just go, smile, and pretend the past doesn’t exist?”

They’d ask about Liliana’s father. Not just to you—but to her, too. The funny thing was, JJ had taken on the father figure role in her life so seamlessly that you were terrified she might actually mention his name when people asked.

And then there was Rafe. The idea of him seeing you and Liliana again filled you with dread. You’d never imagined taking Liliana to Outer Banks; it always felt like you’d stay away forever. But now, with Cleo’s wedding, there was no choice. You wanted to be there for your friends, of course—but the thought of it all was overwhelming.

JJ’s eyes softened as he picked up on your worry. Shrugging, he stepped closer until he was right in front of you. When his hands wrapped gently around yours, your eyes met. His thumb brushed the back of your hand in soothing circles, his voice calm and steady. “It’s not easy, I know. But we’re not going back for the past. This is about the present—about today. And we’re going together. Liliana’s coming with us. I’ll be with you every second if you need me. You trust me, don’t you?”

The answer was so obvious it wasn’t even a question. You trusted him with everything—your life, Liliana’s life. You knew he’d protect you both no matter what. Without hesitation, you nodded. “Of course.” The words tumbled out quickly, your voice firm, as if to erase any doubt. JJ’s smile lit up his face, warm and reassuring.

Liliana’s little voice broke in suddenly. She was tugging on JJ’s pant leg, her wide eyes sparkling with excitement. You noticed the toy she’d dropped on the floor and made a mental note to toss it into the bag. “Can I catch the wedding bouquet?” she asked, her words adorably slurred. You had to resist the urge to scoop her up and smother her with kisses—she was too cute for her own good.

You found yourself smiling despite everything. Liliana’s joy was infectious, but beneath your smile, the unease lingered. Outer Banks wasn’t just a place; it was a collection of moments—lived experiences, shattered dreams, and wounds that never fully healed.

“You might be a little young for that, sweetheart,” JJ teased with a grin. He shifted, letting go of one of your hands to scoop Liliana up, settling her on his hip. You watched as he kissed her chubby cheek, the affection in the gesture tugging at your heart.

JJ must have sensed your inner turmoil because his tone shifted, turning serious as he looked at you again. His hand still held yours. “You know I’m here, right?”

Those words settled something in your mind, quieting the chaos if only for a moment. There was always a layer of sincerity beneath JJ’s laid-back demeanor—a steadfastness that revealed itself when it mattered most. He wasn’t as careless as he often made himself out to be, especially not when it came to you.

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vonlycsnn · 5 months ago

Note

Hello! May I request a Von lycaon x Gn Reader who is blind but has a optimistic personality? One who uses to love the simple things in life like feeling the sun, taking walks and enjoying any meals

Thank you so much! ♡

Have a nice day •u<~☆

♡ — A RAY OF SUNSHINE

~ VON LYCAON X BLIND (GN) READER.

SUMMARY: You spend your usual morning with your lover, Lycaon. He can't help but appreciate how optimistic you are despite your disability.

cw/tw: none.

A/N: I love this idea so much! I tried to do as much research as i possibly could for this, so my sincere apologies if i got anything wrong. Thank you for the kind words and for the request, I hope you enjoy reading this!

Faint footsteps can be heard approaching your bedroom. Soon after, the door gently opened. It made a quiet but noticeable squeak. But you were too deep in your sleep to hear any of it. The footsteps walked across the room and stopped.

Clawed hands grabbed the curtains and drew them open, revealing the morning view outside. You were suddenly hit by the sensation of warmth on your bare skin. You whined in protest. Knowing exactly what that meant.

You opened your eyes to see the blurry environment around you, folding the pillow you were laying on as a way to tell your beloved butler that you didn't want to get up just yet.

You hear a chuckle from your left ear, the bed sheets folded as you felt someone sitting on the edge of the bed. Then you felt someone breathing close to your neck; you couldn't help but giggle at how it feels.

"It's time to wake up, dear." Lycaon whispered.

You adjusted your position to face him, trying your best find his face with your hands. He chuckled once more and guided your hands to his fluffy cheeks. Immediately after you moved your fingers to feel his fur, he smiled.

"Mm...enjoying yourself?" The thiren asked. You merely nodded as you were still too sleepy to say anything just yet. You felt something brush against your legs, assuming that it's Lycaon's tail wagging.

You kept running your fingers against his fur for what seemed like minutes until you felt arms behind your back, lifting you up from your land of peace. "Lycaon nooo..." You lazily protested.

"Come on now. I've made you breakfast, fresh and warm for you to enjoy." He explains as he approaches the dining room.

The dining table was neatly organized, and the floors were spotless—a perfect start to your day. Oh, if only you could appreciate the effort he has put into cleaning this area...

He carefully put you down and guided you to your seat. As soon as you sat down, you smelt a delicious scent in front of you. You couldn't help but smile big when you realized what it was.

"I've made your favorite; french toast with a few slices of bacon."

You heard utensils being grabbed by the thiren; a hand gently moved your head in his direction. All you could see was a blurry white figure in front of you, but nevertheless you smiled softly.

"Open your mouth, love."

You obliged, happily receiving the food he's feeding you. Once you tasted the sweetness of the French toast and the salty bacon, you felt like you were sent to heaven. Lycaon's cooking is always so good.

As he was feeding you, he begins to reminisce about the past. Back when the two of you were merely friends.

—

"Master, you mustn't walk too far."

You heard him warning you; all you gave him was a smile and a giggle. One step...two step...You walked forward. Shoes removed to feel the concrete floor beneath your foot, and the cold air touched your face gently...It was soothing.

"Don't worry, Lycaon. I'm just going to stay right here." You assured him. His mouth opened, clearly wanting to say something, but he didn't. He merely stood there, waiting for you to finish your moment.

"The rooftop of this building...it's my favorite. Open spaces like these in general are a delight to be in."

You closed your eyes, strengthening your other senses. Being blind is not easy by any means. You remember the day you cried your eyes out as a child over the fact that you couldn't recognize simple shapes and figures.

Your parents did everything in their power to help you; of course you were grateful for their efforts. But they knew that someday they couldn't help you anymore; that's why they hired the best servant they know: Von Lycaon from Victoria Housekeeping Co.

Someone who could help you with everyday needs, someone who could keep you safe from the dangers of the outside world—you were truly thankful for all he has done.

Despite your early disappointments and everyday struggles, you learned to accept how you are and enjoy your life with the things you already had. You were born with this condition. You couldn't change anything, and that's okay, even if you wanted to enjoy life like the rest of the world.

The thiren stayed silent, admiring you from afar. You were always the cheerful type, but hearing you say such optimistic words despite the disability you were given with...it was inspiring.

Lycaon smiled, and he walked towards you. You felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Then I'll bring you here more frequently if you'd like." Lycaon suggested.

You smiled big, nodding vigorously.

You couldn't be happier.

#n-writes #zenless zone zero #zzz #zzzero #zzz lycaon #zenless zone zero x reader #zzz x reader #von lycaon #von lycaon x reader #this week has been a mess for me but im glad to finally write again :')#lycaon x reader

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doormatty3 · 7 months ago

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Onions and Orgasms (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You] Being in a relationship with Orm is interesting, to say the least—he’s loving, kind, and undoubtedly overwhelmed by human customs. To help him adapt, you often cook together, showing him human traditions through the joy of making delicious food, something you have both grown fond of. Typically, his lack of kitchen knowledge and skills isn’t a big issue, but you soon discover that some food items need more explanation than you initially anticipated. OR: You laugh about Orm’s horrible kitchen skills, and he shows you with what he *is* skilled.

Wordcount: 7,362

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal sex, fluff, smut, dirty talk, fingering, orgasm denial, anal fingering, oral sex

A/N: I don't know what it is about Orm that just doesn't let me go... I had to write another story about him (I know exactly what it is - it's Patrick Wilson)

This is set after my Ocean Eyes story—you don't need to have read it, though. The only thing you need to know is that Orm and Reader-Chan are in a happy relationship, and Orm—well, he isn't that good with surface dweller stuff, but he tries.

You know that Orm doesn't understand much about humans and their customs—you'd been living with the man for quite some time, and his antics are nothing new.

Though he tries and makes an effort for your sake, sometimes he even does it so well that you forget he is the former king of Atlantis. But other times, it is all too obvious that he is still a stranger to this world.

"Why must everything be cut into such small pieces, honey?" Orm asks, his tone filled with genuine curiosity as he concentrates on cutting vegetables. The two of you are cooking together, an activity that has become a cherished routine of your everyday life. It is in these quiet moments that Orm's sincere attempts to integrate into your world were most apparent. And not only did his efforts shine, but so did the love between you.

You look at him, a fond smile playing on your lips.

His brows are furrowed in deep concentration, and his unruly blond hair nearly reaches his nose now. His piercing blue eyes are focused on the small kitchen knife and the bell pepper he is meticulously slicing. The knife seems almost comically small in his large hands, and he grips it with such strength that you are surprised it hasn't broken yet.

It is somewhat amusing, considering how skilled he is with his trident compared to the struggle he faces just holding the knife properly.

"Because we're going to fry it, sweetheart," you explain gently, appreciating his efforts to learn. "Cutting the vegetables into smaller pieces helps them cook more evenly and quickly."

Orm nods slowly, processing the information. He glances at you, his expression a mix of determination and puzzlement. "Fry… that means to cook them in hot oil, right?"

"Exactly," you confirm, guiding him through the process. "It gives them a nice texture and flavour."

As he resumes cutting the bell pepper, pleased with your answer, you can't help but admire his dedication.

Orm, the fierce warrior who once ruled an underwater kingdom, now stands in your modest kitchen, struggling with the simple act of slicing vegetables. It is a testament to how much he cares about adapting to your world - about making a life with you.

You watch as he continues his task, his concentration unwavering.

Despite the awkwardness, there is just something endearing about his efforts. The way he holds the knife, the careful precision with which he makes each cut, and the slight furrow in his brow all speak of a man determined to master even the most mundane aspects of human life for the sake of the one he loves.

"You're doing great," you encourage, stepping closer to him. "Just a little more practice and you'll be a pro."

Orm glances up at you, and a small, sweet, appreciative smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

At that moment, you are once again mesmerised by how much you love him. The depth of your feelings seems to swell within you as if you are seeing him for the first time all over again. The love you feel for him is a constant, ever-growing force that never ceases to amaze you.

"Thank you," he says softly. "For being patient with me."

You reach out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. "We're in this together, Orm. Every step of the way."

He smiles brightly at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and sparkling like the smoothest water in sunlight before he returns his focus to slicing the last few pieces of bell pepper.

When he is done with the paprika, Orm hands you the bowl, his eyes meeting yours with a look of accomplishment. You take it from him with a grateful smile.

"Thanks," you say, putting the bowl away so you can use it for cooking later. "Can you cut the onions, love?" you ask, gesturing towards the small pile of onions on the counter.

His puzzled expression tells you he isn't sure which vegetable you mean, so you point at them and specify. "You have to peel them—the brown skin has to go. Then, dice the white part in small pieces."

Orm nods and grabs an onion, examining it closely before starting to peel. You watch as he works, his large hands moving slowly and carefully. It is kind of cute - the way he approaches this simple task with such determination.

He peels away the first layer, the dry, flaky skin falling away to reveal the smooth white beneath. As he begins to slice, his concentration deepens, his brows furrowing just as they had with the bell pepper.

After a few cuts, however, you hear him mutter a curse under his breath. Glancing over, you see him blinking rapidly, his eyes beginning to water.

Orm wipes his arm over his eyes, confusion etched on his face. "Why do my eyes hurt?" he asks, blinking more frequently now. Before you can warn him, he uses the same hand he had just cut the onion with to rub his eyes.

"Orm, no—" you start, but it is too late.

His eyes widen in pain, and he quickly withdraws his hand, the irritation clearly intensifying. Tears stream down his cheeks, not from emotion but from the sharp sting of the onions.

"Why… why am I crying?" he asks, bewildered, as he tries to blink away the tears. He brings his hand up again, clearly frustrated, and you quickly grab his arm to stop him.

"Sweetheart, you're making it worse," you say, unable to help the laugh that bubbles up. "Let me help you."

You grab a piece of tissue paper and go to the sink to dampen it. Then you dab it over his eyes, gently cleaning his hands as well.

He grumbles, clearly in a bad mood from the sting and the tears, and you can't help but laugh again. "The mighty Orm, taken down by a humble onion," you tease lightly.

Orm's expression darkens slightly, a mix of frustration and embarrassment, his brows knitting together in a grumpy frown. "This is ridiculous," he mutters, his pride clearly stung, but your laughter only intensifies.

Acting a bit condescending, you pat his cheek. "It's okay, sweetie. Onions can be tricky. Maybe next time I'll handle them - we'll find another battle for the fine Atlantean warrior."

His eyes flash with a mix of frustration and something deeper. Before you can react, he roughly presses you against the counter, his grip firm but not painful.

Orm's lips crash down on yours in a heated, possessive kiss. You gasp in surprise but quickly melt into the kiss, your hands coming up to rest on his broad chest.

When he finally pulls back a bit, his breathing is heavy, his eyes dark with unresolved tension. "Don't mock me," he says, his voice low and husky.

You look up at him, breathless and a little dazed from the unexpected kiss. "I wasn't—" you begin, but the words catch in your throat.

"You think this is funny?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl as he interrupts you. "I may not be skilled in the kitchen, but I'm skilled in getting you off."

Before you can respond or comprehend what he said, he kisses you again roughly, his hands roaming your body with a fervour that makes your heart race. You bury your hands in his blond hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens.

It is intense and devouring.

You feel his tongue against yours, the insistent pressure of his lips sending shivers down your spine. Orm's kiss is demanding, almost punishing, and you meet it with equal passion, losing yourself in the moment. The sensation of his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body, is intoxicating. You cling to him, your fingers tangling in his hair, feeling the world blur around you.

His tongue teases and explores, sending waves of heat coursing through your body. You moan into his mouth, the sound muffled by his relentless assault. He growls in response, the vibration travelling through you and making you tremble.

Orm's hands slide down your back, gripping your waist with a possessive strength that leaves you breathless. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you against him, the hardness of his body pressing into your softness. His tongue explores your mouth with an urgency that makes your knees weak, and you moan into the kiss again, your body responding eagerly to his touch as you clench your thighs, feeling yourself growing wet.

When Orm finally pulls back, his eyes are smouldering with renewed intensity. He doesn't move away from you; instead, he tightens his grip on your waist again, pressing you firmly against the counter. The heat of his body radiates through your clothes, and you can feel the raw power in his muscles as he holds you there, trapped between the cool surface of the counter and him.

"You drive me crazy," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands roam over your sides, tracing the curves of your body with a possessive hunger. "You laugh at me, but you have no idea what you do to me."

You shiver at his words, a thrill of excitement coursing through you. "Orm…" you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He silences you with another kiss, rough and demanding. His tongue explores your mouth with an urgency that causes your eyes to flutter closed as you respond eagerly, your hands clutching at his hair, his shoulders, anything to ground yourself in the whirlwind of sensation.

Orm's hands move with a new purpose, sliding under your shirt to caress the bare skin beneath. His touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine as he explores every inch of you. His fingers trace patterns over your back and sides, each touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He tugs at your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it aside, exposing your bare skin to his hungry gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you, his hands roaming over your now exposed breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples.

The sensation is almost too much, and you arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as you respond in kind, moving your hands from his hair over his broad shoulders and biceps, feeling the strong muscles beneath his clothes.

He lifts you onto the counter with ease, his powerful hands gripping your waist firmly as he keeps his lips connected to yours.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to look at you for a second before his mouth descends on your neck.

He kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin, his hands continuing their exploration of your body. His touch is both tender and demanding, a combination that leaves you aching for more. His breath is hot and tantalising, making you let out a breathy moan as your hands come up to touch his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin.

"You drive me wild," he murmurs against your neck, his voice a husky growl.

His hands move to your breasts, teasing them with a touch that sends shivers down your spine.

His fingers expertly trace circles around your nipples, each caress making them harden under his touch. You gasp, arching into him, your body responding eagerly to his ministrations, and you feel your pussy growing wet as arousal pulses through your veins. He growls appreciatively, his mouth moving lower, leaving a trail of kisses down your chest.

"Orm," you breathe, your voice a mixture of frustration and need.

He smiles against your skin, his lips trailing down to your chest. "You think it's funny to laugh at me, don't you?" he murmurs, his mouth closing over one nipple. He sucks gently, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, drawing a moan from your lips, your nails digging into his shoulders.

A whimper escapes you as he switches tactics, using his teeth to graze over your flesh with a delicious roughness, sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins and making your clit throb. But then, just as quickly, he soothes the ache with a soothing stroke of his tongue, leaving you trembling with desire.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the blond strands as you pull him closer, unable to contain the overwhelming need for him. "I'm sorry," you manage to gasp between ragged breaths, though your words are lost in the haze of pleasure.

"I'm not," he growls, lifting his head to look at you, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and desire. "You drive me mad."

He switches to the other breast, his mouth and hands working together to drive you wild as he sucks and nibbles on your sensitive nipple and kneads your tit with his hand. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and anticipation that makes you tremble. You can feel the heat building between your legs, your need for him growing with each passing second, slick against your underwear.

"You're mine," he whispers, his voice filled with a possessive intensity that makes your heart race. "All mine."

With that, he captures your lips in another searing kiss, his hands moving down to your waist, leaving your breasts aching as the cool air hits your wet, hard nipples. It's deep and consuming, a mix of hunger and tenderness that leaves you breathless and makes you moan into his mouth again.

You cling to him, your fingers tangling in his blond hair, pulling at the thick strands to drag him even closer as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours.

Orm's fingers trail over your thighs, his touch light and teasing, driving you wild with anticipation. He spreads your legs wider, his eyes dark and predatory and a smirk on his lips as he takes in the sight of you.

"Orm, please," you whisper, your voice a desperate plea.

He smiles, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Patience," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck, sending waves of pleasure through you. "I want to savour this."

His hands roam over your thighs again, caressing and teasing, driving you to the brink of madness as his long fingers draw intricate patterns through the fabric of your clothes. Each touch is electric, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His fingers dance closer and closer to your cunt, but he never quite touches you where you need him most.

You can't help but whimper, the sound a mix of frustration and desire.

There's a part of you that wishes you hadn't teased him so mercilessly about his lack of knowledge of cutting onions and kitchen skills in general. You know he's going to drag this out, making you suffer and beg instead of just giving you what you want.

Orm spreads your legs further, positioning himself between them. His large, calloused hands cup your face tenderly, guiding your gaze to meet his. You lift your hand to touch his stubbly cheek, running your thumb over it, and gaze into his blue eyes that are now dark and reflecting desire.

He closes his eyes, his impossibly long lashes resting against his cheeks as he lets out a sigh. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. The sweet gesture makes your heart flutter in your chest, your love for him threatening to spill out.

"I love you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten with emotion.

"I love you too," you whisper back, your voice trembling with the weight of your feelings.

Orm's hands move from your face, trailing down your neck, over your shoulders, and coming to rest on your breasts again. He squeezes them gently, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

He kisses you again, deeply and passionately, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that matches your own. Every stroke of his tongue, every brush of his lips, is filled with an intense desire that makes your head spin. It's intoxicating, making you dizzy with want.

You feel his hard cock straining against his pants as he presses himself against you, making you whine with need. The pressure against your cunt is maddening, and you're sure you're wet enough to leave a spot on his pants, were you naked.

Orm's hands move with a deliberate slowness, heightening your anticipation.

He chuckles softly at your response, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through your body. Pulling back just enough to gaze into your eyes, his hands begin their journey lower, gliding over your stomach until they reach the waistband of your pants.

He pulls them down slowly and with agonising patience, taking his time, his eyes never leaving yours. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, your body aching for his touch. Every inch of skin he reveals feels hypersensitive, exposed to the cool air and the heat of his stare.

Orm's smirk deepens as he slides your pants down, leaving you in just your underwear. His fingers continue their torturous teasing over the fabric, pressing and rubbing in just the right way to drive you wild. Your hips buck against his hand, seeking more friction, more contact, more anything , but he holds you steady, keeping control as you soak your panties even more.

"Do you like this?" he asks, his voice a low growl. "Do you like being teased ?"

You shake your head, unable to form words, your body writhing with need.

He finally slips his fingers beneath the fabric, touching your cunt directly, and the sensation is almost too much. You cry out, your back arching as his thumb finds your clit with practised ease and drags the rough pad over it in circles, finding a slow and perfect rhythm.

"You're perfect," he whispers, his voice filled with awe and adoration as he slows his movements even more before halting completely and pulling his hand from under your panties, making you whimper in protest.

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, but before you can say anything and protest properly, his hands are on you again, his fingers trailing over your thighs, spreading your legs wider. He leans in, his mouth hovering just above your skin, his breath hot and teasing.

He starts to kiss his way up your inner thigh, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through you, and you slump back onto the counter, keeping yourself upright by your arms.

His lips are soft and warm, his tongue darting out occasionally to taste your skin. The sensation is exquisite, making you squirm with need.

"Orm, please," you beg, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I need you."

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of mischief. "Patience," he murmurs, his voice a deep, velvety growl. "I want to savour this."

He continues his slow, torturous journey up your thigh, his mouth finally reaching the apex. He pauses there, taking a moment to breathe in your scent, his hot breath ghosting over your panties and sending shivers down your spine.

Then he begins to kiss you through the thin fabric of your underwear, his tongue flicking over the damp cloth, tasting you in the most maddeningly indirect way possible. When his tongue finally presses against your neglected, throbbing clit, even through the fabric, you gasp loudly, your back arching off the counter.

His groan of appreciation reverberates through your pussy, sending vibrations that intensify the pleasure to dizzying heights. You can feel the heat of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue seeping through your panties, creating a delicious friction that has you moaning his name.

Desperate for more, you grip his hair tightly, your fingers tangling in the blond strands as you try to pull him closer and prevent him from stopping. But Orm maintains his torturous pace, teasing you mercilessly.

"Please," you plead, your voice breaking with desperation. "I need more."

He grins against you, the vibration of his laughter sending shivers through your body. "As you wish," he says, his voice low and husky.

Orm pulls back slightly, prompting a whine of protest from you as you tighten your grip on his hair, too caught up in the haze of arousal to grasp why he wants to pull back.

"Honey, you need to let me move a bit to take off your underwear," he says, his tone affectionate yet teasing.

Blushing furiously, you release your tight hold on his hair, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and desire flood through you. His gaze meets yours, his eyes dark with need and amusement.

"My needy girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire.

Before you can respond, he leans in quickly, capturing your lips in a fierce, passionate kiss. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, his tongue exploring every inch with a fervour that leaves you breathless. The taste of him is intoxicating, filling your senses and leaving you craving more.

When he pulls back and settles between your legs again, you're dazed - by the pleasure he's providing and his closeness. It is as if you can never get enough of him.

With a deft movement, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and slowly slides them down your legs. He pauses for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, completely exposed and vulnerable. His gaze is intense, filled with a mix of love and desire that makes your heart race.

Orm leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, moving closer to your now bare cunt. He looks up at you, his eyes locking with yours, as he leans in, his breath hot against your most sensitive area.

His hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you in place. "I'm going to give you something to laugh about," he murmurs, and then his mouth is on you.

This time, there is no barrier between you.

The first touch of his tongue is like a shock of electricity, making you gasp and clutch at the edge of the counter, your fingers curling around the edge as you brace yourself for the onslaught of sensation.

He licks a long, slow path up your slit, savouring your taste with a low, appreciative groan. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking and teasing with a skill that has you moaning. He alternates between gentle licks and firm strokes, driving you to the brink of madness.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the blond strands as you pull him closer and try to ground yourself. He hums against you, the vibration sending shivers of pleasure through your entire body.

His mouth works in perfect harmony with his hands, his fingers parting your slick cunt to give him better access to your most sensitive spots.

He plunges his tongue inside you, tasting and exploring your pussy with a fervour that makes you moan loudly. He moves with a rhythm that is both precise and unpredictable, keeping you on edge, never knowing what to expect next. Each movement, each flick of his tongue, brings you closer and closer.

Just as you feel the orgasm building, he pulls back, denying you the release you crave. The sensation is exquisite torture, leaving you gasping and trembling with need. He watches you, his blue eyes dark and intense, enjoying the sight of you teetering on the edge.

"Orm, please," you beg, your voice a desperate plea. "I need to cum."

He lifts his head just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal and his blue eyes dark. "Not yet," he says, his voice a low growl. "I want to hear you beg some more."

With that, he slips two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. The dual sensation is almost too much to bear. You writhe against him, your body on fire with need. Every nerve ending is alive, screaming for release.

But he isn't done.

His free hand trails down, his finger thick and calloused, pressing gently against the tight ring of your ass, the sensation foreign and electrifying.

You tense instinctively, unsure of what to expect, but the gentle pressure of his touch is surprisingly comforting as he explores your puckered hole for the first time.

He circles the entrance slowly, teasingly, his movements deliberate and controlled. Each touch sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, the unfamiliar sensation stirring something deep inside you.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he murmurs, his voice husky with need.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, a mixture of anticipation and excitement flooding your senses. You cling to him, your nails digging into his skin as you surrender to the pleasure of his touch.

Orm's fingers press against the tight entrance, the sensation foreign yet undeniably arousing. He moves slowly, carefully, easing his finger past the resistance with a gentleness that belies the intensity of his desire, making you gasp as a mixture of pleasure and discomfort floods your senses.

"Relax, honey," he whispers, his breath hot against your cunt. "I'll take care of you."

You nod, your body trembling with anticipation as he continues to explore you, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "Orm," you gasp, unable to form coherent words as pleasure washes over you in waves.

Orm eases his finger deeper inside you. The stretch is intense, the feeling of being filled in a way you've never experienced before, both overwhelming and exhilarating.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "That's it, honey," he murmurs, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Let go, and let me take care of you."

You moan in response as you adjust to the feeling.

You can feel every ridge and contour of his finger within you, the sensation, unlike anything you've ever felt before. As he begins to move his finger in and out, the feeling builds, pleasure mingling with the slight sting of discomfort until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

The sensation of being filled in both holes at once is overwhelming, desire flooding your senses as he sets a rhythm that drives you wild with need.

Orm's voice is a husky growl as he speaks, his words sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. "You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "You like feeling my fingers in your tight little ass."

You whimper in response, your mind clouded by desire and undeniably overwhelmed by everything he's doing to you. His fingers move within you, stretching and filling you in a way that leaves you gasping for breath.

Orm's touch is possessive, almost primal, as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. "You're so fucking tight," he groans, his voice thick with desire. "Someday, I'll take you there too."

His words send a jolt of heat straight to your cunt, the idea of him taking you in your ass sending waves of desire crashing over you as you clench around his fingers.

"You enjoy that?" he growls, his voice low and guttural. "You enjoy being filled up like this, don't you, honey? Having both your holes stuffed?"

His dirty talk only serves to heighten your arousal, the words sending flashes of pure, hot want through your body as he works you with his fingers and mouth. You cling to him, your nails digging into his skin as you ride the wave of sensation, your body writhing with need.

Orm is relentless, his fingers moving with a skill and precision that leaves you breathless. You can feel the tension building inside you, a coil wound so tightly it's about to snap.

The combination is almost unbearable. Your body feels like it's on fire, each touch and movement pushing you closer to the edge.

"Please, Orm," you whimper, your voice breaking. "I can't take it."

He grins against you, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh as he pulls back slightly, his fingers still working in and out of you, the sound of your wet pussy loud and obvious. "Not yet, sweetheart," he says, his voice a dark promise. "You can, and you will take it,"

His fingers in your cunt curl just right , pressing against your G-spot while his thumb continues its torturous circles over your clit, causing you to clench and whimper.

Meanwhile, the finger in your ass moves in and out, the tightness around it making Orm groan with satisfaction. "You're so tight here," he mutters, his voice filled with dark pleasure. "I love feeling you like this…And I think you need more to clench on."

Orm adds a second finger to your ass, stretching you slightly, the sensation both foreign and thrilling and even more intense than before.

He pumps his fingers in and out of both your ass and pussy, curling them to hit just the right spots while his tongue flicks over your clit with maddening precision. The pressure builds inside you, each touch bringing you closer to the edge, but he pulls back just before you can tumble over, denying you the release you crave driving you wild with frustration.

Your entire body is a tight coil of tension, every nerve ending on fire as he denies you your release again and again. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and you cling to him, your nails digging into his scalp as you try to pull him closer, but he keeps control, maintaining that perfect, maddening rhythm.

"Please, Orm," you sob, tears of frustration pricking at your eyes, your clit throbs almost painfully, and you feel your cunt twitching around him - you feel ready to snap.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Beg for it," he commands, his voice a rough whisper.

"I beg you," you cry, your voice hoarse with need. "Please, let me cum. I need it. I need you ."

Orm's expression softens just a fraction, and he increases the pressure, his mouth and fingers working together to bring you to the brink once more, driving you higher and higher until you finally explode.

This time, he doesn't pull back.

The wave of pleasure crashes over you, and you scream his name as you finally find your release, your voice raw and hoarse with need. Your body convulses, every muscle tightening as the orgasm rips through you.

But Orm doesn't stop, his fingers and tongue continuing their relentless assault, prolonging your orgasm until you're shaking and breathless. He flicks his tongue rapidly over your clit while curling his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again.

The pleasure is almost too intense, your body shuddering as another orgasm builds, crashing over you in powerful waves before you've come down from your previous high.

Your vision blurs, your mind slipping into a haze of ecstasy as your senses are overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

Your legs tremble, and you clutch desperately at the counter, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Orm, oh God," you moan, your voice breaking with the intensity of your release.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it's over.

You collapse against the counter, your body spent and trembling with the aftershocks of your earth-shattering climax. The world swims hazily before your eyes as you struggle to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

The overwhelming intensity of your orgasm leaves you disoriented, and before you can fully comprehend the moment, everything goes dark, and you black out.

When you come back to your senses, you find yourself cradled in Orm's arms, his touch gentle and reassuring. His eyes, filled with love and concern, lock onto yours. He kisses your forehead softly, the warmth of his lips soothing and tender. "I love you," he murmurs, his voice low and full of adoration.

"I love you too," you whisper back tiredly, still shaking from what happened. Your body still tingles with the aftershocks of your intense release, and you feel an overwhelming sense of contentment and love.

Orm cups your face with his large, warm hand, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he looks into your eyes. Through the haze in your mind, you can't help but appreciate how his blue eyes sparkle with emotion and how wet his chin, cheeks, and neck are from pleasuring you.

"You okay, honey?" he asks, his voice low and gentle, filled with genuine concern as he checks in with you.

You nod and bite your lip, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. "Yes, sweetheart, I'm okay," you manage to say, your voice breathless and shaky.

Orm's thumb slides over your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans in to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, the sensation causing you to clench around nothing and whine into the kiss.

The feeling of his residual wetness on your skin and the hardness of his cock pressing against your bare cunt only heightens your desire.

The fire in you, which had dimmed to a soft glimmer, now flares back with full fervour, threatening to consume you whole. Every touch, every breath, feels like it's adding fuel to the inferno raging within you.

When the kiss breaks, your hands move frantically to Orm's shirt. You tug at the fabric, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through your core and obliges you by pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

Your breath hitches as you take in the sight of him, his muscular chest and chiselled abs glistening slightly from the exertion. The light catches on his body, highlighting the hard lines and contours that speak of strength and power.

The prominent vein running down his biceps stands out starkly against his skin, leading your eyes down to the rest of his strong arm. You trace its path with your gaze, marvelling at the sheer strength contained within.

His pecs are firm and inviting, his nipples hardening slightly in the cool air, a contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His chest, broad and sculpted, rises and falls with his heavy breathing, the rhythm hypnotic and alluring.

Your eyes travel down to his abs, each ridge and valley inviting your touch, a landscape of desire that begs to be explored. The lines of them lead your gaze downward to where his hard dick strains against his pants, the sight making your pulse quicken and your mouth go dry with longing.

You can't help but run your hands over his firm muscles. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through you, a reminder of just how much you want him. His skin is warm and smooth under your touch, and you can feel the tension coiled in his body, ready to be unleashed.

"God, you're so hot," you murmur, your voice filled with awe and desire, your mind still hazy from the orgasm he gave you as the words slip out without thought.

He chuckles lowly at both your words and behaviour.

"You find this amusing?" you ask, breathless, as you trace the lines of his body with your fingers.

Orm's eyes darken with a mix of amusement and desire. "I find it amusing how needy you are," he says, his voice a low growl. "But I can't deny that I enjoy it. Don't think I have forgotten how you laughed at me with those onions."

He steps back slightly, his hands moving to the waistband of his pants. With a fluid motion, he pulls them down, followed by his underwear. His hard cock springs free, standing tall and proud and glistening with precum. The sight of him, fully naked and aroused, sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

You reach out, your fingers wrapping around his cock. Orm groans, his head falling back as you stroke him, his muscles tensing and rippling under your touch as you pump him a few times.

He opens his eyes, the intensity of his gaze piercing through you. "I need you," he murmurs his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

He leans in to kiss you again, his hands roaming over your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and dip.

His hands trail down from your face, caressing your neck and shoulders, before moving to your breasts. He teases your nipples, rolling them between his fingers and sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You arch your back, pushing your breasts into his hands, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

"Orm," you murmur, your voice filled with need. "I want you."

He steps closer, positioning himself between your legs once more. His hands grip your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter. "Then you shall have me," he says, his voice rough with desire.

As he presses against you, you feel his thick, hard cock sliding against your cunt, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through you. He doesn't enter you yet; he just teases you, making you gasp and moan with each movement.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard," he growls into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You're mine, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

You whimper in response, the anticipation driving you to the edge again. "Orm, please," you beg, your voice a desperate plea.

He chuckles darkly, a possessive gleam in his eyes. "I know, honey," he murmurs. He continues to tease you, his tip brushing against your slick folds, the sensation almost too much to bear. You moan, your hips bucking in response, desperate for more.

Finally, when you think you can't take it anymore, he positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locking with yours.

With a gentle yet firm push, he slides into you, stretching and filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, and you cry out, and your body arches into his, a mixture of pleasure and relief as he buries himself to the hilt, the fullness making you feel complete.

Orm pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, his eyes never leaving yours. "God, you feel amazing," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

He moves slowly at first, savouring the feel of you around him, each thrust measured and controlled.

His hands roam over your body, caressing your breasts, your waist, your thighs. Every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you, making you arch and writhe against him. His fingers find your nipples, pinching and rolling them gently, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your cunt, making you moan wantonly.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he begins to move faster, his thrusts deep and powerful. The rhythm is intoxicating, a dance of passion and desire that leaves you breathless. His cock fills you completely, hitting all the right spots with each powerful thrust.

He leans down to kiss you again, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same fervour as his hips.

"You feel so good," he groans, his voice rough with pleasure, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. "So tight, so perfect." His breath is hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Orm," you moan, your voice a desperate plea. "I'm so close."

He smiles against your skin, his movements growing more urgent. "Not yet," he growls, his voice still carrying a hint of grumpiness.

He slows his thrusts, pulling back almost entirely so only his tip is inside your pussy before pushing back in with agonising slowness. The deliberate pace keeps you on the edge, your body begging for release. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in slow, teasing circles that make you whimper.

"Sweetheart, please," you beg, your voice trembling with need. "I can't take it."

Your body trembles with the intensity of the sensations, each stroke of his cock pushing you closer to the edge. You can feel every inch of him, every vein, every ridge, and it's driving you wild. His touch is everywhere, his hands roaming over your body, caressing, squeezing, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

"Orm, oh God," you moan, your voice breaking with the intensity of your need. "Please, let me cum."

His eyes lock onto yours, and he sees the desperation there.

His expression softens, and he increases the pressure, his thumb circling your clit more firmly while his other hand grips your hip, pulling you even closer. His thrusts become deeper, more powerful, each one sparking that fire inside you. The tension builds, a tight coil of need that threatens to fracture at any moment.

His hips start to snap against yours with a rhythm that is both demanding and precise, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. He leans down to kiss you again, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his broad, muscular back as you meet each thrust with equal intensity. The feel of his bare skin against yours, the play of his defined muscles under your fingertips, adds to the intoxicating pleasure. His chest, hard and chiselled, presses against your breasts, the friction against your sensitive nipples like adding fuel to the fire in your veins.

You moan in response, your hips bucking against his as the pleasure builds higher and higher, an unstoppable crescendo. The slick friction of his cock inside you, the pressure of his pelvis and thumb against your clit with every thrust, drives you mad with desire.

His movements grow more urgent, his thrusts faster and harder. The sound of your bodies coming together, the slick heat of your arousal, fills the room.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you, needing him closer. "Orm," you moan, your voice a desperate plea.

"Do it," he growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic, the control slipping as he nears his peak. "Cum for me, honey. Let me feel you." His words are a command and a plea, the urgency in his voice pushing you over the edge.

You scream his name as you shatter around him, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless once more. Your body convulses, every muscle tightening around him, your cunt gripping his cock in a vice-like hold that draws a guttural moan from deep within him.

Orm continues to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm and driving you to the edge of madness.

His movements become frantic, his rhythm breaking as he succumbs to his own release. He thrusts into you one last time, deep and hard, and you feel the hot, pulsating rush of his cum filling you. His body shudders, and he holds you close, his breath ragged and his heart pounding against yours, his head buried in your shoulder.

As the last tremors of pleasure fade, Orm pulls back slightly, his eyes softening as he looks at you. He looks utterly spent, his body drenched in sweat that glistens in the light, and his hair plastered to his forehead. You reach out to brush it from his eyes and cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face. He smiles at you, a sweet, loving smile that makes your heart flutter, before leaning forward and pressing a long, tender kiss to your forehead.

He pulls back and lifts you from the counter, cradling you in his arms. "Let's get you cleaned up," he murmurs, carrying you to the bathroom with a tenderness that makes your heart swell with love.

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solecize · 11 months ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 5k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. n/a

part two: the caretaker and the sister ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ previous. next. masterlist

iv. the caretaker

“gonna be real, i’m sure you know why we’re looking at you funny.” jungkook was blunt, but you had to give him kudos for it.

“oh, why is that?” you replied dryly,

the way you had narrowed it down for your parents seemed more simple in your head when you rehearsed it a dozen times over before having each individual sit-down. the property was just going to rot and go to waste. it’s what grandpa would have wanted. so many sweet words intertwined with one another, but not once did you mention your perpetual unhappiness.

explaining it to two people who were essentially strangers should have been easier, but something told you that the look jungkook was giving you hinted that he knew there was more of a story than that. on the other hand, namjoon, who was still confused by the entire conversation somehow, either didn’t care to ask or knew it wasn’t his place to press.

by his sympathetic glance towards your dirty duffel bag, it seemed to be the latter. he slowly came to the ground from his horse and gave you one of those sweet smiles that only a gentleman from the countryside could give. it was the same one your grandpa and jungkook had.

namjoon gestured down the road. “need a ride into town?”

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion when namjoon said “ride” and then your eyes fell on the beautiful stallion that he had a gentle hand on. oh. somehow, the idea made you stomach drop and you were shocked to find that.

“what’s wrong? we used to ride all the time when we were kids,” jungkook said, having read the expression formed on your face.

one of the thing that your mom warned you about was that no one was going to take you seriously in the valley. your grandfather was a well seasoned farmer, as the property had been passed down for generations until your mom declined the responsiblity. and, of course, you grew up in the city and you definitely looked like it. there wasn’t another reason to add onto this obstacle.

you shook your head. “i, uh, injured my ankle a week back. pilates.” a hollow chuckle that jungkook and namjoon overlooked and nodded in understanding. “so, it’s best if i don’t ride into town.”

you weren’t sure why the idea of getting on a horse made you nervous. it had been many years, but there was a time where you rode more often than you walked on your own two legs. pushing the feelings away to deal with another time, there was a bigger issue at hand. the movers were likely going to make it to the farm before you were at this rate.

“oh, no worries! stay put, we’ll come back for ya,” jungkook said, “shouldn’t take long. you’ll be okay waiting here?”

you smiled and nodded, giving the two kind semi-strangers a thank you and off they went.

it was a relief that small-town hospitality was a thing. you hoped that would be the case, as you remembered amber valley to be a tight-knit community, as everyone knew each other. this left you to wonder who else you would be encountering in your new life here from your past. there weren’t too many kids your age growing up and you assumed that most of them would want to leave the valley like you did, given the lack of opportunitites. you wondered why jungkook and namjoon were still around.

although you were just standing on the side of the road alone, you didn’t feel unsafe at all. after all, your grandpa would allow you and jungkook to roam around the town until late at night with no supervision when you were kids. there was not a single vehicle that passed by as you waited. if you hadn’t gotten namjoon’s attention as he was riding by, you were going to end up hitchhiking and probably in the wrong direction, too.

soon enough, you saw a car in the distance and you breathed a sigh of relief. a baby blue mustang, its age was apparent by the blaring roar of its engine and clank of its metal. coming to a stop, the windows rolled down and you gave a small wave.

while jungkook sat at the passenger’s seat, there was a different face behind the steering wheel. another person around your age, you couldn’t recognize him by face, even calculating his smile that reached his eyes. however, when he opened his mouth, the man’s voice hit you like a truck.

“hi, you’re - “

“park jimin?” you gaped.

the park family ran a generation spanning fishing business in amber valley and your mom was once high school sweethearts with jimin’s father. that’s why his mom was particularly snippy with you as a child and didn’t want you hanging around her son, feeding him ideas of how evil you apparently were - or so, that’s what the gossip from jungkook’s mom was. the three of you were baking cookies one day and jungkook wanted to drop some off to jimin. you went along and jimin called you a witch, so when you cried the entire walk back to jungkook’s house, his mom told you not to worry and that his mom was just a bit petty. ever since that day on until your last summer in amber valley, you declared jimin an enemy after realizing why he had done the same to you.

jimin peered over, analyzing your face for a few seconds. beside him, you could see jungkook noticeably stifling a laugh. when the realization clocked in, jimin mirrored your slightly dropped jaw.

he couldn’t help but laugh. “oh shit, you’re bunny.” there was no sense of resentment or snarkiness, which was surprising with your history - but, then again, this wide-eyed individual with the sweetest smile you’d ever seen was nothing like your childhood bully.

“i remember one time you ripped all of my silly bandz. you were evil!” jimin exclaimed.

once you got into the backseat, duffle bag nestled beside you, the atmosphere was actually quite lively. a beyonce album from the 2000s was shuffled in the background and although the road was bumpy and old, no one seemed to mind. you raised your eyebrows, trying to recall jimin’s anecdone.

jungkook added in, “yup, you guys hated each other. i had to play peacemaker all the time.”

“hmm…” you trailed off. “oh yeah. i think you had to physically hold me back from jimin a few times.”

apparently, from “forcing” jungkook to eat mud and terrorizing jimin’s dinosaur silly bandz collection, you were a menace. thankfully, it was all fun and games, as the three of you exchanged giggles about being kids in the valley. slowly, piece by piece, you were grasping some memories that you didn’t even know were tucked away at the back of your mind.

jungkook looked at you from the mirror. “you doing okay? we’ll be reaching the farm in a few minutes.”

“where did namjoon run off to again? i was supposed to lend him something,” jimin said.

“something about helping his dad with something, i dunno,” jungkook shrugged at jimin and then turned back to you. “he says good luck with moving in, by the way, and that he would have helped out if he could.”

jimin sighed. “he’s always at the beck and call of mayor kim. poor guy just wants to get out of here.” you assumed he was talking about amber valley as a whole.

this made you a bit curious, thinking again why these young adults were sticking around the small town. the average demographic for the town was definitely on the older side, from what you saw at your grandfather’s funeral service. you ended up asking what both of them did and while you noticed jungkook go quiet, jimin piped in.

“just helping my parents out with the family business, probably become the owner when they retire. i actually don’t mind it here and i could see myself staying here - “

“ - that’s because you’ve never left your entire life,” jungkook interjected.

“and it’s great! except the dating pool is a bit shallow. gotta figure that out.” jimin’s pout made you laugh and made it feel even more bewildering that this was the little brat from your childhood.

eventually, you all drove right past the path leading into the centre of town and made a sharp turn towards another dirt path that had a singular route to your grandfather’s property. the lively air of the conversation distracted you from the confrontation due, despite your hasty acceptance of your new role. the last two weeks had been a whirlwind and you grew anxious of what it would feel like to see your grandfather’s greatest pride and joy once again.

it’d been almost half a year since your grandfather’s passing and you prepared yourself for extensive work on the farm. there were also floating questions about the property that you weren’t sure who to ask. the property was in your name and the transition to move happened in the blink of an eye. but, what about grandpa’s other possessions? the animals? the furniture?

the moving truck was already parked out front and checking the time on your phone, you were relieved to see that you weren’t too late past the agreed arrival time. the three of you exited the car and you gave the two men a warm smile.

“hey, thanks for the ride. i really appreciate it, i would’ve been toast without your guys’ help.”

“it’s no problem at all! i think it’s really cool you’re taking over the farm, keeping it in the family,” jimin replied. “plus, we’ll probably be business partners. don’t worry, my days of being a pain in the ass are over.”

the two of you laughed and exchanged a playful handshake. meanwhile, jungkook took out your duffel bag from the trunk for you and walked over. you thanked him and took the bag from him, quietly impressed by his quick chivalry.

jungkook smiled at you and you couldn’t help but smile just a little bit wider. “do you need help with anything, by the way?“

“oh, no! trust me, you have definitely helped enough.” you waved him off. the neighbourly spirit was definitely strong in amber valley, but you already felt bad about having them fetch a whole car because the idea of you riding a horse was going to give you a heart attack.

“you sure?” jimin added.

you said, “absolutely. the movers got most of it anyway.” you were slightly worried about exploring the property and looking at the state of it, but that was just the first task you had to take care of in your new role.

“alright, cool. well, i hope to see you around! jungkook, you’re good?” jimin turned to the other male, who nodded. “nice. see ya then!” and just like that, jimin was off. a ray of sunshine, but seemed like the type who was always on his feet.

you were confused why jungkook didn’t leave with jimin and then you remember he lived about a five minute walk away. that reminded you why the two of you seemed to never leave each other’s sides.

“okay. you probably remember where everything is, but the chickens were fed this morning and - “ jungkook started and you were confused. what was he talking about?

“wait, has someone been taking care of the farm?”

you finally got a good look around the front and you realized everything looked. . .normal. it was exactly like how it looked in your memories, when your grandfather took meticulous care of the property. the grass was cut and emerald green, not missing a day of water.

your grandfather’s farmhouse had never gotten an renovation since being built and while it certainly showed, the age of the house accentuated a certain charm that only old houses gained over the years. the wrap-around porch was still in tact, despite its chipped paint. its unique bright red roof faded into a dirty maroon, losing remnants of what was your mother’s favourite colour, which your grandfather had customized the roof to match. the shrubbery around the house was overgrown, but didn’t look like it had been so for nearly half a year, indicating there was maintenance at some point between now and then.

jungkook took a second to speak. “well, your mom was paying for basic maintenance every now and then. for the grass and stuff.”

you didn’t know that, but you weren’t too surprised. after your grandpa died, there was really no talk about where his property was going to go. you didn’t know that he had left it to you, but you later found out that your mother was actually aware of this, but assumed you would be disinterested and didn’t say anything to you.

“i guess she thought i wouldn’t care about the property and took matters into her own hands,” you shrugged. “but, sorry, you said something about the chickens? and what about the fields?”

he put his hands into his pockets. “well, you know before your grandpa passed i was helping him around the farm and stuff. i just. . .kind of continued even after.”

you responded, “you’ve been taking care of the farm?”

you weren’t sure how to feel. you were certainly shocked, having not understood how truly deep jungkook’s relationship with your grandfather ran. for him to come out to the farm and perform labour on his own accord, as well as the way jungkook spoke about him, there was a true sense of care involved.

“well, yeah. there was no one else to do it. your grandpa worked all his life to grow this place and i didn’t want any of it to go to waste. i wasn’t sure what the situation was with the property until you came today, but the animals had nowhere to go!” jungkook seemed genuinely exasperated by the situation. “don’t worry, it’s not like i’ve been profiting off of his animals. i’ve used everything just to back into taking care of the farm and it’s been just enough, since there aren’t any crops.”

“jungkook. . .” you were left speechless. you couldn’t believe how golden of a heart this man really had to be keeping your grandfather’s memory alive, all behind the scenes and for no recognition.

he just chuckled. “look, i’m not just glad someone is here now to get things up and running again, but the fact that it’s you. you’re the perfect person for this.”

“am i?” you asked, looking down at the ground. you were about to fill some really big shoes and you knew it. those words of affirmation meant the world to you, suddenly feeling immense pressure on your back once actually seeing the farm in person for the first time in years.

jungkook said, without missing a beat, “of course. you’re here because you care about your grandpa’s legacy and all the work he’s done, i can see it in your eyes. you’ll be a natural, don’t worry - i’m sure all the little things are gonna come back to you!” he was so confident and you couldn’t believe it. you could only try to hope he was right.

“hey. . .” you began and couldn’t help but approach him. he seemed to share the same idea as you and opened his arms at the same time you did, enveloping you in a hug. neither one of you knew that the other had tears forming. “thank you, jungkook.”

“of course. maybe it’s actually best that i show you where everything is?”

you agreed without hesitation. after making sure that the movers didn’t need anything from you, the two of you left to embark on a quick tour of the property and its different buildings. when you were little, everything on the farm seemed so big and far and the entire world seemed to be unimaginatively endless. now, as an adult, things seemed just as daunting with the new chapter in your life, despite things not looking as big and far.

after an hour or so, jungkook said his goodbye and the movers had long finished their job. now, with your grandfather’s farmhouse living room filled to the brim with cardboard boxes and wrapped up furniture, you knew there was a lot ahead of you. you made a cup of tea and before getting to anything, found yourself outside and sitting criss-cross on the steps to the front door, wondering what was to come next.

v. the sister

there was just one grocery store in town, about half a kilometre of a walk and wasn’t going to pose any trouble for your vehicle-less self. this was your first time going into town since moving in, having been cooped up and living off of ramen noodles since you lacked the energy to go grocery shopping. friday night, after finishing work for the day and unpacking the last of your boxes, you decided to put on your big girl pants and run some errands.

the first few days on the farm were exhausting, to say the least. thankfully, because of jungkook’s help and your mother’s contributions to the property, it was a lot less work than you remembered. you performed many of the tasks naturally, having spent summers doing the same thing over and over again. this didn’t mean you weren’t tiring come the weekend and you just wanted your trip to be a quick in and out.

with an hour to closing, the store was basically empty and this gave you a sense of relief. you walked in, wearing stained sweatpants that were far older than you were willing to admit and your hair held up into a messy updo by a claw clip.

after about ten minutes, you were in the cereal aisle and deciding on if you wanted to pick out the one with the best cartoon on the cover or the one with the best nutritional value. this is when you felt something tugging on your pant leg.

“oh..? oh!”

you jumped slightly when you saw it was a beagle with the cutest eyes you’d ever seen. noticing the dog lacked a leash or collar or any kind, you quickly put the cereal you had been inspecting back on the shelf and crouched down.

you whispered, “who do we have here?” your own eyes softened, as you crouched down to pet the tiny animal.

from behind you, you hear the sound of spongy footsteps - almost like a squeak with each step. turning around, you were met with a little girl and realized the squeakiness was coming from her hot pink light up sneakers, the kind that only ever made noise on tiled flooring. with a leash that matched the colour of her shoes perfectly in hand, her distress visibly eased upon laying eyes on you and the dog.

“oh, peanut! oppa is gonna be so mad at me,” she gasped, immediately enveloping the puppy into her arms and re-attached the leash. looking at her, she couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

still crouched on the ground and meeting her at eye-level, you asked, “are you okay?”

“sorry, yeah! it just looked like she needed a second, so i took it off.” her frown, despite how distraught she was, was adorable. “thank you, miss!”

so much for the in and out. you didn’t mind, though, as peanut approached you again and jumped up, narrowly missing your face with an excitable lick. you giggled in a way you hadn’t in a while, petting the puppy.

soon enough, another round of frantic footsteps followed. you looked up and weren’t surprised to see a familiar face.

“jiwon, how many times have i told you to keep peanut leashed when we’re inside the store?”

honestly, it was to your luck that you ran into jungkook here. after he left you at the farm on your first day, you realized you didn’t get his contact information. you were definitely considering it as he gave you a quick tour of where everything you needed was, but the idea of asking a man for his number for any given reason made your stomach jump. thankfully you didn’t need immediate assistance, save for the various things that were just broken around the property, but it would have been useful.

clad in a graphic muscle shirt depicting a band you didn’t recognize, you couldn’t help but admire the way his tattoos were exposed and adorned his arms. you had to snap out of it. he finally made eye contact you and raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.

“y/n. how’s your first week gone?”

“oppa, why are you making your voice sound like that - “

jungkook cleared his throat. “shut it, jiwon.” you thought you saw his ears turned pink, but he adjusted the baseball cap on his head and his hair fell down to cover them.

you looked between the two of them, confused. who was this little girl? putting the thought at the back of your mind, you opened your mouth to answer his question when two other figures began to approach.

“hey! there you guys are - we got the cake.”

you’d never seen so many people wear cowboy hats in one place than amber valley and this individual was no exception. he was easily one of the most handsome men you had ever physically laid eyes on - what was with this town? and of course, blue jeans. the friend beside him was also incredibly good looking, but dressed more like your neighbour from your old apartment complex and stood out against the other people you’d seen in town. apple watch, expensive nike dunks and a hoodie from an instagram streetwear brand that recently blew up.

“who’s this?” the first man asked and his gaze made you a little more frozen than you were willing to admit.

jungkook replied, “this is y/n. she’s taking over the old farm, it was her grandpa’s.”

“oh, i’m sorry for your loss. welcome to amber valley, though. i’m taehyung,” he smiled and offered his hand, which you took. “i’m new, too. i moved here last year.”

the other man also offered you his hand. “i’m yoongi. welcome to amber valley - good luck.”

“i’m not new - wait what?” you looked at yoongi, confused. “what do you mean, good luck?”

the other three began chuckling amongst themselves. yoongi only looked exasperated. you raised an eyebrow.

jiwon cut in. “yoongi says he got tricked.”

“tricked?”

“tricked to come here,” taehyung said, in between his laughs. “he’s from the city, something about his realtor lying to him about what the town’s like before he moved here.”

yoongi rolled his eyes. “it’s not a joke - i didn’t know i would be moving to the middle of nowhere!”

you learned that yoongi was a computer programmer and lived at home, worked from home, and hated leaving his home. he stayed in amber valley because on the few occasions he was forced to go into the office, it was only a short drive to where his company’s headquarters were in the next town over.

“i mean, it’s definitely different from the city. . .” you tried to offer, but yoongi waved it off. his friends were just amused and you could see the tiniest smile at that, so you assumed he wasn’t totally unhappy.

meanwhile, taehyung proudly declared that he - wait for it - chose to move to amber valley. he was a novelist and moving to the town inspired the setting for the newest manuscript he was working on.

“i love it here, it’s really peaceful,” he said.

the last to be introduced was jiwon, whose appearance baffled you more and more when you looked at her. it was because she looked just like jungkook. and she was calling him oppa. you put two and two eventually.

“my annoying little sister.” jungkook reached over, but jiwon instantly slapped his hand away from her head, as if on instinct.

there wasn’t too much surprise at the sibling you’d never met before, just a little bewildering to think a whole new human was made while you were gone from amber valley. after all, jungkook’s parents were relatively young, both the same age your own parents, who had you at nineteen. this explained two main things in your childhood, the first being why it was a no-hesitation decision for your parents to send you away to your grandfather’s care over the summer. free childcare was incredibly unreliable in the city and it was just easier for them.

and, of course, like most kids from the valley, your mom grew up alongside jungkook’s parents. for that, it was encouraged and even expected for the two of you to eventually become friends. there was also a high level of trust because of this. out late biking with jungkook? oh, you’re with jungkook, it should be fine. left unsupervised on the fields? it’s okay, you and jungkook would look after each other.

“it’s nice to meet you all. it’s a little weird that you have a little sister this grown now - has it really been that long since i left?” you shook your head.

jungkook only laughed. “longest nine years of my life since this brat was born.”

“hey!”

“your mom did always say she wanted a daughter,” you attempted to joke, but ceased when you saw the atmosphere explicitly shift.

taehyung and yoongi looked away, eyes darting anywhere but the current conversation. jiwon looked like she had just seen a ghost. on the other hand, jungkook’s expression went blank. what the hell did you do wrong?

it was taehyung who broke the silence. “hey, jiwon. wanna go pick out a card for jin?”

jiwon nodded enthusiastically - a little too enthusiastic. she happily skipped away, giving peanut’s leash over to jungkook, and yoongi and taehyung both left with her.

“i’m so sorry, was it something i said?” you blurted to jungkook, as soon as the three were out of your line of sight. what a horrible first impression you must have just made.

jungkook said, “ah, no, it’s nothing, really. . .there is something you should know, though.” he took a second, as if preparing himself. “you see, my mom and dad passed away six years ago.”

“what?”

the familiar feeling of grief struck you like a lightning bolt, causing your chest to drop and you blood to run cold. you thought you heard him wrong. six years ago? your grandpa never told you this - or maybe he did and it went in one ear and out the other. you couldn’t believe it, your body frozen and detached.

“hey, it’s okay, you couldn’t have known.” he reached over and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, instantly calming you down at his touch.

you shook your head anyway. “i’m so sorry, jungkook.” you didn’t know what else to say.

“really, it’s fine,” he broke out into a light chuckle. “it was an accident and it happened a long time ago. it’s just a bit hard on jiwon because she doesn’t really remember them.”

“oh, i feel awful!”

“it’s okay, y/n,” jungkook continued to assure you, while peanut just looked up at you with those big eyes.

you still didn’t seem to find the words, as you mentally grasped at any remaining memories of jungkook’s parents. they were always around during the summer and were always so good to you. they cared for you like one of their own. jungkook’s mom always joked that you were the daughter she always wanted.

jungkook decided to be the one to change the subject, even though you had lingering questions about his and jiwon’s situation. he told you the reason why the four of you were in the grocery store in the first place, talking your ear off about how excited he was for his friend’s birthday party tomorrow.

“we’re throwing him a surprise party at the local pub - well, i guess it’s the only one in town,” he prattled and looked at his feet. “do you, uh, want to come? it’ll be a lot of fun.”

you felt your cheeks turn hot. “oh, i really shouldn’t intrude - “ something about jungkook inviting you out to a social setting made you nervous like a school girl.

“no! no, it’s no intrusion at all,” jungkook interjected, “trust me! there aren’t a lot of people our age in town and we’re all pretty close, so it’d be nice if you could meet everyone, too. jin is a really friendly person, he’ll want to meet you and make sure you’re fitting in well and everything.”

you paused. “i don’t know. . .”

“think about it!” he continued to insist, as he reached into his jeans and pulled out his phone from his back pocket. oh no. now, you were really frozen in place.

what was it about the way jungkook made you so nervous? this was literally the little boy that used to cry if your beyblade was stronger than his. you couldn’t believe yourself.

jungkook tapped on his phone a few time and then turned it around for you. “put in your contact. i’ll text you sometime tomorrow afternoon and see if you made your mind up?”

you did, in fact, give jeon jungkook your number. your hands were quivering ever so slightly when you did, but at least you didn’t have to be the one to ask. it gave you heavy relief that you didn’t have to be the one to text first either. but, then, you came to terms with the fact that you were certainly going to be checking your phone every two minutes for a text from the man in question. this was insane.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @sstrongstyle @wobblewobble822@seokout @firelcrds

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook series #bts series #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #kpop fanfic #bts au #*** / the farmhouse.#kpop imagines #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

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theshinazugawaslut · 8 months ago

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Which girl is suitable for Sanemi, in your opinion? And what kind of character or goals in life?

a/n: my genuine apologies for not being able to finish this sooner!

disclaimer: I will be mentioning things that Sanemi wouldn't be looking for in a partner but this is not to be taken personally.

To start off, I interpret Sanemi as a family-oriented man who would not be interesting in things like partying or hooking-up; he'd date to marry, and would only have sex if he loved you very dearly and trusted you with his life. I say this because Sanemi is a man who isolates himself from everyone he loves but also has a deep respect for women, he wouldn't wish to be like his father (and even without the idea of his abusive father, Sanemi would disagree with ideas like being a fuckboy or making bad decisions). This is not to hate on anyone who does do these sort of things, this is just how I imagine Sanemi to be and what makes most sense regarding his character.

I'm going to split this into little mini-sections with little examples and explanations as well: What Sanemi wouldn't like and what Sanemi would like.

What Sanemi Would Like/Need:

Someone of unshakeable character and a strong moral compass; meaning that the person should be resilient and strong-minded, not easily swayed by others.

Someone family-oriented; this would be incredibly important to Sanemi. He is someone who places great importance on his own mother and siblings hence he'd wish for someone who holds the same importance on their own family as well. This would also play into the fact that Sanemi would want children, so he'd unconsciously want someone who is good with kids and would also want children.

Someone humble, down-to-earth, and simple. Spoiled brats and stuck-up people would make Sanemi strangle someone.

Someone kind-hearted and patient; the most ideal sort of kindness would be someone who is Tanjiro-level. Someone who could calm him down, help him rationalise himself, or help him figure out his emotions during tough times. He'd like someone who is selfless and tender.

Emotionally intelligent. He'd unconsciously need this in a partner due to the fact he is usually unable to express and verbalise his feels so having someone understand him would mean the whole world to him.

Due to his pessimistic nature/thoughts, he'd need someone who can see good in people/things. He's not looking for an overly optimistic, happy person who believes all is good in the world but instead he's looking for someone who can separate right from wrong, acknowledge the darkness of the world and still choose to make and see the best.

Goals-wise — someone ambitious or determined. He doesn't care if your goal is to crochet the world's best handbag or have three kids or open a florist shop, as long as you love it! Someone who rambles a lot would be endearing to him since he likes to just listen.

Feminine. By this, I don't mean someone who looks feminine but someone who acts feminine, someone overall gentle and nurturing, someone he could trust to slice his heart open gently and kiss him so fucking sweet after.

What Sanemi Wouldn't Like/Want:

Somebody who is too social. This isn't to say he wants you cooped up inside the house all the time with no one around you but Sanemi wouldn't be very big on placing a lot of emphasis on friends; he'd rather you and him hang out together all the time so if you dislike clinginess in the sense he will go with you to the gym, shops, salon, your family, then you and Sanemi are definitely not made for each other. So if you're someone who constantly wants to have friends over and go out with friends, he'd most likely find himself bored and slightly irritated even if he won't say anything. He doesn't understand why some people care about their friends so much; if you were hanging out with siblings or parents, he's totally up for it, but he's more iffy about friends. To add to this, Sanemi would really appreciate someone who gets along with family and he'll definitely get along for yours.

People who go partying/clubbing. Sanemi would dislike this because he thinks there are much better ways to spend his time and he overall dislikes the idea of drinking. He probably thinks bars and clubs are immature and a waste of time. He thinks if you can't have fun sober, then you're no fun at all. Overall, he doesn't like the things associated with partying/clubbing culture, and he feels like it's not an overall good place to be. He won't judge people who do it but he definitely wouldn't like it in his own partner.

Hook-up/one-night-stands; Sanemi would never partake in this sort of culture in the first place and I don't think he'd ever go with someone who does. He has different values and beliefs that don't really align with that sort of culture, so I think it'd be very unlike he date/marry someone who partook in it. This isn't for people to get offended but he'd rather someone chaste like himself.

Someone who is always angry. I see this trope in fanfictions a lot but I don't think Sanemi would pair very well with someone who is snappish/brutish like him; he doesn't want you to be a whimpering, pathetic mess, but I don't think he's ever going to fall for someone like himself, he prefers serenity in his partners.

Argumentative. You'll both just end up heartbroken and in a very badly chaotic relationship. It would never work out.

If you don't want kids. He wants kids, he loves them and really wants his own, and you'd probably find a problem later in your life with him if you really don't want kids. He'd never force you or try to push it on to you but he'd feel really sad on the inside.

#sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #kny #sanemi x you #esha answers your questions #husband sanemi #sanemi headcanons #anime and manga #kny sanemi #sanemi

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

Note

Hsr characters of your choice with a s/o who had recently picked up crocheting (dont get me started, frustration with the magic circle lasted like 2 or 3 days, then had an ongoing frustration with the center of my drawstring bags/baskets just sticking up, when i couldve altered the pattern a little all along *siiigh* at least i can crochet simple hearts well)

-Smooch Anon 💋

Loops of Affection

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Robin x Reader, Topaz x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Slice of Life, Comfort, Light Humor, Soft Moments.

You sat on the sofa, focused on your crochet project, the soft yarn flowing through your fingers as you worked. Aventurine leaned casually against the doorframe, watching you with an amused smile, his eyes glimmering. "What’s this? A new hobby, darling?" he asked, his voice smooth but laced with genuine curiosity.

You looked up, smiling softly as you explained, “I thought it would be something relaxing to do in my free time. Plus, I’m hoping to make something special.”

Aventurine’s lips curled into a playful grin. “Perhaps I should try it too. I could certainly use the opportunity to learn something new. Maybe we could make something together.”

The thought of him, with his sharp wit and strategic mind, picking up crochet was amusing, but you liked the idea of sharing this new hobby with him. “I think it’d suit you,” you teased. “You might even make it into a game.”

His grin widened. “A game of crochet strategy? Now that’s an intriguing idea.”

As you sat on the balcony, the evening sky painted in soft hues of pink and lavender, Robin sat beside you, her hair flowing in the breeze. She was always so poised, yet today, her usually graceful demeanor had a more relaxed air as she watched you crochet.

“This looks like it takes a lot of patience.” Robin commented, her eyes studying the yarn and the intricate stitches forming in your hands.

You glanced up, offering a small smile. “It’s surprisingly calming, actually. I just started, but I’m enjoying it.”

Robin reached over, gently touching your hands as you worked. “Would you mind teaching me? I think it might be a nice way to unwind after my performances.”

Her soft, melodic voice added a layer of sweetness to the request, and you felt warmth spread through your chest. You chuckled softly and nodded. “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

You had just finished the last few stitches of your scarf when Topaz, having just returned from a long day at the IPC, entered the room. She eyed the vibrant yarn and the growing pile of projects with interest, her silver-white hair gleaming under the light.

“You’ve been busy,” Topaz remarked, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “What’s all this?”

You looked up at her, holding up the scarf. “Just something I’ve been working on. I picked up crocheting recently.”

Topaz’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Crocheting, huh? I’ve always thought it was a good skill to have, though I never quite found the time for it.”

Her eyes flicked to the scarf you were working on. “It looks... delicate. I imagine you’d make a perfect partner in this craft.” she said with a teasing grin, a rare hint of warmth in her voice.

“Maybe I’ll make you something next.” you offered, already imagining the soft scarf draped around her neck.

Her lips curved, a slight smirk tugging at her face. “Only if it matches my cape. Otherwise, I’ll have to reconsider.”

Sunday had always been composed, but today, as he sat beside you on the couch, his eyes flicked between your crochet and your focused expression. You were so absorbed in the process that you hadn’t noticed his silent observation.

“You’ve taken up a new hobby?” he asked, his voice soft and curious, a rare hint of gentleness in his usually formal tone.

You looked up at him, grinning. “I figured I needed something to do with my hands, and crocheting seemed perfect. It’s kind of therapeutic.”

Sunday studied the way your fingers moved with fluidity and grace, his head tilting slightly. “It’s admirable. You’ve found a way to channel your energy into something so... serene.” He reached over, gently touching the yarn, his fingers tracing the softness. “I must admit, I admire your dedication.”

You laughed lightly, feeling his warmth beside you. “Would you like to try?”

For a moment, there was silence, and then Sunday chuckled softly. “Perhaps... but I believe I would rather keep to my more... grand designs. This seems like a delicate art, and I am not so delicate in my movements.”

You smiled, the soft flicker of affection growing in your chest. “No harm in trying.”

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nhularin · 1 year ago

Text

1 STEP FORWARD, 3 STEPS BACK

PAIRING bf! jay x reader GENRE toxic! relationship, angst no comfort WARNINGS insecurities,there might be some grammar mistakes WC 0.9k series masterlist

December 12, 2001

"so, how was your day?"

you looked at him, your voice soft as you asked. you and your boyfriend sat in his car, the air thick with tension. but jays response was anything but kind. his eyes narrowed as he looked straight ahead of the road, his voice filled with bitterness. "fine" he spit out and silence fell upon you once again

no, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

the tone of his voice made you recoil, your heart sinking. it was a typical thursday night and you haven't seen each other outside of school in what felt like forever. you had only wanted to check up on him, to show him that you cared about his well being. but his words sliced through you like a dagger, leaving you feeling small and insignificant.

"thats great!" you tried to sound cheerful, but your voice betrayed you when those words came out quieter and wobblier than expected. you looked outside of the passenger seat's window, attempting to ignore the unbearable silence in the car. you could hear the joy and euphoria from passing cars and you couldn't help but feel jealousy radiating through you

All I did was speak normally, somehow I still struck a nerve

"why are you always so sensitive?" jay continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "you make everything about yourself. cant you see that I have my own problems to deal with?"

jay could feel your discomfort, he had to. hell, the passing cars could probably feel it "dont be like this" he said, sighing heavily "why do you always ask me that? you saw me at school. did you see me crying? no. so dont ask obvious shit when you already know the answer."

your eyes welled up with tears, voice trembling. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I just-" you paused, feeling your throat close up "we haven't hung out in a while and i just wanted to make sure that you were fine"

jay scoffed, his anger intensifying. "you think you can solve all my problems with a simple question? youre so naive. you don't understand anything. fine, coach Madson was a fucking asshole today but i knew you wouldn't understand. isnt a simple 'fine' enough? all you know is how to break out in song and dance with your theater friends"

im the love of your life until I make you mad

your heart shattered as his words echoed in your mind. you had hoped for a moment of connection, a chance to offer support. but instead, you found yourself facing his anger, his frustration, and his complete lack of empathy.

you longed for affection, for those sweet words of love to fall from his lips. but instead, you were met with a wall of unpredictability. one moment, he would hold your hand and make you feel like the most special person in the world. the next, he would push you away, leaving you wondering where you went wrong.

every little thing you did seemed to set him off, like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. his anger was swift and cutting, leaving you feeling small and insignificant. it was a rollercoaster of emotions, and you couldn't help but question if he truly loved you.

jays grip on the wheel tightened even further as you reached a familiar intersection. the red light seemed to mock your mess of a relationship, the halted traffic mirroring your damaged connection.

as the light turned green, he pressed down on the gas pedal, your heart pounding heavily in your chest. the car lurched forward, the engine roaring, but the noise was nothing compared to the deafening silence between you two. the streets blurred as you sped through the night.

in that moment, you realized that jay wasn't capable of providing the love and understanding you have craved. he was a storm of emotions and absolutely unpredictable, lashing out at anyone who dared to get close.

on your late night drives, you would often find yourself bracing for impact. would jay walk you home, or would he send you home crying again? it was a cruel game of chance, and you were trapped in its endless cycle.

"look" he sighed "im sorry for lashing out, im just stressed with-" he paused longer than expected "practice, AP calc, everything, okay? its nothing personal"

his apology didnt change the storm of emotions forming inside you but you tried to tame it as best as possible, trying to look unbothered by his constant outbursts of hatred.

when did it all go wrong? you have known him since forever, his toothy grin and messed up bangs permanently engraved in your head. you managed to form an awkward smile "its okay" its always okay, as long as you were with him

do you love me, want me, hate me?

finally, you arrived at your house, and jay pulled over. the quiet and calm suburb contrasting the chaos in your head. the car idled, the engine still rumbling.

there was a moment of silence, a moment where the weight of your emotions hung in the air. and then, without another word, jay reached over and opened the car door. his gesture made you feel giddy and hope filled your heart. as you stepped out, you gave him your biggest smile

"ill see you tomorrow, text me, okay? i love you"

he didnt say it back nor did he message you that night

no, I don't understand

PERM TAGLIST @misokei @avocarua @sngvhs @essmarye @haechansbbg

SERIES' MASTERLIST @flwerfield @hyhees @mrchweeee @j1nniee @mikaluvsyouu @delulu4-life @mora134340 @beomsbeanie @leep0ems @cIphantom-hive @yla-aira @filmofhybe @nishik1

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nariism · 1 year ago

Text

something borrowed, something blue

pair. itoshi sae x gn!reader

content: childhood sweethearts, angst, angst, angst, NO COMFORT no happy ending i'm warning you, sae leaves for spain much later here, use of y/n once (1), not proofread

synopsis. it's his wedding day.

wc. 2.1k

everything you know about weddings comes from fairytale books.

you have fond memories of the days spent curled up in the lap of a woman whose name brings you to tears with nostalgia, kind and warm as she read to you.

the itoshi brothers' mother was good at painting pictures with words; animating true love's kiss, soulmates, princesses turning into frogs and back again.

even as a tiny child you knew they all ended the same way: wedding bells and happily ever after.

she was a poet in her own right, spelling out for you what love could possibly be. as a naive child, you believed her — put blind faith in the fact that love was always perfection, that it was something easy. it was something that fills you to the brim until you're overpouring, fantastical and rare and beautiful.

she sweet talked you into believing true love is something all people find one day.

it wasn't as simple as the stories she told you made it out to be. ironically, the person who taught you so always sat to her left at the dinner table.

itoshi sae was your first. he was your only. it wasn't a foreign or unknown emotion pounding at the confines of your ribcage every time he would take your hand and drag you along with him and rin to get ice cream.

it was cruelly familiar. an ode to their mother who was waiting on the front porch for them to return home to her. love.

you grew up next door to the itoshis. your most distant memories replay with the sounds of rin's laughter in the background. they were happy kids. happier than they ever would be again.

the window of your bedroom was directly across from sae's. it was there that secrets were whispered, falling on deaf ears to the sleeping world. things that only you and him would ever know. you spent seventeen summers sitting at your windowsill under starry night skies talking about menial things.

you planned your whole lives together at that conjunction of your homes; wooden furnishings in the kitchen with green accents, a garden full of hydrangeas, lanterns strung up amongst the trees. and he promised he would buy you anything and everything you wanted, lavish or not, "just because".

you spent your entire life in love with itoshi sae. with the idea of giving your heart and soul to him. that maybe he would do the same for you if given the chance.

when sae turned eighteen, he received a very, very important letter.

the paper was thick and fancy and lined with gold. there was an official seal at the bottom of it along with a signature he couldn't read.

you remember that day vividly. you'd relived his birthday for as many years as you were alive, after all.

he was sitting in front of his birthday cake with the candles blown out as he read it aloud. champagne popped, balloons flew, people clapped, the whole shebang. you made eye contact with him from where you were sat, directly across the table in your usual seat.

it was then that reality came crashing down on you.

you were always staring at his big back, and not once had he ever turned around. not once had he ever deemed you more important than his dreams. not once did he prove to you that he loved you like you loved him.

you fought that night. he broke your heart over a leftover slice of chocolate cake.

life goes on, as they say. every part of you yearned for sae like flowers wishing for rain. you left a piece of yourself in his bedroom all those years ago, half of your soul that you hoped would always haunt him.

(it did.)

it's a mundane tuesday afternoon when you get the text.

the number was saved on your phone from many years ago, but it's been so long since the chat was active that your previous messages have been automatically deleted.

rin: are you going?

your answer is instantaneous.

y/n: no. why?

it’s a long while before rin texts you back.

rin: mom wants you there

it's all the convincing you need. you would just have to grit your teeth and sit through it, no matter how painful. you don't blame their mother in the slightest; your relationship with sae was your best kept secret, after all. it would have created a mess if you dragged their mom into your fighting.

how could she have known that she was marrying off your one and only love to a complete stranger?

everything about him is beautiful today. he's rented out the biggest venue in the city, strung up with crystal chandeliers and fancy clothed tables. it's uptight and luxurious.

you can't help but realize that it looks absolutely nothing like what you used to talk about as kids.

"the colour scheme clashes with your eyes, you know."

you watch as he tenses up at your voice, eyes drifting from his suit to you in the reflection of the mirror.

"wasn't my choice," he tells you casually, as if nearly two decades of history doesn't exist between you.

"your tie is all messed up."

"it's good to see you, too."

you're quiet in response, sauntering over to him and reaching out to fix the knot in his tie. he allows you to touch him, for old time's sake. your fingers brush against his throat and he swallows.

sae knows everything about you. almost 90% of his childhood was spent by your side. he knows what colours you like, which ones you would have chosen for your own wedding theme. he knows what kind of cake you would have wanted, too.

he did his best to persuade his bride into choosing things that wouldn't remind him of you.

it was a futile attempt.

fate works in funny ways. no matter where he looks he sees you, and his shitty plan to make this wedding the complete opposite of what you would have wanted only made him miss you more.

what do you do with memories of someone who isn't yours anymore? he doesn’t know how to handle memorizing every part of you and not using it.

you were his biggest regret, without a doubt. if he hadn't accepted that team drafting, would you still be together? would you be laughing over chocolate cake and telling your friends how you and him are childhood sweethearts? soulmates?

sae has never been impulsive. he doesn't like to be. there's nothing beneficial about being reckless.

but then he sees you, and it feels like you were never apart. he's afraid he'll wake up only to find out you were just a dream built on distant memories. or maybe he'll wake up in your arms, seventeen again, as if the world never caught up to him.

he loves you and the gravity of that makes him weak in the knees.

his whole life has been carefully constructed, at least that's what most people think. the reality is that it's all a lie; carefully constructed doesn't matter if the house is made of wet paper.

there's something nostalgic about letting you fix his tie. it reminds him of when you were both ten and looked up online how to do a windsor knot, just for the fun of it.

silence fills the room as you fix his outfit, sloppily thrown together because he couldn't care less about how he looks when marrying someone he doesn't want. then he stupidly opens his mouth in a last ditch attempt to make you his, blaming this familiar feeling raging inside of him on the nostalgia you bring with you.

“can we talk?” he pleads quietly.

“what is there to talk about?”

“about us.”

“there is no us.” not anymore. he abandoned that notion many years ago on his eighteenth birthday.

he contemplates you for a moment, just staring at you with a finality in his eyes that you wish was there the night he broke your heart. if it was, maybe the story would have ended differently.

"run away with me. let's go somewhere far from here. i don't care what anyone else thinks anymore. i just need you. i need you."

he never stopped needing you, even when thousands of miles separated you.

you blink at him in surprise. there's consideration in your face as you look at him, completely dumbfounded by his sudden confession.

it's the first time you've spoken in years. in fact, it's the first time you've laid eyes on him since that night.

he's throwing everything away to be with you. your heart breaks because half of you knows you shouldn’t, and the other half of you screams to take his hand and start new again.

"sae..." there it is. a fondness sweet as honey clinging to your throat when you speak his name for the first time in years. there's an expression cast on his face when you call for him, as if he's been put under a spell, bewitched by your voice.

for a moment he genuinely believes you'll actually agree to do something so stupid and reckless. just once, pretending like your whole world isn't falling apart around you. hope glimmers in his eyes. but then:

"we can't." he’s too late.

"please," he begs, forehead knocking into yours. you recoil from him so fast that you take his breath and a piece of his soul away with you.

it's been years, yet here he stands with your heart clutched in his palms; greedy fingers digging into the rotten core of fruit. you belong to him — you always will, as sure as the sun rises every morning, as sure as the sky is blue.

he knows it, too. it only makes it hurt all the more.

there isn't a doubt in your mind that you love him still, utterly and all-consuming and never-ending. the very idea of being in love with itoshi sae after all this time makes you feel so sick you might keel over and throw up.

he's just a stranger standing in front of you. your heart shouldn't tug at the sight of his watering eyes.

"shut up and go get married, sae."

you leave him standing alone in that room. he lets you go.

it's not until he's standing at the altar that it dawns on him: sae doesn't know very much about weddings.

the more accurate truth would be that he doesn't know a lot of things outside of football. but he does know one thing: your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

so why does he feel like throwing up?

his bride-to-be doesn’t look at him. doesn’t speak to him. their relationship is obligatory and nothing else. a union rooted in their mothers’ old friendship. sae didn’t put up a fight when his mom called him over to introduce them. he didn’t say a word until they got up to leave.

(if he did open his mouth, he would have choked on his own vomit.

in all honesty he should have, because maybe he would have scared away his bride and this whole headache never would have happened.)

she’s pretty enough. but he doesn’t like her.

there are no feelings of love in his heart, no care for what his soon-to-be wife says or does. he’s surprised she hasn’t left him at the alter yet, considering how little they even acknowledge each other.

it’s a good enough reason to explain the emptiness inside of him; that he’s entering a loveless marriage because of his mom’s social networking. he has other reasons, but none of them mattered until you showed up at the door.

loneliness is a part of sae. something he grew familiar with, something that slept in the same empty bed as he did while he tripped over his own tongue learning how to speak spanish.

he never realized how disgustingly lonely he felt in his own relationship until he saw you again.

he's supposed to be happy. he's supposed to fall in love. but he can't. not when you're sitting ten feet away from him with your fingers clinging tightly to his mother's.

sae meets your eyes only for a moment. eighteen years of his life spent by your side rings in his ears; your laughter, your tears, every part of you painfully ripping through him.

you're his soulmate. it's always been you. there was only ever you. how could it be anyone else?

he swallows and it feels like a thousand nails dragging down his throat. regret melts his brain into mush. he wants to object his own marriage and you seem to sense that, because you give him the tiniest, most subtle shake of the head.

don’t, please.

sae’s stomach sinks. there’s only one acceptable answer he can give the officiant right now:

"i do."

maybe in the next lifetime.

#— whispers in the wind ✧#sorry not sorry (i am sorry please accept a hug)#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi rin #sae itoshi #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x y/n #sae itoshi x you #bllk angst #itoshi sae angst

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twstgarden · 1 year ago

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❀ ❝ 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼 ❞

━ general lilia vanrouge x human! reincarnated! gn! reader (reader is not yuu.) ━ having a relatively shorter lifespan than the man you deem as your soulmate can be quite disheartening. meeting him once again in another lifetime gave you a sense of comfort and familiarity as if you knew who this man was. (f/n means first name)

cw: (including, but not limited to) death/graphic mentions of death, war themes, blood

requested by: anonymous <3 request type: oneshot requester's message: *slams doors open* requests are open?!? Waaaahhhhhhhahsjjssj I really enjoy your diasomnia works. Can I request a one shot with general lilia and human reader? Maybe a reunion or reincarnation trope? They fell in love and then meet again. Something fluffy or sweet? florist's note: hi there! i'm glad you enjoyed my diasomnia works <3 i'm not sure if this is fluff enough, but thank you for the request, little one.

this work contains spoilers for chapter 7, diasomnia’s arc.

do not steal or translate without my permission.

less than 100 years, more or less. that is the average lifespan of a human being. general lilia knew that all too well, and he knew what he was getting into when he saw this innocent maiden living by herself in the woods, or did he?

he had no intentions of falling in love. he finds it a waste of time. he has his duties to focus on, and being in the palace makes him feel as if he is in greater danger than when he is on the battlefield, due to a certain princess he grew up with.

you, on the other hand, completely minded your own business in your own little cottage, making pies and other baked goods every now and then, taking care of your flowers and vegetable garden, singing songs as you do your chores, and so on. you were living a simple life and you loved it.

never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you'd cross paths with the well-known fae general of briar valley. your first interaction was not exactly all that great, considering his icy cold glares and stern voice as he thought you were part of the silver owls.

of course, he did not believe you at first, until he saw your cottage and all your belongings - just a bunch of basic daily use materials and no sign of weapons that can be used for war. the general continued investigating, wanting to find even one sign that you were a part of the other side so he could eradicate you.

meanwhile, his comrades were feasting on the blueberry pie you offered to them. he was in utter disbelief, how could the soldiers he trained be so careless as to eat whatever was offered to them? what if it was a trap?

you merely smiled at the dark faerie soldiers as you sliced the pie and handed it to the others. you had enough to feed a small group, so you hoped they could share it with one another. you then turned to look at the general, "would you like some?"

how absurd. how could you offer him food with that sweet smile on his face when he clearly hated your kind? he did not know if you were deceiving him or you were actually being genuine.

he had never encountered a human so... pure and humble.

and since then, he occasionally paid you a visit to 'make sure you aren't plotting anything', but you knew he just wanted to check on you.

"how is it that you're so nice?"

that question made you look up at him while you were watering your plants. you paused a little, thinking about how you would respond to him without sounding awkward before smiling, "i... guess i was raised to be this way?"

"hm... where are your parents?" asked the general as he raised a brow at you, his gaze shifting from the delicate tulips being watered to your face as your eyelashes batted with every blink, how your lips were in a small smile, and your cheeks dusted pink.

you let out a soft sigh through your lips before responding, "they've long passed away from an illness, so i've been alone for a long time now." your sweet smile still remained as you spoke to him, and it was starting to make him feel comfortable around you.

everything was going smoothly between you and the general. you could even say your relationship was flourishing, from strangers to friends, at least you think so.

of course, all good things come to an end. unfortunately, one of the silver owls' soldiers stumbled upon you and the general having a nice chat by your garden, and thinking you were an ally and betrayed humankind, you became their target.

the first few days of spending your time in the cottage with the feeling of being watched was tolerable so far. the general had noticed it as well during one of his visits, and out of concern, he sternly said, "you should not stay here any longer. it's dangerous."

"i'll be fine, general. i've lived here for years," you replied in a gentle tone, wanting to reassure him that everything would be fine. he stayed silent for a moment as he scanned the surroundings, "traces of humans are evident around here. you could be in danger. don't be stubborn and listen to me."

"...i know, but... if i leave, how will we see each other again?" you asked softly, making him stay silent for a moment as he did not realise he was the reason why you were so adamant about staying in your home.

"i like your presence, general. i look forward to seeing you every day, to see you visit me alone or with your soldiers, saying that you are merely passing by when i know you really are checking on me..." you added, "and every day, we just get closer to one another... it's hard for me not to want you around me..."

he let out a sigh as he crossed his arms, "i don't want you to put yourself in danger because of me." you frowned at his words and he saw how it made you sad, making him step closer towards you as he placed a hand on your cheek, "wherever you go, i'll find you... so please, stay elsewhere and be safe..."

you noticed he took out his gloves when he touched your cheek. his rough yet gentle hand caressed your face as he said those words, looking at you with those usual cold eyes that now had a tinge of worry and affection. you gave him a small sad smile before deciding to embrace him.

your arms wrapped around his figure as you buried your head on his chest, feeling the cold armour, and yet the warmth of his body still managed to comfort you. he held you in an embrace as well, his hands situated on your lower back and your hair.

silence.

an eerie silence engulfed your living room, a contrast to all the noise that occurred earlier during the ambush of the silver owls in your area. suddenly, rushing footsteps could be heard approaching your cottage before your door was slammed open.

the general stood there in shock before rushing to your weakened body on the floor lying in a pool of blood. you were still a little conscious, but you started to feel it slipping away as you looked up at him

"f/n?"

as he knelt down on the floor, your blood staining his armour and clothing, he pulled you up to his lap before calling for the other soldiers to make sure your wounds were patched up, but before he could do so, you placed your bloody hand on his cheek.

"it's too late, lilia..."

hearing his name on your lips, rather than addressing him as general, made him look at you once more as he placed his hand on top of yours that rested on his cheek. "too late? no, we can still stop the bleeding..."

you gave him a weak smile. how is it that even on the verge of dying, that beautiful twinkle in your eyes that he grew to love and that sweet smile he found comfort in still remained? it was tearing him apart on the inside at the thought of losing you so quickly.

"i love you."

you said those words in a whisper as you still held his cheek, tears brimming your eyes as you smiled at him and caressed his lips with your thumb, "please don't do anything rash for my sake... i only want you to live in peace..."

the light in your eyes then went dim as you fell limp in his arms. that was the same day he lost all his hopes and dreams as he held you close to his chest and embraced your lifeless figure.

it has been a few years since you were gone - honestly, it was about 20 years and normally, such time would be very short to long-lived species like faeries. however, to lilia, it felt like you were gone for far too long already.

"general, what will we do about the kids?" asked baul, his comrade, as he eyed the three students - four if you count the cat-like creature with them - before him.

lilia eyed the people before him. one addressed him as his father, and the other addressed him like he was his mentor. the other seemed panicked to be in the situation, while the cat-like creature was addressing him as if they were best buds.

just where did these people come from?

the general was about to speak when silver's eyes went to a cloaked figure nearby. lilia raised a brow at his distraction and turned to look at what he was looking at.

hidden in one of the trees is a figure cloaked in black with their face covered in a mask. they immediately realised they were spotted, and they were about to leave until lilia beat them to it. he immediately landed on the tree branch before them as he tried to get them down for a battle.

unsheathing their sword, they immediately landed on the ground and fought with him until his blade knocked off their mask and he managed to pin them down to the ground. his famed lithic blade pointed at their throat as he spoke, "are you spying on us?"

he then froze as he took a good look at their face. they looked exactly like the person he cherished. the same eyes, the same lips, the same cheeks, everything.

they looked exactly like you, the person he loved.

"who are you...?" asked lilia. there was no way this was you, you died that day and he was there when the light left your eyes. still, the possibility of you being a reincarnation crossed his mind.

surely, there was no such thing? but at the same time, he had a small inkling of hope that it might be that way.

"no one important," replied the unknown assailant as they used this distraction to land a blow on lilia, making him dodge the attack immediately as he got off them. "i am only tasked to spy on you," replied the assailant as they glared at the general.

however, deep down, they had a lingering thought, 'why does he feel so... familiar? almost as if i don't want to attack him...'

"so you're one of them," spoke the general with venom laced in his tone. he was about to land an attack on them until silver got in between them both, making lilia look at him as if he was about to scold the guy.

"mom/dad?"

'that can't be... but they told me they work as a director... am i seeing their past life before the current one in nrc, then?' wondered silver as he was surprised to see their human parental figure in this lifetime that they jumped into.

that parental name made the assailant and lilia freeze. silver addressed lilia as his father, and now they are addressing this assailant as if they were his parent too?

"what?" questioned the assailant, "i don't have a kid... why are you calling me that?"

silver's eyes were wide. he could not believe that he saw his father in his younger days, now he gets to see his other parental figure too, and this could be how he witnesses their love story. well, at least for the previous lifetime.

"r-right, sorry, um..." trailed silver as he tried not to take the second rejection to heart. sebek, the other student with him, seemed to have recognised them too, but he knew they would have not known who they were, just like lilia and his grandfather.

"just who are you, anyway?" questioned the general as he pointed his blade at the assailant. they let out a sigh and placed a hand on their hip as they replied, "i'm f/n l/n... why do you look familiar...? have i seen you before?"

lilia stayed silent for a moment. could it be? did his special person really reincarnate and reunite with him? what are the odds that they end up being a member of the silver owls this time?

"you..." trailed lilia, making f/n tilt their head a little as they wondered what he had to say. while waiting for his reply, their eyes wandered to his lips, almost as if they knew exactly how it felt to have them on theirs.

no way. there is no way they are entertaining such thoughts.

there was one more thing lilia could do to confirm that it really was you. however, he had doubts about whether it was effective or not. they may have been a reincarnation, but it's not like they retain all of their memories from the past life, right?

of course, not, but the feeling of comfort and familiarity is always there. the memories may not have been there, but the emotions were.

and right now, lilia is being haunted by the same feelings he felt towards you when you were alive. the same sense of love, peace, affection, and comfort resurfaced the more he stayed in this assailant's presence.

he tried to push them away. he really did, but it always resurfaced the more he spent his expedition with the assailant by his side. they had a change of heart, deciding to aid him instead and ultimately betraying the people they worked for.

hearing the truth from lilia's lips made them realise they were on the wrong side of the story. the land of briar's people were the victims here and not the people f/n is currently working for. the land of briar's resources belongs to them - the natives of the land, the fae folk - and they knew just as well that no human has the right to steal and claim the land or resources as theirs.

when f/n accepted to aid them in their expedition, lilia felt as if he was witnessing the same kindness you showed when you were alive. the more time he spends with them, the more he sees similarities between the past 'you' and the current 'you' that he is seeing.

currently, he was seated beside f/n on the campsite that they chose for tonight. the fire crackled in the centre as he sat on the log, toasting a lizard he caught nearby. it was silent for a moment until they looked at the general, "...i know i said this before, but you really feel familiar... as if i met you or i've known you before..."

lilia stayed silent for a moment before twirling the lizard on the stick a little bit, toasting it on the fireplace as silver, sebek, yuu, and grim were thinking of making the meals instead.

and so they did. they offered to cook, leaving lilia with f/n for a while. that was when he looked at the spitting image of his past beloved, "...you remind me of someone i knew back then."

f/n tilted their head a little, "hm? who is it? where are they now?" lilia did not know how to answer that as he realised he was coping with the grief that he set aside the entire time, "...someone i loved. they're gone now, for the past 20 years."

"20...? that's a coincidence. i'm that old too," spoke f/n as they looked at lilia with a curious gaze. lilia stayed silent for a bit, thoughts swirling in his head as he wondered if it was a coincidence. you died twenty years ago, and this person before him is 20 years old. were you reborn?

this is purely just a coincidence, right?

setting that thought aside, he proceeds to have a conversation with f/n. a few days have passed and they are getting closer to the silver owls headquarters. once they were just a few more miles away, night has come, setting them up a camp to rest before continuing the expedition.

everything was like usual. silver and sebek offered to make dinner once more, while yuu and grim helped around. the other soldiers were patching up wounds and resting by the fireplace as they chatted with their other comrades. baul and lilia were having a conversation, perhaps discussing the course of action while waiting for the meal.

and f/n, on the other hand, remained seated on a log near their tent. their gaze never peeled away from lilia as they desperately tried to think about certain thoughts, such as...

how did they know what his favourite meal was? he never told them about it nor did they have a conversation regarding those topics once.

how did they know which pie flavour he liked? never once did f/n attempt to make pies in this lifetime, and yet they knew so much about lilia's preference.

why did they have thoughts about missing the way he looks when he smiles fondly? it's not like they have seen him smile throughout the expedition, and fondly at that.

but one thought that bothered them the most was... why did they feel as if they were falling in love all over again?

all that thinking led to lilia approaching them after his conversation with baul ended. he wondered why f/n looked so deep in thought while staring at him earlier, seeing as the gaze was obvious. he then knelt down and looked at them, "what's wrong?"

f/n immediately snapped out of their thoughts before shaking their head, "no, it's nothing... i was just thinking about a few things..."

lilia hummed in response, but he did not believe them when they said it was nothing. he then sat beside them, staying silent for a bit before letting out a tired sigh.

"...don't die again, okay?"

f/n raised a brow at his words. again? what did he mean by again? they looked at lilia once more and spoke, "what do you mean by 'again'...?"

the general then eyed f/n as he replied, "wherever you go, i'll find you... remember?" and just like magic, those words hit f/n like a truck. vague memories started flooding their mind as they pictured scenes of being in a cottage and holding lilia's hand, baking pies and handing them out to the soldiers that were currently accompanying them, or how lilia would always drop by for a visit to check in on them.

lilia saw how f/n seemed spooked, and he was about to speak until they pulled him in for a tight hug, wrapping their arms around him as they held him close. no words were exchanged for a moment, but lilia felt the warmth he felt back then.

silver and sebek were watching them while waiting for the pot to boil, and though they had not said anything, they smiled at one another before looking back at the younger versions of f/n and lilia.

after the hug, lilia cupped f/n's cheeks with a small yet gentle smile, "you're still as beautiful as i remember." they let out a soft chuckle as they remained their arms around his torso, "i missed you..."

his gentle smile grew a little more as he placed a kiss on their forehead, "don't leave me this time..."

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accio-victuuri · 2 months ago

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it’s been a while since i’ve shared my recent reads! so here’s what i have picked up in the past months. felt inspired cause i’m really enjoying the story i’m reading now, w/c i initially picked up as a manhwa but i’m impatient so i switched to the novel. it’s called the hunter is gonna lay low or the hunter wants to live quietly. it’s such a gem! cause it starts of pretty simple and funny then the author manages to put in the plot and well, it’s plotting. lol.

if you like systems/dungeons, cast of characters, time travel, mystery and the most delicious slow burn then this is for you. i hope this gets animated at some point cause it’s so good! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 this is the only novel on the list so it’s pretty special that the story led me to WANT to read the source.

i’m literally listing what i’ve read so yeah. and pretty much a v short reaction to it cause there is a lot (53). it’s a mix of ongoing and completed works at the time of writing and when i read it so i’ll mark that too.

1. Sweetie, Sweetie, Sweetie - this title is so misleading cause you would think it’s a modern story full of sweetness when it’s not. this deals with kingdoms/royalty, superpowers — and isekai.

2. How my Daddies Became mates (completed) - first foray into mangas because i most prefer manhwa/manhuas — i know, sacrilege. but yeah, it’s a cute story of two dad telling their kid how they met and fell in love. It’s so wholesome! a short read when you feel tired of all the toxic bl stories. 😂😂😂

3. Unintentional Love Story (completed) - pick this up! it’s so good! slice of life kind of vibe and falling in love in a small town.

4. Someone like You (completed) - this was something i started before and went back in now that it’s completed.

5. Isekai no Sata Wa shachiku shidai - i don’t really go for Mangas but this one pulled me in! I love myself some isekai plot. it’s just sad that no one has updated the translation for so long so that may put some people off in picking this up.

6. Bend over Backwards (completed) - corporate slave x international model. if you like this kind of dynamic then go ahead. Only 40 chapters plus a bunch of side stories so this kind of thing is a good choice.

7. Dinner with a Vampire - pretty obvs with the title.

8. Mister Wonderful teases me

9. Romance but not Romantic - omegaverse! the kind where the omega needs the alpha but initially hated him.

10. Be, Be. - omegaverse with modern royalty!

11. Smoky Nectar 1 - a short read that continues to a part 2 and it’s good ✌🏼

12. Smoky Nectar 2

13. Reincarnated to Devil King Evelogia’s World - this is so uniquely unhinged that it became. endearing. No. I swear. I haven’t read anything like it. I love it tho. Maybe some people will find it over the top but it’s now one of my personal faves.

there’s an animated version of it if you wanna start with that just to see how cute they are lol.

14. Bullying the Dog - an MC who didn’t get much love then he meets the ML who shows him what it’s like. it’s so somft.

15. Bittersweet Martini (completed) - i’m gonna cheat here and copy/paste the first comment on this story cause i think it perfectly describes the story: “If you're looking for a casual pleasure read with a green flag story with heavy flirting, which leads to a lot of blushing but also deals with a more serious topic towards the middle, without leaning too much into the drama, then look no further.”

16. Over the Paradise - guideverse with zombies!

17. Hero vs Villain - what happens when the supposed hero and villain become friends and fall in love? this was so nice!

18. Night of London - vampire and werewolf pairing! come on! Let’s gooooo! 🙌🏼

19. Kill my love - omegaverse and assassins!

20. Turning - Another work that i would most likely pick up the novel version cause it’s that good! Regression theme! ❣️plus the setting is they are in a kingdom where people have powers.

21. The Moon is coming to me - I have already talked bout this before and it’s one of my absolute faves! I didn’t know the Manhua was released! So i was so happy to enjoy it in that form. The translation for this is very close to the end so pick it up!

22. Cozy Obsession - transmigration where the MC knows how the story goes so he is trying his best to change the ending.

23. Summertime (completed) - one of my favorites! love it when friends become lovers and some may say the ML here is manipulative but i wanna say in a good way. lol. anyway, it’s classic, atleast from the MC’s side that you’ve known this person some time and that summertime everything has changed.

24. My way with you (completed) - gonna cheat again with this one by pasting here what someone commented: “LISTEN UP GUYS this one has everything: healthy happy relationship, supportive friends, trauma and healing, mysterious past connections, beautiful men, hot af smut, 100% consent, cutest lovey dovey couple, NO drama, NO “misunderstandings”, NO second ml, NO annoying interfering side characters. You will cry, but because it’s just so good.” 💯

25. Netkama Punch - i haven’t finished and progressed much as i would like tho i know a lot of people have this as their favorite! I will get back to it! The premise of hidden identity and online gaming is one of my fave so i will surely pick this up again.

26. Through the Years - i haven’t finished this yet but it’s a lot of people’s fave

27. Fools (completed) - disillusioned guy meets excitable puppy 🤍

28. Moonquake (completed) - a very unique concept. people on earth have powers and then some of them decided to rebel and live in the Moon. Our MC is one of the best ones on earth and is supposed to bring down the leader of the rebellion. but you all know what happens, they fall in love! AHHHHH! and i have to say the art in this too is exceptional.

29. Men’s wear store and the Royal Princess (completed) - this may be weird for some or slow / not enough action lol. i enjoyed it tho! the MC cross dresses and finds someone who loves and accepts him!

30. Ex Hot Neighbor (completed) - a story that centers around a misunderstanding! MC thinks he can’t date the neighbor cause he’s his friend’s ex. but nope!

31. Forest Sea (completed) - A good and solid fantasy story. Please give it a try! The whole birds vs snakes thing was kinda weird at first but the author made it work.

32. When you were asleep - this hasn’t been updated in a while and it’s so sad because the art is topnotch! the plot is good too, especially the dreamscapes but there’s still a lot to discover cause we wanna know what happened in the past. Why is MC even having these dreams and all that.

33. Beum & Go’s Unholy…. - still ongoing and read few chapters

34. Spring, the color of love (completed) - what a wonderful story. Oftentimes, as a reader, you have that sense of boundary with the narrator. But this one — you can feel and understand what the MC is thinking and going through. even tho i haven’t experienced what he did, i can totally get it. this is one of those tropes where they fall in love during their school years and some misunderstanding happens, they meet again years later and try again. something i would love to re-read even if there are parts of it that hurt. and it’s just proof that if something is meant to be, it will come back to you.

35. Keep Holding On (completed) - a short and sweet read with friends to lovers trope!

36. Wolf in the House (completed) - i am so late with this cause i feel like every list has this story as one of the best. I have to agree! it’s so good! tho i have to say i’m more attached to the second pairing. this one is a perfect mix of fantasy, action, comedy and romance. A solid recommendation!

37. Touch within the Abyss (completed) - AAAAAHHHHHH! a hitman x blind cinnamon roll! read it now! please! it’s so sweet! their love and care for each other is so pure 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

38. 99% in love season 1 (completed) - from bestfriends to lovers in the cutest way! they start fake dating and it leads to more obvs.

39. 99% in love season 2 - their college life and this one has smut scenes!

40. Alpha Trauma ( novel ongoing ) - if you know Omega Complex then you might be aware that this is a sequel of sorts but follows the second lead’s love story if you may. Everyone loves Dohyun so i’m one of those happy readers who is happy that he gets his own story, tho the POV in this is not his but his Omega. If you like ABO and campus setting then this may be for you.

41. Soul Sealer’s school life - The MC is the soul sealer who has to do good deeds to prolong his life, then he meets the ML who has a strong spirit in him. It’s a perfect blend of fantasy, comedy and not so much romance as of the moment. The art is 💯 and i really like to see where this goes!

42. Guidance with Benefits - still ongoing and read few chapters

43. Chiguha Kuna Kisu (completed) - if you like a short read that will make you have overall good vibes then this is it. school setting, two cute boys, a fortunate miscommunication and starting a relationship. it’s so good and made me want to look for more mangas! 🤍

44. Spicy Milk Candy - yandere but in a good way. that’s all i’m gonna say.

45. Ruby Red wo Kamikudaku (completed) - i’m just gonna add the summary below but it’s truly a unique read!

Akane is an Omega who can see people's pheromones as multicolored "crystals”. During his school days, when he was lonely because of his peculiar constitution, he meets Makise, a school nurse teacher. 5 years later, they are miraculously reunited, but Makise has a secret

46. Yume Nara Doko Made Yurusaremasuka (completed) - corporate slave x young policeman. 6 chapters of sweetness!

47. Sparkling Baby (completed) - this is supposedly a sequel for the second lead, but i haven’t read the first story. I just love how the MC/ML first met and then made a mark on each other as strangers — but it wasn’t there time yet. and so they meet again later and navigate their lives together. What attracted me to this story is how the MC changed because of love. For years, he had this sense of what he think is love and looking back, maybe it didn’t work out because love isn’t supposed to be like that. What he found with the ML is real and why it feels different.

48. Ashita kimi no mono ni shite (completed) - this so wholesome! school setting and friends to lovers. quiet boy x cool guy

49. Koibitu Keiyaku chu ni suki (completed) - friends to lovers! fake dating. and well, look at them. so precious together:

50. Camboy Bunny (completed) - i think the title says it all. A delicious read!

51. Beyond the Memories - AAAAAHHHHHHH! the story in itself should be sweet and fluffy but the author manages to squeeze in the undercurrent of there is something wrong. as a reader, there is something big that we don’t know and once it comes out — all of it will be shattered. it looks like there is some sort of regression and MC doesn’t know this but the ML does. The question here is when his memories will come back and will he forgive the ML. We are not in that part yet with what’s available right now so i’m excited!

52. Private Call (completed) - another omegaverse.

53. Senza Replica - guide/esper. very few chapters out and something i will go back to.

I read everything except the novel at BATO. 🫶🏼 covering my may-october 2024 reads.

#personal #accio victuuri reads #book recs #manhwa recs #manhua recs #bl recommendation #danmei recs #manga recs #aside from yizhan and work the rest of my time goes to reading lol

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seiwas · 3 months ago

Note

Hi 🥺👉👈 I heard you wanted prompts for writing practice so I came to offer help 🤲🫡

It can be for any character (maybe whoever has the nearest birthday if you can't choose?), but the word is "salmon" 🎏💦

P.S. Do you pronounce it "sam-men" or "sayl-mon"?

hi there! thanks for sending in a prompt! 🥺 i'll do kiri! hehe and i pronounce it as 'sah-mon' 🥹

help me get back into the writing groove! send me a character + any word and i'll write a short blurb about it!

contains: food (salmon), brief mentions of cheating (of a diff couple)

kirishima + salmon

"mama, what does love mean?" you ask your mother, wide-eyed and full of wonder.

you were 10 when you first truly wondered what love meant. in your small town, it was hardly ever the grand things. handpicked flowers from the side of the road, sometimes fields if the seasons permitted; baked goods prepared in the early hours of the morning, its scent wafting down your neighbor's porch.

it was the soft goodbye kisses that your mother would give your father as he left for work, and his insistence that she makes the best damn pie this town has ever seen (even though he's allergic to blueberries). love was simple, and it was easy.

so when you moved out of your small town at 18 and faced the big city, you were shaken by the reality that that wasn't always the case.

"he said he still loves me," your first roommate cried to you, heartbroken as she held out the text on her screen. she had caught him with another girl just hours prior.

at 20, the consensus among your friends was that good sex was just as good as love itself.

"dating these days is fuuuucked," yuki plops down on your couch. at 23, the dating scene has proven to be a challenge for most of your friends.

it's either someone isn't enough or they're too much. sometimes, the truth comes later, months into a budding relationship, and the rest of the group has yet another name to add to the growing list of "people who deserve to eat uncooked rice and stale bread".

you agree, but also don't. because you've lucked out, it seems.

though kirishima believes it to be fate more than anything.

who would have thought that spraining your ankle in sophomore year would land you here, now, sharing an apartment with the cute, kind boy you so embarrassingly tripped in front of.

from across the room, you listen vaguely to yuki rant the third time about the girl who stood her up for the guy who was leading her on for months. you've already set out a plate for her to join you and kirishima whenever she's ready, but you know that it won't be until she's told the story the fifth time that she'll notice she's hungry.

the meal in front of you is miso glazed salmon, a favorite in your apartment. you don't make it so often because salmon is expensive, especially the good kind, but kirishima believes that life is all about the treats you let yourself have once in a while.

there's only one slice of salmon left on the serving plate and it's a given that it belongs to yuki. with how busy work was for you today though, it's hard to hide that you're still a little bit hungry.

and kirishima sees it, in the way you attempt to scoop up any remaining sauce on your plate with your spoon; in the way you go for a bit more rice, even when it has nothing to go with anymore.

so he takes one more bite and cuts off the rest of his slice, scooping it up to place it on your plate.

you look at him, confused, furrowing your brows at the fact that there is no way he's done eating; kirishima eats twice as much as you do, thrice even, on heavier gym days. but he only gives you a sweet smile, red eyes twinkling as he motions for you to go ahead and finish it.

warmth fills you in this moment, fuzzy flutter feelings swirling in your belly.

it reminds you of when you were 10, asking your mother what love meant, and she said, "sometimes, it's when they give you the rest of their food even when they aren't finished, and especially when it's their favorite."

#i hope you like it!! i reallly enjoyed this one hehe #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #shotorus.workbook #wanted to play with the idea that kirishima is an absolute gem 🥺 nothing at all like the stress of modern dating!!!!!!#bc i do see him as a bit traditional 🥺 or maybe a bit conservative ? idk if thats the word 🥺 but just a sweet boy overall 🥺#no games whatsoever 🥺 just pure genuine feelings 🥺#ask #rep #starryknight565 #ask game answered

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adonis-koo · 2 years ago

Text

sweet nothing • 6

(in which, you should have listened)

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word Count:

Previous | Next

Note: last regular update before I drop off for awhile <333

Two Years Ago

02:21am

Red Light

To say you were nervous, was an understatement of the century.

You had been concerned about Wonho’s involvement in illegal things for a long while now, but it was always the same excuse with him, ‘I’m fine! You know me, i’ll weasel my way out of anything!’

Or something akin to that dismissive statement.

So for Wonho to come home with a serious expression on his face and ask you if you’d be willing to come out with him, something had happened. He never came to you for help, so in that moment you couldn’t possibly turn him down.

It’s how you ended up here, following behind him into the seedy looking building, there were no signs on it that even indicated it was open, in fact, it didn’t even look vacant.

Wonho told you they called it the Red Light though, and you quickly realized why once you entered inside, a mixture of perfume and cologne in the air along with the smell of sweat, you could hear the faint moans through the walls.

This was a brothel.

It made you anxiously wipe your hands against your jeans as you both squeezed through the long narrow corridor into the main building where you quickly felt undressed, many people wore masks concealing their identities.

“Stay away from them,” Wonho whispered to you, “Supposedly they’re government officials and things of that nature, the only people who conceal their identities here, is for a reason.” “Wonho,”

He paused at the sound of your strangled word, your expression morphed into one of pure fear and anxiety, “Why did you bring me here? What’s going on?”

Despite your distraught expression your words were nothing more than a whisper, Wonho frowned, “Nothing major is going on I just…” He frowned as he glanced away, “I’d feel better having someone I trust with me for this, you don’t have to do or say anything, just…be you.”

You searched over his expression in hopes of finding some glimmer or truth or lie in them, but as always, Wonho has a good poker face.

You say nothing more, allowing him to take the lead once more through the main room, the discomfort not leaving you but it did lessen once you entered into a back room where the moans had finally become silent.

This room however had a different kind of tension.

“Ah there he is. Just in time Wonho, you be dealed in?”

It was a small room, much nicer than most of the building so far, a small group of men sat at a round table, poker being played at the moment, not with chips but a multitude of things, pill bottles had been carelessly thrown on the table, a few pistols, and of course, dollar bills.

“I would’ve brought something of value with me had I know,” Wonho flashed a charming grin at them.

“You got something of value right behind you.” Another man commented, nodding his head slightly behind Wonho only for you to realize he was gesturing to you.

“Excuse me?”

He looked amused at your reaction.

“Don’t tempt me Jungkook.” Wonho chuckled as he gave you a pat on the head, “But my little sister isn’t on the table tonight.”

You peered over Wonho’s shoulder only to watch the man’s expression- Jungkook- if you had heard correct- dimmed by a fraction until an unreadable expression crossed his face, dark eyes flickering between you both.

“Sister huh?” He flicked his cigar into the ashtray before setting it inside, “The fuck are you bringing her here for? Cus’ it better not be for what I just joked about.”

You felt yourself visibly shrink back at the cold glare that drilled into your brother, even if he wasn’t looking at you, you could still feel the frost from here.

“Consider her my partner for the night, you have Yoongi,” Wonho pointed a finger at the man who sat beside him, “I have Y/n.”

The man- Jungkook shifted in his seat, a large hand set on the table over his cards, his pointer finger tapping on the table, adorned in various rings as his expression remained stoic.

“That the truth?” His eyes flickered to you.

It felt like electricity shooting in the air as you both stayed silent for a long moment, shifting in your spot you hesitated as you stepped forward to stand beside your brother, “Wonho would never do that to me. I’m here because Wonho asked me to be here.”

Jungkook stared at you for a long moment, then you noticed his eyes, they softened a little, “Good.” Only to harden once more as he looked at Wonho, gesturing to the empty seats at the front of the table.

The meeting had taken around an hour, you had stayed silent the whole time and nobody paid you much mind, aside from Jungkook, who’d occasionally let his gaze wonder to you before Wonho would say something that would make him stiffen.

You had deduced who was hot headed partner and who was the relaxed one out of the two very quickly, but aside from the rash display of emotions on Jungkook’s part, everything seemed to go off without a hitch.

You didn’t understand much of what was being said, aside from some more familiar drug names and logistics, something about running a crate to Seoul…?

Before the meeting officially closed Jungkook had nodded to one of his lackey’s who grabbed a brief case, opening it up nearly made your eyes pop out of your head.

It had to be at least 300 million won.

“We’ll pay the rest after you’ve delivered, and remember,” Jungkook frowned, “Part of this is going into your stock, so don’t blow it all.”

“You can count on me!” Wonho grinned confidently, “Thank you both for your time. We can meet again after I’ve delivered the crate.”

The two men nodded and the meeting ended, the door opened once more and people began to shuffle in and out of the room.

“Here, for you.” Wonho grinned as he pulled a rubber band stack on won out of the brief case, handing it to you.

You swallowed hard shaking your head, “Oh no, I’m- I’m okay…” It was one thing witnessing this, it was another actively spending money that came from illegal dealings.

“No, no I insist.” Wonho shoved it into your hand as he winked, “I always told you I’d find a way to provide for us Y/n, you deserve some spending more, maybe you could even buy that set of canvas’s you’ve been browsing online. I’m gonna go spend mine in a less creative way though.”

He peered outside the room but before you could stop him he had already disappeared, leaving you in the hustle and bustle.

Clearly three am was the busiest time of the night, you hesitantly walked out of the room into an even busier main lobby, the bar counter has littered with people and even more masked figured had appeared, prostitutes weren’t difficult to spot, some naked, other scantily clad clinging to cloaked figures and others had already gotten busy.

All of the sights had your fingers shaking and uncertain of where to look, or where to go, this place was surprisingly large on the inside, leaving you lost as how to leave.

“You looking to use that money sweetheart?” A girl called out to you, she couldn’t of been any older then yourself, clinging to a masked figured as she reached out to you, “We’re looking for a third, I’ll make it a hell of a time.”

“O-oh um…!” You stuttered out, trying very hard to not look at her large chest that was on display.

You weren’t looking at them! They were looking at you!”

“She’s with me.” A large hand pressed against your back delicately, behind you towered the tall figure out the very person your brother had just made a deal with, Jungkook.

You hadn’t realized how tall he was when he was sitting down, but now standing you quickly got the impression that he was just an intimidating person all around, his was in a mix matched suit, a black loose button up top, the last five buttons were undone though, fitted against a dark maroon jacket.

His hair was black and bangs dusting over his eyes, his hair had a slight curl to it though, grazing close to his sharp jawline and chiseled features.

The prostitute glanced between you both before she scoffed, “I guess I know who’s paying who.” She eyed you before walking away with the masked man as you scoffed, feeling a bit indignant that she insinuated you would pay Jungkook to...!

“Don’t mind them.” Jungkook said as his hand dropped back to his side, “They get upset the moment they can’t get money from someone.”

You turned to fully face him, glancing back into the crowd were the prostitute disappeared and then back to him.

“I apologize for not formally introducing myself sooner. I’m Jeon Jungkook.” He held out a hand to you, your eyes dropping once more, he wore about seven rings all together, multiple on each finger.

Carefully you shook his hand, his hand was rough and calloused, at least twice the size of your own, “Kang Y/n. I’m Wonho’s sister, but well you already know that…” Your smile was a bit sheepish, eyes darting away, finding it near impossible to maintain steady eye contact with him.

He nodded before glancing towards the crowd, “Where’s your brother?”

“Oh um…” You frowned, “He…” You weren’t sure how to word it.

“He left you.” It was an accusation, a plain one that Jungkook frowned while saying.

“Not technically I mean…he’s still here, sorta…”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched for a brief moment as he shook his head, saying no more, “Do you need help getting home?”

“I’m sure I’ll manage…” You rubbed the back of your neck, “I don’t want to bother you, I’m sure you’re very busy.”

“This was my last event of the night,” Jungkook replied, “At least let me walk you out of the building.”

You shifted a little…you did need some help…”Okay,” You nodded, “I appreciate your help.”

Jungkook only nodded, walking beside you as he began to weave you through the corridors, and once again the noise slowly faded into nothing as you arrived at the entrance once more.

The cool night air hit your face in a reliving gust of wind as you sighed in relief, having not realized how much tenison you had been holding until now.

You paused however at the cold drops of rain that begin to patter on the ground, lightening shooting across the sky quickly followed by thunder.

You both stood in silence as the rain began to pour down as you sighed, “Um…I’m…I’m sorry but…about that ride home…?”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a small smile, and for the first time you noticed a thin piece of metal adorning his lower lip and one dimple pressing into his cheek. He had a very pretty smile.

It was a short wait before his car had been pulled around, a sleek black Corvette, the door opened with an umbrella.

“Sir,” The man greeted him with a nod, walking under the rain cover to them before handing off the umbrella.

“Yeonjun, I want you on watch tonight, do what you want, just pay attention.” Jungkook said, the man gave one nod before walking into the building behind them.

Jungkook gestured you forward, you weren’t too sure how to act, you never had someone walk you to the passenger side of a car before, opening the door for you, let alone hold an umbrella over to make you didn’t get wet.

The seat’s were warm and comfortable, the air still had that new smell about it, and finally it dawned on you. You were in a Corvette with somebody that, you didn’t know for certain, but you had the assumption could easily make you dead if he felt so inclined.

Anxiety spiked through your body as you shifted uncomfortably, the door to the drivers side opening as Jungkook got in, closing the umbrella as he set in on the floorboard.

“You comfortable?” He asked, eyes glancing over your figure, once again as if making sure you were fine.

You nodded, but your lack of verbal reply made him frown, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You replied, clearing your throat, “I um…being in something this expensive makes me nervous.” Jungkook snorted, “You won’t do anything that I can’t fix with spare change, promise.”

Spare change…

“Jungkook,”

He hummed in response as he began to drive.

“Do you mind if I ask a question?”

“Depends on the question.” He shrugged.

“...How do you afford this?”

Jungkook laughed, you were taken off guard, his expression even relaxed a little as he sunk further in his seat, “I’m a CEO sweetheart, not to sound like an asshole but that makes generally a lot of money on it’s own, not including under the table.”

It felt like a knot formed in your stomach, Sweetheart? It sounded like dripping honey off his tongue that had you clearing your throat, “Then why work under the table?”

Jungkook shrugged, “Why not?”

You weren’t dumb enough to not understand he was evading the question, and so you left it alone, “Thank you again, for driving me home.”

Jungkook said nothing for a long moment as you glanced at him, before to his fingers that were drumming on the steer wheel, something in his eyes that gave you the impression he was annoyed.

It made you worry for a moment until he spoke, “Your brother…” His expression remained, “He’s good at what he does. But I don’t appreciate his constant concern for saving his own skin though.”

You frowned at his insinuation, “He’s always taken care of me.”

“He left you just minutes ago,” Jungkook replied, his tone the same as if laying out facts and you supposed in a way he way, “People who care about you, don’t leave you somewhere you’ve never been and know is a dangerous place.”

You shook your head, “It’s not like that.”

“Is it?” Jungkook’s voice softened a little before he sighed, “My apologies. I just don’t like seeing innocent people dragged into this side of things, one wrong move, one wrong interaction and you could be a prostitute in that brothel in a matter of minutes.”

You didn’t say anything once more and Jungkook briefly glanced at you and then back towards the empty road, “I’m not trying to scare you, I just want you to be aware of what’s going on, those girls? They aren’t there because they want to be, they’re there because they’re paying off a debt of some kind. Because they didn’t have any other way to pay it off besides their bodies. It’s fucked,” Jungkook shrugged, despite his words he looked nonpulsed, “But that’s the way it works. All I’m saying, is tread carefully.”

Tread carefully….You think about those words often these days. Laid out on the sectional in the foyer your hands rested on your bump as you had been nodding off. It was monsoon season meaning another large bout of rain had come in.

It had made you reminisce about the first time you had met Jungkook, you had forgotten all about that car ride, how it felt being in such a closed space with him, his kind but stern words so…Him.

At the time you had dismissed a lot of things, hell, even up until the last week you had dismissed a lot of things, but the more you thought about it, the more you wondered.

A lot of what if’s had been crossing your mind.

What if you had crossed that line with him?

Many questions had remained unanswered though, questions that you were still hesitant to ask.

His words kept ringing in your mind though, it made you frown.

Tread carefully…

You should’ve listened to him when you had the chance.

taglist:

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#bts #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook smut #mafia!jungkook #bts au #bts imagine #bts fanfic

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starillusion13 · 1 year ago

Note

saw the reqs are open omg!!! im thinking of badboy wooyoung (god forbid his new undercut) x reader. wooyo plays and teases her together with his friends til he crosses the line and the reader kind of gets hurt? angst to fluff i beg ❤️

I LIKE RED

Pairing: Ateez! Wooyoung x fem! reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Slice of Life

Warnings: crying, mention of physical abuse, psycho behaviour of boyfriend, teasing in university, slight mention of bullying, Wooyoung's undercut lol

W.C: 3.5k

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated 😭. Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

“Look, who we got here?”

“Wooyoung, I’m not going to repeat again. Move.”

As usual, he is not getting fazed by your cold attitude and hence, your bored face is giving him the amusement. His two bestfriends San and Yeosang finding the situation funny and three of them smirking and staring down at you.

……

You didn’t expect your university life to be dealing with these idiots everyday. It’s not like you have engaged yourself with them eagerly but somehow you and Wooyoung being in the same dance club making the things go around like this. When you got first introduced to him, you had just saw him from afar laughing with his friends and walking around the campus and boy, his laugh was so contagious that even from a distance, it brought a little smile on your face.

Everything becomes different the moment when next day, you met him, standing in front of you. An average tall boy in black pants and a loose jacket with a black tee inside, must be a black lover. Sharp jawlines highlighting the face on point along with the undercut hair, so on point that the shaved hairs above the ear and behind it shaved nicely to spot the earring more clearly, giving the face a fresh look but the shaved hairs slightly getting hidden under the rest black hairs, giving him a mysterious look. Curious eyes staring down at you, tongue licked his soft red lips and hands extended in front of you with an attitude laced in his voice.

“This is Wooyoung and what’s your name, sweetheart?”

Oh. A sweet-talker. Shaking his hands, your mind went how he had that rough outlook but his hands were so soft as if a handshake can ease your every problem.

“Myself Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Such a pretty name. Also, I like your dress. Its suits you so well and there’s a reason why am liking it more.”

“Thank you. And may I know why?”

“No.” And with this, he patted your cheeks with two fingers and making a clicking sound with his tongue and teeth, he winked at you and left you there, standing at the corridor. You didn’t know what did just happen. Like the introduction was normal but then if he didn’t want to tell you the reason so why giving a hint that he likes your dress for a reason. Quickly, you went to the washroom to check if there was any problem with your outfit but all you could see was your reflection just the same as when you left the house in the morning.

It’s not possible for that boy with the dark aesthetic to like such a bright dress.

…….

Now, it was a part of your daily routine to cross paths with him during the breaks between classes. You both only had few practical classes together and also it was usual to meet at the club meetings. The unusual part was him to be always being close to you, even people assumed you both to be a couple. ‘An innocent girl and a bad boy’ He himself even teased you several times along with his bestfriends but your reaction was simple just to glare at them, which was rather stupid to them, cute to him. It didn’t bother to his reputation of being the popular guy in the campus or him flirting with some girls even when he got to hear questions from some whether he is really dating you or not. He always laughs at this question and sometimes run around the campus just to know your whereabouts so that he can annoy you. Just like the way he is doing now.

“Why are you always telling me to move or…like you just ignore me the way as if you can’t even see me?”

“wooyoung, look don’t act like we are close. You know I won’t be giving in like other girls so better move aside.”

“Bad girl. Why are you being mean to me?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t pretend to be a good girl. Wooyoung is just being nice to you, nothing else. You both are paired up in for the dance competition so he is just trying to be friends with you.” San states while referring to his friend who is still trying to block your way from going to the next class.

“You know that even if we are paired doesn’t mean that we need to be friends and we can have this conversation only during the practices that’s it.”

That’s on cut, you push him and run away from the scene. Wooyoung tries to call you but end up laughing with his friends.

Arriving to a classroom, you take heavy breathes and lean to the wall. You didn’t have to run away from him like the way as if he was a killer with his gang. Atleast, he is not the one but the one who would judge the situation is.

You still remember those moments when these three had teased you a lot of times in the corridors. Either them flirting with you or spreading news that you are dating one of them or telling people rumours about you staying with them at nights but the second you get them in your hand, you would scold them but nothing can change the fact that they are deaf to your shouting. Mostly, Wooyoung who is the main cause of all these hurdles in your life. He is always the one who has to start such commotions every day. You don’t know why but apart from you being in a pair in dance class, he still tries to be close with you other times but only to tease you and make you run some errands for him. He and his friends would make you sometimes do a lot of their works but if you deny sometimes then they would make sure to threat you with your scholarship. To be in the good books of everyone, you are agreeing with everything, even with the dark life of yours.

And as you thought before, there is always one who would judge the situations in a different way.

“So, you were again with him. Had fun? Kissed yet?”

“M-Mark?”

“What? Didn’t expect me here or you are disappointed that you can’t spend time with that lover boy?”

“Mark, that is not the thing. He was just informing me about the dance practice schedules and-“

“Shut up.” Mark comes near to your form, eyes daringly watching how your body tensed up with his every step. He caged you in between him and the wall with his one hand resting beside your head and other one on your cheeks, “baby, why are you so afraid of me? It’s not like I’m going to hurt you. Do I ever hurt you?”

You remain silent. Lips quivering, eyes trembling and tears slide down your cheeks. A silent tear with storm of helplessness. Your whole-body trembling under his touch, remembering his previous tortures on you one by one.

“Now, we don’t want a bad girl here, right?” Bad girl. Wooyoung calls you this everytime whenever you glare at him when he teases you the times when you try to ignore him but he is not letting you to go until he has annoyed the hell out of you.

Mark slaps you. Your weak body couldn’t keep the balance and ended up on knees, getting hurt in the elbow during this. Mark bends down to hold your face upwards to look at him, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Why didn’t you answer yet? Is it so hard to tell whether I have hurt you or not? Yes or no.”

“No. You never hurt me.”

He yanks your hair and you grunt on the pull, burning your scalp. Your eyes are bloodshot because of the pressure and the way you are suppressing your cry, a cry for lost war.

“That’s a lie. I have just now hurt you and you are getting more punishments later for lying to me.”

He got up from the space and dusts his clothes. Glancing at you, he rolls his eyes and calls someone. After having some few conversations with the person on the other line, you know that’s Haechan asking him about their father’s business deals. Your cheek is burning but what about it, you are used to getting this treatment. Your once lovey-dovey boyfriend is now a psycho. Once, when a topic of breaking up with him had arisen since then he is acting like a maniac to keep you with him and now supporting his every behaviour has led down to this. Getting treated like a prisoner, atleast he allows you to come to university as you are always locked up in the suffocating house. The house is big but wherever you are with him, it’s a prison to you now, which was once a paradise you dreamed of.

“get up. Don’t overreact and don’t ever dare to miss the class. No one is going to pay for your semester fees if you fail this. You have only got the scholarship because I was your tutor in highschool so just go and attend the lectures.”

He was your tutor and that was how, you fell in love with him. How much you regret to have him as your tutor back then! You were so grateful for him to be by your side but now its sinful.

He went out without glancing at you twice. If he going to treat you like this then why keeping you with him. Obsession. He is obsessed with you. Somehow, even in this situation, your thoughts wander around how one day, wooyoung asked you in between your errands about your hand injury but you waved it off. I should have told him the truth. Why? You sometimes feel this urge to open up yourself to him because you find him a comforting person despite his teasings.

“You know you should break up with him? We can be better together?”

“Who?”

“Of course, I’m talking about Mark Lee. If there is someone else then I don’t know about him, honestly but you look like a good girl to do such things.”

“what? What such things?”

“Being in relationship with more than one.”

“You don’t know what I do or might be doing in my private life so don’t be a nosy person right now.”

“Oooooh, that’s sexy. My bad girl is interesting.” His bad girl and somewhere you liked the way he just mentioned you.

One moment he is being a friendly and understanding one with you but the next moment he will be returned to its actual self, having fun with everything all around and make you feel you are not a special person to him, you are just a part for him to make fun of.

What big expections you have with your life! You literally hate him then why thinking of getting close to him.

Mark’s daily abuse is getting out of hand these days because of him Wooyoung and that’s why you ignore him as much as possible just not to get in trouble but still a part of you wants to run to him. Why? Because apart from his teasing, he is the only one who actually let you show your mad expression when he has crossed his limits, to make you listen to his absolute nonsense but you enjoy hearing some out of world gossips than harsh insults from mark and many other things wooyoung make you feel, which make you believe you deserve a better life, a life where you can smile, laugh naturally, not laughing with a fear of someone watching you everytime.

“That’s it. We can keep the practice till here. We have two more weeks and we have already covered the whole dance, just a few more practices and we will be the one getting the winner’s trophy.”

You just nod on his words. You can rarely hear his words because your wide eyes looking down at the sweating palms holding your phone, showing 10 missed calls from your boyfriend, Mark. You are dead. This should not have happened if you previously hadn’t silenced the phone to not get distracted during the practice. It’s weird to be in a dance club when your boyfriend doesn’t appreciate such things, right? No. According to him, it would make you stay fit and strong but he doesn’t know that even if you are physically okay, mentally you are the weakest.

“Y/N, are you listening to me?”

You didn’t reply. You haven’t heard so how could you. You feel hands on your shoulder which break your trance of thinking all the negative situations to be faced after you will reach your place. Your wide teary eyes stare back at wooyoung who was looking at you in confusion.

“Y/N?”

“Wooyoung, I need to leave. I have to go. Right now.”

Your panicking state doesn’t go unnoticed by him and when you were collecting your things in hurry, he grips your hand to turn you around and you stare into his eyes, your panic rises when you realise if mark sees you like this with him then something like previous torturing days would repeat again.

…….

“If I walk around the campus like this, will your boyfriend be angry or just have faith on you and let it slide that we are friends?”

“wooyoung, move your hand. People might think us of something else. I’m already under so many gossips and I don’t want to add up to it.”

“Why are you always so eager to be in good books of everyone? Be yourself, Y/N. Fuck what people are thinking about you without any proof. I’m just asking about your boyfriend’s reaction. Also, I hope your boyfriend tells you the same thing about you too.”

I hope too. I hope my boyfriend would have been like the way he was, just the way you always playing around and like before being a polite and gentle boyfriend but he is a different person now. A literal doppelganger of his past.

You harshly push wooyoung and glare at him. He was taken aback by your sudden attitude but he had noticed your sudden change in attitudes for a while now. He had noticed the fear in your eyes whenever he asks you about your boyfriend. Ignoring his worst thoughts, still he believed on the positive side and annoys you.

“Don’t touch me like this in public or in private ever like this. Only my boyfriend is allowed to touch me and no one less.”

That’s how you left him there, standing and watching your figure disappearing when you took a turn.

You somewhere hoped to shout on your boyfriend like this not to touch you ever but somehow your whole life is being controlled by him and when you are with him, you are like a puppet of his hands. Mark’s touch are dominating and rough ,simply abusive and insulting whereas Wooyoung’s touch are soft and playful, in other words securing and loved.

………

“Don’t tell me to leave your hand again.”

“wooyoung..”

“Are you okay?”

“Wooyo-“

“Tell me. Are you okay? Is there something bothering you?”

You are wiggling your wrist under his hold but somehow his grip is strong but gentle. Before you could say any more word. The door of the practice room slams open, startling you and Wooyoung closes his eyes in frustration as to who is interrupting him. You both are looking at the person at the door. You are faced with the most scary scene in front of you, your eyes wide in horror and whereas wooyoung unfazed by the presence. Your boyfriend’s raging eyes taking in your position with him and how wooyoung maintaining a secure hold on your wrist. His heavy steps of the boot echoing inside the room as if the mirror walls would collapse under the pressuring sound, eyes focused on the grip.

Your breathes becoming heavy, hands becoming numb, ears becoming deaf to the surrounding and as if the walls closing in to suffocate you to death. Mark reaches to you and holds your other hand and when he tries to pull you, you are pulled back by the other one.

“Y/N, tell that guy that we are leaving for home and it’s your last time for this dance practice.”

Wooyoung didn’t like the tone he used on you and seeing your trembling form under their hold was triggering something inside him.

“Woo-“ you somehow manage to voice out his name but Wooyoung interrupts you.

“Even if you drag her away from me still I’m not leaving her hand. Not with you.”

Mark chuckles on hearing his desperation in the voice.

“You are speaking about my girlfriend in the way as if she belongs to you.” Taking few steps closer to him, he glared , “ Remember She is Mine.”

You clutch Wooyoung’s wrist under his hold and he sees your uncomfortable face to which he forcefully pulls you behind him and glares at your boyfriend.

“Don’t touch her.” Wooyoung literally growls at Mark.

Mark is not liking his attitude and finding this so annoying that you are giving in to him and not fighting against his hold as if you are glad to be with him.

“You don’t tell me what to do with her. She is not your property. Let me take back to where she belongs to.”

“Now, you are telling me she is a property? Shut up before I pull your throat out. She can’t be yours when you are just treating her like this. Have you seen her closely? She is dancing but her body is lacking the confidence and strength because she is weak both mentally and physically and emotionally and all this because of you.” Wooyoung glares as he stated his points.

Mark glares back at him, “aren’t you showing too much care for her? Have you fallen in love with her or what?”

“Yes, I have. Atleast I know how to treat someone whom I love. Just leave, Mark.”

Mark grabs his collar and glared at him.

You somehow managed to calm yourself while being out of sight of Mark but still a lingering sense of fear still budging you. You push yourself to the front of Wooyoung, “Mark, please let go of him. We were just practicing for the event and….I…I had put the call on silent. Sorry for that.”

Both of the males are looking down at you but with different emotions, one with soft and worried expression and the other one with furious eyes and mad expression.

Leaving the collar, he grabs your hair and pulls your face near him, “I have told you several times to stay away from him but you are a brat who won’t listen.”

“Ah…Mark. It’s hurting….please leave it.”

“Do you think Wooyoung will always be there to help you?”

“Whats going on here?” Yeosang enters the room and the scene before him is confusing. He looks at Wooyoung and then you and your boyfriend.

Wooyoung again pulls you out of his grasp and hugs you, “Y/N, calm down. Shh.shh, it’s me.”

“Please leave me. Please I will listen to you. I won’t be a bad girl again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Wooyoung’s heart clenches seeing you like this vulnerable, he hugs you tighter and caress your head, planting a slow and soft kiss on your head. Mark was about to go towards him.

“Yeosang, call your dad and San and tell them to come here. Grab him and take him to the spare room. I’m coming.”

The one in command doesn’t need a word more to jump in action. He pulls out a syringe from his backpack and push it down the neck of Mark when he was busy watching you. One might wonder what in the hell Yeosang have such things in his backpack but that’s for other times. As for now, he is taking this unconscious man out of the room to the spare room.

Wooyoung waited until the door got closed. He makes you sit on the floor along with him and pulls you closer to his embrace, a secure one as if he is shielding your weak body from every strong presence and negative energies around you.

“Hey, look at me. No one is here to hurt you. It’s me and you. Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

Somehow his sweet voice worked and you parted your eyes a bit, still not sure about the scene that might get unfold. But to your relaxation, a sweet guy yet his appearance was not sweet, his looks and aesthetics are always so dark and gives off gangster vibes, you sometimes wonder him to be one. Your eyes wander around the room to see where is your boyfriend but it was only both of you and somewhat you thanked for this mentally.

Your gaze returns back to the guy holding you tight as if his hold won’t loosen even if it’s the end of the world.

“Wooyoung…”

“Yes…it’s me. He can’t hurt you anymore. You are safe now. “

Shaking your head, “he will come back to me again. You don’t know how powerful he is. Nothing can prevent him from getting me back. Not even you.”

“Who said I’m not powerful?”

“I’m not joking. He has a backup support of a gang and even if I complain about him to the police then his boss will bail him.”

Pulling your head to his chest, his hands patting your back, “I know everything about him. Even more than you know. You don’t know a lot of things about everyone but you know I guessed it right. That something is up between you and Mark. I have watched you feeling scared everytime I have mentioned about him. Even if you smile anytime, there was an unspoken sadness in your eyes.”

“You noticed? That’s crazy coming from you as you have always seen me as to tease and annoy me.”

“That’s fun though….. I have noticed everything about you Y/N. Since the first day, I met you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“To pull you in the mess of my life. I should have managed to get out from here before he could reach to us here but I was late.”

He caress your head before softly pulls it upwards. So opposite from Mark’s hold. The same actions but different approach, your hurtful eyes meeting his worried eyes.

“I’m glad that all my guess are cleared in front of my eyes and I was the one there who could protect you from him. I will keep you safe. And I can assure you that no one can hurt you ever not even me and you have to trust me.”

“I want to trust you but somewhere I fear to get hurt again like the way I got on trusting him. But Woo” your palm resting on his cheeks, “ but please let me trust you. Let me make you the part of my life. Please make me believe that I can be loved and you will not hurt ever.”

He smiles at you and this is the first time he is genuinely smiling at you without any teasing and you smile a little along with him.

“I have loved you since the day one since the day when you introduced yourself all dolled up in a red dress and you remember I told you that I like your dress for a reason.”

You nod.

“I like red and you caught my eyes that day but not like the other girls but a one who I need to protect. I like you in colour red. You shine the brightest. My bad girl in red.”

You hug him tightly, “thank you, Wooyoung.”

So it was your red dress. Now everything is getting clear why he always puts a red ribbon on your wrist or gifts you red cased pens, red key rings. He always urges you to wear red coloured outfits or a hint of red details atleast available in it. You thought it was just a part of him annoying you but it was just he wanted to see you in red colour.

“I love you, Y/n.”

You didn’t reply but rest your head on his shoulder inhaling his comforting cologne.

“I’m sorry if it’s too fast but after waiting for all these years I couldn’t help and-“

“I love you too, Woo.”

He is smiling brightly hearing your reply with the nickname and place a soft kiss on your forehead and then on your nose. He stares at your lips.

“One day when we will be both in a better situation, I will kiss you on the lips.”

You smile at him and rest your head against his chest, his heart beating fast yet it’s relaxing to you.

In a comfortable silence inside the practice room, there’s two souls promising to be there with each other, one is glad to save the other one and the other is glad to get the comfort they desired all these times. Never ever anyone had thought of having a peaceful silence in a place which is supposed to be loud chaotic.

“But you are still my bad girl who is ready to argue back with me and also we need to be the winners. The winners of the competition and the winners of the life of you and me.”

His bad girl in red.

Please dont hate Mark. I want to give Mark a psycho role and somehow I was lowkey loving it while writing him here but remember he is not even like this in real life. He is an absolute sweetheart. Mark him in your heart.

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