#make me regret moving across the country ALONE even more?!????

[i-am-thevoid]

someone broke into my fucking truck and there is glass EVERY FUCKING WHERE.

[jaeyunluvbot]

sad beautiful tragic

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 angst, lovers to exes, joshua hong x reader, fiance!joshua x reader

word count 𝟅𝟈 4.2k

part two

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s your freshman year of college. You’d taken the risk and moved across the country to go to UCLA. It was your first exam season and you were sorely regretting this choice, wishing you had your family and friends to lean on.

The library is dead silent except for the occasional rustle of pages and the distant hum of the air conditioner. Your head hurts from staring at your statistics textbook for too long, the numbers blurring together like they’re mocking you. You press your palms into your forehead, trying to focus, but it’s useless.

You’re on the verge of packing up and leaving when a voice interrupts your spiral.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You glance up, your eyes landing on a boy holding a tray with two coffees. He’s tall, with a warm smile and a slightly oversized UCLA hoodie that makes him look impossibly soft.

You nod, gesturing to the seat across from you. “Go ahead.”

As he sits down, he slides one of the cups toward you. “You look like you need this more than I do.”

You blink, taken aback. “What—how did you know I needed caffeine?”

He chuckles, the sound light and easy. “You’ve been glaring at that textbook for like ten minutes.”

You laugh despite yourself, the tension in your chest loosening. “Fair point. Thanks... I guess I owe you one now.”

“Nah,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Think of it as my good deed for the day. I’m Joshua, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you reply, taking a cautious sip of the coffee. It’s just the way you like it—strong but not bitter. “This might actually save my grade.”

“Glad to be of service,” he says with a grin.

For the next hour, you pretend to study, but really, you’re watching him out of the corner of your eye. He’s quiet but not shy, the kind of person who makes you feel at ease without even trying. By the time you pack up your things to leave, you realize you don’t feel so alone anymore.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Life after college had been better than you'd ever imagined. When you moved to California for college, you’d never expected to find more than just a degree. Joshua had been the anchor in a world that felt so foreign—your solace when homesickness hit you hard. By the time graduation rolled around, the two of you were inseparable.

Your careers had fallen into place perfectly. You landed a job in New York, but when Joshua asked if you’d stay in California with him, you didn’t hesitate. You turned down the offer, found a great position in LA, and never looked back. Being close to him felt worth every sacrifice.

The proposal had been perfect in its simplicity. One quiet evening in your shared apartment, he’d set the table with your favorite takeout, candles flickering between cartons of food. You’d laughed when he nervously fumbled with the ring box but cried when he asked, “Will you marry me?” The answer had been a resounding yes.

At first, Joshua was just as excited as you were. He’d scroll through the boards with you, offering opinions on everything from table settings to wedding bands. “Simple and elegant,” he’d said, his voice laced with warmth as he picked out a gold band that matched yours. He’d even gotten himself a matching engagement ring, claiming he wanted everyone to know he was spoken for.

But then work started picking up for him.

It was little things at first—missing a cake tasting or zoning out during a discussion about the guest list. “Whatever you think is best, babe,” he’d say with a tired smile. At first, you brushed it off. He was busy, and you didn’t want to add to his stress.

Then, he missed your appointment with the wedding planner. It was supposed to be a big one, the meeting where you’d decide on the venue. You’d picked out three options together, but sitting across from the planner with an empty chair beside you made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

You called him after the meeting. He answered on the third ring, his voice apologetic but distant. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. The meeting at work ran over, and I couldn’t get away. Did you pick something?”

You paused, the lump in your throat growing. “Yeah. I went with the vineyard. It felt right.”

“That sounds perfect,” he said quickly, relief evident in his tone. “I trust your judgment.”

You tried to smile, but it felt forced.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time he missed the florist appointment a week later, it wasn’t a surprise. “Sorry, babe. Just go with whatever you like,” he said when you called him, his voice rushed. “I know you’ll make it beautiful.”

You hung up feeling a mix of frustration and sadness. It wasn’t just the missed appointments. It was the way he seemed to disengage completely, like the wedding was your project and not something you were supposed to be building together.

He still wore his ring, still kissed you goodnight and said, “Love you.” But his words felt like a habit, something automatic and unthinking. You told yourself he was just busy, that once the stress of work eased up, things would go back to the way they were.

But deep down, you couldn’t ignore the growing ache in your chest.

The phone feels heavy in your hand as you sit cross-legged on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen. Joshua isn’t home yet—another late night at the office, or so he says. You’ve been scrolling aimlessly through your wedding Pinterest board, but even the dreamy photos of lace gowns and candlelit venues can’t shake the dull ache in your chest.

When the call connects, your mom’s warm voice cuts through the silence. “Sweetheart, how’s my favorite daughter?”

You manage a smile, even though she can’t see it. “Hi, Mom. I’m... okay.”

“Just okay?” she asks, a hint of concern in her voice.

You hesitate, unsure how much to say. “It’s just... I don’t know. I think I’m feeling a little lonely.”

“Lonely? What about Joshua? You two are practically glued together.”

Your throat tightens at the mention of his name. “He’s been so busy with work lately. And I don’t know, Mom, it’s like... I can’t really talk to him about how I’m feeling. I don’t want to add to his stress.”

“Sweetheart, you can always talk to me,” she says gently.

“I know.” You pause, picking at a thread on the couch cushion. “It’s just hard sometimes. All my friends here are his friends, you know? I can’t exactly call them and say, ‘Hey, I think Joshua’s pulling away from me.’”

There’s a soft sigh on the other end of the line. “Oh, honey. I wish I were closer. Are you sure everything’s okay between you two?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “He’s... different. He’s not excited about the wedding anymore. He misses every appointment, and when I try to talk about it, he just says to do whatever I want. Like it doesn’t even matter to him.”

Your mom’s voice softens even more. “Sweetheart, planning a wedding is stressful for anyone, but it sounds like you’re taking on all the weight by yourself. That’s not fair.”

Tears sting your eyes as you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from falling. “I just miss you, Mom. I wish you were here.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll come see you next month, okay? We’ll spend some time together, just us girls. Sit tight until then.”

“Okay,” you murmur, even though next month feels like a lifetime away.

After you hang up, the apartment feels even quieter than before. You glance at the dining table, still set with the meal you’d made hours ago, untouched. The ache in your chest feels heavier now, pressing down until it’s hard to breathe.

You wonder, not for the first time, if this is what homesickness feels like—not just for a place, but for a version of your life that feels like it’s slipping away.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“You really need to decide on your groomsmen soon, Josh,” you say, your voice soft but edged with the faintest hint of impatience. “I can’t finalize the bridesmaids until I know how many you’re having.”

It’s late, and he’s seated at the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone while you try to bring up yet another wedding detail. His hair is tousled from work, and he looks tired, but you push forward. You’ve been asking him about this for weeks now.

He looks up briefly, his expression unreadable. “I know, Y/N. I’ll get to it, I promise.”

You pause, trying to keep your frustration in check. “It’s been two months, Josh. You haven’t even mentioned it to anyone yet.”

“I’ve just been busy,” he says with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I’ll figure it out soon. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” you say, forcing a smile. “But you really need to. It’s not just about the numbers—it’s about including people who are important to you.”

He nods distractedly, his eyes already back on his phone.

That night, as you lie awake in bed, you replay the conversation over and over. It’s such a small thing—picking groomsmen. It shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, but somehow, it does.

It’s not the first time he’s brushed off something wedding-related. It’s not the first time he’s promised to “get to it.” And it’s certainly not the first time you’ve felt like you’re the only one putting real effort into planning the day that’s supposed to celebrate both of you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time another week rolls around, you’re still waiting. Another week of him saying, “I’ve been thinking about it,” without any actual decisions. Another week of you wondering if this is what the rest of your life is going to look like—waiting for Joshua to care about something as much as you do.

When you ask him again, gently but firmly, his response is the same. “I’ll get to it.”

But he doesn’t.

And as you sit at the dining table that night, staring at your wedding planner and a half-empty glass of wine, it hits you like a punch to the gut: he’s not avoiding the groomsmen because he’s busy. He’s avoiding it because it doesn’t matter to him.

Because maybe you don’t matter to him—not the way you used to.

The thought sends a chill down your spine. You push the wedding planner aside, get up, and walk to the bathroom. His ring is still on the counter, where it’s been more and more lately. You stare at it, the dull ache in your chest flaring into something sharper.

“Oh,” you whisper to yourself, the word heavy with realization.

You leave the ring where it is and head to bed, the sheets cold and uninviting. For the first time, you don’t wait up for him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning feels heavy before it even starts. You wake up to an empty bed again, the sheets on his side rumpled but cold. You find him in the kitchen, sipping coffee and scrolling through emails on his phone, still wearing the same distracted expression you’ve come to know all too well.

“Hey,” you say softly as you pour yourself a cup. “We need to figure out the wedding party today. We’ve been putting it off too long.”

Joshua glances up, his brow furrowing. “I know. Let’s sit down after breakfast and go through it.”

You nod, hopeful for a moment. Maybe today will be different.

But before you can even finish your coffee, his phone buzzes on the counter. He picks it up, and you watch as his expression shifts from tired to tense.

“It’s my secretary,” he mutters, holding up a hand as he answers.

“Mr. Hong,” her voice is clear even from where you sit, “I’m so sorry to bother you on a Saturday, but the investors are furious about the delay. They’re demanding an emergency meeting.”

Joshua runs a hand through his hair, already moving toward the bedroom to grab his bag. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Thanks for letting me know.”

When he returns, he’s tucking his phone into his pocket and slipping on his shoes. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You look up at him, frustration and sadness bubbling beneath the surface. “We were supposed to figure out the wedding party today, Josh.”

“I know,” he says, his voice rushed. “We’ll do it tomorrow. I promise.”

You glance at the counter as he heads for the door, and your stomach sinks. His ring is still there, sitting carelessly next to the fruit bowl.

The door closes behind him, and the apartment falls into silence.

You sit there for a long time, staring at the spot where his ring rests. Then, slowly, you slip your own ring off your finger. The weight of it has felt heavier these past few weeks, more a reminder of what’s slipping away than what’s supposed to be.

You carry it to your bedroom and place it gently in the jewelry box on your dresser, nestled between a pair of earrings your mom gave you and an old bracelet from college. It doesn’t feel right, taking it off—but it doesn’t feel wrong, either.

That night, you go to bed alone again, the silence in the apartment pressing down on you. You wonder, as you lie there staring at the ceiling, how many more nights will feel like this.

And for the first time, you don’t cry. You’re too tired to cry anymore.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next evening, Joshua finally comes home. It’s later than usual, but you’re still awake, sitting on the couch with your wedding planner open in front of you. You’re not really reading it, though. Instead, you’ve been staring at the untouched coffee cup you poured for him hours ago, now cold.

“Hey,” he says softly as he steps inside, setting his bag by the door. He glances at you, and his brow furrows slightly. “You’re still up?”

“Yeah,” you say, keeping your voice steady. “We need to talk.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Okay. Let me just—”

“Now, Josh,” you interrupt, standing and closing the planner with a soft thud.

He blinks at the sharpness in your tone but joins you in the living room. You sit on the edge of the couch, hands clasped tightly together, while he sinks into the armchair across from you.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The tension in the room is palpable, stretching like a rubber band about to snap.

“Are you having an affair?” The words leave your mouth before you can second-guess them.

His eyes widen in shock, and his posture stiffens. “What? No! Y/N, how could you even think that?”

“Because you’ve been pulling away from me for months,” you say, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to keep it even. “You miss every appointment, you don’t care about the wedding, and you keep leaving your ring on the counter like it doesn’t mean anything to you.”

Joshua’s face falls, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I swear, it’s not that. Work has just been—”

“Don’t,” you say, cutting him off. “Don’t blame this on work. Be honest with me, Joshua. Do you even want this anymore?”

His silence is deafening.

“I—” he starts, then stops, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know.”

You feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs. “You don’t know?”

“We’re so young, Y/N,” he says finally, his voice quiet but firm. “I love you, I do, but... I don’t know if I’m ready for this. For marriage. For forever.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in like stones in your chest. “You don’t feel it anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks up at you, guilt written all over his face. "I don’t know what I feel anymore."

The tears sting, but you refuse to let them fall. "I stayed here for you, Josh," you say, the words breaking free before you can stop them. "I left everything—my family, my friends, my life—just to be with you. And now you’re telling me you don’t even want this anymore?"

Joshua’s expression falters. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. His silence cuts deeper than any answer could.

“Then let’s break up,” you say firmly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

“Y/N, I—”

“No,” you say, standing up. "If you don’t want this, then we’re done. I can’t keep fighting for both of us."

He opens his mouth again to speak, but the words don’t come. He just nods, looking down at his hands.

“I’ll move out,” he says after a long pause.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” you reply, your voice hollow, as if you’re already a stranger to him.

That night, he sleeps on the couch, and you lie in bed alone, staring at the ceiling, feeling the space between you grow wider by the second. The silence in your apartment is suffocating, and for the first time since you moved to California, you feel truly and deeply alone.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning, Joshua leaves for work as usual. His footsteps fade down the hallway, and the door clicks shut behind him. The apartment feels cold without his presence, but the tension, the weight of everything that’s happened, keeps you from feeling anything else.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and begin packing your things. You leave behind the little things—the pictures, the mementos from your time together that once meant so much. The engagement ring stays on the counter where he left it the night before, untouched. You gather your essentials—clothes, toiletries, a few items that remind you of who you were before all of this. You’re doing this for you.

As you pack, the tears come, and you can’t hold them back. The weight of it all—the loneliness, the heartbreak, the way he’d stopped caring—finally crashes over you. You grab your phone and dial your mom’s number.

“Mom,” you choke out, barely able to speak through the sobs. "I—I can't... I can't do this anymore. I... I’m so lost."

You hear her soothing voice on the other end, muffled but full of warmth and concern. "Sweetheart, what happened? Where are you?"

“I—I'm in California, but I don’t want to be here anymore. I can’t do this alone. I... I left. I left him. I don't know what to do, mom."

Her voice softens, and you hear her take a deep breath. "Don't worry. You don't have to do it alone. I’ll book your tickets, I’ll get you home, okay?"

The relief that floods through you is overwhelming, but it doesn't stop the tears. Your mom insists on getting the earliest flight available, even going the extra mile to make sure you’re on the next plane out.

You hang up with her, still a mess, but knowing that, at least for now, you won’t be alone. You finish packing quickly, making sure to leave everything behind except what’s truly necessary. You wipe your eyes, trying to pull yourself together.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time you finish, it’s still a few hours before Joshua will come home. You take one last look around the apartment—the place that was once filled with shared moments, warmth, and love. It now feels like a shell of something that used to be, cold and unforgiving. You make sure your essentials are packed, then head out the door, locking it behind you.

When Joshua comes home later that evening, he expects to find you resting, taking the nap you often took after a long day at work. He quietly enters the apartment, shedding his coat and bag, and makes his way to your shared bedroom. He pauses at the doorway, frowning as he notices the emptiness of the room.

There’s no sound of you resting, no gentle hum of your music. The bed is neatly made. A sharp unease twists in his stomach.

He turns toward the dresser, his eyes catching something familiar—something that doesn’t belong there.

It’s the love letter he wrote you years ago, the one you’d always kept in your wallet. The edges are frayed now from years of being carried close to your heart. It’s placed on top of the dresser, in the spot where you used to keep it safe, along with the ring he’d given you.

He picks it up, his hands trembling slightly, and unfolds the letter. The words are still familiar, and yet, they now feel like they were written by someone else.

His eyes scan over the message, the sincerity in his writing that once made you feel loved, now leaving him cold. He puts the letter back down slowly, the full weight of the situation settling in.

Joshua’s gaze moves to the counter, where the engagement ring lies, cold and unclaimed. The reality of it all hits him like a brick wall. You’re gone.

The apartment feels like a vacuum now, empty and silent. His throat tightens, but no words come. All the things left unsaid, all the moments missed, hang heavily in the air around him.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The plane ride feels like an eternity. You’re sitting by the window, watching the clouds drift by, but your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, doubts, and emotions that you can’t escape. It’s hard to breathe, to focus on anything other than the overwhelming emptiness that seems to have settled inside you.

Your phone buzzes constantly with messages, and you can’t help but check them. It’s Joshua.

Joshua: Where are you? Please, answer me. We need to talk.Joshua: Y/N, I’m sorry. Please come home. I can’t lose you.Joshua: I was wrong. I didn’t mean for it to end like this. Where are you?

Each message hits you like a punch to the stomach, but you know you can’t respond in the way he wants. You’ve made your decision, and no amount of begging can change the way you feel.

You almost find it funny, how little his words mean to you now that you had left.

You tap out a response, slow and deliberate, your hands trembling slightly as you type.

Y/N: I had to go. I’m sorry, Joshua. I wish you well. It's for the best.

You hit send and put the phone down, hoping he’ll respect your silence. The flight attendants come by, offering you a drink, but you don’t take it. You just keep your gaze fixed outside, the horizon blurring as you fight to keep it together.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

By the time you land and step off the plane, you can feel the weight of everything pressing down on you. You’re exhausted, emotionally drained, but there’s one thing you’re certain of: you made the right choice.

Your mom is waiting for you at the airport, her face full of worry and warmth. As soon as she sees you, she pulls you into a tight hug, and you collapse against her, tears streaming down your face. She doesn’t ask any questions. She just holds you, murmuring soft reassurances as she strokes your hair.

“I’m here, sweetheart. You’re home now. I’m here,” she whispers, and somehow, it makes everything feel a little less heavy.

The drive back to the house is quiet, the only sound being the hum of the tires on the road. You try to collect yourself, but the emotions keep rushing back, overwhelming you in waves. You know you’ll have to explain everything, but for now, all you want is to be wrapped in the comfort of your mom’s arms.

Once you’re home, she takes you straight to the living room and sits you down on the couch, making you a cup of tea. “Tell me what happened,” she says gently, her voice soft but insistent. “I’m listening.”

You take a deep breath, recounting everything—from moving to California, to the engagement, the wedding planning, and the slow unraveling of everything. You tell her about how Joshua had been pulling away, about how you tried to wait for him, tried to understand. You tell her about the ring left on the counter, the distance, the fighting, and finally, the breakdown of your relationship.

Your voice cracks as you speak, and she pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you. “Oh, baby,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m so sorry. I know this isn’t easy. But you did the right thing. You deserve someone who’s all in, who’s going to love you fully, just like you deserve.”

You nod, wiping your eyes. You’re still so raw, but her words give you the strength to keep going.

As the night wears on, she handles everything for you. She cancels the wedding bookings—everything that had been set up for the wedding is erased. The vendors are contacted, the plans are halted, and you don’t have to worry about any of it. Your mom handles it all, taking the burden from your shoulders as you sit there, just trying to breathe.

When she finally gets off the phone with the last vendor, she sits next to you again, her hand resting on yours. “You’ll heal, sweetheart. And when you’re ready, we’ll figure it all out. But for now, just rest. You’re safe here.”

You close your eyes, resting your head on her shoulder, feeling the weight in your chest finally start to ease, if only a little. The pain is still there, but at least for tonight, you’re home.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

author's note 𝟅𝟈 lowkey wanna start a taylor swift songfic thing. i'm obsessed with this song so yk i had to write a fic based on it!

masterlist.

[tetsuissohot]

Toji Fushijuro ONESHOT

☆summary. After a painful breakup, Y/N thought she had moved on from Toji Fushiguro, but when he reappears in her life, old feelings resurface. Toji, determined to win her back, confesses his regret and desire for a second chance. As the two wrestle with unresolved emotions, Y/N faces the struggle between her lingering love for him and the fear of getting hurt again. In the midst of their heated confrontation, passion takes over, and Y/N must decide if Toji’s promises are enough to trust him once more.

☆warning/tags: 18+fem!reader, casual, SFW, building up tention, ex's to lovers?, part 1

☆word count:1.1k

☆a/n: This my first work lol, please be kind and tell me where I can get improve! I'm thinking of doing a second part for this oneshot where things get a bit spicier. I hope you enjoy!

part 2

The dimly lit bar was buzzing with the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses, but Y/N barely registered it. She stared blankly at the glass in her hand, swirling the amber liquid inside as her thoughts drifted elsewhere. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—missions, responsibilities, and emotions she had long since buried.

But all of that seemed insignificant when he walked in.

Toji Fushiguro.

Y/N’s grip tightened around her glass at the sight of him. Even in the crowded bar, his presence was commanding—tall, broad-shouldered, and carrying an aura that both attracted and warned people to stay away. His dark green eyes scanned the room with a predator's calm until they landed on her. A smirk tugged at his lips.

He walked toward her, his steps confident and sure, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. And maybe he did—Toji had always been direct, never one to beat around the bush. But it wasn’t his confidence that made Y/N’s heart race; it was the fact that seeing him again brought back memories she had worked so hard to suppress.

“Mind if I sit?” His voice was deep, gruff, and achingly familiar.

Y/N didn’t bother looking up as she took another sip of her drink. “It’s a free country.”

Unfazed by her cold response, Toji pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, his eyes never leaving her face. He leaned back casually, arms draped over the chair like he had all the time in the world.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

Y/N finally met his eyes, her expression unreadable. “I’m not avoiding you, Toji. We’re just... done. I thought we both agreed on that.”

Toji’s smirk faded, and his face took on a seriousness that Y/N hadn’t seen in a long time. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Maybe you did. I didn’t.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay composed. “You were the one who walked away,” she reminded him, her voice steady. “You were the one who said this—we—weren’t meant to last.”

Toji’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening. He remembered that day all too well. The bitter words he had thrown at her, the way he had convinced himself that he was better off alone—that she was better off without him. But now, sitting across from her, the regret felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he admitted, his voice softer now, laced with something Y/N wasn’t used to hearing from him—vulnerability. “I thought it would be easier for you if I wasn’t in the picture.”

Y/N scoffed, setting her glass down with a clink. “Easier? You think walking out without an explanation made things easier for me?”

Toji winced, his usual unshakable demeanor faltering. He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to being the one in the wrong. But he knew he couldn’t sugarcoat it, couldn’t charm his way out of this like he did with everything else.

“You deserved better,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I was messed up. Still am, probably. But…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “I’m not here to make excuses. I’m here because—dammit—I want you back.”

Y/N stared at him, shock flashing across her face before she quickly masked it with indifference. “You don’t get to just come back after disappearing, Toji. I moved on.”

Toji’s eyes darkened, the idea of her moving on hitting him harder than he anticipated. He wasn’t used to losing—especially not to someone else. The thought of Y/N with anyone else made his blood boil, but he forced himself to calm down.

“I know I don’t deserve it,” he said slowly, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m asking for a second chance.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to keep the walls she had built around her heart intact. “You can’t just walk back into my life whenever it’s convenient for you. I’ve been fine without you, Toji.”

He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming. “Have you? Because I haven’t been.”

Y/N felt the weight of his words settle over her. Toji was never one to admit weakness, never one to let his guard down. But here he was, laying it all out in front of her, as raw and honest as she’d ever seen him.

“You think this is easy for me?” he continued, his voice rough. “It’s not. I’m no good at this… at us. But I’m trying, Y/N. I’ve spent every day since we split wishing I hadn’t walked away.”

Y/N could feel the cracks forming in her defenses. She wanted to be angry—was angry—but there was something in Toji’s eyes that made it hard to hold onto that anger. She’d never seen him like this, so exposed.

“Toji…” Y/N began, but her voice faltered, unsure of what to say.

“Just tell me there’s still something there,” Toji said, his voice almost pleading now. “Tell me I’m not too late.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she searched his face, her emotions swirling in a storm of confusion, anger, and longing. She had loved him once—loved him deeply. And even though she had tried to move on, a part of her had never really let go.

But was that enough?

“You hurt me,” Y/N said quietly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. “And I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

Toji’s face softened, his hand reaching out across the table, hesitating before he touched hers. When his fingers finally brushed against her skin, it was tentative, as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch her anymore.

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto hers. “But I won’t make that mistake again. I swear.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken feelings. Y/N looked down at his hand on hers, feeling the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his gaze.

She had every reason to push him away, to tell him it was too late. But in the depth of her heart, she knew that despite everything, she still cared for him.

“I need time,” Y/N finally said, her voice soft but firm. “I’m not promising anything, Toji. But… I’ll think about it.”

Relief flooded Toji’s face, and for the first time in a long while, he smiled—really smiled. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

As they sat there in the dim light, their hands still touching, Y/N realized that maybe second chances weren’t always about forgetting the past. Sometimes, they were about finding a way to move forward—together, despite the scars.

And maybe, just maybe, Toji Fushiguro was worth the risk.

Thank you for reading xoxo

MASTERLIST

[wolffwish]

The Touch of a Hand Lit the Fuse

Summary: You joined Professor Wolff’s class a little over a month ago, but being as shy as you are, haven’t made any real friends yet. He spots you eating lunch alone in the classroom and decides to keep you company.

Warnings: Professor Wolff x student!reader, smut, daddy/baby girl kink, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, praise kink, choking, everything.

It had been around 6 weeks since you moved across the country and accepted an offer to Harvard. You still couldn’t believe it, that all those years of sleepless nights would have you walking through those Business School doors every morning. You hadn’t made any real friends yet due to your schedule being non stop, and as you couldn’t find a table in the cafeteria, you decided to stop by your classroom to see if it was empty, and it was.

You sat at a table closest to Professor Wolff’s desk, just because it was the furthest away from the door, laid out your lunch in front of you and began toying with the apple you almost regret packing. You took your phone from your pocket and started looking at notes for your next lesson.

Deep in thought, taking in all of your bullet points you’d written last week, you startled as you heard the door open behind you. You turned, only to see none other than your Professor standing in the doorway. His white shirt tucked into his grey trousers showing off his slim but muscular frame, with his suit jacket draped over his arm.

“Oh sorry, y/n, I didn’t realise you were—“

“Shit, sorry, I mean uh, I didn’t know anyone was going to come in, I’ll go, sorry, just give me to secs to put—“ You started scrambling around all of your stuff, attempting to pack it all away when you heard footsteps approaching you.

“Y/n, please, don’t leave on my account. Why are you eating in here all alone?” Toto questioned, a gentle hand placed on your shoulder as if to slow you down.

“I uh, I… I don’t really have any friends yet, and the cafeteria was full, it’s fine, I’ll just go eat outside or in—“

“It’s raining. See?” Professor Wolff stopped you in your tracks and gestured to outside, a grim monsoon-like day that had lasted for about a week. There was no way you could eat outside, and you knew that. You just couldn’t muster up any words that made any sort of sense when you had him towering over you.

He pulled up a seat next to you, albeit uninvited, but you weren’t going to put up a fight. He could sit there all day if he wanted to. He was so tall, handsome as hell, his hair perfectly messy and his white shirt hugging all the right places. You couldn’t help but look him up and down as he popped his jacket on the table next to your lunch and took his glasses off.

He broke the silence.

“So tell me… what’s a kind, pretty girl like you doing with no friends?” He smirked, he knew exactly what he was doing. His fingers ran along his collar as he straightened it out, revealing more of that gorgeous broad neck of his.

“I—“ You couldn’t think. He was literally piercing you with his handsome looks and powerful demeanour. You took off your glasses, which lead to some of your hair getting caught in them, and a few strands of hair messing over your face, resting on your eyelashes. You tried to get them off, but your flustered face and shaking hands meant you were just making a fool of yourself.

“Allow me?” Professor Wolff raised his hand towards your face, and with your nod of permission, gently removed your hair from your eyelashes and tucked it behind your ear. When your face was fully revealed, you made eye contact. His eyes went from your eyes, down to your mouth, and back up to your eyes. “So beautiful…” he whispered, as he removed his hand from behind your ear, gently caressing a finger along your jawline along to your chin.

Was he flirting? Or was he just being friendly? At this point, you were in such a haze you didn’t even know your last name. What do you say at this point? Do you stand up and walk out? Do you ask him a question about his next lecture? Ask him about his life, family, friends, colleagues?

You panicked, and a quick movement from you suddenly had your hand resting on top of his, just below your chin. “Do you treat all of your students you see eating lunch alone like this?” You whispered back to him, hoping you were on the same page.

He smirked, looking at your lips again, and back to your eyes. “Do you question all of your Professor’s that want to keep you company at lunch?” You giggled back— “I guess not.”

Your hand still resting on his as he placed it on his knee, he looked down at it and began stroking the top of your hand with his thumb. He breaks the short silence, “You’re really special, you know that, right? I see how you are in class and I just… I just want to…”

“Do it.” You interrupted him. You thought this was your chance, it’s now or never. You weren’t kidding yourself anymore, you’ve had the hots for this man since you first laid eyes on him. He was making all the moves. You knew it was wrong, but why did it feel so right?

The hunger in his eyes poured out of him as he leaned forwards, locking his lips with yours. A fast paced but sensual kiss, tongues tied with eachother and breathless words mustered between biting of lips.

“Table. Now.” he beckoned, pulling himself away from you. He began unbuttoning his white shirt as he looked you up and down like he was about to dine on you like a three course meal.

You hastily stood up, perching yourself on the edge of the table. Your short sleeved, short button down summer dress was the best decision you made this morning.

Unsure of what to do with your legs, you scurried around for a chair to perch them on. Knees together but feet apart, you shyly tried to pull your dress down as you weren’t familiar with this entire scenario.

He shook his head as he looked down on you, his shirt now unbuttoned all the way and his arms peeling your knees apart. “No no, legs apart for me, that’s it…” you hesitantly separated your legs and took a deep breath in, trying to compose yourself.

“Are you sure we won’t get caught…?” you asked him, looking at the clock behind him. He turned around, checked the time, then turned back to face you. His voice sounding deeper than before, he chuckled to himself… “We have 20 minutes until class starts. I’m sure that’s enough time, don’t you think?”

You nodded and waited for his lead. He moved closer to you, his body in-between your legs as he began lifting your dress up towards your hips. The gentle touch of his fingertips up your inner thighs gave you goosebumps, causing your whole body to tremble under his touch. He flicked his fingers over your already wet panties and teased your sweet spot through the fabric. “Already so wet for me… huh? How about we take these off now?” He hooked both index fingers around the top of your panties and pulled them down your legs, off your ankles and tucked them into the back pocket of his suit trousers. He looks you dead in the eyes, rested one hand on the side of your neck as the other made its way up your thigh. You gasped as his fingers reached your folds, and he began teasing your entrance with his two middle fingers. As he pushed further in to your slick wet pussy, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your neck leant back, as you felt a rush of heat overcome you. He leant down, and kissed your open neck softly. “You like that, baby? You like it with my fingers deep inside you?”

You nodded, eyes shut and lips pressed together trying to hold in your moans. You were terrified to make a sound, through fear of being caught. This was dangerous territory, and someone could walk in at any moment.

Not satisfied with your response, Professor Wolff brought his face up to look at you. “Look at me. Look. Eyes on me.” He demanded, as his fingers thrusted in and out of you with ease, you could almost hear the slickness from your insides drowning his fingers. “I need you to use your words, baby. Come on, tell me… tell me.”

You locked eyes with him and breathed out, your breath caressing his lips like it was a drug to him. “It’s… it’s so fucking good, oh god, it’s so good… please don’t sto—“

You could feel your walls spasming inside you as his long, thick fingers slammed into your g-spot. You were close to exploding on him, and you were so fucking turned on that you didn’t think it was this possible to be this horny, certainly not over your Professor.

“You’re doing so good baby, that’s it. Hold on just a little bit longer for me, I didn’t say you could cum yet, did I…?” He teased, pulling his fingers out slowly and slamming them in hard. He brought his lips to yours, entering his tongue into your mouth as your foreheads met. It was like you were made for eachother, the way you kissed him wasn’t like kissing other guys. This was different. There was a hunger in both of you that couldn’t be tamed, like this whole thing had been a long time coming.

“Please” you begged, “fuck me, f, fuck me right now—“

“Please what?” He questioned. “Please isn’t going to cut it.” He scowled, fingers slamming into you at a fast pace once again. “I need to hear you say it.”

You wanted to say it, you really did. It had been on the tip of your tongue the entire time he’d been fucking you with his fingers, but you weren’t sure if it was right. Or if it’s what he wanted to hear. You whimpered as he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, waiting for your response.

“Not so desperate now, huh? Shall we call it a day then, miss?” He licked his fingers dry of your juices and smirked at the taste of you.

There you were, legs spread on his desk and he was… calling it a day? Because you’d gone quiet…? Or because he was having second thoughts? Every scenario ran through your head. You were scared to look at him if you did pluck up the courage to say it, so you laid your whole body down on the table, making sure your dress was lifted up high enough to reveal some of your stomach.

“Please, fuck me Daddy…”

Silence filled the room. Suddenly the rain started sounding like angry stones being thrown at the window as you waited for a response. You could sense he was still there, and without a single world, you heard the clanging of a belt clasp unbuckling, and the fabric of his suit trousers being slid down his legs. Did he like it?

“There it is, there’s my confident girl…” he growled, as he knelt down. He began kissing up your inner thighs, tracing his tongue along your hot skin all the way to your shining pussy. His hands made their way up your dress, cupping your breasts and playing with your nipples as his mouth locked around your clit. His tongue making beautiful patterns at your entrance and finally into your pussy, as you felt him kiss and suck you, pleasure like you’d never felt it before.

“Holy shit, Professor, oh my god…” your breathing became erratic as you bucked your hips at the feel of his tongue on the walls of your pussy. You feel the movement of his head shake side to side. He lifted his head away, bringing one hand down from your breast to your pussy and sliding a finger in. He massages your walls, getting you absolutely soaked. “Try again baby girl… that’s not what I’m called now, is it?” He kissed your thigh again, waiting for your response.

You were out of breath and you’d almost reached your climax twice in the last 10 minutes. You couldn’t think of any words, let alone string a sentence together. “Daddy… fuck, please, need your cock so bad…”

Toto was so fucking turned on, now it was his turn to be at a loss for words. He quickly stood up, drawing his cock out of his white Armani boxers and gave it a few slow tugs. “You want this, huh?” He teased, looking down at his rock hard cock near your entrance. He could see your pleading eyes, almost crying in desperation as you lifted up your head to get a better look at his cock. “Fuck… it’s so big.” You’re shocked. You knew it would be big, but shit… you were about to be torn in half.

He smirked, stepping closer to you and rubbing the tip over your clit. Precum beading on the tip, he used his thumb to wipe off the remnants and bought it up to your face. “Suck.” He demanded. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, and he placed the pad of his thumb on your tongue and fingers under your chin. “That’s it… good girl baby, suck for Daddy.”

Your cheeks went hollow as you sucked his thumb as he demanded. You shut your eyes and tried to concentrate on the taste of his precum, and fuck it tasted good. You could only imagine what the real thing tasted like.

As you opened your mouth to take a breather, you felt his entire body shift, and with one long thrust, he entered his full length into your tight pussy. You both let out an elongated moan, your pussy clamping onto his throbbing cock. He tried to stay upright, but his desire to kiss you overwhelmed him so he brought both your knees up higher and lifted his weight onto you. His hips began long, slow thrusts into you. With each slam, the pain of his thick cock lessened and become a lot more pleasurable. He locked his eyes with yours as you could see his shoulders tensing as he held himself up. “So… fucking… tight…” he claimed, as you both looked down at him fucking you senseless. Sweat began beading on his ripped body. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this…” he beckoned as he leant down to kiss you on the lips. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and began rocking your hips up to match his rhythm of thrusts. “So good Daddy, so good…” you mumbled inbetween kisses.

As you bucked your hips up to meet his, his cock met your sweet spot deep inside you and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax. “Fuck, I’m so close…” you whimpered. His face was now buried in your neck, sucking gently on your bare skin.

“So good for me baby, that’s it, oh god… keep fucking doing that with your hips, whatever you’re doing, fuck…” now he was begging you, as you continued your momentum of hip rocking so every time he thrusted in, you bucked your hips up to make sure he was as deep as he could be.

There was now a slick layer of sweat between your bodies as you both got closer to your climax’s. You were desperate for your Professor to cum inside you as you let go of your climax too… desperate for him to fill you up to the brim.

The intense fucking he was giving you was out of this world. The sound of him fucking you, the wetness of your pussy. You could feel his balls slamming you hard, too. It was almost an out of body experience, and you didn’t want it to ever end. You were fucked. Absolutely fucked.

As he gave you another kiss, you brought your hands up to his neck and began running your perfectly French-manicured nails through his hair and down his neck and back. “Daddy… I… need you to fill me up… need your cum in me…”

Those words were like a drug to him. He began thrusting you harder, his cock almost sliding out of you he was thrusting that high and hard. You felt your walls clamping round his cock and he could clearly feel it too, as you could feel him reaching his pinnacle. “Daddy… fuck I’m cumming… please, togeth—“ “Oh baby, shit… god I’m gonna fucking cum… fuck… ah fuck!!!”

Your walls clamped around him so hard as you felt spurts of his hot cum shoot up deep inside you. His entire body tensed as he bit on the side of your neck, trying to hold himself together yet jolting at the feel of both your orgasms intertwining with one another.

“Holy shit, baby… that was fucking…”

“…so good…” you finished his sentence for him as your breathing became slower and calmer. You placed your hand gently on top of his head and caressed his hair between your fingers, massaging his scalp as he calmed down.

His cock still inside you, he adjusted himself so he was pushed up on his arms above you. “You’re incredible.” He said, kissing your lips, “so perfect”, then inbetween your breasts. He stood up, slowly sliding his cock out of you and watching both his and your cum pour out of you.

“Fuck!!!” you gasped as you tried to catch it by crossing your legs. “It’s so messy… I’m sorry..” you bolted up right, a slight head rush from getting up too quickly as you embarrassingly attempted to covered yourself.

“Hey hey… little one. It’s okay, don’t worry.” Toto crouched down so he was at your eye level. He kissed your forehead and brought you in for a cuddle, your head resting on his chest. Your adrenaline come-down was hitting you hard, your body was hot to the touch but you were trembling and felt freezing cold. You could hear his heart beating…Still pretty fast, but not as fast as earlier. You began breathing hard again, panic setting in as you realised what had just happened. Was it wrong? Was he going to regret this? He could sense you were going into some sort of shock just by your ever growing symptoms. “Hey, little one… look at me” he moved you away from his chest, locking eyes with you. “Head to the bathroom and get cleaned up. I’ll excuse you from next lesson if you need to take 10 minutes. Make sure you eat something too, okay?”

You nodded and attempted to stand up, albeit a bit like Bambi as your legs were still like jelly. “Take it easy… don’t you realise you just had a good fucking from your Professor…?” He giggled as he steadied you and kissed the top of your head. “Don’t worry, I know what you’re thinking.”

You panicked. Shit. He was a mind reader now, too?

“I won’t regret this. If anything, I’ll regret only doing it once.”

You smiled as you looked up at him. “Wait… seriously?” You we’re shocked, sweaty, a bit of a mess. You thought there’s no way he could want this again, surely it was a one off?

“Maybe next time we take it somewhere more comfortable, if that sounds good to you?” Toto smiled as he slid his boxers back on, then his trousers and tightened his belt. He reached into his back pocket. “Oh, your panties?” He pulled them out to show them to you. You went to grab them, and he pulled his hand away. “I’ll keep these… you can collect them next time. And give me a new pair. Deal?”

You looked at the soaking wet panties in his hand, then back up to his face. You nodded, not saying a word, as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door. You looked back, and could see him buttoning up his white shirt. He gave you a quick wink, before you exit the room, to the sound of the University bell signalling for next lesson.

[crimsonhydrangeavn]

Hello I hope I'm not bothering you but and I hope this isn't a triggering question but how would teagan react to the mc absolutely hating them after the breakup like they don't want him anywhere near them and will not hesitate to call the police on him or just straight up pepper spray/taze him/judo toss him on the ground if he gets near and how would the other characters react to the mc and their intense hated of teagan I'm just curious cause I know this is how some people I know would react to a toxic ex like teagan

Don't be silly, of course you're not bothering me! I love getting asks from people interested in learning more about my characters, it makes me really happy to receive them! <3 ____

Honestly, after the initial break up Teagan decided to give you a little space to cool off since the break up was pretty brutal emotionally on you both. Though, what they didn't expect was for you to move out and travel halfway across the country to a god forsaken island, even if it is Saint Anne's.

If you were still livid and refused to talk to them/ engage at all they would be pissed. Of course they would try to play nice at first, but once it was clear that it wasn't going to work they would switch tactics.

They would try to manipulate the others into helping them smooth things over with you. That there was a huge misunderstanding and you BOTH needed to talk to get closure. Depending on how you both play your cards, some of the more gullible love interests could possibly be tricked into helping Teagan get you alone so you can "smooth" things over. (Granted that's only if you didn't tell them everything that went down between you two.)

If that plan failed, they would have no choice but to MAKE you listen whether you wanted to or not. They'd stalk, harrass, and blackmail you into listening and engaging with them. They refuse to let you go, why else would they come all this way? No, they WILL make sure you come back with them, one way or another. ____ As for the love interest's reactions, this is how they'd react if their first introduction to Teagan was of you viciously attacking or threatening them.

Garret would immediately step in between you two, effectively shielding you from them, stare them down, and tell them to leave before he made sure they'd regret it. What the FUCK did they do to you to make you react like that? He'd try to get the story from you later on, and regardless if you told him or not he'd personally make sure Teagan NEVER bothered you again.

Marcelo would be stunned by your vitriol, but protectively step in between you two and try to assess the situation. Once you told him they were an ex, his attitude would shift and he'd definitely become more protective and lead you away, warning Teagan to get lost. He'd insist that you called him if Teagan ever showed their face around you again and he and his friends would make sure to take care of them for you.

Camilla would honestly be shocked. Who on earth could make her otherwise calm and sweet roommate this angry? She'd quickly step in and immediately have your back. You could fill her in on the details later, there was no way you'd act this way unless you had a good reason to. Of course, once you did fill her in on the detail she would join in on the hostility towards them, both in person and online.

While Rita would initially be surprised by your reaction, She'd probably grab your arm, and gently hold you back because there's no way she was about to let you get some charges filed against you. Though, once you filled her in on the details, she would become scarily cold and firm towards Teagan. A terrifying silent rage would overcome her and YOU would actually want to remove her from the situation in fear of what she could possibly be capable of. Once Teagan was out of the equation, it would take some time before Rita calmed down enough to apologize for her reaction and make sure you were okay and that you know you can rely on her if Teagan ever bothered you again.

[goofysimpleton]

Keith Howell

Main Route Chapter 1

~This translation is not 100% accurate. Just here for you fellow impatient friends.

N= Narration

⬛️=whenever the next text showed up

I have the characters address Belle as MC for main character.

Choices are bold. The selection I picked is blue.

Scene 1

N: I have nothing but regrets.

Keith: “...Ah.”

N: The pounding rain drowned out his hoarse voice. ⬛ Golden eyes make a clear red road and he stares at it. ⬛ I– ⬛ The reality in front of me mercilessly lowers my body temperature more than the cold rain, ⬛ My outstretched hand, wishing it was a dream, was trembling unbecomingly.

Kieth: “....No. No…”

N: I– ⬛ I–

Keith: “...Ah…”

N: A pain pierced my heart. ⬛ I hold onto the chest area of my clothes so tightly that my fingers turn white. ⬛ The pain stopped immediately. ⬛ Alone in a forest where only the harsh sound of rain reverberates, my muddy body crouches and does not move.

Keith: “...” ⬛ “...” ⬛ “...Ahaha.”

N: An amusing laugh that was out of proportion to the situation spilled out.

Keith: “What? If it had broken down sooner, ‘I’ would’ve killed it.”

N: He slowly stood up and frustratedly brushed his wet hair. ⬛ The emptiness was like a beast that was nowhere to be seen, with sharp, cold eyes and a smile on his lips.

Keith: “I will… Make it come true.”

N: The day after official permission was obtained from both faction leaders, the three princes were permitted to stay in Rhodolite.

Keith: “Miss MC, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry!”

N: I was enjoying a tea party with Keith across a table lined with sweets– That was supposed to be the case.

Keith: “I was very rude to you at the goodwill party.” ⬛ “At the time, um, I was upset, or rather, it was because I was too nervous.” ⬛ “No, even if that’s the case, there’s no such need to grab someone’s head.

(Weird behavior…)

Flashback Keith: “What is it, you? Look at me seriously.” ⬛ “Don’t make that stupid face. Don’t you want to bully me?”

(It’s true that he seemed like a different person and it was a perfect fit, but…)

Keith: “If a guy like this, who is 183 cm tall and has a huge body, did that to me, I would hate it.” ⬛ “Really… I’m really sorry.”

N: His majestic body crouched down helplessly and his face was so pale that I thought he had fallen into a river in the middle of winter. ⬛ About an hour after the tea party started, I received a storm of apologies from Keith.

MC: “Keith, I accept your apology so would you like to end this story?” ⬛ “At the time, I also started at you impudently.” ⬛ “Besides, my heart can’t hold any more words of apology!”

N: This situation of receiving apologies from the prince of a country, and even a foreign country, is so heartbreaking that it seems like a kind of ordeal. ⬛ Keith noticed me muttering and moved his hands restlessly.

Keith: “S-Sorry! I apologized without thinking about your feelings, and I’m really sorry for the inconvenience.” ⬛ “Ah, I apologized again. I’m sorry…”

MC + Keith: “...”

Scene 2

MC + Keith: “...”

N: The sound of flowers swaying in the wind and the awkward air surrounded us. ⬛ After Keith’s gaze wandered so much that he became worried, he slowly picked up a plate.

Keith: “T-This galette! Miss MC, you haven’t eaten yet, have you?” ⬛ “It’s thick and filling, so if you don’t mind…”

MC: “Thank you very much. Then, I’ll eat it.”

(Perhaps you were trying to change the subject?)

N: When I ate a bite-sized thick galette, ⬛ As if to continue, Keith also took off his gloves and brought the galette to his mouth with his long, angular fingers. ⬛ Crunchy texture, spreading saltiness and buttery taste made my mouth melt.

(At any rate, Keith suddenly invited me to a tea party, so I was prepared.) ⬛ (I never thought a storm of apologies would be waiting…)

N: What happened in my head was what happened a few hours ago.

—--------------------------

Flashback N: In the morning, when I went to Sariel, who had given me lessons as Belle, I was greeted with a difficult face.

Sariel: “Keith asked me if he could have a tea party with you.

MC: “...Me?”

Rio: “Keith is the green one with the kindest face out of the three countries, isn’t he?”

Sariel: “Stop distinguishing by color like Chevalier.”

(Why did Prince Keith invite me to a tea party?)

Sariel: “Gilbert and Silvio clearly had an interest in you, but…” ⬛ “I didn’t feel that kind of gesture from Keith, so it was a little surprising.”

Rio: “Mc, do you have any idea why you’re being invited to a tea party?”

MC: “I thought about it, but I didn’t come up with anything…”

(Grabbing one’s head… It’s not going to be a reason to be invited to a tea party.)

N: A few minutes of thinking together–None of us come up with anything. ⬛ As if switching, Sariel put on his glasses again.

Sariel: “Even if I think about it any further, the only thing that comes out is a sigh.” ⬛ “In any case, the other party is the prince of Jade, who was not supposed to participate in the goodwill party.” ⬛ “The reason for their stay was that Obsidian and Bentitoite wanted to stay.” ⬛ “The probability of inviting you to a tea party without a purpose is extremely low.”

MC: “You’re right…”

Sariel: “If you, a mere nobleman’s daughter, refuse the offer, you’ll definitely be suspicious.”

MC: “So I have no choice but to accept the offer.”

N: Sariel quietly nodded.

Sariel: “Just as the dog says, he is the friendliest of the three countries, but he is also the prince of one.” ⬛ “When it comes to national interests, they can be ruthless.”

N: If it is known that I am Belle, the death of his Majesty the KIng will be confirmed, and it will be the best bargaining chip for other countries.

(...I need to brace myself.)

Sariel: “If anything happens, report it. And stay vigilant. Sounds good?”

Rio: “I’ll go anywhere for you too, so feel free to call my name when you’re in trouble!” ⬛ “Of course, you’re always welcome even when you’re not in trouble!”

—----------------------------

(However, I’m glad I was ab;e to make it through this tea party somehow.)

Keith: “Um, Miss MC.”

N: When I lifted my head as if pulled back to reality, I met Keith’s peering gaze.

Keith: “Maybe it didn’t suit your taste? Because you look very troubled.”

MC: “No, no, I was just surprised for the first time eating a galette with salt in it!” ⬛ “It’s really delicious! Sweet and salty it seems like I can’t stop my hands.”

Keith: “Really!? I really like this candy. Do you?”

(Wah…)

N: Keith smiled broadly like a flower blooming.

Keith: “I’m so happy that you like it. Oh, I have other recommendations…”

N: With a dazzling smile on his face, he puts the sweets on the plate without hesitation. ⬛ With a large, masculine body, the imbalance that he diligently picks up makes the center of my chest warm.

(...Cute.)

Scene 3

(...Cute.)

N: Before I knew it, my mouth was the same as when I ate sweets. ⬛ I received a plte full of sweets and took a bit of the cookie on top. ⬛ Keith ate a heaping portion of sweets that he had set aside for himself.

MC: “Keith, you like sweets, don’t you?”

(It’s a pleasant meal.)

Keith: “Yes, I like them. Is there something you like to eat?” ⬛ “Ah, but I think Gileert likes to eat more.” ⬛ “When I gave him sweets that I brought from Jade yesterday, he ate them all in front of me and gave me only an empty box.” ⬛ “That might have meant he wanted a second helping.”

MC: “I didn’t know that… But Keith, you’re also one of those who eat a lot, right?”

N: In fact, the heap of sweets that was taken from the plate was gone.

Keith: “Today… I feel like eating more than usual.

N: I loosen my eyes and he gently spins his words.

(Talking to Keith somehow heals me.) ⬛ (That’s why I think the change I saw at the goodwill party was just a dream.)

N: His endlessly cold eyes came to mind again.

(But Keith apologized so much, so it’s a reality, isn’t it?)

N: No matter how much I think about it, I can’t come up with an answer.

Keith: “...”

(...?)

N: I notice that Keith is staring at me. ⬛ Even though his eyes were the same calm golden color, I found an uneasy color in the depths of them.

(Why are you looking at me like that?)

MC: “Keith?”

Keith: “Ah, um…”

N: I shut my mouth and look down to avert my gaze. ⬛ But it was only for a moment, and soon we met again.

Keith: “...”

(...!)

N: A straight gaze that pierces my heart unexpectedly makes my heart pound.

Keith: “Miss MC, if you have any troubles, feel free to tell me.”

MC: “Eh?”

N: Keith stood up and sat down next to me sitting on the sofa. ⬛ Then, as if to say that he would not let me escape, his big hand firmly grasped mine.

(Close close..!)

Keith: “After all, you can’t be satisfied with just a tea party and words of apology.” ⬛ “That’s how much you were so scared that you couldn’t say a word at that time.” ⬛ “So, that’s why I wanted to do something for you.”

(I thought he was convinced, but he wasn’t at all convinced!)

MC: “Oh, really don’t worry about it. I’m at fault for that, too.”

Keith: “You’re not at fault at all. I’m the one who’s wrong.”

N: A handsome face came to me for a long time, and my body involuntarily leaned back ⬛ Sudden close proximity is bad for the heart. ⬛ My cheeks were so hot at the closeness of the distance, I hesitated to even breathe.

(With this, the parallel lines will remain forever…)

N: I suddenly see sweets lined up on the table.

(I see!)

MC: “Then, I would like to have a tea party with you again.”

Keith: “Tea party?”

MC: “It’s not a problem, but I’d like to enjoy sweets together rather than alone.” ⬛ “If you’d like it, how does that sound?”

Keith: “A tea party…”

N: Keith in front of me made a thoughtful face and then smiled back.

Keith: “If that’s okay with you, I’d be happy. But if you have any other problems, feel free to tell me.” ⬛ “I would do anything for you.”

N:When he lets go, Keith crosses his long legs. ⬛ He doesn’t seem to have any intention of going back to his original seat, so he rests his chin on his knees and stares at me.

(I wonder what it is. I feel like I’m being observed.)

MC: “...”

N: At that time, Keith’s hand stroked my hair gently and put it on my ear.

Keith: “Your hair was a little messy. Did I surprise you?”

MC: “N-No…Thank you very much.”

Keith: “You’re welcome.”

N: I take a sip of black tea to escape the gentle and mean look in his eyes. ⬛ My heart is still beating loudly, and it looks like it will take time to calm down.

(From the friendliness of earlier, it seems to have changed completely… Maybe it’s just my imagination.) ⬛ (Also, I gave it back in a hurry, but if it’s just for a tea party, it’s fine.)

N: Just before, Keith happily eating sweets came to mind.

(...I don’t think he’s a bad person after talking to him.) ⬛ (For now, let’s just think about getting through this tea party.) ⬛ (If I can get through it, nothing will be a problem.) ⬛ (--Or so I thought.)

Scene 4

Silvio: “I didn’t know you were with a dark bastard.”

N: After finishing the tea party, I was in the middle of having Keith take me to my room. ⬛ Silvio, the prince of Benitoite, who played a lively jangling sound stood in our way.

Keith: “Silvio, do you have anything for MC?”

Silvio: “This girl is supposed to be my host during the stay.” ⬛ “I won’t let you say you don’t remember the rudeness of your butler.”

(Ah…)

—--------------

Flashback Silvio: “Those who threw champagne on me, originally this is a felony that could lead to a diplomatic dispute, but… Ha, rejoice.” ⬛ “Until I’m satisfied, I’ll give you guys the chance to do your best.”

—---------

(I wanted it to be a joke, but it wasn’t a convenient story…!) ⬛ (What should I do? I have to do something about this before he finds out that I’m Belle.) ⬛ (Even though I was relieved that the tea party with Keith-sama ended safely………………)

Keith: "rude?"

MC: “Um, actually………………”

N: When Keith-sama, who didn't understand the situation, explained to me, ⬛️ After showing a gesture that could endure laughter, he turned his sympathetic gaze toward Silvio.

Keith: "I'm glad you didn't catch a cold, Silvio."⬛️ "Yeah. If you get sick, I'll teach you some medicinal herbs that work well."

(why medicinal herbs)

Silvio: “That sympathetic face. Isn't it supposed to be submerged in the sea?"

Keith: “I was just worried, but it’s too much…”

N: Keith, who spills a depressed voice that was easy to understand, puts his hand to his mouth in annoyance. ⬛️ His eyebrows dropped involuntarily.

Keith: “But yeah. Give her entertainment… Well, if it’s her, I’m sorry.”

(Sorry?)

N: As I pondered what was going on, Keith stood behind me and put his hands on my shoulders.

Keith: “Actually, I decided to have Miss MC act as my exclusive Rhodolite guide.”

(...) ⬛️ (...)

MC + Silvio: “......Ha?”

Keith: “I’ve been to Rhodolite many times and it just gets more and more appealing each time.” ⬛️ “However, it is difficult for people from other countries to notice the charm of a country that only people who live there know.” ⬛️ “That’s why I asked MC, who lives in Rhodolite, to act as a guide during my stay.”

(I never said that. Why would he lie?)

—--------

Flashback Keith: Miss MC, if you have any troubles, feel free to tell me.”

—------------

(Because I was “in trouble?”)

Keith: “You’ve already made plans, haven’t you? Miss MC.”

CHOICES:

…….That’s right

Oh, really?

My memory is a little vague…

MC: “...That’s right?”

Silvio: “That’s a vague answer.”

MC: “Oh, I remember! Firmly and perfectly.”

Keith: “Yeah. I was wondering what I should do if you didn’t remember.”

(Let’s match Keith here.)

N: I replied to Keith with a satisfied smile.

(Unlike at the tea party, it’s more forcible, or rather, I feel the pressure.) ⬛️ (Yeah, I felt it during the tea party. When you sat next to me… I wonder if it’s just my imagination.)

Silvio: “Isn’t it surprising that a dark bastard asks someone for a favor?” ⬛️ “Was the eyepatch guy’s “secret mistress” a hit?”

Keith: “I feel sorry for a mistress like you.” ⬛️ “But if you’ll stay by my side, I’d rather have a lover than a mistress.”

(......What did you say just now?)

N: When I looked back awkwardly, my eyes met Keith who raised the corners of his mouth. ⬛️ Rather than “kind”, the expression seemed to match “mean.”

Keith: “MC’s smile is as soft and cute as a blooming flower.”

MC+Silvio: “.........Hm?”

Keith: “I couldn’t take my eyes off her ever-changing facial expressions and how she ate sweets with her small mouth.” ⬛️ “The thing that made me the happiest was when she stared at me for ten seconds and listened to what was not interesting to her.” ⬛️ “If you meet someone like a goddess, you won’t be satisfied with just one tea party.” ⬛️ “Of course, I want to know the charm of her country.” ⬛️ “But the tea party just as much made me want more time with her.” ⬛️ Oh my God, I wish you wouldn’t have said that because it’s embarrassing, Mr. Silvio.”

Silvio: “Don’t make me tell you… You just said it on your own, didn’t you?”

Keith: “Oh, is that so? How embarrassing.” ⬛️ “But I really didn’t want to give up on her.”

(Silvio looks at Keith with strange eyes.) ⬛️ (I… Don’t know what kind of face I should have. Or rather, my face is hot.)

N: I know it’s a lie to get Silvio to give up on entertainment, but… ⬛️ When you talk about me like that, embarrassment wins out and you struggle to pull your lips together.

(But I don’t think Silvio will give up now…) ⬛️ (Is there still some strategy?)

Keith: “Thus, MC gave me an eye for a stay. You found the target. That’s why…”

N: I close my lips and wait quietly for the next word.

Keith: “Sorry, Silvio.”

Silvio: “Ah?”

Keith: “The product I introduced earlier. Instead of signing a contract for regular purchases, I want you to gracefully give up.”

MC: “Wahh…?!”

Silvio: “Hey, wait, you bastard…!”

N: When he said that refreshingly, Keith grabbed my hand and started running.

Scene 5

Keith: “Ahaha, you ended up running away from Silvio.”

N: When he stopped in front of my room, Keith looked down the way he had come. ⬛️ I can’t hear footsteps or jangling sounds.

Keith: “Since there is no sign of chasing you, I think it was the right decision to bring up the contract.” ⬛️ “Or was the reception secondary?”

MC: “Do you think there were other purposes?”

Keith: “It’s just a prediction. Silvio is a person who will do it thoroughly if decides to do it.” ⬛️ “If you really want to entertain me, I think you can act on the day I’m permitted to stay.”

(True.)

MC: “But in that case, I shouldn’t have said anything that would be misunderstood by Silvio…”

Keith: “Misunderstanding? Oh, you mean you?” ⬛️ “That was simply waiting for the timing to escape.”

(Were you planning on running away from the beginning?)

N: It seems to be the type that pushes through unexpectedly.

Keith: “At that time, Silvio was looking at me with eyes that saw something strange.”

(I noticed.)

Keith: “But nothing I said was false. It’s all true.”

N: After gently and loosely grasping my fingertips, he released my hand.

(Yeah, we were holding hands the whole time.)

N: I hurriedly opened my mouth as if to deceive the shame that welled up.

MC: “Um thank you for earlier.”

Keith: “You’re welcome. I’m glad I was of some help to you.”

MC: “A little bit helped me a lot.”

(If I had to entertain Silvio, I might have been waiting for the days when I would be given unreasonable demands.) ⬛️ (Ah, but if I don’t do it, Rio might get in trouble.) ⬛️ (I want to avoid that, so I have to consult Sariel later.)

Keith: “Well then, Miss Lil.”

N: Keith looked straight at me as if he had changed his mind.

MC: “Yes, well then–”

Keith: “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

MC: “...mm?”

(From tomorrow, nice to meet you….?)

N: The prince in front of me continued his words, leaving me with question marks scattered in my head.

Keith: “If you lied to Silvio like that and didn’t do anything,” ⬛️ “About the day after tomorrow, ‘I’ll let you entertain me. I think they’ll come kicking down the door saying, ‘I feel honored.’” ⬛️ “I’m going to help you, but I’m sorry for giving you unnecessary work.”

MC: “No, not at all.”

N: Even if it’s a large castle, if you stay in the same place, the lie will be exposed immediately.

(What Keith is saying makes a lot of sense. It can be easily understood and imagined.) ⬛️ (However, it is difficult to easily accept entertainment in the name of a guide.)

N: Even more so if the other party is a prince from another country whose intentions are still unclear.

(I’m thankful to Keith for his help. However, I think I should decline.)

N: I swallow my guilt and open my mouth.

MC: “Like you, Keith, if you don’t lie, Silvio will soon find out.” ⬛️ “But I can’t bother you any more. The role of a guide is–”

N: My words were drowned out by a low and gentle voice.

Keith: “It’s not a big deal.” ⬛️ “For me, it’s also a good opportunity to learn more about Rhodolite.” ⬛️ “Above all, it’s a chance to help you.”

N: One step closes the distance.

(Huh…?)

N: For some reason, my heart began to make an unpleasant noise.

Keith: “For me, I don’t want it to end with a lie.”

(What is it…)

N: Even though he was just looking down on me, my skin started to tingle.

(...It feels weird.)

N: I’ve seen Keith’s smile many times since the tea party. ⬛️ However, there is something different about his smile now. ⬛️ It’s calm, but if you look at it for a long time, it feels so cold that you might freeze.

(Speaking of which, it disappeared before I knew it.)

N: The uneasy color that has been floating in his eyes for so long is nowhere to be found. ⬛️ I don’t know what caused it to disappear. ⬛️ However, if I think that is the reason for my discomfort, I would stare into the depths of Keith’s eyes. ⬛️ Unconsciously, without thinking… There was no deep meaning at all.

Mean Keith: “...” ⬛️ “...Heeeh?”

MC: “!”

N: Keith opened his eyes slightly and then they narrowed. ⬛️ “With an expression of joy, as if he had found something interesting. ⬛️ It was as if my body had been paralyzed, and I couldn’t even move a single finger…

(Ah…!)

N: My waist is pulled strongly.

Keith: “MC, don’t stare so intently.”

MC: “Keith?”

N: The voice seemed to enjoy the situation terribly.

Keith: “I’m a simple man. I’m conscious of whether you’re interested in me.” ⬛️ Do you hate it? If I’m conscious…”

MC: “I don’t like it…”

N: Tap tap… Keith's fingers gently tapped my waist as if to soothe me, and I was pulled back a little.

Keith: “So you don’t like it?”

MC: “No, I don’t like it.”

N: Keith asked me in a whisper even though he should’ve realized that I was confused.

Keith: “You don’t like it…? I want you to listen to the end.”

N: Tap tap… Again, I was gently tapped by his fingertips and pulled a little closer. ⬛️ The distance that is slowly closed pushes my heart into a corner.

(No, if you get any closer…)

N: A silent sigh touched my ear.

Keith: “Here, tell me.”

MC: “!”

N: At that moment, the tolerance of shame overflowed. ⬛️ While making a loud noise, I stick my back to the door behind me and open the distance from keith.

MC: “Well, the story about the guide earlier.”

Keith: “What happened to the guide role?”

MC: “I have a feeling that I would like to take over. But I can’t decide on my own.”

Keith: “Yes, that’s too bad…”

N: While lowering the tail of the eyebrow, he takes another step and gets closer.

(His words and actions are the exact opposite…!)

N: I hurriedly spun words to stop Keith who was trying to get one step closer.

MC: “Still! So is it okay for me to reply at a later date?”

Keith: “Oh, so that’s it. Of course.” ⬛️ “I was afraid that I would be rejected so quickly so I got impatient.” ⬛️ “Sorry, I showed you my ugly side.”

MC: “It’s not ugly… Not at all.”

(Rather, I feel like he showed me.)

N: I wanted to ask where the sense of incongruity from earlier went, ⬛️ Keith in front of me had a calm expression.

(Wh-what was that, just now.)

N: It’s a transformation that you might have seen in a dream. ⬛️ But my thumping and hurried heart tells me it’s real.

Keith: “I am eagerly awaiting your reply, MC?”

MC: “...Yes.”

N: Keith leaves, and the thread of tension loosens. ⬛️ Back against the door, I slipped down to my feet.

(I got into trouble.)

N: The king must be selected without the princes of the other countries finding out that I’m Belle. ⬛️ At that time, entertainment in the name of Keith’s exclusive Rhodolite guide role surfaced. ⬛️ I will talk to Sariel, but I’m sure there is only one choice.

(The host has changed from Silvio to Keith.) ⬛️ (Maybe he made it so.) ⬛️ (No, maybe he really helped me out of goodwill, let’s stop doubting him.

N: There is always a little anxiety when dealing with people from other countries. ⬛️ However, this time there is nothing BUT anxiety.

(Since Jade is a neutral country, there is not much information coming into Rhodolite.) ⬛️ (Because I don’t know the details of what kind of country it is, it’s also an opportunity to broaden my knowledge.) ⬛️ (Besides, why did Keith come to Rhodolite? Maybe I can understand why.) ⬛️ (...Let’s think positively.)

————

————————

(That woman, I wonder how much she will make me happy?)

—Hey, it’s not possible.

Keith: “.......!”

N: As if jumping out of a nightmare, Keight lifted his upper body. ⬛️ Raising his shoulders up and down, he ignored the hair clinging to his forehead and timidly looked around.

Keith: “...” ⬛️ “......Ah.”

N: He covers his face with his hands to escape from reality and falls back on the bed. ⬛️ What he heard was a terribly unreliable voice that seemed to blow away.

Keith: “Wait a minute, what day is it today…” ⬛️ “How long have I been ‘changed’?”

Synopsis of Episode 2:

When I was talking to everyone in the domestic politics group, I suddenly heard a rumor from Jin. And when I saw Keith in an unexpected place, I couldn’t take my eyes off his lively figure… “Your face is bright red, are you okay?”

[buddywellls]

eavesdrop + riley

“I can’t do this for much longer, Buddy.”

Those words from a cancer patient should have struck fear in his heart by nature alone — but Buddy knows his father’s warnings aren’t about chemotherapy or the road ahead, they’re inspired by the sound of The Weeknd filling the car around them.

“I can’t do anymore Sinatra.”

They compromised how they always did on the long drives to August’s treatments.

( With Sinatra playing. )

The crooner was singing about his adoration of New York, New York, his father’s humming along with it soon silenced and replaced with spoken word.

“I always loved New York, it was always hard to feel old there, even when I was old.”

Buddy smiles faintly at that, though there’s a truth that neither of them wanted to acknowledge sitting so prominently it may as well have been taking up the backseat.

August Wells wouldn’t make it to see New York again, not with how his body was responding to the treatment.

“You used to love it too, didn’t you? I always thought it was nice when you’d go out there and see Iris. I worry about her being so far away.”

At the mention of his cousin, Buddy’s hand leaves the wheel, scratching behind his ear with the nail of his thumb before he returns it to where it had been, his eyes on the road to save from having to tell him that he and Iris didn’t speak much at all those days.

“It’s not like Iris hasn’t been far away before,” Buddy says passively, referring to her year in the country that no one seemed to ever like to talk about.

( Standard Wells practice. )

“Don’t be like that. I hate when you’re like that.”

Buddy doesn’t need him to elaborate and August doesn’t, the long stretch of road in front of them would feel endless if they kept accidentally upsetting one another.

Another ten minutes worth of driving is behind them as Frank moved on too, no longer content with New York, his sights far greater as he longed for flying to the moon.

That one seems far more implausible, which he suspects is why it’s August’s favorite.

He always did believe in the impossible — radical good, radical change.

While Sinatra deals in other words, Buddy feels compelled to make use of his own, lowering the volume slightly so he could.

“Do you think that one of the worst days of your life can also be one of the best nights of it? Doesn’t sound right, does it? If you asked me that I’d say that sounds stupid. It’s one or the other. Then I had one of the worst days of my twenties in Central Park and one of the best nights of them in Brooklyn. Same day, same time frame.”

“I don't see how it couldn't. What changed?”

“I did,” Buddy says honestly, wondering if he sounded as strange as the recollection felt every time he revisited it — and he often did, “At least for those few hours. I met a girl and she turned it all around.”

His day, night, some long dormant part of him he had let fall to ruin along with the future he thought he was going to have.

There’s a knowing smile on August’s face as he folds his arms across his chest loosely, engaging with his son like he was a deer in what he suspects might be a dear moment with him — tentatively but curiously, not wanting to spook his sharing away.

“That’s how all the best stories start.”

August Wells — consummate optimist.

“And end.”

Buddy Wells — combative pessimist.

If they both hadn’t been cursed with undeniable awareness of the dwindling clock looming large over the older of the pair, they would have argued their individual opposing points of view all the way there and back for good measure.

“That's a matter of opinion. Who's the girl?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Buddy says, not being deliberately difficult for once, speaking facts instead. “I didn’t get her last name. She didn’t get mine either. Didn’t feel right to at the time.”

He had wondered at the time if he would regret that, years later it’s no longer a thing to be wondered about, he regrets it plenty.

“I don't even know why I'm telling you this, or what made it cross my mind. It’s just an odd feeling that I get sometimes. This visceral awareness that there’s someone out roaming in the world who knows more about you than most of the people in your day to day life. If I think too hard about it, I’ll start thinking it wasn’t real.”

“Like a mirage?” August asks after a pause, which gets both a disbelieving laugh and a confirming nod from the driver.

“That’s not a word I’d have gotten to on my own, but yeah, I think you nailed it. Like a mirage but one you know is real.”

It’s August who’s reaching for the radio then, quieting Frank to a mute in a surprising show against his favourite singer.

“Does the mirage at least have a first name?”

“Yeah, Riley.”

August manages to make the two syllables sound melodic when he repeats them over the click of the Buddy using the blinker.

“There’s plenty of road left ahead, tell me about it.”

send me   “eavesdrop”   and my muse will describe your muse like they’re talking to a third party. // @rileyxmaddox

[kinkscholar]

minors dni please!

I may dabble further than thoughts at some point in the future, but goodness, I just can't keep quiet!! I've had those Pomefiore vampire cards on my mind. The possibilities are endless 🥰

One trope I don't see often explored is vampires and stuffing... Maybe I'm looking in the wrong places, haha!!

vil schoenheit

In Vil's case, he takes up most care of his form and near immortal beauty. His reputation and elegance are something he cherieshes deeply. A cold, icy vampire with a lot of power. Of course, he obtains the blood he desires when he wants it! It's hard to deny the fairest vampire in all of the land a drink, after all. So when you, a traveling human, stumble across the land of Pyroxene and the vampires that lurk in the dark — Vil took to you immediately, curious to just what your blood will taste like within his mouth. It doesn't take long for him to get what he desires. His beauty and the sweet as honey tone he spoke in make it easy.

As he straddles you, you gripping the plush of his thighs, be begins to feed off of you. The entire ordeal leaves you hot and bothered from the start. You can't help but watch as his grace becomes unraveled from your blood alone. Vil can't help himself. Strands of his hair falling in front of his face as he inches his form closer to yours. Even through your gradually weakening state, you take note of the fact that his midsection begins to strain against the sash, tracing his flawless form.

With what strength you can muster, you remove it, bearing witness to the bloat in his stomach. Even like this, he is handsome, terribly so. If this is how you were meant to die? So be it. Your greedy hands fall upon his clothed middle, taking in the glory of you being the reason he's so swollen.

Inevitably, Vil cannot drink any further, for you would die. But the feeling of his tummy bulging out further beneath your hands only made your dick harder than it already was in this situation.

As the vampire pulled back to admire his hard work, wiping some blood that trailed down his face — eyes clouded with lust, he stared to you. Vil would most definitely scold you for what you did to him at a later date, but he was hungry in another sense, and you were too. "Human, my hunger has yet to satiate all because of you..." His tone was low, like a threat, but with amusement laced within. "As punishment, you must fill me further." This was going to be a long night, but one you wouldn't regret at all.

rook hunt

Rook is a different story entirely. He knew of you the moment you stepped into Pyroxene. Those green eyes piercing into the back of your skull without your knowledge. Fresh meat, handsome at that. Of course, the hunter took interest in his prey. Perhaps a day or two of this, him learning your mannerisms, trying to predict your next move as you navigated the foreign land.

You felt the all too familiar feeling of being watched, but hoped it was only due to how new you were. One day, you finally cross his path directly. Probably the worst opportunity at that. His stalking led to the neglect of his own form, a foolish mistake on his end, but his infatuation with you left his awareness at a low. Now he was starving, and you were all he wanted.

You would think twice about roaming this country at night after this. Despire the blatant hunger that burned through his gaze, you were coaxed with ease to somewhere more secluded — thanks to his smooth talk and French. You didn't seem to take much notice just how much he knew about you, that or you just didn't care too much.

As the coast was clear, your hands gripped his waist, expecting something along the lines of a night filled with sex with a handsome man, but as his fangs were bared before you, you quickly realized your situation. It only took a few extra words of sweet talk for your neck exposed and his teeth in the flesh. Your hands gripped his waist tighter as you kept your hips as far away as you could, trying to hide your arousal from the hunter.

Great Seven, were you amazing to him. The thrill of the hunt and the taste of your blood rivaled anything he'd ever experienced before. You were his prize, so he fully intended on taking all he desired from you. Rook moved himself closer to you as he continued to feed. Gradually, you felt expansion beneath your hands as your body grew weaker.

He was taking his fill from you, in turn filling out his previously toned form. This sparked a fire in you, seemingly him as well as he rutted against you, swollen stomach pressing against your own. You didn't seem to mind the possibility of this being your final moments, any rational thought slipping from your mind.

Thankfully, Rook had restraint, pulling back as he planted a kiss to the wounds on your neck, humming happily as he admired his prize. "Ma belle..." As usual, he spoke sweet and soft, his eyes trailing to his own form. "Look at what you've done. You've filled me right up~" The blonde was clearly amused, removing the sash that strained against his middle. Then, guiding your hands to feel better.

"Magnifique!" He mused, leaning in to your weakened state, whispering softly into your ear. "Shall I give you your reward, mon bébé?" Unsurprisingly, what little blood was left in your body rushed to your face and down south. You had no reason to decline a reward for your hard work. Maybe this place wasn't too bad.

[britswriting]

Devotion (7)

Devotion Masterlist

Read on Wattpad

*Leighton's POV*

I stared at my sweet baby girl who now had an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose, her face full of dried tear stains, the moment being etched into my brain forever.

My thumb caressed the top of her hand as she clutched to the stuffed cow Colby brought her.

"She's going to be alright Leighton" Gabe tried to reassure me, having been sat on the other side of her.

"You didn't see her" I whispered, not taking my eyes off my daughter.

"I know, but we knew she had poor lungs when she was a baby. I'm not surprised things are starting to show up" He commented, my eyes snapping over to him to see him leaning back against the stiff hospital chair, staring at Gemma who was asleep.

"You're not surprised?! My baby couldn't breathe Gabe! I watched my daughter struggle to breathe!"

"Our daughter, Leighton! Our daughter!" He hissed, moving to lean forward in the chair as my jaw clenched.

"You left us. You weren't fucking there when I watched her fucking breathe all night long the second that damn oxygen tube came out of her nose! You weren't fucking there so excuse me if I'm a little more sensitive about seeing another fucking oxygen mask on our three year old!" I whispered yelled, glancing towards Gemma, not wanting to wake her.

"You can't keep holding me putting myself first above my head. I wanted to give her a better life Leighton"

"I'm not doing this. Not here. Not now."

"Then when? When Leighton? Because you don't talk to me" His voice raised, earning a glare from me.

"I don't have to talk to you. You're my daughter's father. Not my boyfriend. All I care about is her health and happiness"

"You wanted to get rid of her!" He threw in my face, letting the unwelcome memory begin to play in my head.

"I was in a different place Gabriel. Yes, I thought about putting her up for adoption, sue me" I quietly hissed, leaning back against the hospital chair, my right leg crossing over my left as my right foot began to bounce.

Was he really trying to pick a right whilst our three year old lays helplessly in a hospital bed?

"How do you think that will make her feel when she's older? You can't say that me leaving her when she was a newborn to go to college to better her life is worse than when you wanted to put her up for adoption!" Gabriel continues.

"Oh my god. Can you fucking stop? You weren't there!"

"You never let me be there! It was always Sam this Sam that, Colby this Colby that. Don't you think I deserved to be in the fucking loop with my own daughter?"

"You. Never. Showed. Up. So excuse me for taking the help handed to me! You never went to her OBGYN appointments so sorry if I felt alone. If she asks me about it, I'll be honest with her. I don't regret thinking that. I regret it right now, knowing Gemma now and being in the place I am now, but I do not regret wanting the best for my daughter. You aren't an addict. You weren't alone. You weren't even there, so don't you dare make me feel guilty for looking at all my possible options when you fucking left across the country the second she was born!"

"You always think you're all that, don't you?" He snickered, his ankle now resting against his knee, reminding me a lot of Colby which made my nose wrinkle as I looked away.

He reeked of cockiness and it made me want to punch him in the face.

"Our toddler is laying in a god damn hospital bed right now, and you want to pick a fucking fight about whose right and wrong? Yes, I played into it, I fell for your stupid game, and I apologize.. but how immature do you have to be do throw out that bait whilst our daughter has an oxygen mask over her face?"

"There she is. Always thinking she's right. That she's better than everyone else. Get off your fucking high horse. You're a pathetic addict who can't get her shit together for two seconds to even properly care for our daughter. Your fucking friends cared for her whilst you were in rehab!" He exclaimed, my eyes beginning to sting.

"You know, I might be a fuck up, but at least I'm not a liar. You really think you can be best friends with the people who fed into my addiction, and not touch a single substance? You belittled me time and time again, when you were doing the exact same thing, weren't you? You want to talk about being pathetic? I can own up to my shit, but you'll always be worse. You can look like daddy's perfect church boy all you want, but we both know you did the cocaine that night, so if you want to act like I'm the biggest fuck up, go ahead. But at least I'm clean and sober now. Are you?" I cocked an eyebrow, my lips pursed out of annoyance as I watched him fidget under my gaze.

"You were the drug whore. I didn't do shit" He snapped and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yeah. That's why you were so pissed about the weed, isn't it? Always wanted to look like the good guy. Congratu-fucking-lations Gabriel. You'll always be better than me. That's why Gemma begs every single Friday to stay with Colby and I. Because you're always better than me"

I could see the tension rise under his skin, but before he could defend himself, there was a knock on the door before it opened, the man in a white coat reentering the room.

"She's still out?" He asked and I cleared my throat, nodding.

"Alright, I'll lower my voice" He nodded, taking a seat on the stool. "Her scans came back good. They appear healthy" He said softly, showing us the Xrays. "Her lungs are small for her age" he noted and I nodded slowly, gnawing on my lower lip as I tried to stay calm. "We checked for bacteria, she's clean as a whistle. I know we were concerned about Asthma, but I don't think that's something to be too concerned with right now. I'd definitely keep it in mind as she gets older" He eyed both Gabe and I, myself nodding.

"So she doesn't have Asthma?" I confirmed, glancing between the doctor and my daughter.

"Correct. As of right now, I don't see clear symptoms. Yes, her attack, if we want to call it that, had similar signs, which is why I'm saying we should definitely keep it in mind as she gets older. Again, with her lungs being on the smaller side it could make things interesting. My personal opinion is that she got overworked and overwhelmed, and as she tried to inhale to breathe, her lungs couldn't keep up. When you inhale, they fill with air, when you exhale, they deflate" He explained and I nodded, looking over at my sleeping daughter, watching her chest slowly rise and fall. "When you begin to hyperventilate, it overworks. It's going at a quicker pace of up down up down" He continued. "Which led to the gasping, and the gasping could make her wheeze from the quick air intake. I wouldn't say she had a panic attack, or an anxiety attack or that she has Asthma and needs an inhaler. My professional opinion is that her lungs, which are already more undeveloped from when she was a baby, compared to where they should be now, got overworked" He explained and I blinked away the tears, composing myself as I nodded, guilt bubbling in my stomach at the thought of Gemma having any sort if medical problem.

Was it the preeclampsia? The low iron? Being born early?

"What does this mean for the future? She's going to cry, and yell. She's a toddler" I asked, the doctor nodding.

"I'm not saying you have to give into the tantrum, but maybe try and distract. Refocus her before she can go to that point again. Obviously she is a toddler, and they want what they want, when they want it" He chuckled, "I know it isn't ideal to play the trade game. Say she starts crying because you said no to a toy. Try offering her something of similar reward. Maybe something she loves to do.. get her mind refocused to something you can give her, rather than something you can't give her. I understand that it kind of defeats the purpose of discipline and not giving into everything they want. I've got an 8 year old at home, I get how backwards it sort of sounds.. but given the circumstances right now, I'd like to not overwork her lungs. Obviously crying is unavoidable, but it takes a lot to really get to hyperventilating"

So it was my fault.

"I would like to add a checkup once or twice a year for her lungs. Whether it be at her yearly appointment, which I see in her chart she's been to, and she's in good health besides her being short for her age" He rolled his eyes, chuckling. "I hate the height thing. Not everyone's tall" he motioned to himself, having been a shorter male himself making me smile appreciatively at him. "I would like to keep watch on her lungs. Organ's don't really grow unless you grow, but they can become healthier. She can breathe better, even if they're slightly smaller than average" He nodded towards us, making sure we understood.

We were given at home care instructions before he excused himself from the room, telling us we could invite Sam and Colby in if we wanted to, Colby immediately jumping from his chair to follow me into her room, muttering "It's fucking bullshit that only the parents can go in" to which I nodded at, still reeling at the fact that this could be a life long problem for my daughter.

I saw Gabe eye Colby as Colby b-lined it to where I previously was sitting, bending down and softly pushing the fallen pieces of hair out of her face, brushing a kiss against her skin.

I saw him murmur something before pulling away, looking over at me, and then past me.

Sam.

I quickly spun around, my eyes scanning his face to try and process what his expression could tell me.

He looked worried, defeated almost.

"Is she alright?" He asked and I nodded, stepping out of the way.

I watched him inhale, and exhale, and then inhale again and hold it as he looked over at Colby who was still fawning over Gemma.

I heard his exhale, his sneakers softly hitting the pristine white tiled floor, maneuvering around Colby.

"Are you alright Sam?" I asked, noticing Gabe getting up and leaving the room. "Sam?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?" I checked in, Sam nodding, returning to look back at our girl.

"She looks so....." he paused.

"You can say it"

"Pathetic" he said softly which made me chuckle as he continued, "I just.. I guess the word I'm looking for is small? Helpless? Fragile?" He continued and I nodded, walking over to him, Colby moving to the other side of the bed. "When I heard Colby's tone.. and him talk about going to the Emergency Room... my heart sank. I mean, we've been best friends for what... 11 years? I've never heard him so panicked and he wouldn't say anything in the car.. and to see Gemma, our little fighter laying in a hospital bed.. it's killing me" He confessed and I nodded, not knowing how to reply.

"The doctor said she'll be okay. Just gotta take it easy"

"How do you guys do this?" Sam questioned, looking between Colby and I.

"Do what?" I hummed.

"Love someone this much. I mean, she's not even my daughter and I was worried shitless"

I smiled, pulling him into a hug. Sam's arms wrapped around me and I squeezed him, nuzzling my face into his chest. "She loves you so much" my muffled words voiced against the fabric of his shirt.

I felt him exhale, his body dropping into mine.

He pulled away, and when our eyes met his blue eyes were covered in ready to fall tears.

I looked over towards Colby who was too in his own world as he fussed over Gemma, allowing me to offer Sam my hand and lead him out of the room for a second.

The two of us leaned against the wall outside of the room, my tongue wetting my lips as I gathered my thoughts.

"Thank you" I started, catching his attention.

"For what?"

"For being there. For being Colby's best friend. For always being a shoulder I can cry on. For allowing me to slap you across the face on multiple occasions. For being someone my daughter can not only love, but trust. When Colby found out I was pregnant... you were the first person he wanted to tell. You are his person, and I love that. I love that I have someone in my life that will be there no matter what. Whether it's a red eye flight, a late night drive of a 4am phone call.. you're there"

"You're my family Leighton. I remember when I found out you were pregnant with Gemma... just.. just wanting to help, you know? And I hated keeping the secret from Colby, it was complete and utter torture, but I kept it for you, and I knew he would understand. Just seeing G laying in a bed with a mask on her face is just.. it's heartbreaking" he exhaled, swallowing the lump in his throat, looking away from me.

"She's our little girl. I was always told it took a village to raise a baby, and without you... she wouldn't even be here with us — hey look at me" I softly demanded, Sam reluctantly turning to look at me, his eyes bloodshot red as a tear stained trail was left behind on his cheek. "You were my rock. You were there for me when no one else was. You came to the appointment so I wasn't alone. You bought the baby doppler and you stuck up for me when no one else would. Without you, I wouldn't have my beautiful baby girl and I know that. Without you taking a chance on me, I would have never met Colby" I told him sincerely, my heart clenched when I heard him sniffle. "I know it's been hard, and I'm so sorry.. but damnit, you'll always be my number one, alright? You got us in this shit, and I'll be damned if you're not also dragged through it" I grinned, seeing a smile crack on his saddened face.

"I love you, Leighton. Thank you for keeping my best friend happy. I know he can be a handful" Sam chuckled, wiping at his face.

"It has its perks, after all, I get free merch now" I joked, wiggling my eyebrows before pulling him into another hug.

The two of us walked back in and I walked over to show Colby some physical affection, Sam taking a seat as he pulled himself together.

"Everything alright?' Colby quietly asked and I nodded, bending down to kiss him.

"We'll be alright"

~

"Gemma, you need to keep your little booty on the sofa" I called after her, finding it impossible to keep this three year old seated.

Her giggles gave me heart palpitations every time I heard them, terrified she'll have another episode.

"Come on G, listen to momma" Colby encouraged from down the hall, leading her back to the couch.

"No pay wif Elle?" She pouted, her arms crossed as she stomped over towards the couch.

"Baby you need to rest" I reminded her, offering her a blanket.

"Coco no go bye bye" She frowned, Colby sighing, waiting for Sam to finish getting ready to catch his flight.

The four of us have been attached to Gemma's hip, the longest we've kept her seated was when she FaceTimed with Stas and Katrina; that was until she ran off with the phone to show them some toys.

"G, I'll come back"

"Sam go bye bye" She grumbled, her lips in an adorable pout.

"He's gotta go home to aunty Kat" I reminded her, Gemma's eyes lighting up.

"Go wif! Go see meow!" She giggled, something telling me the nickname was very intentional; she knew what she was doing.

"Did I hear someone say meow?" Sam called out, trudging a suitcase behind him.

"Yessss!" Gemma exclaimed, shooting off the couch, running over go him. "Go wif, go wif!" She begged, reaching up to tug at the end of his shirt.

Sam scooped her up, bouncing her a little on his hip, "You've gotta get big and strong to come see Kat and I" he told her, Gemma's eyebrows scrunching together.

"I big an... an stwong!" She declared, all of us smiling at her, Colby's movement catching my eyes attention as he walked to the kitchen.

My lips rolled as I kept my eyes locked on where he wandered off to, confused why he seemed so shut down again.

"You're the strongest three year old I know!" Sam exclaimed, Gemma grinning at him, her face showing complete and utter sense of pride. "When the doctor clears you, I'll sneak you to Vegas with me, okay?" Sam told her, Gemma quickly nodding her head. "Alright Baby G, I gotta go catch a flight home with Kat, alright? You're gonna be the biggest and bestest girl for your momma. Make me proud munchkin" He kissed her cheek, Gemma frowning when she was set down.

"No go" She shook her head.

"I have to go home G"

"Stayyyyy" She whined, clinging to his leg.

I went to stand up and snatch her away from him, when he crouched down to her level, quietly telling her something I couldn't hear; Gemma nodding as he stood up, Gemma coming back next to me, plopping on the cushion furthest away from me.

"Colby? You ready?" Sam called out, the sound of a drawer shutting being heard behind me.

"Yeah, one sec"

I walked Sam to the door, letting him slip on his sneakers as I did a quick checklist, making sure he had everything.

"If you want to tell Kat about the baby, you can, but I'd prefer to keep it between the four of us, just for now" 

"Yeah, totally, and I'll let you tell her. I know you guys didn't plan on telling me, but to be fair, it's very obvious when you're pregnant" he teased, my jaw dropping as I looked down at my stomach.

"Did you just call me fat?" I half joked.

Quickly shaking his head, he spoke up, his voice slightly more squeaky, "No. You're just more.. lazy and moody" He hesitantly answered.

"Me? Moody? Never" I grinned, Sam chuckling.

"Could never be Leighton" he shook his head, a big grin on his face, his cheeks tightening.

"Never" I agreed, pulling him into a quick head. "Thanks for coming, I'll miss ya loads. We'll need to catch up when I'm not feeling like actual garbage. The not so morning sickness has been brutal. Honestly, the worst part is just the constant nausea. I almost wish I would actually complete the task, whether feel like I'm always on the verge of needing to vomit"

"Was your sickness with Gemma bad?"

"Hers I think came in more waves? I'd have my good and bad days, whereas this baby is just a constant kick to my gut" I chuckled, my hand running over the small bloated area. "I'm definitely breaking out more which is annoying. I didn't have this much acne with Gemma" My pointer finger circled my face.

"Alright, we ready?" Colby spoke up, making me jump as he slipped past me, grabbing his shoes.

"Gemma, Sam's leaving, come say bye!" I called out, hearing her feet thud against the floor, her little arms spread wide as she ran towards him, Sam quickly crouching.

"Byeeeee Sammmmy!" She shrieked, Sam squishing her in a hug.

"Bye baby G. I'll call you, alright? And we'll figure out when you can come to Vegas and see Aunty Kat and I" He promises, picking her up in their hug, standing back upright.

"We should get going so you can go through check in" Colby noted, Sam nodding as he kissed Gemma's head, setting her down.

"Be good for mommy Gemma"

"I will!"

Sam walked out of the apartment and I stood still waiting for Colby to lean over and kiss me goodbye, but he kept his back to me, following Sam out.

"Hey" I called out, Sam turning to look at me, raising an eyebrow. "Colby" 

He turned around, his brow furrowed.

"Hm?"

"No hug? Kiss? I love you? What the hell?"

"Oh, sorry" He leaned over, placing a pity kiss on my cheek, my eyes narrowing as he pulled away.

"Drive safe and text me when you're there and coming back" 

I saw him nod and continue to walk down the hallway.

I waited around on the couch with Gemma, snacking on crackers and watching movies; bribing her with cookies to stay still, which I knew later would bite me in the ass as we waited for Colby to get home.

I heard the front door open, my head turning to see if it was Colby since I haven't heard from him, only to see Aaliyah.

"Oh, hey. How'd it go?" I questioned, Aaliyah sighing as she slipped her shoes off, taking a seat on the chair next to me.

"I can't get a co-signer"

"We've offered to help ya know?"

"Whatever" She grumbled, her eyes rolling.

"Not whatever. I want to help you. What part of it is frustrating? Just the co-signer part?" I quietly questioned, trying not to talk over the movie.

"That and finding an actual place, let alone a job! I shouldn't have moved to fricken Tennessee! I was doing so good until I followed him" She grumbled, slouching in the chair.

"You loved him"

"Yeah. Loves fucking stupid" She grumbled again, silence falling between us before she shoved herself out of the chair, walking past Gemma and I to her current bedroom.

I let her be alone for a while before knocking on the door, letting myself in to find her curled up on the bed, a blanket pulled up to her face.

"Hey" I spoke softly, afraid to make the wrong move. "You know you always have a room here, right? No one's kicking you out" I reminded her, slowly walking closer to the bed. "I just want you to be happy"

I heard her loudly exhale, shifting to lay on her back, so I crawled into the bed, pulling her into me.

"I'm always here, ya know? I've been through this. I understand how hard it is, and how much it sucks. Imagine being where you are, and pregnant" I joked, Aaliyah turning to look up at me, my arm wrapped around her shoulder as she leaned into my chest.

"I don't know how you did it" She whispered, a small smile pulling at my cheeks.

"You take it one day at a time. Hell, I took it one breath at a time. Sometimes that's all you can get through. It felt like I was freshly in NA meetings when I was homeless, pregnant and freshly broken up with. Inhale, exhale until you can breathe again. We'll figure it out, one breath at a time. I promise" I rested my cheek against her head.

"I love you" She whispered, and I could tell she was starting to cry, breaking my heart.

"I love you too"

~

I listened to Colby's voicemail for the 6th time, my chest tightening as I dialed it again, pacing in the kitchen as Gemma and Aaliyah conversed, Aaliyah's eyes burning a hole in my side.

You've reached the voicemail of *click*

"He's a dead man the second he walks through that door I swear to god" I complained, my hand turning white from how hard I was gripping the edges of my phone. "I said to text me. It's been hours! Sam has already texted me that he's landed!" 

"Coco come home Momma?" Gemma asked, rubbing salt into my wound.

"I don't know Gemma" I answered honestly, my forearms resting against the countertop as I collapsed into it, my head hung low.

The room fell silent.

I knew Aaliyah had no idea what to say, because point blank, Colby should be home right now.

I began our nightly routine, the apartment feeling ghostly without him.

I sat next to Gemma's toddler bed, Gemma tucked neatly under her blankets as I closed the book, her beautiful blue eyes looking up at me.

"Coco say goodnight?"

"I'm sorry lovebug. He's not home" I whispered, my hand brushing the stray pieces of hair out of her eyes. "I love you so much Gemma" 

"Wuv you!" She grinned, her head tilted back with her chin in the air getting me to let out a breathy laugh before leaning down and placing a tender kiss against her forehead. 

"You sleep good for me bug, okay? You get to see Papa tomorrow" 

"An Nonna!"

"And Nonna. Dream good dreams okay? Wanna hear about them in the morning. Can you do that snug-bug?"

She nodded, her eyes getting heavy as my hand brushed down her hair.

"Sleep well baby"

I left the door open knowing that was her preference now, grabbing my bin of laundry, turning the TV onto a soft hum as I distracted myself, every minute more agonizing than the last.

I got into a mindless routine of grabbing a clothing item, folding it and setting it aside as my mind began to wander, my eyes stinging with threatening tears as I listened to people on the Sitcom laugh; the moon only shining brighter through my apartment window as the night dragged on.

I tried him one more time, my phone reading 12%, the time telling me it was almost 2am; once again receiving his voicemail.

I let my shaky inhale pull me through the tears as I shoved the bin of folded laundry against the wall, turning off the TV and walking through the apartment, making sure all the windows were locked, the stove was off and clearing a few stray toys from the main walking spaces when I was met with the front door, the deadbolt lock staring me dead in the eye.

My fingertips brushed over the lock as I contemplated.

Did I really want to lock Colby out of the apartment he pays for?

But I live near LA. You never know what could happen.

My wrist tightened as I prepared to lock it, holding my breath, hoping to hear the trudged footsteps outside the door; a few moments slipping by until I heard the soft click of the lock, a tear rolling down my face. 

Inhale, exhale.

My shoulders dropped as I turned on my heel, flicking off the final light in the apartment, the scenery of pitch black being the nail in the coffin as I stripped out of my clothes, tossing them into the hamper; snatching Colby's discarded clothes off the floor.

Inhale, exhale.

I got myself composed enough to stop fumbling around, throwing on some shorts and a loose shirt.

I softly shut the drawer, only to be met with our empty bed.

Inhale, exhale.

I crawled into our bed, plugging in my phone and setting it aside, shifting around to get comfy, only for my eyes to land back on my phone.

Why won't he answer?

Try one more time.

Just one more time.

This is it. I can feel it.

Like muscle memory I dialed his contact, listening to the dreadful dial tone, once again getting his voicemail.

He's okay.

He has to be.

Right?

Try again.

Just once more.

He'll answer this time.

The dial tone. The anticipation. The dread. The voicemail.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Dread.

Inhale, exhale. 

Inhale, exhale. 

Inhale, exhale.

Breathe.

I scooted up in the bed, pulling open our texts, scrolling through the string of unseen messages I've sent over the past 10 hours.

Delivered. Anticipation. Dread.

I felt my finger turn off my phone, my own tear stained reflection staring back at me.

He's okay. He's just.... not answering. 

I set my phone aside, sliding back down into my covers, allowing my eyes to fall shut, instantly regretting it as memories of him breaking his leg flashed through my head.

I grabbed my phone again, finding Sam's contact, the ringing irritating me as I resisted the urge to start pacing.

I yanked my charger out, allowing myself to pace back and furth only to hear his voicemail.

I could feel my blood boil, my hand beginning to shake as I inhaled a sharp tight breath through my nose.

Inhale, exhale.

I tried Sam again, once again getting his fucking voicemail.

Before I knew it, I threw my phone across the room, it slamming into the wall, falling to the ground as I ran my hands through my hair, tugging at my roots as hot fresh tears rolled down my face; my body crumpling to the ground.

Where was he?

~

"Is it yummy?" I softly asked, Gemma happily slurping the milkshake as I dreaded going home, not wanting to be met with an empty apartment.

It had been 26 hours since I saw Colby last; it was dreadful.

Work went by agonizingly slow, every millisecond feeling longer than the last; calling and texting him on my break, only to get no response made it feel never ending.

Gemma nodded, looking up from her milkshake, making me smile when I saw she had it on her face.

"Don't drink it too fast, bug, you'll get an owie in your head" I warned, Gemma ignoring me as she guzzled it down.

We finished our milkshakes and I decided to bop around with her, wanting to kill time; the two of us grabbing take out before finally making our way home, Gemma overly excited over her french fries.

My hand reached for the door handle, clinging onto any hope I had left, praying it twisted easily; only to be met with it not budging.

Locked.

Exhale.

I painfully twisted my key in the lock, pushing the door open so Gemma could go use the bathroom. The now dark apartment haunting me once again as I flipped on the lights.

I placed her food on a plate, setting it on a table; grabbing her a juice box from the fridge.

Checking my phone once more, I sat down at the table, Colby's empty spot directly in front of me being a haunted reminder.

Impatiently waiting for Sam's text, Gemma emerged from the bathroom, running up to me with her hands in front of her.

"Feel! Wet! I wash dem!" She declared, her clearly soaked hands dripping onto my floor and pants.

"Gemma!" I shrieked, the cold water surprising me; her giggle shaking me out of my state of shock, "I see bug, please grab the towel and dry them so you can have your fries"

Halfway through dinner, Aaliyah came back and I informed her there was food in the bag for her; Aaliyah joined us at the table.

"Still no reply?" She asked, and I nodded, glancing towards my phone, praying to watch it light up. "Sam hasn't heard anything?" I shook my head, picking at my fries before rubbing my fingers together to get the salt off. "Do you think we should call the police? How long does he have to be missing for them to get involved?" 

"I don't know. I don't even know if he's missing. He's just not replying to me"

"Maybe his phone died?" She suggested and I shrugged, Gemma cutting us off to tell Aaliyah that we got milkshakes, boasting about how good it was and how her and my dad got to paint today; my brain eventually tuning her out since I already heard about her day.

"Leigh? Leighton?" Aaliyah shook my arm causing me to jump, my head snapping to look at her. "G asked you a question" She nodded towards my daughter.

"Hm?"

"Watch Punzel night?" She asked and I nodded slowly.

Inhale, exhale.

"Coco watch too?" She asked, and I shrugged, excusing myself from the table.

I listened to the dial tone again, pacing in my room.

Maybe his phone did die, but was he okay? Was he hurt? Did he need help and now he can't contact anyone? Was he in an accident? Is he a John Doe somewhere? Did he have an incident and get killed? Kidnapped? Beaten? Did he leave me? He was weird before he left.. Maybe it was a plan? He didn't take anything with him though? 

My brain continued to overanalyze until something clicked.

His meds.

I rushed over to where we kept our bottles, Colby and I normally taking them together.

I opened his bottle, dumping the pills out and began to count.

Due to me working, I've been getting up earlier than him lately, doing my routine without him.

 I trusted him to take his meds.

One, two, three, four I mindless counted, plotting the pill back into the bottle, seven, eight, nine-

I froze, my entire body tensing as I started at the multiple extra pills laying out in front of me, knowing there should only be one more.

My eyes ran over the pills, continuing to count.

15.

He hasn't taken his antidepressants in five days.

I quickly swiped them into the bottle, closing it and setting it aside, staring at it for a moment.

He hasn't taken his antidepressants.

He's been cold turkey for days.

DAYS!!!!!

"Shit" I hissed, grabbing my phone to quickly google what could happen if you missed a day or two... or five.

The more articles I read, trying to piece together if I've noticed any symptoms the more I felt myself begin to shut down.

I called him again and again and again until it told me his voicemail was full, tears streaming down my face as true panic began to set in.

My finger hovered over the 9 button, my breathing becoming a pant as I sniffled, my vision completely blurred.

I pressed into the nine, my legs bouncing as I sat criss-crossed on the floor, hitting the once twice.

Call.

I listened to the dial tone, sniffling over and over again as I struggled to breathe, the air getting knocked out of my lungs when I heard the ringing stop, a woman calmly saying;

"911, what's your emergency?"

* * * *

Sorry it's shorter than normal 😬🫠

Written on: March 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th 2023

Published on: Marc 4th 2023

Word Count: 5625

Part Eight

[kjmsupremacist]

map and constellations (chan/felix)

After their senior year of high school, Chan and his closest friends decide to go on a road trip together to close out their time as children before they move on to college. Though Chan’s excited for the trip, he knows the pressure of the next stage of their lives looms bigger on the horizon every day, and he’s not sure how well they’re all going to handle the transition, especially because they’ll be scattered across the country in the fall. Even more pressing, however, are the feelings he’s developing for his best friend, Felix.

Chapter 5   |   prev   next   mlist

Characters: Felix, Chan, the rest of skz

Genre: romance, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, coming of age, growing pains, getting together

Pairing: Chan/Felix

Warnings: mild angst, swearing

Rating: Teen & Up

Length: 3.2k

listen to the official playlist here!

Luckily for Chan, the next few days pass without incident. They hit a few national parks on the way back down the state, which means a lot of hiking, which means being too exhausted every night for Chan to even be tormented by thoughts of Felix, never mind have another dream about him since he’s not dreaming at all.

It doesn’t stop him from running his mind in circles about Felix during the day, but at least then he’s distracted and it’s mostly background noise. It’s a small mercy, but Chan’ll take anything he can get if it helps him cling to sanity a little longer.

They’re spending the last couple of days in Long Beach before finally heading home, so they’re out in the water a lot. It’s good, feels like a “real vacation” (Hyunjin’s words) instead of something more tedious. Chan reminds Hyunjin he’s not the one that’s driving for multiple hours a day, but Hyunjin just sticks his tongue out at him.

It’s the last day before they head home, and Chan is diligently laying their things out on the sand when Felix comes up to him with a sunscreen bottle in hand.

“Help me get my back?” he asks sweetly, and Chan sets down the bag he’s unpacking and holds his hand out for the sunscreen.

Felix turns, facing out to the water, and Chan shakes as he squeezes some sunscreen out onto his palm, as he presses his hands to Felix’s shoulders. His gaze wanders lower, down Felix’s back. He can’t help but admire him, admire the softness of his skin, the way his shoulders narrow into his waist, the feel of his muscles under Chan’s fingertips, all so enticing. How did Chan not realize it before? He’s in love with Felix because of course he is, because Felix is beautiful and perfect, and Chan wants to kiss him and Chan wants him, and—

“All done,” Chan says quickly, patting Felix’s back and stepping away, dropping the bottle of sunscreen on the beach towel at his feet.

Felix gives him a weird look over his shoulder, but chirps, “Thanks!” and runs down the water where a few of the others are already playing. 

Chan’s body flashes hot and cold with shame as he watches him go, heart hammering in his chest. I can’t believe I let this happen, he thinks miserably. Felix splashes into the waves and the breeze carries his laughter up the shore. I should live in salt for the things I’ve thought. Because Chan knows Felix would think it’s gross and weird, and that sends waves of disgust crawling across Chan’s skin. He could never deserve Felix, even before, but especially not now, not after all the quiet ways he’s betrayed Felix’s trust—and still, here he is, helpless.

And he knows Felix. It’s not like he’s making shit up, he knows what he likes, knows his type. He’d lent Felix an ear so many times during all his relationships in high school, offering advice, keeping secrets. Chan knows everything. He had accepted each piece of information as it came without question. He regrets it now. It’s like a court case in his head, already built and perfected, proving why Chan can never have him.

To make matters worse, he and Felix are sharing a room alone in their Airbnb. Sharing a bed, too, and Chan doesn’t have an excuse to switch. And since it’s almost time to go home, Felix has gotten much more snuggly, whiny and almost petulant when Chan tries to get him to go to sleep at a reasonable hour because he doesn’t want the trip to be over. Chan was patient with him last night, but he’s really hoping Felix will be way too worn out tonight and he’ll be able to knock out into blissful unconsciousness as soon as possible. 

But of course, he’s not so lucky. Felix is waiting in bed when Chan gets out of the shower, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on top of the covers, his tiny sleep shorts riding up and exposing the pretty skin of his upper thighs. He looks up when Chan appears and tips his head to the side, smiling softly after Chan when he pads over to his suitcase to dig around for his moisturizer.

“What?” Chan asks when he looks up to pat the lotion into his skin and catches Felix’s gaze in the mirror over the dresser. 

“Your hair’s nice when it’s wet,” Felix says. “All curly ’n’ stuff.”

“Thanks,” Chan says, confused, giving him a quick smile before finishing his skincare. When he turns, Felix is watching him rather seriously. “What?” Chan repeats.

“You’ve been avoiding me, I think,” Felix accuses softly. “Like just now. Barely met my eyes. And on the beach today. The only time we talked was when you were helping me with my sunscreen. And last night, when we were going to sleep. And when you woke up in the middle of the night a few days ago. You’re being weird.”

Chan freezes. “Um,” he manages. “I just—have a lot on my mind right now, Lix, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I know,” Felix says. “But it’s something else. It’s about me, and you can’t lie and say it isn’t because I know you, and you’re acting different. So what’s going on?”

Chan hesitates, then sits down on the bed with a sigh. He tries to come up with something to say, something that isn’t stupid and isn’t true. But his mind is all panicked white noise, and nothing he can think of feels right. The harder he thinks, the more all he can think about is how he’s never once run out of things to say to Felix. Until now. 

“If I did something,” Felix continues, tone growing more serious still, “just say so. Or if there’s—something you want to talk about. Just tell me.”

The hurt in his voice pierces through the immobilizing fog of fear in Chan’s brain. He looks up, finds Felix’s eyes, finds them wide and scared. “N-no, Lix, there’s nothing… I want to talk about. And you haven’t done something, I promise. Things are just… weird right now, I guess.”

Something sour flickers behind Felix’s eyes. “Okay,” he says flatly, dropping his gaze to his lap. “Fine.”

“Felix—” Chan reaches out and squeezes his knee. He wants to hold him, wants to cradle him into his chest and explain that things are different, that he’s sorry, that he still loves him—but he can’t. He doesn’t understand how this has gotten so difficult, how it happened so fast. Since when was there distance between Felix and him? But it’s here, proof—Chan’s hand laying light on Felix’s knee, and nothing more.  “Hey. I—I’m not trying to shut you down, okay? I just don’t know what you want me to say. If there’s something you want to talk about, let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” Felix replies. “It’s just—something feels off, and I want to know why, and I want—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “But that’s just it, I guess. It’s not your fault. You’re right, it’s just everything.”

He has to know, Chan thinks to himself. There’s no way he doesn’t know. He wants me to admit it, but he’s too kind to actually force it. Because what else could it be? His stomach turns uncomfortably. 

“Let’s just—let’s just go to sleep for now,” Chan says. Anything to be done with this conversation, though he knows his mind is going to keep him up for hours. “We still have to drive home tomorrow, and I don’t want us to get back too late or our parents are gonna be worried. We can—we can talk more once we’re home, okay?”

Felix’s eyes flick up to Chan’s. For once, Chan can’t read him. There’s something dark and stormy swirling behind his expression, only Chan doesn’t know what it is. But Felix just nods and pushes the covers back with his feet. Chan stands to get the light, then returns to the bed, sliding in next to Felix. They don’t touch.

“Night, Felix,” he says softly, uncertain.

“G’night, Chan,” Felix replies, just above a whisper.

Despite his worries, sleep finds Chan almost instantly. But his dreams are full of fear and confusion, and of Felix. By morning, he’s dreamed of confessing to him a hundred times, and he’s still exhausted.

* * *

He and Felix don’t speak when they wake. They wash up in silence, pack in silence, double- and triple-check their room in silence. Down the hall, Chan can hear the loud, happy voices of their friends, but they seem a world away. He wants to say something, but the words all get stuck in his throat. What would he say, anyway? I’m sorry, I love you? There’s nothing else for him to say at all, really, but he can’t say that, so he keeps his mouth shut.

They join the others in the kitchen for breakfast. The sun is coming through the windows, bright and cheery, but Chan hardly notices it. All he can see is Felix, out of the corner of his eye, quiet and brooding, just like him.

Eventually, though, Chan notices that a couple of the others are giving them weird looks, so he shakes himself and puts on a smile. He’s still on his vacation with all his best friends, the people he loves the most in the world, and just because things are weird between him and Felix doesn’t mean everything has to be weird. He passes coffees down the table as Minho pulls their leftovers from the microwave, and they all sit down for breakfast. 

Soon, breakfast is eaten, the dishes are cleaned and put away, and everyone is piling their belongings into the cars and getting ready to leave. It’ll be a short drive, so they have the time to go over the rooms a couple times to make sure they aren’t leaving anything behind. It’s just as well, because Jisung finds a pair of his underwear “and some other stuff” in the bathroom of the room he shared with Hyunjin. Chan doesn’t ask. 

Seungmin and Jeongin chatter happily as they pull out onto the freeway at last. Chan tries not to tap the steering wheel nervously, watching Felix out of the corner of his eye. He’s still quiet, face buried in his phone, body turned toward the door. Chan presses his lips together and refocuses on the road. 

If Seungmin and Jeongin notice anything is off with them, they don’t say anything, though Chan hopes they just assume he and Felix are tired from the trip. Things are awkward enough already; getting more people involved would only make it worse. The last thing Chan wants is for their entire friend group to be splintered right before they have to part ways. 

He drops Jeongin off first, then Seungmin, and the car goes silent save the music playing faintly through the speakers for the ten minute drive between Seungmin’s neighborhood and theirs. Chan opens his mouth to say something a couple of times, but nothing feels right. And besides, they’re stuck in a moving vehicle together. It’s probably not the best time to have a heart-to-heart.

Chan pulls into Felix’s driveway where his parents are waiting. 

“Thanks,” Felix says, unbuckling his seatbelt.

There’s a beat of silence. Felix doesn’t reach for the handle of the door. Chan doesn’t reach for his keys.

Chan looks at Felix, the way the late afternoon light catches his eyes and turns brown into honeyed gold. The soft curve of his lips. The constellations of freckles, each picked out with diligence and named with care. By him. And now, for the second time in his life, Chan doesn’t know what to say to Felix. He feels lost, untethered.

“I should go,” Felix says at last, shifting in his seat.

“Let me help you with your things,” Chan says immediately, and his chest feels tight when Felix just nods. He unbuckles his seatbelt and crawls out of the car, stiff joints shouting in protest the whole way, and goes around the back to make sure Felix has everything.

“How was the trip?” Felix’s mom asks, holding her arms out for her son.

“Good!” Felix chirps, dropping the bag he’s carrying on the sidewalk and accepting her hug. “We had a lot of fun. But I’m really tired.”

“I bet you are,” she says, laughing. “Chan, too, huh? All that driving.”

“Oh—I’m alright!” Chan tries to keep his tone light. He doesn’t know how well he succeeds. “It was easy.” His body betrays him, and he has to pause to yawn. Both of Felix’s parents laugh. The sound rings hollow in Chan’s ears, but he laughs along with them to be polite. “Okay, maybe I’m a little tired.”

“I think both of you need a home-cooked meal and a nice, long rest in your own beds,” Felix’s dad says. “Go on, Chan, we’ve got him from here. I’m sure your parents are eager to see you.”

Chan nods. “All right,” he agrees. “Have a good night!” He hesitates, then adds, “See you soon, Lix.”

“See you,” Felix tosses over his shoulder.

Chan ducks back into his car and drives it the very short distance across the street to his own house. His mom opens the front door as soon as he switches off the engine, and Chan’s little siblings squeeze out past her to help him unload.

“You were gone forever,” Lucas accuses, tugging on Chan’s arm. “And Hannah stinks at Minecraft.”

“I heard that!” Hannah calls.

Chan smiles. “We’ll play a bunch tomorrow, yeah?” he offers. “Hey, Mom.”

“Back in one piece,” she observes, sounding genuinely impressed. “Though you look exhausted. Did you guys sleep at all?”

Chan stifles another yawn. “A little,” he says, passing his stuff inside and then following, closing the door behind him.

“Well, dinner’s almost ready, so you can eat and go straight to bed if you want,” she says. “Dad should be home soon—sent him to the store to pick up dessert.”

Chan nods absently, letting his siblings drag him away. He wants to be present with his family, but he can’t help it—he’s thinking of Felix. There’s a weird feeling in his stomach, and he plays back that last conversation in his driveway. 

It almost felt like goodbye.

* * *

Chan does get good sleep that night, and wakes up late, long after his parents have gone to work. He hears his siblings downstairs and rolls over, stretching as he reaches for his phone. 

No texts from anybody. He supposes they’re all taking the day slow. Still, a strange anxiety rises in his chest. He told Felix they’d talk when they got home, but suddenly the idea of seeing him seems daunting. It’s never felt like that before.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by a loud clatter, and remembers that leaving a twelve year old in the kitchen with a nine year old is only safe for so long. He drags himself out of bed, pulling on a random pair of shorts and an old t-shirt, and shuffles downstairs to see if anything is on fire.

Luckily, the clatter was just Hannah dropping a plastic plate, and Chan helps them reach the top shelf of the freezer so they can have Eggos for breakfast. He makes coffee for himself and pours juice for the other two, and makes them help him with the dishes when they’re done. The routine of it is lulling in its familiarity, and he finds himself relaxing a little. Maybe a few days apart will help his feelings for Felix and make it easier to talk about when the time comes.

He plays Minecraft with Lucas as promised, and then they set up a Switch equipped with Mario Kart and spend the rest of the morning screaming and laughing on the couch. Hannah wins every round though Lucas is never far behind, and it only ends when Chan has to wrestle them apart because they’re both trying to tickle-sabotage each other mid-race.

They all collapse on the ground, laughing. The sound warms Chan, and though he’s weak from laughing, he feels better. “I missed you guys when I was away,” he admits breathlessly. “How were things here?”

“Bor-ing,” Lucas replies. “D’you have to go to college?”

“Unfortunately,” Chan says, craning his neck so he can see his little brother. “I wish I could stay right here with you guys. I wish everyone could stay. But… that’s not how things work, I guess.”

“Can I write you letters like how they used to do in the old days?” Lucas asks, melancholy already forgotten.

Chan laughs. “I’ll have Mom give you my new address, yeah?”

“Well, I can’t wait for you to fucking leave, because then the house will be mine,” Hannah says from his other side.

“You’re literally already the queen of this house,” Chan points out. “Also, watch your language! Where’d you learn that word?”

“What word?” Hannah asks, snarky, though she’s fighting giggles. “Fuck? From you!”

“What’s—” Lucas begins.

“No,” Chan cuts him off. “Don’t let Mom and Dad hear you saying that, it’s a bad word, and we shouldn’t say bad words. Okay, Lucas? Whatever you think you heard, forget it.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Chan,” Hannah continues blithely. “I can say what I fucking want.”

Chan deflates into the carpet. “I give up.” Lucas and Hannah laugh brightly. Lucas’s stomach then lets out a very loud and very pointed grumble, which makes all of them laugh again.

“Okay, let’s see about a snack, huh?” Chan says, peeling himself up off the floor and offering a hand each to Lucas and Hannah. 

They all head into the kitchen. Lucas entertains himself with some toys he has lying around, and Hannah settles onto a stool on the breakfast bar, watching Chan cook.

“Oppa,” she says quietly when he’s done washing the fruit. “Are you… okay?”

“Uh,” Chan says, thrown off, nearly dropping the apple he’s holding onto the floor. “Yeah, why?”

“You just seem kinda sad,” she replies, tracing the lines in the granite of the countertop with one of her index fingers. “What’s up?”

Chan heaves a sigh. “I dunno how to explain, kiddo,” he says. “It’s, um. It’s Felix, he and I—we’re just kinda going through a rough patch, that’s all. I’m… not really sure how to fix it.”

“What happened?” Hannah asks.

Chan is silent for a moment, trying to think of a way to avoid telling her the truth without lying to her face. “There are some things I need to tell him,” he says finally. “And I think he knows that. And I think he won’t like them.”

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Hannah says earnestly. “You guys have been friends since way before I was even born. I think you’ll manage it. You can’t just stop being friends now, not after all this time. That’s not how it works.”

“I hope you’re right,” Chan says, passing her a plate of fruit with a weak smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome to my wisdom anytime,” she replies with a grin, and Chan exhales laughter through his nose. 

“Want anything with that?” he asks. “Peanut butter? Caramel? I know you want caramel,” he adds when Lucas pops his head up from the floor. 

“Yes, please!” they both chorus.

Chan finds his heart a little lighter. Maybe Hannah is right. What he and Felix have runs deep. If anyone can get through something like this, it’ll be them. Right?

[wellbeing-in-your-office]

National Grief Awareness Week: How to Find Support During a Difficult Time

National Grief Awareness Week: How to Find Support During a Difficult Time

Grief and loss are universal experiences, touching us all at different moments in our lives. Yet these inevitable elements of the human condition are often met with silence, resulting in feelings of isolation and misunderstanding. During National Grief Awareness Week, we aim to highlight the importance of discussing and understanding grief, both in our personal lives and in the workplace. In this comprehensive guide, we will delve into various aspects of grief, providing valuable insights to help individuals and workplaces navigate through these challenging periods with resilience and empathy. We will cover the common stages of grief, different types of grief experiences, strategies for self-care and coping at work, when to seek professional help, and more. We strive to foster a culture that acknowledges grief, supports those experiencing loss, and ultimately enhances the overall wellbeing of the workplace.

What is Grief Awareness Week?

National Grief Awareness Week 2023 runs from 2 to 8 December in 2023. It is an annual event held to raise understanding around grief, provide education, and help people who are grieving feel less alone in their journey. The aim of Grief Awareness Week is to bring greater understanding of the grieving process, so anyone working through personal loss or supporting others through difficult transitions can feel heard, acknowledged, and empowered. Grief is a natural response to loss that can affect all aspects of your life. It may involve a range of emotions from deep sadness to anger, and can disrupt your sleep, appetite, energy levels, ability to concentrate, and more. While an extremely challenging experience, grief is a normal and expected part of coping with the loss of a loved one, job, pet, move across country or any other significant life change. The core goals of National Grief Awareness Week are to: - Normalise talking about grief and bereavement - Provide opportunities for hope and healing - Educate communities about the impact of grief - Connect individuals who are grieving with resources

National Grief Awareness Week: What are the 5 Stages of Grief?

Grief is a natural reaction to loss that involves going through different emotional stages. According to the Kübler-Ross model, there are 5 common stages of grief: Denial Denial is usually the first reaction to loss. During this stage, individuals deny the reality of the loss. They may feel shock and numbness, and behave as if the loss hasn't happened. Denial protects them from experiencing the intensity of the pain all at once. Anger As denial fades, the next stage is anger. Reality sets in, and this often manifests as frustration, irritability, and resentment. People may lash out during this stage and question "why me?". Anger can be directed at different targets like doctors, loved ones, fate, or even the deceased. Bargaining Once anger begins to fade, bargaining sets in. People start to negotiate for more time or a second chance, promising things will be different. Guilt is a common feeling during this stage. Individuals may dwell on regrets or think of ways the loss could have been prevented. Depression After bargaining, the grieving person is beginning to understand the certainty of the loss. They may feel profound sadness and loneliness. Crying spells, changes in appetite, and trouble sleeping are common. They may isolate themselves from family and friends. Acceptance This final stage represents acknowledging and making peace with the loss. There may still be moments of sadness, but the intense pain begins to lift. People start to reengage with life and envision a new future. They accept that life is different now. It's important to note people may move back and forth between these stages in a nonlinear fashion. There is no set timeline, and each person grieves differently based on factors like their relationship to the deceased and coping abilities. While common patterns exist, grief is a deeply personal journey.

Grief Awareness Week: Types of Grief

Grief can take many forms depending on the relationship with the deceased, the nature of the death, and other factors. Understanding the different types of grief can help identify the root of painful emotions and lead to more effective coping strategies. Anticipatory Grief Anticipatory grief occurs when someone is expecting the death of a loved one. This often happens when a family member has a terminal illness. Knowing that death is imminent can allow for preparation and closure, but it also means grieving the loss before it has occurred. Emotions during anticipatory grief can include depression, extreme sadness, and anxiety. This type of grief can complicate the ability to cope once the death actually happens. Disenfranchised Grief Disenfranchised grief refers to grief over a loss that is not socially recognised or openly acknowledged. For example, grieving the death of an ex-spouse, a coworker, or a pet may not be considered as legitimate as grieving the loss of a current spouse or family member. However, the sense of loss is just as real. Disenfranchised grief can lead to deeper feelings of isolation and lack of emotional support. Complicated Grief Complicated grief is a severe form of grief that worsens over time instead of gradually getting better. Symptoms include intense sorrow, bitterness, inability to enjoy life, depression, and trouble carrying out normal daily activities for an extended period. Complicated grief may stem from the nature of the relationship or death, lack of social support, concurrent life stressors, or vulnerability to intense emotions in general. If complicated grief lasts for more than 6 months, professional help may be beneficial.

National Grief Awareness Week: Grief vs Depression

Grief and depression can look very similar on the surface, with shared symptoms like sadness, trouble sleeping, changes in appetite, fatigue, and lack of enjoyment in daily activities. However, there are some key differences between the two conditions: - Timeframe - Grief is a natural response to loss that typically decreases over time, while depression is more persistent and recurrent. The sadness of grief gradually gives way to healing and acceptance, but depressive episodes can last for weeks or longer without treatment. - Cause - Grief is caused by bereavement or loss, whereas depression often arises for other reasons. Depression may require medical treatment even in the absence of a major loss. - Self-esteem - People experiencing grief often maintain normal self-esteem. Depression frequently involves distorted, excessively negative thoughts about oneself. - Daily functioning - The pain of grief may make it hard to focus, but grief usually does not severely impair one's ability to function. Depression can make it extremely difficult to concentrate, work, or handle daily responsibilities. - Guilt - Guilt is common with grief, but more often focused on regrets around the loss or lost opportunities. Guilt in depression is pervasive and disproportionate, impairing self-image. - Hopelessness - Grief involves sadness and longing, but the bereaved can maintain hope and anticipate things improving. Feelings of hopelessness are more characteristic of depression. - Suicidal thoughts - Thoughts of wanting to join lost loved ones are common with grief. Actual suicidal ideation is more serious and suggests clinical depression. Getting professional support can help identify whether grief has progressed to clinical depression. Treatments for depression include therapy and medication, allowing one to process grief without being weighed down by prolonged, deep clinical depression.

Self-Care While Grieving

Grieving can be an emotionally and physically exhausting process. That's why it's crucial to practice self-care during this difficult time. Self-care helps replenish your mental, emotional and physical energy so that you can better cope with grief. Here are some self-care tips: Get enough sleep. Grief can cause sleep disruptions, like insomnia. Try to stick to a regular sleep schedule and wind down before bedtime. Limit electronics use before bed, do relaxing activities, and make your bedroom a sleep sanctuary. Eat healthy, nourishing foods. Stress affects appetite, so you may not feel like eating. But good nutrition provides energy and supports your immune system. Eat a balanced diet with plenty of whole foods. Stay hydrated and limit junk food. Exercise regularly. Physical activity naturally boosts endorphins to lift your mood. It also relieves stress and promotes better sleep. Start with gentle activities like walking, yoga or swimming. Even a short walk daily can help. Practice relaxation techniques. Deep breathing, meditation, massage and warm baths activate the body's relaxation response. This calms the mind and body. Set aside time every day for whatever relaxation methods work for you. Connect with supportive loved ones. Your social circle can lift you up during this hard time. Spend time with caring friends and family who comfort and reassure you. Let them know how they can best support you. Avoid risky coping mechanisms. It may be tempting to try and numb your pain, but unhealthy habits like overeating, excess alcohol and drug use only complicate grief. Focus on positive coping strategies instead. Make time for joy. Laughter and lighthearted moments provide a break from sadness, though you may feel guilty. It's healthy to enjoy yourself sometimes. Engage in hobbies you like and do pleasant distractions. Practicing self-compassion and care helps you manage grief in a constructive way. Don't neglect your wellbeing during this vulnerable time. https://wellbeinginyouroffice.com/how-to-talk-about-mental-health-at-work/ How to talk about mental health at work

When to Seek Professional Help

During National Grief Awareness Week it's important to emphasise that grief is a natural response to loss, but sometimes it can become complicated or unresolved. Here are some signs that it may be time to seek professional help with your grief: - Your mood is stuck in depression, anger, or sadness, and does not improve over time. - Months have passed, but your grief remains intensely painful and debilitating. - You have trouble accepting the reality of your loss. - You avoid reminders of your loved one and isolate yourself from others. - Destructive behaviors like substance abuse or recklessness appear. - You have thoughts of suicide or dying so you can be with your loved one. - Your relationships and ability to function at work or home are suffering. Seeking counselling or talking therapy can help if you are having trouble moving forward from your grief. A mental health professional can: - Provide a safe space to process and make meaning of your loss. - Teach coping techniques to work through "stuck" grief. - Help identify and resolve possible complications like trauma, guilt, or regret. - Assist you in rebuilding your life after loss. - Refer you to support groups where you can connect with others experiencing similar grief. - Provide guidance if grief has triggered a crisis of faith or purpose. The point is that help is available if your grief feels endless or overwhelming. With professional guidance, you can find a path forward and hope. Seeking support is brave, not weak. Counseling can help restore a sense of meaning and peace after a major loss.

National Grief Awareness Week: Tips for Coping with Grief at Work

When an employee is grieving the loss of a loved one, it can be a very difficult time for them both emotionally and practically. As managers and co-workers, there are some important things we can do to support them during this period. Grief Awareness Week: Tips for managers - Allow for flexibility with their work. Understand that their productivity may be impacted in the initial grieving period. Allow them to work flexibly, take time off as needed, temporarily adjust responsibilities etc. Don't penalise them if they need to take more time away from work. - Check in regularly. Set up periodic check ins to see how they are coping and if they need any additional support. But don't force them to talk if they aren't ready. - Ease their workload. Consider temporarily reducing their workload or reassigning urgent/high priority tasks if the grieving is impacting their bandwidth. Don't overburden them during this sensitive time. - Review bereavement leave policy. Ensure you have a bereavement policy that allows for adequate time off to grieve, attend services etc. Follow policy guidance on how much time can be taken. - Be understanding. Recognise that grief affects people differently. Be patient and understanding if they are having trouble concentrating, seem disconnected, or need more time away. Don't make them feel guilty for being in mourning. https://wellbeinginyouroffice.com/why-is-health-and-wellbeing-important-in-the-workplace/ Why is health and wellbeing important in the workplace? Grief Awareness Week: How to Support a Grieving Coworker - Offer condolences. Take time to extend sympathies and let them know you are thinking of them. But don't offer platitudes, just listening can be more helpful. - Check in periodically. Continue to check in periodically over the coming weeks and months. Grief can be a long process, so keep tabs on how they are coping over time. - Listen without judgement. Provide a listening ear if they need to talk about their loss or remember their loved one. Don't try to tell them how to feel. - Offer help. See if there are any practical ways you can help, by covering some of their workload, helping with admin tasks etc. Don't take over their major responsibilities, just help ease the daily workload. - Be understanding. Recognise that everyone grieves differently, so be patient and understanding if they behave differently. Don't take it personally if they seem disconnected. Making grief support part of your work culture is important. With empathy, flexibility and compassion, we can make the workplace a little easier for grieving colleagues.

Grief Awareness Week: Bereavement Leave

Bereavement leave policies allow employees time off from work to mourn, attend services, and manage affairs after the loss of a close family member. This time may be paid, allowing the grieving individual to take care of responsibilities without losing income during an already difficult time. Many companies have bereavement leave policies, either as part of their general paid time off programs or as a separate category of leave. Policies vary in the amount of leave provided. Some companies may specify a set number of days, whilst others will make their decision on a case-by-case basis. Some key aspects of bereavement leave may include: https://wellbeinginyouroffice.com/benefits-of-being-in-nature/ Benefits of Being in Nature: how spending time outdoors can transform your life - Covered Relationships: Bereavement leave usually covers immediate family (spouse/partner, parents, siblings, children) and in some policies extended family (grandparents, in-laws, aunts/uncles). The company's policy will specify which relations qualify. - Paid vs Unpaid - Verification: The company may request verification of the death, such as an obituary or death certificate. - Flexibility: Some companies allow flexibility in when the leave is taken, such as time off for estate planning after the services. Bereavement leave acknowledges the need for employees to grieve without jeopardising their job or income. This time protects both the employee and employer, while supporting the employee through loss.

Grief Awareness Week: Conclusion

National Grief Awareness Week serves as an important reminder that grief is a natural response to loss that deserves understanding and support. Though grief can be intensely painful and disruptive, it is possible to move through it in a healthy way with self-compassion, professional help when needed, and support from employers and coworkers. The key points to remember include: - Grief comes in many forms and progresses through stages, though not always linearly. Feelings of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance are all normal parts of the grieving process. - Types of grief like anticipatory, acute, chronic, exaggerated, prolonged, complicated, collective, and disenfranchised grief all deserve equal compassion and care. - While grief and depression share some symptoms, they are distinct conditions. Grief is a response to loss that fluctuates but gradually improves over time, while clinical depression is more persistent and may require professional treatment. - Self-care strategies like allowing time for emotions, journaling, joining a support group, and practicing relaxation techniques can help you grieve in a healthy way. Seek counseling if grief feels unresolvable. - Coworkers can provide much-needed support by listening without judgement, acknowledging the loss and the griever's pain, offering practical help, and gently encouraging professional assistance if needed. - Employers should have bereavement leave policies allowing adequate time off for grieving, and foster a compassionate workplace culture that validates loss. Grief is a fact of life, but how we respond to it matters. As individuals and organisations, we must strive to understand grief and support those going through the painful but necessary process of saying goodbye.

Disclaimer: The information provided in this article is intended for general knowledge and educational purposes only. It should not be construed as professional health, legal, or business advice. Readers should always consult with appropriate health professionals, human resource experts, or legal advisors for specific concerns related to mental health and wellbeing in the workplace. Read the full article

[bookloveravenue]

The Loyal Boys (book 3): Lost Boy by Charli Meadows

Fallon

Being alone is nothing new. I’ve been abandoned by everyone. Now, I have absolutely no one. I might even prefer it that way. All I really need is a guitar and my thoughts.

Just shy of my eighteenth birthday, I’m forced to move across the country to live with my uncle in California. He’s the head basketball coach at Acadia Lake Prep, the new private academy I’m attending. Ryder Cruz is his star player.

He makes me question things about myself and what I want. Things I’ve never once considered. The oversized and enthusiastic jock is always around, insisting I smile and laugh with him. But it won’t work. It can’t. The painful memories and regret I carry are too strong. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel again.

Ryder

Basketball is great. So are my friends. Dad. My little sister Sofie. I’m team captain, and I’m taking us to State.

It’s easy to forget that nothing is ever as it seems. I fight my demons with smiles and awkward jokes, but things are starting to pile up. Pranks between my guys and the rival public school, issues with my mother, and a secret I can’t tell anyone. A truth that holds me in its grasp. I can’t risk the team or my college acceptance—my future . Can’t risk my dream.

I’m gay. And no one can know.

It wasn’t as hard to keep this close to my chest until Fallon Rivers showed up with his big, sad eyes and bright blue hair. I’m not sure I can continue hiding who I am. I need this boy to smile. To talk to me. I need to spark some life back into his soul.

He doesn’t realize my dad and his uncle are partners, but he’ll find out soon enough. Sleepovers happen almost every weekend. And now that he’s here and staying for good, I guess he’ll just have to get used to my presence. Because I’m determined to make him feel again and maybe even free myself along the way.

Lost Boy is a 90,000-word friends-to-lovers gay romance. It is book three in The Loyal Boys Series, a collection of standalone contemporary M/M romances. You can expect opposites attract, forced proximity, hurt/comfort, steamy first times, and a supportive found family. This novel is intended for 18+ readers and contains explicit scenes, mild violence, language, and bullying from outside sources. See Author’s Note for a full list of Content Warnings.

********

June 25, 2023

My Review: 5/5 Stars

Loving this series! This series has really grabbed me and this latest one is just another great addition! Fallon has been numb since his dad died. He lost not only his dad but his mom went off the deep end doing drugs, dating awful men, and it finally comes crashing down on her when she gets thrown in jail. When Fallon’s uncle Joel, his dad’s brother, comes to pick him up and bring him back to California with him, Fallon doesn’t expect much. He figures it will only be a matter of time before Joel doesn’t want him either. And with the numbness settling in more and more, he doesn’t seem to care. But Joel won’t give up on his nephew and he isn’t alone in that quest. Ryder is the son of Joel’s boyfriend. Ryder and his sister have been part of Joel’s family for the last few years and he knows that will never change. Their family is tight. When he first meets Fallon, he can see the sadness in him right away and he swears right there that he will make Fallon smile. What Ryder doesn’t expect is to fall for Fallon so fast. Not when he told himself he wouldn’t come out until his plans to play basketball in college is safe. He never wanted to risk his future not until Fallon. And for Fallon, being around Ryder makes him feel safe. Something he never had. And bit by bit, Ryder is squashing the numbness that has overtaken Fallon and for the first time in a long time, Fallon feels something. He is slowly waking up and learning what it is to be loved. Their story was just so sweet. They were this perfect example of opposites attract and balancing one another is really nice ways. I couldn’t put this story down! Definitely a favorite from this series.

[sammyisfat]

So my Dad has been battling cancer for almost a decade, and is in remission. But now his kidneys are only functioning at 22% and they have an infection that can’t be treated. So, we’re just waiting. He’s been steadily declining the last two weeks.

This is causing me to spiral. I’m feeling like I’m stranded in the ocean in an inflatable boat with duck tape covering the holes, I can see the shore but it’s so out of my reach and I don’t think I can stay alive to make it there.

I don’t regret my hysterectomy but it was my first surgery and was major. It caused me a lot of trauma mentally and physically. It’s been 5 years almost, and since it’s happened I’ve just been in a downward spiral.

I met a guy and got engaged after 6 weeks, and married within a year. I met him 3 months after my surgery. At the height of a heavy dissociation. And I went back to school without thinking it through clearly.

I was terrified to go back to my management job because my boss would constantly call me an idiot, treat me like I was trash, and would send me to work in various stores but wouldn’t pay me for my travel or pay me an active managers wage to make up for that.

So I went back to school, but then I started developing chronic pain that makes being active so painful. The pain is where my right incision from my hysterectomy is, and where my former cervix used to be. And no drs are listening to me. It’s compromised my mental health to the point I was so unreliable I was struggling to show up for work. Between the pain and my mental health.

And then in the fall of 2020, I was in a car accident. The crash was fairly minor but I hit my head off the windshield not hard enough to crack glass but enough to do damage. Where I hit my head is the area that controls your ability to mask and control your anxiety.

I lost mine. And my short term memory has been affected. Due to this, I had to end my lease and move in with my parents in a whole new province from where I had built a new life. I was suffering from insomnia due to the accident.

And I was prescribed sleep pills, I had never taken any before. And they would knock me out for 10 hours sometimes until I built up a tolerance. And I kept waking up in pain. But I found out my partner had been having sex with me in my sleep, because I wouldn’t wake up. And I never consented to it.

This had been the start of things, and then later that winter I found out I was losing my apartment and my jobs. My spiral has gotten worse since these events.

An anon account came forward on IG and accused my partner of cheating. But there hadn’t been any proof. No screenshots or any information regarding where I could find info. This had caused a riff between us.

When we moved to Ontario, his family basically disowned him. And so even though I want and need out. I feel responsible for him. He moved halfway across the country for me. I’ve tried telling him we’re not good for each other, his mental health is impacting mine and vice versa. And I can’t be a good partner right now.

We haven’t been intimate in 3 years. We tried on my bday but he changed his mind so we stopped. So we’re more like roommates at this point.

I’m feeling so trapped and alone. I just can’t handle it all anymore. I went to hospital in ‘22 for a month. But they refused to really help me, because I have borderline personality disorder. And they would just tell me to do DBT when I got out of the hospital.

But I was then and now at such a low baseline I am barely surviving. I am not eating. I’m not sleeping. My pain is at an all time high. I can’t keep track of days. I thought it was still the 15th for 8 days.

I’m just existing. And I don’t want to anymore. I had to flush all my sleeping pills because I didn’t trust myself not to take them all before bed. So I’m just sleeping maybe 2 hours at night. Because I can’t take sleep meds without feeling triggered and unsafe.

I’ve never said anything to anyone really about this. I tell bits and pieces but it a hard to admit the truth and be honest about what my last 5 years have been. And I am so tired.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Heated

Syverson x Fem!Reader

vignette: When it comes to being a woman, the country and city might have more in common than Y/N realized.

words: 2,000+

warning: street harassment, women's fear

masterlist

It felt like the deepest circle of hell.

One thing Y/N missed the most since moving to Texas was winter. In New York, summer was her least favorite season. She hated the humidity, hated the lack of air conditioning in the old building of New York. So Texas summers were something to behold.

Thankfully the majority of places in her area of Texas were fully equipped with artificial cool air. And despite how old Syverson’s house was, his parents updated it and had installed AC ducts throughout the historic home to keep it updated functionally.

Y/N was feeling bold and thought she could go for her usual run. But had immediately regretted it as soon as she started running.

And now she was looking down at Aika, concerned it was too hot for her to join her. The dog was panting and her German Shepherd fur was meant for the cold and snow. But after all, Syverson found her in Iraq, so she was born in the desert.

Y/N was now walking on the side of the rode, hands folded on top of her head.

There were trails nearby that Y/N could run. But her body just couldn’t seem to adjust to the uneven ground of forest and trails. She was used to treadmills or hard, flat concrete ground. Plus, Y/N was unaccustomed to the wildlife she could come across in nature here. And even though she wouldn’t admit it, she was convinced she would fall onto a rattlesnake or something else that could kill her.

So she ran on the shoulder of mostly empty roads around their house.

Every once in awhile, someone would drive by and give her a friendly wave.

Y/N was in only a sports bra and bike shorts. The thought of wearing even an inch more of clothing made her want to faint on the spot. Sure, it may be a bit scandalous for Texas. The stares and disapproving looks didn’t go amiss by Y/N. But it was too hot to care.

Y/N was 10 minutes away from the house when a crappy and rusted pick-up truck passed her.

She didn’t think twice about it until it turned around behind her and drove up in her blind spot. But she could still perfectly hear the car.

Nope. She didn’t like that at all.

Her female instinct to protect herself started ringing in her ears and her entire body tensed.

“Damn,” a voice called out to her.

The truck was now parallel to her on the road. And the driver was staring at her. No, more like leering at her. His window was down and his terrible country music was just loud enough for her to make out.

Despite sweating her ass off, Y/N felt a chill go up her spine. Or maybe that was her fight-or-flight response, preparing her to make a run for it.

Y/N chose to ignore him, hoping it would bore the guy enough to get him to drive off and leave her alone.

Aika decided not to take the same route. Instead, she moved to the other side of Y/N, putting herself between Y/N and the car. She gave a low growl in his direction.

It was just another warning to Y/N that this man was not harmless. If Aika could sense something, she was not in a good place.

“You think yer too good to talk to me?” The man snapped after she didn’t respond to his gross introduction.

But Y/N continued to ignore him.

“Ain’t fair actin’ like ya don’t wan’ it when yer dressed like that…” His accent was thicker than Sy’s and it made him sound stupid.

It was just another red flag to Y/N: the dumber the man, the more likely he was to do something awful to her.

Y/N was suddenly grateful that Sy had insisted she always take her phone and Aika with her when she went on her runs.

Aika was protective of her, yes. But Y/N knew that most people around here carried guns with them or at least had them somewhere in their trucks.

Aika would die protecting Y/N, but she was no match for a firearm. And Y/N didn’t want that scenario.

So, Y/N subtly pulled out her phone and texted Sy.

She didn’t want to call, scared that seeing her on the phone would upset the driver and force him to take some sort of action. What kind of action, Y/N didn’t know. And that was the most terrifying part.

Y/N texted Sy: Some guy is following me on the road in his truck. I don’t want him to know where I live. Can you come meet me?

A part of her was scared Sy wouldn’t have his phone on him. That man was an exception to his generation, hating technology and being expected to always be reachable.

Before Y/N, he was known to leave his phone in the house, not checking it for hours. He almost never picked up calls on the first try and he was not a swift replier when it came to texting.

But that stopped for the most part when Y/N became a part of his life. Well, at least it stopped for her. Sy's family and friends would probably say he still was shit at responding to them.

When Y/N went for runs or out to run errands on her own, Sy always made sure to have his cell on him in case Y/N needed anything.

So, Y/N was grateful when she saw those three dots appear on the screen that told her Syverson was immediately typing back.

“Hey!” The drive suddenly shouted. “I’m talkin’ to you, fuckin’ bitch.”

Y/N jumped at the sound of his irritation, but still didn’t engage.

Sy texted back: Just keep walking. I have your location.

Right, Y/N thought. Her ‘share location’ was always on with Sy. She always forgot about that. He was overprotective, that one. But now Y/N was grateful it.

She was just around the corner from the long driveway that led up to the house.

To Y/N’s surprise, Sy was just getting to the end of the property. He must have booked it from the farm to the main road when he got her text.

She managed to make out that he was tucking something into the back of his waist. And it wasn’t hard to guess what it was…

Y/N couldn’t explain the wave of relief that went through her body at mere sight of him.

‘You’re safe. Sy’s here. You’re OK,’ her mind was telling her.

Y/N picked up her pace.

And the driver sped up to keep in line with her. His eyes were so glued to her that he hadn’t even noticed Sy watching them.

As soon as Y/N was a few feet away, Sy stepped to her.

His head dipped a little to look into her eyes and his hand went to her waist to comfort her.

“You good?” He asked.

Y/N just nodded quickly, not having words.

Sy nodded back, but she could see the rage in his eyes. He was keeping it together for her sake.

“Go on up to the house,” he instructed her softly. But the command was clearly there and let no room for argument. “Take Aika with you.”

Y/N nodded, knowing better than to question him right now.

She gave one final look over her shoulder at the man.

His creepy smirk was waiting for her.

It ignited a sudden wave of anger and Y/N gave him a glare that could kill, and she somehow suddenly had the courage to give him the middle finger.

The man had the audacity to actually laugh at her.

But Y/N listened to Sy’s instructions and kept walking to the house.

Sy was only somewhat surprised that the asshole didn’t chicken out at the sight of him and floor it, speeding away before he could confront him.

He stepped to the passenger window of the truck.

His voice was ice cold and terrifying as he asked, “Think yer funny?”

“Sure do,” the man flicked the toothpick he had in his mouth.

Sy stepped even closer. Then he slowly pulled the gun from the back of his pants. He lightly placed it on the edge of the car window. Not aiming it at the man, just casually sitting it in plain view.

The man wasn’t so amused anymore.

“I got ‘bout a dozen firearms in that house back there.” Sy scratched his beard. “If I see you round here again, I won’t hesitate to use ‘em.”

The man held his breath and said nothing.

Sy managed to lean even closer now.

“I served with the Chief of Police’s son. Don’t think no one would waste their time openin’ a investigation if you went missin’.”

The man now had fear in his eyes.

“I memorized them plates of yours. Be pretty stupid of you to try anythin’.”

The man just stared at him, rendered absolutely speechless.

Sy stared him down for a minute before finally saying, “We clear?”

The man gave a shaky, but rushed, nod.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Sy growled, kicking the side of the man’s truck.

He wanted to give off a warning shot in the air, just to really get the man shaking in his boots.

But he knew Y/N would be watching from the front porch, and if she heard a gun shot, she’d have a panic attack.

Sy didn’t move until he saw the truck completely out of sight down the road.

When he walked back to the house, he noticed how tense his entire body was. And just because the bastard was gone, didn't mean he’d relax now.

Y/N was waiting for him on the front porch, Aika sitting readily at her feet.

Sy took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before talking to her.

Y/N looked smaller than usual. Her confident and boisterous personality always made her seem taller than she was. But now she looked vulnerable and scared.

“You OK?” He asked her again.

She nodded quickly.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?”

She shook her head.

A part of Y/N knew that if she told him the man had, Sy would be getting in his truck and racing after the bastard.

A few awkward moments pass.

Y/N noticed how tense Sy looked. And even though she knows he had got a gun hidden behind him, she didn't say anything about it.

“Are you OK?” She asked quietly.

Sy just nodded.

But then he finally stepped close to her and cupped her cheek. “You did good, darlin’. You were right to text me.”

Y/N was embarrassed by how much she preened at his praise and approval.

For the rest of the day, Sy didn't go back to work on the farm, leaving his workers to finish up for the day. Instead he lingered around Y/N. It’s subtle, but she noticed it. He’s quiet, lost in his own head. Y/N knows he’s thinking of all the scenarios that could’ve happened, all the ways the situation could’ve gone worse and more dangerous.

“What did he say to you?” Sy finally asked when they were eating dinner.

Y/N shrugged. “He was just being a creep.”

She saw no point in sharing the details. It would only upset him more.

“I’m sorry,” he finally muttered.

“Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?” Y/N blurted out.

“I dragged your ass to this honky tonk state. And look what that got you.”

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from letting out a laugh. The sound surprised him.

“Sy…do you really think there aren’t creep in New York? Street harassment is a thing. I just never told you about it. What good would that have done? You’d just beat yourself up about not being there. Kind of like you’re doing right now…”

Sy shifted in his seat awkwardly.

“I just…” he hesitated. “Want you to feel safe here is all.”

Y/N got up from her own chair and moved to slowly sit on his lap.

“I do. You make me feel safe.” She cupped his face. “I feel safer with you than I’ve ever felt in my whole life.”

She watched as he slowly processed that.

“OK?” She asked gently.

“OK.”

–––––––

I know this was pretty short. But hopefully it was sweet too.

[alecmagnuslwb]

Have Yourself a Merry Little Krampus

Read on AO3

The streets are, he’s loathed to use the seasonal word, bustling as he cuts through throngs of shoppers crowding the sidewalks. A line of children are practically curving around a corner waiting anxiously to meet a Santa Claus that sits in the window of the toy store looking at least two too many spiked eggnogs deep into his night.

John slows his hustle down the street when he sees her; her back to him, arms crossed. He watches as a man with an obnoxious number of shopping bags knocks several into her, shooting her a look like it’s her fault. She shoots him daggers, unfolding one of her hands moving it gracefully in front of her. A few of the man’s bags disappear, no doubt appearing on the doorsteps of someone in need.

John wraps an arm around her waist when he reaches her. “I saw that Zee,” he says pressing his face into her long dark hair that’s all resting over one shoulder.

She just shrugs turning slightly to give him an innocent smile over her shoulder. “One look at that guy tells me he’s been rude to every worker he encountered today, no regrets.”

John snorts pressing a kiss to her temple before readjusting so one arm is slung across her shoulders, they step together walking leisurely as people practically run around them.

“Is it bad I didn’t even realize it was December, let alone so close to Christmas?” he muses looking at the bright decorations lining every shop and light post.

“I’d be more surprised if you actually knew the date,” Zatanna says with a smile reaching up and tangling her fingers with his.

It’s been a long time since he celebrated a holiday with any sort of real intent, even longer since he found himself in his home country for one.

John steers them from the crowded streets, the festive lighting making way for normal flickering lamp posts. He cuts them through a cobbled alleyway, the skittering squeak of rats brushing along the damp walls. This is the London he’s more familiar with, more comfortable with. Not the holiday dreamscape they just passed through.

He halts them to a stop near the end of the dead-end alley disentangling himself from Zatanna.

“Is this where you kill me?” she squints at him, her lips twitching ever so slightly.

“I told you I had a place here,” he says reaching up and pulling at a rusty old fire escape ladder. It takes a couple of noisy pulls but eventually the ladder slides down.

“That in no way changes my question,” she retorts not even trying to hide the smile this time.

“Now, we both know if I ever tried to kill you, you’d end me first,” he says reaching up and stepping onto the ladder. He bounces on it a couple times before deigning it safe to climb. “And a dirty alley would just be so fuckin’ cliché.”

He holds out a hand to her with a roguish smile.

“Oh, no you go first,” she says tilting her head upwards. “Then if you fall to your death I can catch you.”

He shrugs starting his climb up. The ladder holds strong despite its appearance taking him all the way to the first platform. He looks over the edge gesturing down for Zatanna to join him.

He can’t hear her words but he watches her hands move sending her floating up in the air till she reaches the platform landing gracefully on it beside him.

“Show off,” he scoffs. She beams at him, hip checking him as she flips her hair back and starts up the first set of stairs.

“Three up,” he says following behind her just a little disappointed that a usually delightful view is being obstructed by her long deep red leather duster.

She stops when she reaches the right platform letting John slip past her closer than he needs to, his fingers trailing into the open front of her jacket and across her waist.

He crouches down fumbling in his pockets till he procures his pocket knife. He slips it into the windows scant gap wiggling it around till the lock pops. He lifts the window up and slips in landing a little clumsily. He holds a hand out the window for Zatanna which she takes this time slipping in with far more grace than he had.

She raises an eyebrow at him in question.

“I lost the key years ago,” he says answering her unspoken question. He shuts the window, locking it back up before making his way to the door flicking on the dim lights. “But I don’t pay a dime for the place cause I helped the guy who owns the building get rid of a poltergeist years ago.”

Zatanna walks around the small one room flat running a hand along the kitchen counter that John’s proud to say doesn’t have any spoiling food sitting on it from the last time he was here.

“He’s also under the impression that if he ever raises the rent for any tenant I’ll put a curse on him,” John says slipping off his coat and hanging it on the broken coat hanger near the door. It’s warm inside, comfortably so thanks to the free utilities the building provides, also courtesy of John’s not so thinly veiled threat of a curse.

Zatanna chuckles plopping down on the mattress and box springs that sit on the floor. He thinks he had a bedframe once, but he can’t be certain.

“Well, I love what you’ve done with the place,” she says looking around. The paint on the walls is a shade or two off from what it should be, yellowing from his persistent indoor smoking, there’s a battered Mucous Membrane poster hanging on one wall, a tv that likely predates both of them that only gets five channels covered in dust. There are books magical and not strewn everywhere, wads of crumpled up paper that missed trash cans line the edges of nearly every wall and an empty bottle of rum rests on the nightstand. His kitchen is bordering on barren; he thinks there might be two mugs and single plate for them to share if they’re lucky. The bathroom door has a hole in it from a fist thrown his way he narrowly ducked out of the way of.

Zatanna is by far the prettiest thing in the space leaning back on her elbows comfortably on a bed that’s likely never truly been made. She should look out of place with her artfully put together outfit that fits her just right, her wavy, shiny hair practically glittering in the low light. But like nearly every aspect of his life, dark and dank and generally rough she blends in seamlessly when she shouldn’t.

“You’d love my decorator,” he says making his way over to the bed.

“Oh, yeah?” she says biting her lip in a way that he swears on angels that hate him will kill him one day.

John hums. “Handsome bloke, dashing really,” he says as he finally reaches the bed. Zatanna leans up as he leans down nudging her crossed legs apart to fit himself between them.

“Let me guess: blonde, always looks a little tired,” she says before snapping her fingers the sheets beneath her changing in an instant. It’s a good call, he can’t remember how long they’ve been on this bed or what he’s done in them.

“That’s him. Vaguely always smell of cigarettes,” he says as Zatanna slides back onto the fresh sheets pulling John down along with her by his tie.

She fully laughs, guffaws really, right in his face as he attempts to lean in for a kiss.

“You think you just vaguely smell of cigarettes?” she says with a snort. “The olfactory fatigue is real.”

John chuckles skimming his nose along her neck till he reaches her lips again kissing her once long and slow.

“I don’t hear you complaining,” he says when he pulls back till he’s on his knees. He grips her hips pulling her against him. If the lip bite didn’t kill him the gasp she lets out at the motion might.

“Only once a year,” she says lifting up so they’re nose to nose. She grabs him by the tie again, pulling him down into her warmth and flipping them so their positions are reversed in one smooth motion.

“And,” she says adjusting herself over top of him her legs bracketing his hips now. “I haven’t used my one complaint a year yet.”

He smirks up at her his hands trailing up pushing her long coat from her shoulders. Years ago, when they were still practically kids on a New Year’s Eve on some rooftop in Las Vegas she proposed the idea of his New Year’s resolution being to kick his smoking habit. He’d told her frankly there wasn’t a chance in hell, but that he’d grant her the option to complain about it once a year till they were old and grey if he lasted that long. She’s never failed to take the opportunity to do so, he thinks it’s less about the smoking bothering her and more about her enjoying taking the piss out of him whenever she can.

“And will you be using it now?” he asks as she leans down her long hair a curtain around his field of vision.

“Nah,” she says pressing her mouth to his firm and insistent.

***

“Should we do a gift exchange or something?” John muses cracking open the window as he lights a cigarette a long time later, after they’ve both been sated and relaxed several times over. A chill brushes in as he leans against the windowsill, warmer than it should be this time of year, but a chill that’s strong enough he wishes he’d at least put some pants back on.

He’s not exactly great at gift giving, but if it’s something she’d like he’d give it a try. He always gets it right on her birthday every year without fail, it’s every holiday in between he tends to miss entirely.

Zatanna adjusts on the bed the oversized Siouxsie and the Banshees t-shirt she’d taken a gamble on the cleanliness of slipping off her right shoulder. She leans back against the yellowing wall attempting to tame her hair to one side. It’s a mess from John running his hands through it and he guarantee his looks even worse from the way she likes to pull at his.

“I don’t know, it’s not like Christmas is a big deal to either of us,” she muses. John looks down in the alley watching as some neighbor of his drags a particularly scroungy looking plastic tree to the dumpster.

“I haven’t had a proper celebration of any sort in,” he trails off struggling to remember the last time Christmas even really properly crossed his mind. With Kit had probably been the last time he’d so much as considered celebrating it and that had been years ago.

“Same,” she says. “It wasn’t that big of a deal when I was a kid. Dad tended to do shows right on through till New Year’s. Christmas morning I opened some spell book and then we were off to whatever venue he was performing in. Since then I tend to get dragged to Ollie’s big holiday bash, but that’s about it.”

“We could always head back to the states and do that?” he suggests taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“After how the last party we attended that Oliver threw went, I’m gonna say we pass,” she says shifting so she’s back under the covers.

John takes another long drag of his cigarette before stamping it out on the wall, flicking it out the window and shutting it tight. He rejoins her under the covers sliding down under them with her. She nudges at him till he gets with the program, moving so his back is presented to her. She shuffles up against him tangling their legs together, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face in between his shoulder blades.

She presses a kiss there before settling down on the pillows she magically fluffed once she realized how pathetically flat they’d been her warm breath ghosting against the back of his neck.

“So that’s a no to gifts then?” he asks moving his thumb across the knuckles of one of her hands.

“Being with you is a gift enough,” she says seriously and he feels it as her nose scrunches up at the words. “Ugh, I take that back,” she says as he starts to laugh.

“That was disgusting,” he says still laughing as she joins him her chest rumbling against his back.

“It was. Forget I ever said that,” she says her laughter settling down.

“We’ll just treat it like any other day where we’re not in peril,” John says and Zatanna hums in agreement.

“I mean you’ve probably just jinxed us by saying that,” she chuckles cut off with a little yawn. “But I agree. I don’t have any shows till after New Year’s, we just solved a big case and we have this shitty little apartment of yours all to ourselves. You didn’t even notice it was the holidays till about four hours ago anyways.”

“True,” John says feeling himself falling into slumber as her breath starts to even out behind him. “We’re not particularly spirited.”

***

The final few days till Christmas breeze by, the two of them never straying too far into any shopping districts from the warmth of the flat. It’s been all hole in the wall restaurants with the best food you’ve ever eaten in your life and dive bars for them, blissfully untainted by the hordes of shoppers populating the rest of the city.

The days have blurred together comfortably, the closest to a peaceful break the two of them have experienced in ages.

A knock at his door mid afternoon forces him to peel himself from bed and Zatanna’s arms forgetting to even put on pants as he stumbles towards the door. Zatanna’s hand slips from the cocoon of covers a small wave of magic literally slapping him on the ass before a pair of sweatpants cover him up.

“Happy Christmas Eve!” the woman in the alarmingly bright light up surfing Santa sweater shouts as he opens the door.

“Noticed that you were back along with a pretty lady friend lately, so I thought you’d like an invite,” she says with a chipper smile handing John a woven red basket filled to the brim with treats. He vaguely remembers her from the poltergeist situation, her name starting he’s 87 percent certain with an H. Holly? Hayley? Something like that. She’s the one that decorated the halls, that much he knows. The little elf on the shelf, string lights and garland greeting him every time he walks out the front door all her handiwork.

“All the info is on the card!” she says before he can even get in a single word already bounding down the hall to the next door trailing along a child’s wagon filled with more baskets behind her. His grumpy neighbor opens the door after one knock with an annoyed yell. John mutters a curse under his breath quickly shuffling inside. Prior to Zatanna remembering to put a silencing spell on his flat they’d angered his neighbor quite a few times with their more enthusiastic activities.

John stretches his neck out as he trails back to the bed plucking the card from the basket. He steps onto the mattress purposefully shaking it as he crawls over Zatanna disturbing her nest of blankets. She groans at him pushing the blankets down her face grumpy and squinty as he settles back on his side of the bed leaning against the wall.

“We’ve been invited to a building wide Christmas Eve party,” John says flipping the card open. Zatanna moves up still squinting at him purposely breathing right into his face. Her morning breath is, well it’s not great, but he knows he’s no better and while she still smells like straight bourbon he certainly has a mix of things going on. It was a good night.

She smiles satisfied when he makes a face at her. She pulls the basket out of his lap digging in. He watches as her fingers pick through the contents. Her once pristine maroon and black acrylics are in varying levels disarray. Paint chipped on a few, and a few straight up gone entirely for one pleasant or fun reason or another. Yeah, a damn good night.

“Ew,” she says pulling a Cornish pastry wrapped in a cheerful snowman napkin out and dropping it in his lap. “That’s for you.” John snorts moving it to the nightstand.

She makes a triumphant little noise when she finds a tin of homemade chocolate dipped shortbread underneath the offending pie sliding the basket aside. She takes a bite of one in the shape of a tree and lets out a moan that’s akin to the ones John’s used to having the luxury of coaxing out of her.

“Oh man,” she says meeting his eyes. She fell asleep in her makeup it smudged in glittering streaks somehow still artfully around her eyes. “I don’t want to go to her party but I could kiss her on the mouth for these cookies.”

She settles in against John’s shoulder continuing her shortbread meal. He wraps an arm around her trailing his fingers up and down her exposed arms.

“What do you say you magic these pants off me and we stay this way all day?” he suggests. He reaches out attempting to grab a shortbread of his own but is stopped by a magical barrier. John gives her look and she blinks up at him innocently reaching up and offering the paltry last remaining backside of a reindeer shaped shortbread. He leans down taking the whole piece in his mouth nipping at her fingers for good measure.

She smiles at him happily going for another shortbread through her own magical barrier. “I like the sound of that, but I desperately need to shower. I feel like I bathed in bourbon last night.”

“I do distinctly recall licking some off of varying parts of your body,” he says with a sultry smirk wiping at his mouth.

“Yeah,” Zatanna says pulling away from him taking her shortbread with her. “Definitely need a shower,” she says tossing her still magically protected goods on the kitchen counter as she heads for the bathroom.

John grabs the rest of the basket and the pastry on the nightstand taking a bite as he walks over to the counter. He hums pleased at the taste, damn can Holly/Hayley bake. He slides the rest of the basket on the counter enjoying the rest of the pastry as the water is turned on in the shower, steam slowly billowing out of the hole in the door as it warms up.

“So, are you joining me or what?” Zatanna says voice clear through the thin broken door. John scrambles off the kitchen stool shoving the rest of the pastry in his mouth chewing with effort as he strips his sweatpants off.

He pulls open the shower door about to step in when a firm hand hits his chest, the acrylics are all gone now he notes. “Not until you brush your teeth, meat mouth,” she says flicking a bit of water at him with her other hand. He waggles his eyebrows at the nickname.

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” she says shoving him back until he hits the sink still chewing away as he reaches for his toothbrush.

***

“And every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings,” the little girl on the tv says, the picture blurry as hell.

“You’ve encountered more angels than I have in your day,” Zatanna says pausing to pop another piece of caramel popcorn from the basket Holly/Hayley had dropped off earlier in her mouth. She swivels around on the kitchen island stool for a moment to look at him. Despite their original plan they did get somewhat dressed after their time in the shower, Zatanna in shorts and a Star City Stars sweater and John in the sweatpants she’d magicked onto him earlier. “Any truth to that statement?”

John reaches around her from his stool indelicately shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “If it is we need to stop ringing bells cause a lot of them are pricks,” he says his words muffled by the popcorn still in his mouth. Zatanna rolls her eyes at him shifting her attention back to the tv, channeling surfing between the five varying levels of blurry channels.

John’s eyes drift away to the window swallowing down his mouthful of popcorn.

“Is it snowing?” he says doing a double take.

“Considering it was pushing 65 when you went out on the fire escape for a smoke twenty minutes ago I doubt it,” Zatanna says twisting around leaving the duct taped remote and container of popcorn on the counter. She freezes when she’s turned getting down from her seat and moving towards the window.

“Holy shit,” she says lifting the window up and holding a hand out a few ice-cold flakes falling onto her skin.

“Guess this is a Christmas miracle,” he says shifting behind her shivering a bit as the air turns even colder.

Zatanna wipes her wet hand on John’s sweatpants just as a loud thumping from next door drags their attention from the weather anomaly outside.

“Now who’s being noisy,” John grumbles moving over to the wall to bang on it with his fist the way his neighbor had nights before. He knocks on the wall four successive times and is met with a moment’s silence followed by another thump and a yell.

“That didn’t sound like just a grumpy yell,” Zatanna says rushing over to the edge of the bed slipping on a pair of white sneakers. She’s at the front door by the time John has one arm in the sleeve of a Mucous Membrane tank top.

Zatanna pounds on their neighbor’s door only met with another more urgent sounding yell.

She uses her magic to bust the door down just in time to watch as their neighbor screams again. His flat is just as small as John’s so it’s impossible to miss it as a giant jack in the box looking creature with sharp teeth swallows the man down like a snake. He scrambles at the hardwood floor leaving marks as he’s consumed.

Zatanna watches wide eyed for a moment before kicking into gear.

“Tel mih og,” she yells moving her hands towards the thing. The magic bounces right off the creature as the neighbor’s head disappears down the pinkish gullet of the monster.

“Fuck,” she says running towards the door bumping right into John as he finally arrives.

“What the fuck?” he says scrambling as Zatanna pushes at his chest moving him back out into the hall.

“It ate your neighbor,” she says in a rush. The monster scrapes along behind them dragging itself towards the door.

“Ate him?” John says pausing and looking back as the thing struggles to pull itself through the doorway, it’s large box base getting caught. The thing thrashes in the doorway for a moment before closing its mouth, slowly shrinking down in size.

They back up side by side eyes never moving from the jack in the box as it gets smaller and smaller. Zatanna lifts a hand backwards magic under her breath, she may not be able to affect the actual thing with magic, but everything else is fair game.

“Mals eht rood!” she shouts the door banging closed with a crash knocking the jack in the box monster back inside the room. “Kcol ti!”

The monster on the other side lets out a weird jack in the box style song banging at the locked door shaking it. They turn ready to make their way back into John’s flat only to find the door blocked, the elf on the shelf that John has been side eying for days stands in front of the door much larger than it had been.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” John says moving out an arm in front of Zatanna. The door she’d just magically locked makes a wood cracking sound behind them, Zatanna turning her attention towards it while John keeps his eyes on the elf.

The elf waves at him menacingly.

Zatanna watches as the jack in the box breaks through the door using it’s tiny sharp teeth like a demented beaver chomping through the wood.

“You take the elf, I’ll take the jack in the box,” she says nudging John’s shoulder before moving back the neighbors door. The elf continues to just stare at him not making any move to fight. John decides to take its lead, eyes locked like a wild west showdown to see who makes the first move.

Zatanna takes a more aggressive approach behind him using some of the non-animated decorations in the hall to create a tornado of distraction throwing the hopping jack in the box off of its game.

The elf gets bored with John’s stare down making the first move reaching out a white gloved hand and punching John square in the chest. It sends him barreling back down the hall nearly knocking into Zatanna’s legs as she grabs the plastic reindeer in the hall using all her physical and magical might to throw it at the jack in the box as it attempts to once again grow a larger size.

The elf stalks towards John picking him up by his shirt tearing the already extra wide sleeves even wider. The elf lifts him over it’s head like it’s about to do a back breaking wrestler move. Much to John’s luck it doesn’t choose to do that, instead tossing him down the hallway the opposite way.

He yells catching sight of Zatanna as she slams the plastic reindeer down on the jack in the box again and again.

John lands with a thud, the elf moving his way hovering over him balling its hands into fists ready to bring them down on him.

John puts his arms up blocking the first blow as best he can pushing at the elf keeping it from crushing him. They trade blows John pushing the elf back enough to get the leverage to stand again. The elf backs him into the wall a fist John narrowly evades slamming a hole into the wall. The move distracting John for just long enough that the elf gets a hold on his throat squeezing tight.

He bats at it trying to gain some sort of leverage when its grip loosens the beautiful lilt of backwards magic coming from over it’s shoulder. There’s a wet crunching sound before the evil giant elf on the shelf explodes, guts it shouldn’t have exploding everywhere, Zatanna revealed behind the explosion her hand holding onto the still beating heart of the elf covered in gunk. She drops it stamping it to mush with very much no longer pristine white sneakers.

“You really are gift enough,” John says looking at her rubbing at his neck, charmed by the disgusted look on her face as a glob of elf goo slips past her lips.

She rolls her eyes at him wiping at her face best she can. “Guess magic works on elves, but not demonic toys,” she says turning back checking that there’s no other creatures lingering in the hall.

“What happened to it?” John asks.

“Threw it out the window,” she says making for the still wide open flat door. “The thing cursed me out in German on it’s way down to the pavement.”

“So, a German jack in the box ate my neighbor?” John asks locking the door behind them.

“Der Klown,” she says before running a hand over her body, a few little backwards words cleaning her off. She turns meeting John’s expectant eyes. She huffs giving him the same treatment.

“It gave you it’s name on the way down too?” he says as the mess of elf guts whisp away.

“No,” she says in a tone that makes it clear John’s being particularly daft. “It’s part of an old German holiday legend, Der Klown the seemingly innocent child’s toy that brings terror for its master Krampus.”

John snorts. “Krampus isn’t real,” he says in disbelief.

Zatanna tilts her head holding up a hand. “Babadook’s, Wendigo’s, Chaos Gods,” she lists checking each off with a raised finger as she goes. “Just a few of the things that shouldn’t be real that we have encountered in the last six months alone.”

He shrugs conceding her point.

“Our grumpy neighbor was very anti holidays, and joy in general, not exactly spreading the good tidings,” Zatanna continues on pacing a bit as she thinks. “And us, well we weren’t exactly hopping on the reindeer and spirit train either.”

“But Krampus is supposed to deal with naughty kids, Santa’s opposite and all that,” John says his eyes flicking to the still open window for a moment swearing he saw something moving out there.

“In some legends, but legends change, evolve. Some say it’s the kid’s thing, others believe it’s just about scaring those who don’t see the joy in the season, in gathering with others. I mean you know how it is enough someone’s believe a legend enough and it becomes true, that’s the simplest magic in the universe,” she concludes stopping her pacing. John’s eyes fix over her shoulder again, something’s definitely moving out there.

“The evil elf on the shelf is new, but I’m guessing it’s more of a use of surroundings thing,” Zatanna adds settling her hands on her hips.

John’s eyes go wide watching as hand to God a cookie, a moving cookie makes its way in through the window, followed by another and another.

“Gingerbread man army a part of the legend?” John asks reaching out and grabbing Zatanna by the elbow pulling her his way. She looks at him confused before turning watching as another line of the little guys makes their way inside lining up in seemingly practiced formations.

“Aww, they’re kinda cute,” Zatanna says. They all stand to attention like military each of their tiny cookie hands materializing with an array of small weapons. “Okay, less cute,” Zatanna says as John wraps an arm around her waist keeping her close.

The little gingerbread men scatter circling the both of them. It would be comical these tiny cookie creatures with their sharp knives and scissors coming at them, surrounding them like vultures, if it weren’t so outright terrifying.

Zatanna raises her hands ready to see if magic can be used against the little cookie menaces when the windows shake violently, near to the point of breaking.

A cloud of black smoke appears out on the fire escape hooved feet coming into view confirming Zatanna’s earlier reasoning.

“Elbmurc eseht seikooc,” Zatanna says her hands twisting in the air and coming down onto the ground a wave of magic hitting the little gingers. They don’t so much as shake, each of them sporting a curl of their icing lips.

The first line of cookie defense attacks, the pair of them kicking at the cookie men to keep them away. A knife knicks John’s elbow causing him to grit his teeth as Zatanna crushes a few underfoot heading for the kitchen space. John follows her lead.

She trips at the kitchen island one of the little cookies latched onto her shoelace. She kicks her leg out trying to dislodge the thing. John pulls open every drawer feeling triumphant when he finds a pot and rolling pin he didn’t know he owned.

He turns just as Zatanna kicks the little monster off of her foot another line of the cookies rounding the corner their way, he smashes the pot down hard on the one she’d dislodged crumbling it to bits. He holds the rolling pin out to his girlfriend and she wastes no time gripping it like a baseball bat swinging with abandon as the cookies jump at them.

The fire escape rattles, the window making an awful screeching sound as a booming footstep falls inside. Neither of them can see over the island, but it’s clear from the way the cloven hooves hit the hardwood, Krampus has found his way inside.

A bellowing growl carries over the space, the gingerbread mean freezing in place dropping their weapons and standing to attention, saluting upwards.

Zatanna meets John’s eyes inching back and into a crouch pressed against the kitchen island.

“Nothing says holiday cheer like a homicidal Santa Claus,” John says wryly, whispering.

“Krampus,” Zatanna corrects edging along the kitchen counter trying to stay hidden.  It’s likely not working considering the size of the space and of Krampus. The gingerbread men pay them no mind any longer, focused on their leader and any instructions he might give them.

“Semantics,” John says lifting up, he swings the pot out hard at Krampus knocking it directly into one of his large goat like horns.

Krampus does not like it.

Zatanna’s hands are already moving magic flowing from her lips, a burst of angry red magic blasts at Krampus, but much like it had with Der Klown the magic bounces right off of him. Krampus takes a deep breath blowing it out heavily, nostrils flaring with a cloud of condensation moving through the chilled room. It’s the first good look they’ve gotten at him, his gait standing at easily seven-foot, dark matted hair covering his body, his face a cross between a goat and a cartoon devil. A deep red cloak covers his shoulders and a fucking Santa hat rests crooked and dirtied between his horns.

Krampus tosses the big red sack over his shoulder to the window before vaulting over the kitchen island sending John and Zatanna backwards, tripping over the gathered gingerbread lieutenants and falling to the floor pressing back into the corner by the stove as Krampus’ wild red eyes bore into theirs.

The gingerbread men part like the red sea giving their master space to take heavy steps their way.

“If we do a gift exchange would that help?” Zatanna gulps as Krampus gets directly into her face his hot breath, smelling vaguely of gingerbread and chocolate. She wonders if he eats his little army routinely.

John reaches into his sweatpants pocket pulling a loose cigarette and his lighter out as Krampus rears back lifting his head and letting out a victorious growl to the sky.

“Really? Now?” Zatanna says watching incredulously as John lights up a cigarette. He waves her off as he struggles to get his lighter working. The little gingerbread men break formation letting out tiny sounds of victory as well. “I think I’m gonna use my yearly complaint card now.”

John ignores her complaints as his lighter finally catches as Krampus moves right up on them again. He leans down backing them impossibly further into the corner and John moves quick.

He presses the lit cigarette into Krampus’ eye the creature letting out a guttural howl and backing away from them giving them space to run around him, no longer cornered.

“Okay, I’m never complaining about your smoking again,” Zatanna says as she grabs his hand pulling him through their open spot to run. Zatanna tugs him till they’re clear across the room crushing as many gingerbread men as they possibly can as they go.

She pushes John up onto the mattress situating him behind her as she moves her hands in a practiced, mesmerizing motion through the air.

“Magic doesn’t work on him,” John says putting his hands on her hips steadying them on the wobbly mattress.

“Not directly,” she says with a confident smirk over her shoulder. Krampus stands in the kitchen still brushing at his eye as the gingerbread men attempt to help him. “But boy do I know how to annoy someone with magic all the same.”

Backwards magic tumbles from her lips the fastest he thinks he’s ever heard it come from her. Krampus squints his burnt eye their way turning his attention on them as Zatanna’s magic crackles all around them.

Garbage from the floor lifts swirling and catching fire flying the way of Krampus and his tiny army. The army mobilizes heading their way, but Zatanna is quicker than them the sloshing sound of the elf guts in the hall barreling towards the gingerbread men like a great wave taking their tiny bodies on a ride.

Krampus lets out another guttural howl stalking around the kitchen island each step shaking the ground, nearly leaving imprints in the hardwood.

Zatanna moves her hands again strings of lights from the hallway violently whipping at Krampus, not quite touching him, but moving him back with every snap. He snaps back catching a string in his teeth and pulling.

Zatanna’s face becomes more determined more rapid fire magic spilling from her lips as the flurry of lights grow brighter, moving faster and blinking in Krampus’ one good eye. He bats at them his vision completely obstructed staggering on his feet.

She keeps one hand focused Krampus’ way while she snaps her fingers with the other, sunglasses appearing over both their eyes blocking them from the colorful assault she’s instigating across the room.

The little gingerbread men attempt to pull themselves from their goo wave struggling as it sticks to them, causing a few of them to stick together entirely unable to gain their footing again.

A few other decorations fly in from the hall along with the previously used pot and rolling pin and every other item from John’s kitchen cabinets, nothing ever quite touching Krampus, as the magic seems to bounce right off of him, but spinning around him, distracting him. Keeping him occupied and increasingly frustrated.

His claws get tangled in the lights and he lets out another frustrated growl shutting his burnt eye and the good one tightly as the lights blink more rapidly.

“Ich gebe nach!” Krampus yells, the first words he’s said since his booming arrival. Zatanna pauses the lights slowing down things falling to the ground. The lights still blink tangled around Krampus as he lets out a long sigh.

Zatanna slips the sunglasses off of her face stepping down from the mattress. John keeps his hands on her waist stepping down with her.

“What’d he say?” he asks as they hold eye contact with Krampus.

“My German isn’t great, but I think he said he yields,” she says one hand still sparking magic. The lights slow down to a normal glow untangling from Krampus hands.

Krampus hold up his arms in defeat at Zatanna’s show of power. The gingerbread men break free from their gooey bonds and move to attack, but Krampus reaches out an arm stopping them dead in their tracks. He nods at them once and they all move over to the discarded red sack using their combined strengths to drag it his way.

Krampus keeps his hands visible slow blinking with his one good eye at them before opening the bag. The gingerbread men dutifully hop in one at time, the sack writhing as they settle into the depths of it somewhere.

Krampus reaches inside once they’ve all gone inside and Zatanna moves her hands ready to act. Krampus huffs, annoyed as he digs in his long-clawed hands pulling a large tree from it.  

He throws the base to the ground with force, the tree fluffing out a glittering star at the top lighting instantly. He points at the lights on the floor and meets Zatanna’s eye. John sees as she gulps a few words sending the lights to their proper spot decorating the tree.  

Krampus nods stiffly then growls their way, nostrils flaring, breath hot and smoky before cinching the bag closed and making his way towards the window.

Zatanna and John look at each other wide eyed.

“We learned our lesson I guess,” Zatanna says her hands still kind of frozen mid air from her last spell.

“Or we just really bugged him,” John says his hands falling from her waist.

They watch as Krampus crams himself through the window, hulling the large red sack out onto the fire escape.

“Oh, fuck,” John says a thought hitting him. He rushes to the window before Krampus can truly make his leave.

“Wait a sec,” he says sticking his head out of the window. Krampus rears his head grunting loudly pushing John back inside, John holds his hands up in surrender. “I know, you want to be rid of us I get it, but it’s just my neighbor,” John says gesturing to the wall by his bed that’s shared. “He’s a grumpy git, but you gave him a good scare I don’t think he needs to be permanently digested by a jack in the box too.”

Krampus grunts again hefting his sack once again and pulling the small Der Klown from it. The innocuous toy grows again making an awful regurgitating sound poking its head through the window until their grumpy neighbor is shot out from the creature’s mouth covered in mint smelling goo.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs picking himself up off the ground sliding as he goes. “I’ll go to the party,” he says skittering off through John’s open door nearly face planting in the doorway but righting himself and taking off without so much as a backwards glance. Zatanna watches him go with bewildered amusement. The party must really be in full swing downstairs since no one heard the war they’ve been waging up here.  

Der Klown shrinks back down Krampus tossing it back into his bag before giving them one last annoyed look. John just gives the beast a thumbs up and Krampus huffs again raising its clawed middle finger their way before jumping off the fire escape. Zatanna rushes to John’s side at the window watching as the beast disappears in a cloud of black smoke.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” she says after a long moment of silence staring at the snow-covered streets. They feel it as the temperature starts to rise again, the snow melting almost instantly. Local meteorologists are going to have a field day with this one for years to come.

John lets out a long breath turning and sliding down the wall to sit on the floor beside their merry little evil tree, Zatanna joins him and John rests his forehead on her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, love.”

As they’ve been heavily reminded this night, tis’ the season. Whatever that means. Maybe they’ll clean up and head down to the party after all.

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. I

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst 

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 11k

➵ warnings : swearing, alcohol consumption, anxiety, lots of feels about marriage, a stupid ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (there’s consent, just bad sex that makes the reader feel shitty), does ceo tae count as a warning? 

➵ a/n: hello my first fic of my favourite trope arranged marriage, AND with kim taehyung?? yes pls !! this will be a series and I’ll be actively working on it so you don’t have to wait too long for chapters, i hope you can follow this series with me <33

chapter one : “my forever’s falling down”  

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“Another one, Father? I thought I told you my secretary would be handling marriage profiles from now on. Stop concerning yourself with who I marry.” 

“But I do, son. Trust me, I know this girl, she’s the daughter of a trusted friend and I think she’s a good match.” 

“Father, everyone you choose for me I dislike and it’s distracting me from my work. I don’t need this right now.” 

“She’s different, Taehyung. I personally know her and I’m certain you won’t say no.” 

“And why is that?” 

“There’s something about her you won’t refuse, son, you’ll notice it when you meet her.” 

“I don’t want to meet her, Father. Like I said, I need to work.” 

“I just knew you’d act this way. Want to know something, son? I’ve made her part of a business deal, you can’t back out of this.”

“What? You made her part of a business deal?! Why would you-”

“Because you wouldn’t have given her a chance otherwise, you haven’t been giving anyone a chance since I’ve been setting up potential partners for you and I’m sick of it. You said you were open to an arranged marriage, where’s that attitude now?”

“Because, Father, I have a company to run and that’s-”

“No. I will not allow you to reduce your life to just this company. There are far more enjoyable things in life than a business.”

“But Father-”

“No, Taehyung. One thing you need to learn is balance. If you don’t give anyone or anything a chance you will live a lonely life behind your desk. Even in this cutthroat world of business where you can lose money or be betrayed by anyone at any moment, the most painful thing to suffer is loneliness, and I won’t let you live in this world alone.”

“Dad-”

“You will meet this girl, Taehyung, end of discussion.” 

“Dad! I told you I want nothing to do with your company, how could you let me get dragged into this?!” 

“Y/N-ie, I know you value the life you have without any of my help, but let me help just this once, especially with finding a husband. I’m being offered the deal of a lifetime and I can’t refuse, he just happens to be part of it. I need this for the company, please.”

“But Dad, I don’t even know him. And if he’s the CEO of some rich company he’s probably an asshole, I’m not doing this.” 

“Y/N-ie, trust me, I know his son. He’s a sincere, hard-working man, I promise.”

“Yeah, right. Even if that’s the case, I still don’t know him, let alone love him, Dad. How can you make me marry someone I don’t love?”

“Because you can learn to love him. There are no rules concerning the way two people should fall in love, love doesn’t always need to come first.”

“But Dad-”

“My daughter, I have not asked you for many things in my life, but this is one thing I must ask of you. Please, just meet him, don’t say no without even trying.”

“Dad, I don’t know-”

“Please, Y.N, do it for me. If not for the company or money, please do it for me.”

And here you were, fidgeting with the tips of your nails, tuning in and out of the present world and overthinking every aspect of your life that somehow lead you to this moment. Sitting on a Leather Italia couch in what was described to be Mr. Kim’s study; listening to your father’s incessant, albeit wholesome chatter next to you with your future in-laws across. 

And next to them was their suave, unreadable son sitting in a relaxed manner, flipping his attention between your fathers’ conversation and anything else in the room.

You on the other hand, were utterly high strung due to the fact that your father failed to mention your future fiancé’s identity until 30 minutes before arriving here, having done a quick search in the car to unveil who he exactly was.

And that’s when it hit you. You weren’t marrying just anyone, you were getting married to Kim Taehyung. The infamous CEO of Kim Enterprises—Korea’s largest software development and manufacturing company, rivaling to be one of the largest in the world. He was part of Seoul’s most prestigious circle of businessmen, having made multiple Forbes international lists of Most Successful, Youngest, Richest, and is even one of Korea’s most eligible bachelors, not just Seoul.

If this wasn’t already taking you out, then it was definitely the fact that his photos through a measly Google search did him absolutely, utterly and completely no justice. They simply could never capture the truth of just how handsome Kim Taehyung was in real life. You couldn’t deny it, he wasn’t just good-looking, he was stunning, gorgeous, seemed as though God had created the universe, heaven and hell in 6 days and left the 7th just to create him. 

He was like a work of art, worthy of being placed in the finest of museums and left untouched, unsodden by the ugliness of humanity. It made you feel extremely inferior to him in an instant. It was sickening, he was sickening, intoxicating, and quite frankly, intimidating.

It was his look, his undivided stare when he eventually settled his sight on you. It didn’t matter his dark hair that landed and perfectly curled above his eyes, the way he occasionally licked his plush lips or how his long, tall legs spread out before him, it was his look that made you want to turn tail and run.  

It seemed to reach into your soul, peer straight through whatever façade, walls or defense mechanisms you could spend years building only to have his simple look tear it down in minutes. He was alluring, captivating, left you wanting to cower into whatever hole you could dig yourself into or discover all the secrets he hid behind those enchanting eyes.

Kim Taehyung was many things you couldn’t quite wrap your head around, though you assessed your priorities and decided they didn’t just include him, but mainly the significance of the current meeting taking place right now. 

It wasn’t a mere one-time business deal to discuss a project, it was a meeting that entailed the partnership of both your family companies and would define the next however many years of your life. More specifically, spending it with the exact same man that looked at you without a single readable expression on his face. 

You distracted yourself by trying to observe as many useless things as you could, flitting around the room many times before suddenly glancing at Taehyung’s index finger coming up to rest against his lips.

You zeroed your vision in more. 

Is that a cut on his finger?

“Jae-in, of course! This is just as important to me as it is to you, your son is a remarkable CEO, and I’m sure he’ll make an amazing husband.” 

“Aish, Namhyun, you flatter me too much. My son may be handsome, though your daughter is even more beautiful. I’m very sure she will make a wonderful wife.”

“Yes, Namhyun, your daughter is absolutely gorgeous! Just as gorgeous as her mother. I know she wasn’t able to make it, though may I ask where your wife is tonight?” 

“Ah, unfortunately, she’s out of the country. Though I was hoping my presence would be enough to fill in for her, am I doing a bad job?” 

Laughter erupted from the parents in the room, meanwhile, Taehyung couldn’t help but notice the way you immediately winced at the mention of your mother. Something he definitely wouldn’t miss with the way he found himself examining your every move. 

It was habitual to him, something born out of his roots in business, only for the purpose of calculating and reading people like an open book. 

He knew you’d also become victim to that habit, though oddly enough, he found himself quite interested in observing you. He had already figured you out; you hated business, there was a clear disconnection between yourself and your father’s company and you reeked of a sense of independence that funnily contradicted the antsy way you bounced your leg. 

Your way of speech, however, mannerisms, gestures, your look; it was all professional enough you clearly have some sort of background in business. You seemed like an heiress to Taehyung, which you were, though you oddly had no interest in business?   

All these details piqued his interest, curious of just who you exactly were, but he was mainly intrigued by the mysterious claim his father made upon mentioning you for the first time. 

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

That had raked Taehyung’s brain consistently for the past hour now, crossing his legs loosely and his arms folded over his chest, contemplating over and over again as he looked at you, what’s so damn special about her? 

‘You’ll notice it when you meet her,’ the words rang in his ears.

That was the driving force behind his calculation, observation, near inability to take his eyes off of you as he learned new things nearly every minute and led him closer to understanding his father.  

He could tell you were an anxious person, though hid it behind a persona of false confidence. You had a tendency to stick close to your father despite observing you don’t rely on him for much of anything, even less your mother. The softness behind your every movement despite being from a business background where you should be harsh, rigid, rough around the edges, and yet you seemed entirely different.

Taehyung then realized how inherently dissimilar you were to many of the other women he met. They were all relatively of the same cut and look. Cold, sharp, cunning. All women of pure business; daughters, granddaughters or straight CEOs of wealthy companies, simply interested in marriage as a deal or an advantage rather than a commitment. 

And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Taehyung was a man of business himself, married to his work, his home behind a desk and the company the only thought occupying his mind 24/7.

But with you, you were interesting, unlike the others and it made him curious.

Taehyung also couldn’t help but notice you were...pretty. You weren’t too overly sexy nor too innocent, you were pretty. There was an elegance to your looks, features like your hair and eyes complementing you as a whole, and he couldn’t miss that you felt oddly...warm.

Taehyung found himself beginning to understand his father’s original viewpoint, considering the possibility he could’ve been correct. 

You just seemed different. 

“Ah, that seems to be everything. Exact details about the wedding have already been put in place by us.”

“Yes! We’ve been waiting for our TaeTae to get married for so long. We’ve had plans for months now and we can finally move forward with them! You and Y/N don’t need to worry about anything!” 

“Mom, did you really just call me that in front of my future fiancé?” 

“Oh, let it go, son. It won't be long before she calls you that, too!” 

Taehyung could only playfully roll his eyes at his overly excited mother, you scrunching your nose at the embarrassment.

“That’s incredibly generous of you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, though my conscience is not one to let such things go. My family should contribute to the wedding in some way. Y/N and I would be happy to do so.”

“Why don’t we discuss that outside? I believe we should give the future couple some time alone, shall we?” 

You and Taehyung exchanged a quick look before standing up and respectively addressing either’s parents, Taehyung shutting the door behind them once they exited and having turned to look at you, an awkward silence piercing the air. 

There it was again, his look. It was irrefutably the one reason you avoided eye contact with him, you felt he would swallow you up if you shared even 5 seconds between each other.

“So...” Taehyung suddenly broke the ice, eyeing you.

“So...” 

“Marriage, huh?” 

“Yeah, marriage. Never done that one before.” If there wasn’t a time you vehemently hated yourself, then it was undoubtedly now. You internally facepalmed at your dumb comment, adding a laugh at the end in embarrassment only to look away. 

“Uh..yeah.” Taehyung laughed awkwardly. “Me neither, if you didn’t already know.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away, you fidgeting by the couches everyone previously occupied. 

A beat of silence passed as you both exchanged looks between objects in the room and each other, either of you pursing your lips or blowing light raspberries to cut the awkwardness. 

“I wanted to ask you something.” 

“Hm?” You turned towards him, lips just a pout as your doe-eyes awaited him. 

Taehyung didn’t miss that at all. 

“Um, your mother. I apologize if this is intrusive of me, though I couldn’t help but notice I’ve never actually met her. May I ask where she is?” 

You let out a dry chuckle before answering, another detail that didn’t slip Taehyung’s attention. “Trust me, Taehyung, one thing you’ll never have to worry about during this entire ordeal is my mother. She should be the last thing on your mind.” You assured him with what he could tell was your fakest smile, distracting him from the realization you’d said his name for the first time.

“Are you sure? I’ll be meeting her at the wedding so-”

“You won’t. I don’t think you will. Even if she does make it, it takes very little to impress her, just be yourself and she’ll love you.” You stated with a sense of finality, as though the topic should be dropped. 

“Be myself? I’m one of the best businessmen in Korea. It’s my job to get people to like me, easy stuff.” He casually gloated. 

“You don’t only have to be a businessman to do that,” you paused and looked at him, “you can just be Kim Taehyung, too.” You spoke nonchalantly, eyes lingering with his for longer than 5 seconds and he, in fact, had not swallowed you yet. 

Taehyung instantly furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback as if your suggestion was something outlandish, absurd, maybe even offending.

Nobody has ever said such a thing to him, not throughout the entirety of his life. 

Taehyung tried his best to recover, searching for another topic of conversation before he was cut off by your rather soft voice, he noticed. 

“Oh, I wanted to give you this.” You stepped towards him, reaching into your purse and retrieving something Taehyung couldn’t quite see. You strided over and extended your hand, Taehyung finding himself even more confused.

“A bandage?” 

“Mhm. For the cut on your finger. You should probably clean it and apply something before putting this on.” You stated nonchalantly once again, offering him a small smile whilst holding out the bandage. 

“Uh...” Taehyung started but couldn’t complete his sentence, lost on how you even observed something as small as his cut and spoke of treating it like it was an actual injury.  

After his struggle to form a sentence, you grew bold enough to gently remove his hand from his pocket and place the bandage in his palm, looking back up at him. You shared a momentary look with his chocolate eyes, instantly scrambling after realizing your hand was still in his.

He has really big hands. 

“We should um...probably go.” You avoided his eyes, stepping aside quickly to pull the door open.

Taehyung’s mind felt displaced, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the fact that someone had actually left him with nothing to say, an extremely rare occurrence in his book.

He was even more displaced looking at the measly wrapper in his hand, then at the cut on the side of his finger, playing through the last 5 minutes of what just happened.

He scoffed to himself.

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

It had been 3 weeks since that meeting, not having seen Taehyung once as you wasted your time enjoying single life luxuries before you prepared for one of marriage.

It still felt odd to say such a thing, marriage, because it didn’t even feel like one, or a real one at that. It was forced, fake, a pressured one out of convenience. It felt more like a deal, something Taehyung and yourself had to settle for in order to keep your parents’ minds at ease.

That thought racked your brain all those 3 weeks; Taehyung had to settle for you, he didn’t choose you, just as much as you settled for him and didn’t choose him either. You both had ultimately agreed to the marriage only in an effort to optimize your parents’ happiness, not your own.

You had no clue how he felt, a mystery as much as the Bermuda Triangle, knowing he most certainly had a grand pick of women to choose from and you were most definitely his worst option.

You knew you were suddenly dumped on him, leaving him no choice in the matter as you learned your marriage entailed a beneficial business deal between your fathers’ companies, and Taehyung couldn’t really refuse you with so much on the line.

You had already felt inferior to Taehyung since the moment you met him, though your insecurities seeped further into the crevices of your doubtful mind the more you thought over that sad fact, contemplating a married life with him. In your opinion you were pretty much undesirable to him, Taehyung probably kicking himself knowing he had to unwillingly call you his wife for the rest of his life. 

You just knew you weren’t good enough for him, you would never measure up no matter how hard you’d try and that utterly terrified you. You were confident and independent when it came to yourself, though wedding a near perfect being regarded as one of Seoul’s finest in terms of a CEO and a man? 

Confidence be damned, this dude was intimidating. 

These were the feelings that swarmed your head as you sulked at your over-the-top engagement party, set up in a prestigious buildings’ gorgeous 37th floor riddled with baroque styling and embellishments, classical music gracing some of Seoul’s wealthiest patrons as their flutes clinked and snobby chatter filled the hall. 

It was all extremely high-status, reeking of upper class supremacy and quite frankly, it made you want to throw up.

You distracted yourself by bringing any and all types of alcohol to your lips, trying to focus on anything but your daunting thoughts.

The entire night you hadn’t talked to Taehyung, both of you having been too occupied with the numerous amounts of people meeting and congratulating you. This became a genuine nuisance as you’d mentioned before, this marriage was of convenience, one that brought families and companies together merrily and constituted hundreds of people attending your engagement party you didn’t really know.

Your friends were excited, over-the-moon you bagged a man like Taehyung and chastised you for not having told them about your engagement to him earlier. Your relatives similarly scolded you, pinching your cheeks and praising Taehyung like he was a God while they scrunched their noses at you for concealing him.

How could I tell you when I didn’t even know myself?, you thought.

It was funny they praised your ‘choice’ of a fiancé, positive nobody was saying the same to Taehyung without at least lying. The public only knew of you as your father’s daughter, never having seen you due to your vehement absence from anything remotely related to his company, and much of the business world in general. 

You weren’t part of that world, a world of greed and money-driven lunatics. It just wasn't you. It never suited you, left you with a bad taste in your mouth you constantly grimaced at and thought maybe you were the insane one for not understanding its flavour. As you grew older, however, you came to realize it simply wasn’t the path meant for you, someone who valued the independence and achievement of earning something for yourself, by yourself.

Ever since the inception of that principal, your young teenage self resolved you didn’t want to rely on your father’s wealth, especially not his influence or power to achieve your own place in life.

Your father had worked determinedly hard for years in order to stand as high he does now, warranting your acute admiration for your role model of a father, his now successful architecture business landing him a few buildings part of the Seoul skyline.

And after finally achieving his dream, it suddenly morphed into your own aspiration. His hard work drove you to want your own design part of Seoul’s breathtaking scenery as well, by means of your own effort, your own hard work. You didn’t want your father’s help. It felt wrong, like you were cheating if you used him to gain your place and so you condemned your life to one that separated yours and his. 

So you lived, worked and earned money without any of his influence.

You worked for an average architecture company where you felt comfortable, happy that you were away from the suffocating high-status business of your family. And although your detachment left your identity a mystery to many, your situation on the other hand was an extremely infamous one.

‘The-runaway-heiress’, was your staple trademark. The judgmental comments about your choice of life and the insults it warranted were never-ending, subjected to that criticism all your life.

There was no doubt Taehyung was hearing all of that, people probably warning him to step out of the marriage before it was too late. You weren’t like Taehyung, who was perfect, desirable, someone everyone either wanted or wanted to be. It left you glad and quite frankly, proud to be wedding a man of such caliber and incredibility, though left you wondering why in God’s name he would ever agree to marry someone like you; average, average and well, average.

“That’s your 5th shot, Y/N, slow the fuck down.” Your best friend Hana’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, snatching the shot glass from your grasp. “It wouldn’t be cool if you were trashed at your own party, dummy.” 

Her sudden appearance brought a smile to your face. “I know, I just don’t feel well.” You sighed by the counter of the bar, seated atop a stool as you circled an empty shot glass mindlessly. 

“I get you, there’s like, hundreds of people here and you’re probably hearing a lot of different shit.” Hana appealed to you, having read your emotions like an open book. “Speaking of people, I wanted to ask, what’s up with Taehyung and his stare?”

You stifled a snort, looking at Hana’s incredulous face. “It’s just a habit of his. He stares at everyone.”

“Okay... sure, but I didn’t mean everyone, I meant you.” Hana emphasized, comically pointing.

You furrowed your eyebrows at her, arm leaning against the bar’s counter as you questioned, “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really stop staring at you, which is kinda weird. Unless you like that, I don’t judge people’s kinks.” Hana mockingly held her hands up in surrender, gauging a reaction out of you. 

You instantly grimaced, “It’s not a kink, Hana. Nice joke by the way, wanna sign up for SNL with that one?”

“I’m serious! I’ve been catching him just looking at you and I don’t know if it’s weird or hot.” Hana informed as you became more puzzled, her becoming oddly excited, “Awh, maybe he’s concerned with how much you keep drinking! That’s so romantic.” She chimed, looking off into the distance dreamily.

“Shut the fuck up, he wouldn’t do that.” You smacked her arm, snatching your shot glass back from her. “Besides, you’re one of the rare people who knows this marriage is fake, you know he doesn’t care.”

“Jheez, way to kill romance?” Hana rolled her eyes, smacking your arm in rebuttal before continuing. “I’m serious, though. This may be fake but he really does keep looking at you, and I don’t know what it means.” Hana speculated, contorting her lips as if in thought.

“It means nothing, Hana. You’re just seeing things.”

“Then why has he been staring at you depressed by the bar for the last half an hour?”

You nearly spit out your drink, “What?”

“Are you clueless or just dumb? He’s been talking to someone for 30 minutes but most of the time he’s been looking at you, and he still is, how haven’t you noticed?”

You creased your eyebrows in surprise as you slowly lowered your shot glass. You turned away from Hana to scan the small crowds of people mingling, eating, drinking in the hall.

You searched the room, drink still in hand until your eyes caught tall, dark and handsome in his finely pressed suit, casually standing with a drink in his hand by a table speaking to someone. You nearly jumped when your eyes locked with Taehyung’s, every cell in your body caught off guard.

What made your heart specifically race was the way he didn’t even look away from you. He held your gaze, casually conversing with the person in front of him, eyeing you until he finally cracked a small smirk before turning back to his companion.

Your eyebrows practically shot up to the sky.

“See, weird or hot? Am I even allowed to say hot?” Hana blurted as she reveled in your reaction. “And you really thought I was joking. You don’t believe anything I say, I could tell you the world’s ending and you wouldn’t believe me. I could tell you aliens finally invaded the planet and you wouldn’t believe me until the green motherfuckers knocked on your door themselves and-”

“Hana, shut the fuck up.” You cut her off abruptly and made a face at her. “Why did you even come here?”

“Grumpy, aren’t we?” She flashed you a sarcastic look before sighing. “Your dad wanted me to find you. You and Taehyung have to meet someone important, so you should stop drinking like an alcoholic, dumbass.” Hana informed hastily as she grabbed the shot glass from you and downed it herself.

“Your dad’s by the entrance, go before he gets mad!” She shooed you away, pushing you up until you whisper-yelled and smacked at her to let you go. 

You began stepping towards the entrance, smoothing over your dress and this was the moment you realized you may have drank a little too much. You were quick to reprimand yourself, cursing your unprofessional behavior as your inner equilibrium became slightly woozy, senses drowning out a bit, every sound hazed over with a buzz in your veins.

You sucked in a breath to pull yourself together, knowing your dad valued this person enough you and Taehyung had to meet them together. 

Taehyung.

You decided to glance in his direction, lips pursing seeing he wasn’t in his previous spot. You chose to ignore it, walking along until you felt a looming presence behind you, almost having time to acknowledge it before a hand suddenly touched the small of your back. 

“Looking for me?”

You nearly squealed, jumping with a hand ready to punish before calming down at the sight of Taehyung, sighing with relief. “Jheez, could you use my name? I thought you were a stranger.” 

“Well, hello to you too.” Taehyung quipped sarcastically. “And why would a stranger touch your back? Of course it’d be the only man in this room marrying you.” Taehyung narrowly eyed you, scrutinizing your reaction with his hand still pressed to you.

“People do a lot of whatever the hell they want, Taehyung.” You responded turning away from him, heels clacking as you continued to pace towards where your father stood. “W-why’d you do that, anyway?” 

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows. “Because we’re engaged?”

“It’s not real, though.”

“It’s as real as it gets.” Taehyung finalized, making it a statement to smile at everyone you passed, to which you realized just how many pairs of eyes glued themselves to you. “This may not feel like a real marriage to us, but to the rest of the world it is.” 

He then suddenly leaned himself down to your height and lowered his tone, breath just ghosting your ear. “Y/N, we have to make this seem real, it’s the only way we’ll survive.” Taehyung was the closest he’s ever been to you, and the deep baritone of his voice as he called your name did absolutely nothing but manifest butterflies in your chest. 

Why was his voice so deep?

You shook the thought out of your head, ultimately choosing not to say anything because he was in fact, correct. You grinned widely continuing to mask the truth of your arrangements, leaning into him more as you settled for his hand on your back.

You’d noticed it before, but his hand felt particularly large against you now that he was so close. You glanced at his other hand resting by his side, impressed by how masculine they appeared; long fingers with running veins and a roughness to them, sculpted so well you were sure they deserved to be referred to as art. It tickled your giddy side for a second when they seemed to perfectly contrast your more feminine and smaller hands. 

It was kinda cute. 

You neglected your thoughts once you neared your father, warm-heartedly conversing with a well-dressed man you just about recognized. 

“Ah, there you both are!” Your father cheered, reaching out his arm so he could envelop you in a side-hug, returning Taehyung’s bow and addressment.  

“Dad, I heard you wanted us to meet someone?” You perked up in a superficial tone, at least attempting to act as though everything was fine and dandy in your life; maybe owing it to the alcohol to endure all the falsehoods.

“Yes, Y/N-ie, I wanted you to meet Mr. Won. Chang-in, my lovely daughter and whom I guess you already know, her fiancé and CEO of Kim Enterprises, Kim Taehyung.” Your father proudly presented you both.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Won, Kim Taehyung.” Taehyung was the first to address the man, extending his hand and bowing as he greeted him. You were almost taken aback by how polite he could be, the way his charming smile graced his features and attractively displayed his perfect teeth. His manner of speech and etiquette were all refined with a high degree of professionalism as well, internally gawking at his duality.  

Wasn’t he acting all entitled with you just now? 

“Nice to meet you as well!” You collected yourself and cheered, a little baffled as to why Taehyung still rested his hand against your back. “I’m hoping my father has only said good things.” You earned a laugh from the group, Mr. Won responding by receiving your hand with a firm shake. 

“Ah, Namhyun, you forgot to mention how beautiful your daughter has grown, and your future son-in-law has me jealous! What a handsome and accomplished young man, the perfect match, the two of them.” Mr. Won praised you both kindly.

You and Taehyung both smiled and thanked him humbly, feeling some heat collect in your cheeks upon Mr. Won’s words. You two? The perfect match? Unless he believes a rock and a Greek statue belong together, then he’s absolutely correct. 

Other than that, you chest swarms with butterflies thinking you’re now referred to as ‘two’. 

Taehyung for some odd reason encircles the curve of your waist suddenly, pulling you closer to him. You last minute sputter at the intimate action before leaning into him, one arm nervously encasing his torso as the other rests against his chest. 

You feel him tense underneath you. 

“Aish, you’re such a flatterer. Y/N-ie, do you remember Mr. Won? My friend from university? You haven’t seen him in a while.” Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, trying to jog your memory. 

“Oh, you mean Mr. Won from SNU?” You suddenly remembered, looking to your father for confirmation. 

“Yes, so you do remember!” 

“Of course I do, how could I forget!” You smiled brightly and returned your gaze to the familiar man. “Mr. Won used to sneak me ice cream when you wouldn’t let me have any, Dad.” You scolded him with a playful jab to his arm, inviting more laughter. “I apologize for not recognizing you right away, it’s been a long time, Mr. Won, forgive me.” You solemnly apologized, Mr. Won giving you a look of understanding. 

“Ah, forget it, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, although since it’s been a long time I hope you remember my son? He should be here somewhere..” Mr. Won trailed as his eyes fished over the grand hall, scanning around. 

“Your son..” You repeated to yourself, realizing there was a familiar connection itching at your mind, he was your age actually-

Wait. 

Oh God, not him. 

Anything but him. 

You felt raw panic seep into the spaces between your ribs, your chest filling with a constricting feeling of anxiety you couldn't shake off. Your heart picked up speed and the alcohol coursing through your veins didn’t help your judgement or memory at all, mind fogged over with the poison we dare call alcohol.  

You felt stupid, so utterly stupid. How could you forget Mr. Won and who his Godforsaken son was? 

You felt an anxiety attack riddling you, shifting your weight on your feet as you tried to bite back your uneven breathing. You just couldn’t see this man, especially in a situation where you were standing next to your husband-to-be. 

Taehyung wasn’t so invested in the conversation before him, mindlessly nodding along before he felt you physically freeze next to him, his glance to the side confirming your pale look, watching as your panicked eyes faltered to the floor and revealed... fear? 

He registered your odd shifting and your failed attempts at plastering a smile, confused if you knew this guy and if you did, why were you freaking out so much?

Were you in love with him or something? 

The thought minutely bugged him until he watched you turn straight up uncomfortable, horrified when Mr. Won called out his son’s name. 

“Kiseok-ah! Come here!” 

You stopped breathing when you heard the name, eyes going wide as you avoided eye contact with anyone in the group, but caught Taehyung’s undivided attention. He grew curious when Kiseok sauntered over to the group, your hand on his chest suddenly squeezing his suit as the mysterious man greeted everyone respectfully.

Taehyung watched as his intrigued eyes locked on you, eyebrows perking up amusedly as his lips curved into a smile Taehyung honestly couldn’t admit to liking. 

“Y/N? Wow, long time no see. It’s been what, a year?” The man Kiseok called out happily, like there was absolutely no problem occurring here but as Taehyung felt your hand clutch onto his suit, lips just about quivering before you forced a smile, he knew there was most certainly a problem. 

“Yeah.” Your voice was weak, small, and Taehyung found himself wondering how a courageous person like you was all of a sudden cowering. 

He’d heard it all night, all the accounts of your other life away from the business world. He wasn’t going to lie, he heard a multitude of opinions concerning you, many of which including either looking down on you or telling Taehyung there’s many other, more powerful women in business he could’ve been marrying instead. 

But Taehyung didn’t care for their opinions, he found you the most powerful woman he could ever marry, and agreed to do so because of that very prospect. Sure, you were estranged from the business scene and practically abandoned any role you’d play in your father’s company in order to pursue your own personal aspirations, but if anything, Taehyung found it highly commendable. 

Taehyung knew it took guts to do what you did, a bold and daring act that no other heir or future heir of a wealthy company could ever think of doing, including himself. 

What he found to appreciate most was your unwillingness to give in, where you had to have heard all the back-handed and snobby comments, yet you still held your head up high, remained rooted and adamant in keeping your current way of life. It instantly signaled to him you were courageous, fearless, unable to be stopped in your tracks.

So when he watched you become smaller and smaller the more you stood in the vicinity of this Kiseok, he knew something was sincerely wrong. 

“Ah yes, it’s been quite some time. Why don’t we step away from you three? You could do some catching up.” Your father urged as he motioned Mr. Won to step away with him. You lightly addressed them only to have your hands neglect Taehyung entirely and start fidgeting, attempting to calm your nerves as the alcohol inebriated your system and magnified your anxiety by tenfold. 

“Ah, yes, Kim Taehyung, CEO of Kim Enterprises. I’ve been meaning to meet you.” Kiseok extended his hand as his voice irked you with every syllable, trying your best to seem like absolutely nothing was wrong. 

Taehyung reached out his hand in response uneagerly, giving a small shake while wondering why you let him go. “That’s news to me, nice to meet you.” Taehyung responded, already feeling an intense aura of discomfort and tension between you both, sensing he was missing out on something that seemed 6 ft deep. 

“Likewise. Y/N..” Kiseok suddenly turned towards you, making you wince. You painted on your smile as you lifted your vision. “Kiseok.” 

“How’ve you been?” 

“Better than ever. You?” 

“Marvelous, just wondering what your life’s looked like since I haven’t been in it.”

“I believe I said better than ever, didn’t I?”

Kiseok scoffed unamused, “So a year, huh? In all that time you suddenly found yourself a fiancé, and Kim Taehyung at that?” Kiseok seemed to be making light-hearted conversation to anyone outside of your group, though you knew deep down the hostility behind his words.

“Yeah, I did. It just happened.” You shrugged, gaining the confidence to counter him. “And you? Plan on putting a ring on any of your girls? Maybe the 5th or 7th one you liked?” You sarcastically questioned, furrowing your brows in mock contemplation. 

“No, you know I’ve always had my eye on one girl when it came to marriage.” Kiseok eyed you knowingly, purposefully, like he was trying to make it obvious.

You snorted and glared at him, “If I remember correctly, your attitude said otherwise.” hatred began boiling under your skin. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second, memories between you two coming back in flashes. You didn’t even realize you were shaking until Taehyung’s hand suddenly entangled with yours, pulling you towards him almost defensively. 

You were surprised, looking at your connected hands and back up at Taehyung. He returned your look, peering down at you as he smiled warmly, affectionately. 

“I’m sorry, Kisook? Was it? My future wife and I have plans for tonight. May you excuse us?” Taehyung didn’t even let Kiseok respond before he was pulling you away, in complete shock at his first lack of manners you’d ever seen. You were only left to watch Taehyung as he lead you along, gaining the timely opportunity to realize he was taller than Kiseok, and in fact significantly taller than you. 

Taehyung was a large man in general, you noticed. His shoulders looked broad from behind, accentuated by the fit of his suit which also emphasized the expanse of his chest, tastefully exposing his sculpted neck. His legs were long, proportioned perfectly in accordance with the rest of his model-like figure, which was ideally fit and contained just the right amount of muscle. 

Dear God, you took your time with this one. 

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had pulled you into a secluded hallway or that you were ogling him when he suddenly stopped, turning in your direction and snapping you out of a near fever dream. 

Yeah, alcohol was not a good idea tonight. 

“Who the fuck was that?” 

“What?”

“That douche, who was that?” Taehyung inquired slightly pissed, in need of the asshole’s identity after watching whatever shitshow he didn’t pay for. 

“Nobody, Taehyung, he shouldn’t concern you.” You looked away from him, pouting in a way that made Taehyung momentarily notice the plush of your lips. 

Again?, was all he could think, first, your mother, and now this guy? Just how many people did you have bad connections with and he needed to ignore? 

Why were there so many intricate pieces to you? 

“Are you kidding me? He concerns me now, your mother I can understand but this guy? Nothing to me. I could step on him.” Taehyung proclaimed confidently and stood up broader, conviction written all over his face.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his remark, resembling the thought you had earlier. “I was just thinking, you’re a lot taller than him.” 

Taehyung couldn’t help but bite back a smile, watching you giggle like a shy high schooler and his ears gladly welcomed the soft sound. “Damn straight I am.” He adjusted the jacket of his suit suavely. It was then he remembered what his other hand was doing; still holding yours. 

His eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief. 

He squeezed your hand a little tighter and yanked you towards him, bodies just centimeters apart as you crashed into him, all up in each other’s personal space.

Your eyes widened in complete surprise. 

 “So you were thinking about me, huh?” Taehyung teased with a stupidly lowered tone, a smug grin decorating his face. 

You ignored the electricity shooting through you, rolling your eyes and playfully sneering at him. “Shut up, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re taller.” You forced space between you two and tried snatching your hand from him, but his grip transformed into an iron lock. 

“Says the one who was thinking about me.” 

“Taehyung, shut-” You almost huffed out but as soon as you stepped away, your copious consumption of alcohol suddenly attacked you all at once, vertigo making you lose your balance until Taehyung reached out to steady you. 

“Jheez, did you have to drink tonight?” Taehyung chastised you as you fell into him, head spinning with disorientation and growing flimsier by the second. “You’re probably a lightweight at your size.”

“I am not a lightweight. You don’t even know how much I drank, it was a lot.” You bit back in rebuttal, hooking onto his taut forearms as he supported you. 

“But I did see.” He voiced barely above a whisper, causing you to snap your vision up at him incredulously. “What?” 

“Nothing, it shouldn’t concern you.” Taehyung mocked, though still tried to fix you onto your own footing.  

You didn’t even get to scrutinize him further when you felt another round of dizziness plague you, balance faltering again. Taehyung huffed out and finally flanked you on his side, arm encasing your shoulders as he adjusted you. “Okay Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, you should eat something.” He fit you beside him, beginning to walk you towards the main hall. 

Taehyung in this moment didn’t understand what he was doing, utterly clueless as to what was fueling his actions. He was uncertain why he found himself.. caring? He didn’t even know you, yet he couldn’t help but become a little concerned when he watched you down drinks like it was New Year’s Eve. 

How can all that alcohol fit into one tiny person?

What was he even thinking when he dragged you away from that Kisuk guy? Why did he feel like protecting you all of a sudden? A near sense of possessiveness? He wasn’t even your real husband. 

It started giving Taehyung a headache. This was all strange, a foreign concept he wasn’t familiar with and he didn’t know if it was the result of his considerate personality or only manifested solely because of you.

The same way Taehyung dealt with his inner turmoil, you dealt with yours; you were always so adamant on independence though ironically found yourself leaning on Taehyung.

Oddly, you let him carefully guide you back into the hall with no protests. 

It was the day of the wedding. 

You wish you could recall your emotions throughout the day, certain there would be at least a sliver of a positive one. Though as you remained unmoving, nearly catatonic, unresponsive to your surroundings, you knew there wouldn’t be a single happy memory in the tsunami of sorrow that attacked you today. 

Emotions of grief plagued consistently as you realized the loss of everything you valued most in your life. Your happiness, your freedom, your ability to choose. The stripping of all those bundled into an stifling wad in your chest that left you in a perpetual state of wanting to cry.

The sting in your heart when you realized your mother didn’t bother to come, the excruciating smile you forced onto your features when Taehyung’s mother delicately placed the veil atop your head, the secret tears you shed after adorning your body with a wedding dress you didn’t even choose; it all left you internalizing feelings of utter agony. 

And none of it was your real choice. 

Even the flowers at the wedding weren’t your favourite. 

This day was horrifying. You couldn’t believe you prided yourself on your independence, refusing to give in despite numerous challenges and never taking a word of what anyone said to you. Even when someone begged you to change or come back to your old life, you always chose for yourself. You never allowed someone to push you around, seldom coerced into anything solely based on the wishes of another. 

Yet here you were, standing just before the grand doors of a wedding you never asked for, having easily followed every word of your father’s and sacrificed your deepest principles in order to make him happy, to appease and live up to his expectations that weren’t your own. 

It was utterly frightening, appalling. As if you had lost the one true commendable feature of the intricate character you were, suddenly lost the acclamation of others even if they didn’t know the true nature of your marriage. 

But what disgusted you the most was truly, that you had lost respect for yourself. 

These grim thoughts were the ones that attached themselves to you as you hesitantly hooked your arm with your father’s. You used every ounce of strength to not flee, to remain here, to still walk down that isle with your head held high like you always have despite abandoning every foundation of the character you’d spent years working on.  

You didn’t care that your eyes watered, masking them with the facade of happy tears from the blushing bride. You didn’t care when your father looked incredibly concerned and wondered what was so wrong, you didn’t care how sorrowful you may have appeared to anyone at this ironically glamorous event. 

Though what you did care for was that you couldn’t hold your head up as you walked down the isle, vision fixated on the ground as your tears betrayed you, spilling out at the traumatizing feeling of not being able to stand tall like you always did, something stripping you of your self-reassurance, your strength, your confidence.  

It all spelled the requiem of your soul as you reached the end, dwelling in the impossibility this was happening to you until you felt the touch of Taehyung’s fingertips, guiding you up the stairs. It was then confirmed to you this was in fact real, part of your new reality you had no choice but to accept. 

You suddenly felt eternal gratitude for the veil that now covered your face, hiding the tears you cried at mourning the loss of everything you worked for.

While the priest’s words were read, you didn’t exchange a single look with Taehyung, knowing you’d only want to evaporate into the air, to run away at light speed or have someone in a turn-of-events suddenly take your life, just so you didn't have to face the humility of giving up the life you’d spent blood, sweat and tears building if you looked him in the eye. 

You felt the weight of your unknown future crushing you, pushing you towards the precipice as you gripped Taehyung’s hands harder to ground yourself. 

You were to rely on Taehyung, to share a bond with him you had never spent time cultivating, expected to live a life next to him while never being able to truly understand him, know him, love him. The natural process of falling in love now tainted with the coercion of a pressurized marriage, losing the opportunity to achieve any true sense of love. You’d never experience finding the one anymore, your soulmate, the other end of your red string of fate. 

That realization made your tears spill harder, disconnecting your hand from Taehyung’s to prevent your choked sobs becoming audible, holding your palm against your quivering lips. 

To anyone beyond you and Taehyung, it would look as though you were crying tears of happiness, joyously weeping at your matrimony with the love of your life, though as Taehyung felt the shaking of your hands, your refusal to meet his gaze as you reluctantly walked down the isle, the agonizing pain he could see through the sheer of your veil, he knew you were far from happy. 

He couldn’t help but purse his lips together tightly, knowing you were probably swallowing insurmountable torment down your throat because of this marriage, and tears pricked at his own eyes finding himself able to relate. 

He wasn’t just upset for you or himself, it was the entire situation, quite frankly the fucking world. The fact that the universe planned this as your destiny, his destiny, that the happiness of your parents and two companies came at the expense of both yours and his.

He knew you didn’t hate him, that he wasn’t the reason just as much as you weren’t the reason either, it was the arbitrary nature of the arrangement. That whatever version of true love and happily ever after you and Taehyung had separately dreamed of, it could never come to life. 

Even if the company meant everything to Taehyung, his CEO position more important than whatever position he’d play as some husband, seldom having time to consider love and relationships, he still harboured the same wants and desires any human would. A partner, a companion he truly loved with whom he’d start a family eventually, create a life for them and himself defined by love and comfort.

Though Taehyung only knew now you would both die with your decision-making capabilities robbed of you, bound to each other forcibly without the ardor of real love. 

Taehyung’s every thought was proven correct when the two of you exchanged your vows in near strangled chokes and shaky tones, appearing as happy emotions to the guests of the wedding though only you two knowledgeable of each other’s suffering. 

Your vision finally met Taehyung’s once you heard the rawness in his voice, your miserable emotions doubling when you registered he was just in the same pain as you. It was in that moment the priest’s words became audible and rang loud in both your ears, suddenly grounding you two to earth and reminding you of your reality. 

“You may kiss the bride.”

Both of your eyes grievously locked for a moment of horrified realization; that you were seconds away from going through with this, throwing each other’s lives away for the utilitarian benefit, abandoning any sense of choice in whom you both would spend a lifetime with.

Taehyung swallowed thickly as he removed your veil, feeling his eyes fill with tears again when he laid them upon your utterly devastated, tear-stained face. You were using every nerve in your body to stop yourself from sobbing and caving into the ominous thought of fleeing the ceremony.  

Taehyung’s sight wondered to your lips as they still quivered, nearly swollen red at the intensity in which you bit them, awaiting the kiss you were certain would be filled with frustration and hatred, hatred for the mud you were dragging him through, hatred for pressuring him into suddenly valuing something more than his work and his company, to suddenly become a husband to you. 

Though as he watched the terror flashing through your eyes, tears watering your lash line, he knew he could never feel anything so ardently negative towards you, remembering exactly what he was stripping you of. 

The life you built on your own, defying any and everyone’s expectations of yourself, cursing your heir status to hell, your strength, your independence. Now? Your life was bound to his, bound to one where you were obliged to sacrifice yourself for your father’s company and the upper class cesspool you’d spent so long trying to run away from. 

So as Taehyung began closing the gap between you two, nearing your shaking figure, he resolved he wouldn’t make this hard. He would try, try to accept that his life now entailed you, would try to work towards the balance his father insisted he needed, try to understand that you were now part of his priorities and could never simply ignore you.  

He glided his thumbs against the back of your hands that held his pacifyingly, leaning down until he was just inches from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. He unexpectedly spoke quietly, meaningfully, seconds away from sealing the deal of an uncertain future, though, remained certain of this one thing. 

“I’ll take care of you, Y/N, I promise.” And he kissed you in a single breath, no haste, no pressure, only the gentle touch of his lips as they met yours, soft and light. 

Maybe Taehyung didn’t know the exact feelings behind his promise, but he knew the meaning; that no matter the arrangement, the non-existent feelings, the loss of choice, he would at least take care of you like any husband would, a good husband.  

He at least owed you that.  

You were left shocked at the nature of his kiss, Taehyung’s warm lips connecting with yours tenderly. You were convinced the tears you saw in his eyes were enough to assert he hated this, frustrated he had to sell his soul, wishing to only rush the kiss so he could call it a day and ignore you for the rest of his life. 

Though what you never expected was the promise he made, or the way he kissed you with such intimacy you found yourself melting into his touch, reciprocating. He kissed you like you were fragile, locking your lips in a way that solidified his promise, as if out of all the empty vows you spoke today, this was the one, true vow he would keep. His lips felt plush against yours, catching his mouth just a little more before the bittersweet disconnection. 

You and Taehyung exchanged a poignant look, small smiles decorating both your faces with a mutual understanding swimming in your eyes as you gripped each other’s hands. You let his promise permeate the air between you two, finding solace in his words as the applause of everyone attending the ceremony filled the hall.   

Maybe it was the warm way Taehyung always pressed his hand to the small of your back when you spoke to others the whole night, maybe the way he veered you away from excessive amounts of alcohol with a light-hearted scolding considering that last time you drank, or maybe even the way he gently held you during your first dance..

Maybe it was all these considerate, kinds act that made you view Taehyung in a less negative light and rather a favourable one, that maybe he wouldn’t be the asshole CEO you’d first accused him of being.  

You would also be an idiot to not mention how completely and utterly handsome he was, looks carved by the Greeks themselves, quite possibly the hottest, most attractive man you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. 

And maybe all that accumulated into your assured opinion that when it came to consummating your marriage with Taehyung, you’d have no qualms or worries whatsoever. You would be absolutely willing, ready to take the night on and maybe even have some fun for yourself with whom you could tell was a really, really nice guy.

Though as Taehyung walked calmly in front of you towards your hotel suite, reaching into his suit pocket for the card key he’d retrieved at the front desk to swipe against the lock, your chest clogged with a crushing feeling of anxiety you couldn’t subdue. 

These weren’t the same nerves of maybe being not pretty enough, body insecurities or fear of what to expect from Taehyung, no, these nerves came from the utter panic of having to experience sex with another man.

Especially since your last partner. 

It always started with your permission, that wasn’t the issue, Though what left you afraid, so utterly frightened with the thought of spending a night with a man like this came from the treatment you received from that partner. 

Safe to say, you weren’t treated kindly. Far from that, actually, you were treated as though you had no needs or were a means of simple use. Your last partner was the opposite of giving, he was selfish, self-absorbed and only concerned himself with his own pleasure, going on and on only until he was satisfied and neglected you in every sense of the word, sometimes even refusing to listen to you if you protested. 

To make matters worse, he wasn’t faithful. 

You knew he slept around, a lot, it was the number one reason you never agreed to actually date him, never make things official. 

But the reason you would end up sleeping with him was because of the most perfectly imperfect concept among the human race; love. You believed every time with him was a new chance to make that love real, that it was the genuine manifestation of your feelings for one another, thinking maybe he wasn’t the asshole he always portrayed himself as and could man up enough to love you unconditionally. 

And he completely reeled you in, made you fall in love too quickly and made you believe he was capable of love. This grew exponentially when you were often described as ‘the different one’, the one he always came back to, that you were special. You clung onto those words as much as you could, convinced each time you were in fact the one for him, that maybe one day, he’d wake up and abandon his fuckboy lifestyle and mature.

But everyday that went by, every promise that was never fulfilled, every word that wasn’t met with an action, and especially after every hook up that resulted in nothing new, you began to understand you were everyone’s favourite role in a Shakespearean play. 

The fool. 

You were a joke to believe anything he said, the most naive person on earth to think you were any different from the others, when every night simply ended in rough fucks, virtually no orgasm and miniscule aftercare.

It left you essentially scarred, traumatized that every man in the world was built like this. It didn’t help that whenever you look back, many of your ex partners were of the same cut, the same trope of assholes that don’t seem as bad but end up being exactly so. 

It was what made you swallow thickly as Taehyung opened the door to the suite, holding it open as he moved aside to let you enter first. You walked forward and unintentionally brushed against him, realizing how much smaller you were in comparison to him all over again. 

He towered over you, and it made you more nervous. 

You looked up at him momentarily and quietly thanked him as you stepped inside, setting your sights on the large, king sized bed situated on one side of the room, a lounging area with couches to the other side which lead to a bathroom. Seoul’s breathtaking skyline was visible in the dark of the night through wall-to-ceiling windows opposite to you, covered by flowy, sheer curtains. 

You took a deep breath, trying to remind yourself Taehyung was not the same. Not all men are the same, you can’t inflict the mistakes and wrongdoings of one man onto another, categorize them into one kind. You wanted to think this way, and you knew it was the humane way to think. 

But as the memories of those heart-aching nights filled your head, the empty words, the lack of care or concern, the neglect, the feelings of pure abandonment and use only caused your heart to beat profusely in your chest, clutching onto the neckline of your dress to breathe. 

What if Taehyung really was no different?

It then suddenly hit you you didn’t know him. All you knew of Taehyung was that he was a fiercely successful business man, sitting atop Seoul’s most prestigious with Godly looks and a stare that could kill a man. You remembered your initial feelings about him; his stare in fact intimidated you, quite frankly all of him intimidated you, he was the epitome of perfection and you were far from that very notion. It left you thinking you didn’t measure up, and that he could view you in a dissimilar light than you viewed him; an unfavorable one. 

He could simply not want you, but is forced to.  

You’d observed his kind behavior and actions over the odd two days you met him, though that was exactly the inculpatory factor; you had only met him twice. You didn’t know what he would be like alone, when it was just the two of you, when there weren’t eyes scrutinizing him and cameras snapping shots of his every move. 

You didn’t know how he would be like in the bedroom, either. 

Your mind raced as you conflicted with yourself, trying to understand that Taehyung could be different, though apprehensive with the miniscule knowledge you actually had of him. 

You discerned after that last asshole of a partner you needed the love and care of a real partner, someone who would tend to your needs, adore you in the midst of their actions, be a giver and not just a receiver.  

And you didn’t know if Taehyung would be that partner. 

“Y/N...” Taehyung called out to you rather softly as he removed his suit jacket, the rustling of the cloth signaling he had indeed done so. His footsteps were hard to miss, the soles of his shoes sounding against the hardwood floor as he neared your lonesome figure standing in the middle of the room. 

Your breathing quickened with nearly every step he took, attempting to resolve the civil war you were battling within. You were trying to convince yourself Taehyung would be a nice man, a nice husband; though couldn’t help but feel deflated by the fact it was all mainly coerced out of him.

Your thoughts overwhelmed you as Taehyung finally stood behind you, mere inches from your back as he watched you from behind, unbeknownst of any feelings or thoughts currently riddling you.

He hesitated, though gently placed his hand against your bare arm, the sudden warmth of his hand against your skin causing you to flinch. He peered down at your smaller self squarely focusing in front of you, anticipating your response. He grew slightly soft when you tentatively looked over your shoulders, clearly teary-eyed. 

Taehyung couldn’t miss how scared you seemed, and he his heart inexplicably stung at the thought you were afraid of him. 

“We don’t have to do this.” Taehyung’s voice was low and resembled warm honey, reverberating in a way that made you ease up. 

You worked towards a stable voice. “W-we don’t?” 

“No, we don’t” His voice held no disappointment, only the intention of seemingly wanting to assure you, firm and oddly comforting. 

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry.” It was hard to keep your tone leveled, clutching your hand over your mouth as you swallowed your emotions. 

“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.” 

You strangely felt the desire to hold his hand that rested against you, though you ignored the urge and simply stepped out of his touch, clutching your chest tightly in an effort to cower away from him. But it was here you suddenly remembered that he kissed you, and the way he did so. 

It made your cheeks fill with a rosy blush. 

“Do you mean that?” You’d finally turned to meet his eyes, his face only visible by the moonlight illuminating the room. He seemed to have retracted his hand and stood with both tucked in his pockets, relaxed. 

This became the first time you noticed just how ravishing he looked tonight. 

His dark hair was slicked back loosely and left enough pieces to fall as a comma, graciously exposing his forehead, his Tom Ford suit attractively hugged his model-like body, watch and accessories accentuating his expensive look. 

His features were casted over by soft lighting, somehow adding to his beauty as the glow made him appear... less intimidating, dare you say warm or inviting. 

His expression was funnily enough, one that you could actually read. He held no contempt, no impatience or anger, only a hint of consideration as his calm eyes looked at you. His face may have been predominantly blank, void of a smile, though certainty held a form of reassurance.  

“Of course I do, why would I do anything with an unwilling person?”

You scoffed lightly, “Not a lot of people would say that.” Your eyes faltered from Taehyung’s and clutched yourself tighter, expression completely telling of trauma.

Taehyung instantly picked up on it, eyebrows slightly furrowing at your words though softening once registering their weight. He felt an overwhelming sense of apology take him, thinking of his next sentence before his mind oddly flashed back to the night of the engagement party.

“Y/N, did Kiseok..?” Taehyung trailed hesitantly. 

You winced at his line of thinking, “No, no...not what you’re thinking,” you immediately denied. “Just, shitty experiences.”

“Shitty, as in...?”

“As in only seeking self-satisfaction, neglect, lies, infidelity. Can we go to sleep?” You deflected with a heavy sigh and a hand at your temple, the day’s events catching up to you.

Taehyung nodded in agreement, “Yeah, sleep. We both need that.” His eyes then landed on the bed, registering even if it were large enough you two could sleep apart, he still opted for caution. 

“Um.. you can take the bed, by the way. I’ll sleep on the couch-”

“No, don’t do that.” You replied quickly. “I can’t sleep on a king-sized bed all by myself, it’s huge.” You side-eyed the massive mattress and laughed a little, lightening the heavy aura casted over the room. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Don’t worry, Taehyung. You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.” You smiled at him lightly and received a small one from him, both your eyes mirroring the same sense of understanding you exchanged at the altar. 

“I’ll let you wash up first, your overnight bag should be in the bathroom closet.” Taehyung informed, pointing towards the direction of your things. 

“Thank you.” You voiced with an amount of warmth that made Taehyung want to genuinely smile, though crushed the weird urge and nodded agreeably instead.

You began walking away from him until a nuisance suddenly occurred to you, cursing yourself as you came to a full stop. “Um, Taehyung.. I forgot but could you..?” You angled your back towards him to call out to the ribbons tying the back of your dress, knowing you would’ve taken 20 years just to untie your bodice yourself. 

The fact that you weren’t looking directly at Taehyung made him feel relieved, glad he wouldn’t embarrass himself with the his eyes slightly widened. He was quick to reprimand himself, it’s just a woman’s dress, why the hell are you shocked? 

Taehyung swallowed dryly before replying, “Uh, yeah I’ll--I’ll do that.” He walked towards you sparingly and positioned himself behind you.

He’d noticed it before, but you were relatively small compared to him in size and it continued to poke at his brain, maybe even momentarily think it was cute. 

Cute? When have I ever found a girl cute?

Taehyung exhaled before his hands carefully made for the silk ribbons, his tentative fingers fiddling with the ties until he eventually began loosening each one. He started unlooping your bodice, breathing out considerably when each loop began exposing your back inch by inch.  

Taehyung’s sweet, hot breath fanned your skin, tensing each time as your every nerve went haywire feeling just how close he was. His slender fingers brushed against your bare skin here and there, making heat collect in your face.

You grew even hotter when your kiss with him suddenly crept back into your mind, unknowing of the reason why excitement and electricity shot throughout your body because of it. The way his soft, full lips met yours, mouthed at you tastefully repeated in your head, making you extremely nervous at how much a measly kiss from him was occupying your mind; it was just a kiss. 

Taehyung found himself tensing by the intimacy of the moment, remembering the way he so boldly kissed you. He found that he liked the plush of your lips, the way he had to bend down to your smaller height to lock lips; and it made him feel strange. 

How the hell was he taking interest in something other than his work? No, this isn’t interest, Taehyung thought, and would spend however long denying it. 

He’d finished the task throughout all his thinking, unrealizing of how proximal he was to you. He oddly hated that the moment was over, coming back down to Earth.

“There you go.” He cleared his voice and stepped away from you. 

You held your bodice up against your chest, realizing Taehyung had a full-access view of your back and you grew 10x hotter. You gulped at the thought before hastily turning around to thank him, quickly disappearing into the bathroom for a moment of reprieve. 

You shut the door and instantly breathed out a breath you didn’t remember holding, looking at your hot mess of a face in the mirror trying to cool down, reliving the last 10 minutes of what just happened. 

You took a deep breath. 

Maybe Taehyung is different after all. 

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