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#I wish I had neat bookshelves
acupofcappuccino · 2 months
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Reading Together with Dr. Ratio.
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wc. around 800. an. this is my first post here!! i hope its alright :3 reblogs and likes are super appreciated!
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The phonograph set near the door spins endlessly, letting out a soft classical tune as the several candles illuminate the dark room around you. Your eyes wander around to the many bookshelves set around, alongside the neat desk set in the middle, near the large window in the back of the room, and a couple of stacks of papers lying on top, alongside an open letter, and a couple of quills.
“Stop looking away from the page. Focus on actually reading it instead.” Ratio mutters as he nudges your side, clearly disliking the fact that you keep on getting distracted. “That’s the reason why you’re here with me in the first place. Is this not what you asked for? To read with me?” He says. “You’re lucky I even visited this space station at all.”
He really wants to finish this book, doesn’t he?
His nose scrunches up as he glares down at you. “I already know what you’re thinking.” He seems irritated at your expression, making you notice the subconscious, amused smile growing on your face. “Of course I’d like to finish reading this chapter.” Ah, as always. He knows everything that’s going on in your head. How does a genius tolerate an average person like you?
“Hush yourself, and read.”
You nudge him back, as if to encourage him to turn the page, and he rolls his eyes as he does so.
“Have you actually been really reading it?” You nod yes to his question, and scan over the words on the page as you read through them. It’s a bit odd to read from this angle, and since he didn’t want you to hold the book, you have to sort of peer over his arms to do so. He notices the discomfort on your face and sighs loudly, somewhat annoyed.
“Here, this’ll make it easier to read for you.” Ratio grumbles, pushing and scooting himself to your side as he grasps your hand roughly, forcing you to grab the left side of the book, while he holds the right. “Now, continue to read.”
It takes you a moment to process what just happened, and you peer up at him to see his face. His warmth feels so nice against you.
“What?” There’s that little frown on his face that pops up everytime he’s embarrassed, though he’ll never admit that to anyone. Not even you. “Just-” He scoffs. “Just read.” He glares down at you, gritting his teeth together as he pushes the last words out. “The book.” Bet he wishes he had on his alabaster head piece.
After a couple minutes of silence, besides the occasional “You read too slow.” and “May you hurry up, so I can flip the page?”, you sigh and lean your head on his shoulder, just finishing up the page after his pestering you to do so. His eyes wander over to your hand, gently caressing the previous page with your thumb, as he holds the other side of the book.
“Are you ready for me to turn the page?” He says, his voice suddenly soft as he flicks his thumb under, ready to flip it. You nod, and he swiftly turns to the next page, catching the next page under your thumb as his eyes trail off you, and onto the words sprawled out on the paper.
After a couple of seconds, he speaks. “How do you like it so far?” He asks, turning his head to look at you, as you do the same. He honestly does look prettier up close. “Is it a bore to you?” It’s impossible to not notice how nice he looks in the candlelight, his amber eyes gazing right into you, awaiting your response.
Now that you think about it, it’s not too bad.
“... Is that so?” He processes your answer for a moment, and a small smile grows on him. “If you’d like, I could buy a copy of this book for you.” Ratio seems happy at your enjoyment of said book, but you shake your head at his offer, and his smile falters. “Why not?”
It’s a simple reason, really. If you had your own copy…
Now, there would be no reason to read it with him like this. And that's no fun.
Ratio looks away from you instantly as soon as your words pour out, letting out a small, long sigh as he focuses all of his attention on the book in front of you two. “What a foolish answer.” But even an idiot can notice the growing blush on his face, the nervous frown forming on his soft lips, the way he keeps fidgeting with the next page, anxiously waiting so he can flip to the next one, and take his mind off his growing embarrassment for you.
Well, who’d known this genius would’ve felt so strongly for you? He can’t even hide his embarrassment and shame.
“How ignorant can one person be…”
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the-fiction-witch · 3 months
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Young Love P1
Media The Artful Dodger
Character Jack Dawkins
Couple Jack X Reader
Rating Adorable
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Requested
I have a request can you make one where y/n has been lying to her parents about dating a guy and her parents demand to meet this guy or she will have a arranged marriage with Sneed, so she turns to one of her good friend's Dr. Dawkins and after begging he agrees and the while they have a fake relationship he actually falls inlove with y/n? (Love your stories btw ❤ and could you add some smut?)
I sat in my room as usual in my small book nook, a small divot in the walls due to the strange renovation of our old house that I had lined with bookshelves and a small mattress to form a beautiful nook of books, My book in hand and my necklace pendent between my teeth as I read the alluring words. When my mother burst into my room so I returned my book to the self and sat up. She stood for a moment in her long blue dress fixing her hair a moment. 
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" 
"You're father wishes to speak with you princess." 
I rolled my eyes but hopped out of my nook and followed her through to father's study,  the room dark lit only by candlelight, his desk tidy and neat, his clothes lose where he had been frustrated in his thoughts, he sat at his desk as usual so I sat across from him as my mother perched herself on the corner. 
"Hello Princess," He smiled,
"Hello, Father." I nodded, "What uhh what brings me to the office today?"
"We have a very important matter to discuss."
"Alright," I sighed trying not to seem annoyed by all this,
"The subject of your social life troubles us." He began as he took my mother's hand,
Ohh no not this again!
"I assure you my social life is fine Father."
"Y/n, Princess, you have turned down the last seven ball invitations."
"I didn't know the ladies that well..."
"You barely wish to come on a walk with us, let alone with your sister."
"I find town too hot..."
"You have refused your last four suitors before even meeting them. All you've done this whole year is sit in your room reading your books."
Well... they had me there. And I do not really have an excuse for that.
"Princess we are worried, the last thing we would want is for you to be labelled a spinster or old maid, we want you to go out and enjoy the social life a young lady should have, you should be attending balls, walking in the town, meeting suitors, courting, falling in love a hundred times a day. as a young lady should." My mother chimed in,
I mean... I am falling in love a hundred times a day, they are just usually unreciprocal, and fictional. "I uhhh I..."
"We want you to fall in love, the sweetness of young love is something we wish to never deprive you of princess." He smiled, "Ohh to be young again my dearest?" He asked her,
"Oh it would be a dream," She smiled, "To once again feel the thrill of a sneak away,"
"The passion of a secret kiss,"
"The power of the vision of you outside my window,"
"The secret little snuggles and loving words in the dark"
for a moment I may as well have not been here, it's times like this I am so happy my parents are so utterly in love, even if it is a little weird to me. But they had always been this way and It was sweet, and I knew they had the best in mind for me.
"So, we are going to have to be... tough on you."
"How so?" I asked,
"If you do not start attending events, social functions, and other such things then... we will have to take our own action."
"Action?"
"You have one month to leave your bookworm cacoon and flutter forth as a social butterfly and show signs of at least attempting to look for a boyfriend or... we shall arrange you a marriage"
"WHAT!!" I got up from the chair, "A month! Father, mother, I am not a social butterfly I am not, I have never been, I never will be, and I do not want to be, Why would you do such a thing?"
"Becuase we want you to be happy, to find a sweet man and feel all the sweetness of love, if you will not at least try then we have no alternative." My mother explained,
"We do not do this out of cruelty Y/n, in fact, it pains us so to see you be shipped away with an arranged marriage, something we never wanted for you, your brother or your sisters, we wanted you to feel the thrill of young love but if you are unwilling we will have to marry you off," Father explained, 
"To whom!"
"Dr Rainsford Sneed has more than once offered over you,"
"SNEED!" I yelled, "I am not marrying snivelling slimy Sneed." 
"Well, we don't have a choice we can not deny him any longer,"
"What if I have a boyfriend!"
"What?" my mother asked,
"What if I... already have a boyfriend, a secret one."
"Ohh my, is it true princess?" My father asked, "Do you?"
"Uhhhhh Yes." I lied,
"Ohh this is joyous news! you know we had suspected that perhaps your lack of social willingness had been from your love for another."
"Yes. Yes. that is the reason yes I have a secret lover. That is why I have denied all others, that is why I do not socialize." 
"We have noticed your, exits."
Oh shit. "My- Yes, yes my secret exists to go and visit with my lover..." I lied, I have no lover, I have no man, and I have been sneaking out to play poker. 
"we have noticed you coming and going, secretly. Princess why did you feel the need to hide such things from us,"
"Well, I..."
"We are overjoyed."
"Of course, we couldn't be happier that our sweet girl is feeling the sweet thrill of young love," My mother smiled "Tell us have you two known one another long?"
"Yes, a fair while now" I lied,
"Ahh wonderful, you two are in love?" My father asked,
"Yes, yes deeply in love." 
"Ohh how sweet, and you sneak out together?"
"Yes,"
"You kiss in secret ways, and love each other intimately?"
"...Yes." I nodded, My parents are strange about this sort of thing always have been, they were utterly in love and were very open with their love and affection to one another and had always had an interest in... my siblings and I's... Sex lives. I assume part of it was them living through us to recall their own happy young love times. 
"Ohh this is such wonderful news." My mother smiled, 
"So I don't have to marry Sneed?"
"Of course not," My father smiled, "We shall have to meet this man."
"Uhh what?"
"We shall have to meet him! we must it is ever so exciting."
"Uhhh yes... yes you uhh you should meet him."
"well then it's settled, dinner on Thursday. you must bring him we insist." My father told me before he sent me back to my room, 
The moment my door was shut "Fuck! shit! why did I say that!" 
I sat in the cat and bagpipes having snuck out for poker as usual, the game going on as usual while my mind raced, I needed to find a man by tomorrow! to bring to family dinner! and pretend he's my boyfriend... 
I need a man. 
But where does one find a man?
A clean one. 
Ehhh he doesn't need to be that clean,
I pondered for a while, most men I know are from poker, and most of them are married. 
But I glanced up a moment as a coin entered the centre, and I looked at the man sat next to me on the table, He sat in his usual grey and half-bloody clothes from his work at the hospital, his jacket behind him and his sleeves pushed up as often due to his skill he was accused of cheating. His cards were on the table in front of him, his face unable to read, he added a coin to the pile and slipped his hand back, his other hand doing his usual trick, of dancing his lucky coin across his fingers. He saw me looking at him and smiled at me but with a questionable look. 
Jack and I knew each other well, as we both had a passion for poker, I'd... go so far as to call him my friend. Was I attracted to him? No. He's just a good poker player and often we'd team up against a cheating dick like Darius. 
And then it clicked... 
Jack is a man. 
Well... close enough. 
The guy gave in and Jack won so the man left the table leaving us alone as he took his winnings to his chest. And then he looked back at me. 
"Something bothering you y/n?"
"Can I ask you a weird question?"
".... Sure," he said a little concerned, 
"You're a man aren't you?"
"... what sort of question is that?" he glared, 
"My question. Answer."
"Yes. I'm a man."
"You have the... thingy right?"
He glared across the table "The what?"
"A dick?"
"... Yes! why are you asking!" He said very hushed, 
"... You wanna come to my house on Thursday,"
"Why?"
"Dinner."
"Uhhh... yeah sure." He shrugged, 
"Good, six. Be Prompt." 
"I will do." he nodded, "Are we playing again?"
"Sure," I smiled taking the cards to deal. 
I stood nervously, I know I should have told him but... he'd never agreed if I did. I got dressed into my little green and black dress sitting in my book nook as my sisters used my room.
"It's ever so exciting isn't it Melody?" My elder sister Magnolia asked from my dusty vanity as she was using my room to fix her hair, 
"It truly is! Ever so exciting!" Melody my younger sister smiled as she was still getting dressed as she couldn't pick what she wanted to wear more, 
"I don't know what everyone is so excited about." I sighed, 
"Y/n. This is a very exciting moment, we are to finally meet the man who has captured your heart." Magnolia smiled
"Well let's not go crazy with excitement, he's just a man Maggie," I said, 
"But he is your man! And that is so exciting!" Melody smiled, 
 "Do we get to know his name?" Magnolia asked 
"Jack."
"Jack, Awww he Sounds so perfect! What does he look like!" Melody giggled,
"Well, you're about to find out."
"I bet he's handsome," Melody smiled,
"Charming," Magnolia smiled,
"Stunning,"
"Sweet,"
"seductive,"
"Compassionate"
"You two are boy crazy," I sighed,
"I'm married! I am only Sam Crazy." Magnolia argued,
"I'm allowed to be boy crazy! I can't get married till you do y/n!" Melody complained, 
"I know, I know just... don't make a big thing out of this," I told them,
"Y/n. this is the first man you have ever brought home, mother is excited, Father is excited, Melody and I are excited." She explained, "We just want you to be happy."
"I know." I nodded, 
Once ready we headed down to the parlour where everyone sat having a drink and chatting, my father and my mother peaking out the window trying to see if they could see who was coming, Magnolia with her husband Sam whispering over a glass of wine, Melody stood by the fire playing with her dress excitedly, and my brother Peter drinking with his wife Lisa, I heard the door and my heart sunk. 
Welp... guess it's time. 
"Go on princess." My father smiled,
So I nodded and headed out the parlour and to the front door opening it up to see Jack with a typical smile,
"Hey,"
"Hi." I gulped letting him in, 
"Sorry, I'm a bit late hold up at the hospital," he said slipping off his hat and Jacket,
"You're fine."
"You alright? You look nice."
"Thank you uhh... Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"I am... really sorry." I whispered grabbing his hand and tugging him into the parlour he followed very confused and shocked as he was presented by to my family who all looked at him like he was a prize-winning pig at a fair judging his every inch but looking thrilled and excited, "Everyone, This is Dr Jack Dawkins." 
And of course, a million billion questions came jumping down his throat which he did his best to answer given he had no clue what was happening, I sat on the sofa and just drank to try and avoid this whole situation.
"Wonderful, now dinner won't be a moment you can all return to your rooms" My mother smiled, "Give you all some... alone time." She winked at me, 
and I very quickly ushered Jack to my room and shut everyone out before there could be any more questions. And as I locked the door understandably... he looked pissed.
"Okay! You wanna tell me what the bloody hell is going on!" 
"SHhhhh!" I told him, 
"No I will not shhh what is going on?"
"Jack... I can explain."
"Yeah please do."
"My parents... are weird."
"I noticed."
"They are unhappy about me not being... social."
"You are pretty anti-social."
"Hey!"
"what! you are?"
"And they have this weird thing about being involved in my life, well all our lives really. And they want me to be happy and in love, and active! and I really would rather not. But... they have gotten insistent."
"Insistent?"
"They said if I don't find a boyfriend in a month they'll marry me to Sneed."
"Sneed?" he laughed, "Awww Mrs. Y/n Sneed."
"Shut up Jack." I sighed, "Oddly enough I had to stop them so... I lied, and said I had a boyfriend."
"Okay... where do I? come into all this?"
"I lied and told them I had a boyfriend then they... called my bluff. Said they wanted to meet him and planned this whole dinner tonight to meet him. And I didn't know what else do to so... I Invited you, was gonna pretend you're my boyfriend." 
"Well, that's not cryptic and psychopathic at all..."
"Are you in?"
"Hell no!"
"What!"
"No way! I'm not pretending to be your boyfriend just to satisfy your parents."
"Jack, please! They'll marry me to sneed if you don't,"
"Not my problem." He said, "Maybe if you'd not been so antisocial you wouldn't be in this mess."
"I don't like people you know that,"
"You could have at least asked me? told me I was walking into a fucking meet-the-boyfriend dinner! I thought I was coming to just a simple dinner with you and we'd play poker tonight I was not prepared or warned!" 
"I know I know! I thought if I told you you'd say no."
"yes! I would have!"
"Well, you're here not it too late."
"No, it bloody well isn't. I am leaving." 
"No your not!"
"Try and stop me." He said trying to get past me and out the door,
"No! no no no Jack you're not leaving." I battled with him,
"You can't just kidnap me and pretend I'm your boyfriend!"
"Yes I can!"
"No, you can't! You leave now they'll marry me to Sneed! and I am not letting that happen!"
"You can't just keep me here!"
"Jack Please!" 
"...What?" his face softened and he moved back, 
"Please! Please! Please! I don't wanna marry Sneed, I don't wanna marry anyone this is the only way I can buy myself time, I can get out of this please!" I began to cry, "Please... Please just stay."
He sighed, "Alright, I'll stay." he wiped my tears away, "But I'm still angry with you."
"I know..." I nodded, "Thank you Jack." 
"I wanna be compensated for this."
"what?"
"I'm having to pretend to be your boyfriend... I want compensation."
"Fore, what?"
"My steller acting." 
I rolled my eyes, "Two beers."
"get lost. Beers for two months."
"That's extortionate!" 
"Need me or not?"
"... Ughh! you are infuriating, Beers for two days,"
"Two weeks."
"One week. and... three pounds."
"Ten."
"Five."
"Deal." He agreed, 
"Thank you," I sighed, 
"... Am I gonna have to... be nice to you?"
"Yes." I glared,
"Am I gonna have to kiss you?"
"Maybe."
"My rate is a pound a kiss."
"What! Jack that's insane!"
"My kisses are just that good."
"I am not paying a pound for a kiss!"
"I'm open to negotiations"
"Nothing Per kiss."
"A Pound and a shilling because you're pissing me off."
"Ughh! One cookie a kiss how about that?"
"...I can agree to that." He nods, "Homemade?"
"Yes."
"Alright, It's a deal. but you go back on this and I will tell them everything."
"Fine." I sighed, "But I want an acting performance the globe would be envious of Jack."
"Ohh it will be, just try and keep up with me," he smirked, 
"Dinners ready!" My sister Melody called as she opened my door, 
But the moment it clicked open Jack set his hands on my waist and pulled me close to him kissing my lips, I was shocked! but he was certainly not a bad kisser, I see why he'd be charging a pound for these, I kinda... feel like I'm a dick for lowballing him now. But he pulled back and left me rather breathless before he looked up at my sister, 
"Ohh Do Excuse us." he cooed, "We'll be right down. Won't we My darling?" He asked me,
"Uhhhhh yes, Yeah uhh Tell mother we'll be right down Melody," I nodded, 
So she happily scampered off, and we separated, "What?" he chuckled,
"Warning would have been nice." I gasped straightening myself up,
"Yeah well, I'd have liked a warning about being dropped into a family gathering as the new boyfriend."
"Fair enough, shall we go then..." I gulped heading to the door but he stopped me,
"Before we go."
"What?" 
"...You're gonna have to remind me who everyone is I really wasn't listening when they told me. and also who everyone is in relation to you and by extension me?" 
I rolled my eyes a little, "My parents, mother and father Eliza and Henry. Peter is my older brother, Lisa is his wife, Magnolia but everyone calls her Maggie is my older sister, Sam is her husband, Then there is me and by extension you, and then Melody she's the baby sister." 
"Right... Got it." He nodded 
"Let's get this over with," I sighed, 
"Ahhh young love" He cooed following along behind me,
"You're really gonna enjoy this aren't you?"
"Yes I am." 
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ihatedtoadmit · 2 months
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A biteful memory [2]
pairing: OT8 x fem!reader
genre: werewolf AU, fluff, crack
warnings: Please read the 'Summary' of this series, all are listed there!
word count: ~3.6k
summary: You finally meet Felix's gang face-to-face, and it's safe to say that you're feeling a bit out of place, especially thanks to one person and his constant glaring.
↳ Masterlist ↳ Next chapter ↳ Previous chapter
All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!
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The male’s hair was at shoulder length, the sun shining warmly on its black strands. He had porcelain skin, just like Felix, but without the starry freckles. This had to have been Hwang Hyunjin, the artistic hottie the whole university was talking about. His doe eyes widened at the sight of me, flicking down to the aussie.
“Damn, you didn’t say she was taller than me.” “Hyunjin!” “What? It’s cool, can’t wait to see the shorties’ reactions.” - Hyunjin laughed out, his dark eyes meeting mine again and turning gentler. “I’m Hwang Hyunjin, nice to meet the person who has our little Lixie in her hold.” - he held out a hand for me that I hesitantly grabbed as I introduced myself. “But uh…I don’t, have Lixie in my hold?” “Oh? Are you sure? Becau–” - but before he could finish his sentence, Felix slapped a hand onto his mouth, silencing him with a deadly glare.
I just stared as the two now wrestled with each other playfully, reminding me of siblings. I let what the artist had said go, knowing that it could never be true anyway. It sounded hilarious even.
Not wanting things to somehow turn worse and ugly, I grabbed Felix off of Hyunjin, holding him close to myself.
“Stop it now, we didn’t come here to fight. Especially if I’m the reason for it.” - I scolded him, causing him to immediately turn lax in my hold and deny my statement. “We weren’t really fighting. Now, let’s go in, before you try to escape again.” - at his remark I glanced at the gate, but I noticed Hyunjin’s amused stare he shot at me and immediately gave up the thought of escaping.
It wouldn’t work anyway.
We waddled back up to the door, Felix free from my hold as I lingered behind the two, looking at the ground and wishing I had never asked to hang out on a friday. It was only logical they would have some kind of program to hang out on that particular day, something that somehow completely eluded my mind.
The door opened and we walked in, the sunshine incarnate telling me where I could put my shoes, jacket and backpack. I followed his instructions obediently, letting him lead me past a big, open kitchen towards the stairs. We then walked through a hallway that was littered with doors, until he stopped at one near the end.
“You can use this guest room while you’re here, nobody will barge in here, don’t worry. Come back down after you’re done, ‘kay?” - with that, Felix left after I nodded at him.
I watched his leaving form for a few more seconds before turning back towards the door, finally opening it and setting my eyes on the room’s interior.
Holy shit.
This was a guest room?? Shit was as big as a whole ass apartment!
There was a king sized bed resting at one of the walls, a neat little nightstand next to it. On the opposite wall was the biggest wardrobe I had ever seen, all made out of beautiful, dark oak with intricate designs carved into it. Symbols of flowers and animals could be seen, although I would definitely need to take some time to see it all properly. There was a table with a comfy-looking swivel chair as well, along with a few small bookshelves sprinkled onto the walls. As I turned to my left a bit, my breath hitched, floor to ceiling high glass panes greeting me with the view of the forest that resided behind their house. Different types of trees peeked over each other, pines and oaks mingling together in a cacophony of green.
It was breathtaking.
After marvelling for probably a worrying amount of time, I broke out of my haze and finally put down my backpack, fishing out my comfier clothes to change into. Because these tight, black jeans I currently had on were anything but that.
When I was done and hopefully still looking decent, I walked back down and into an even bigger room where the others sat, thankfully now fully clothed. The place was decked out with the biggest TV I had ever seen, with a sound system to match. There were plenty of seats to choose from, an enormous L-shaped couch resting between two, cosy looking loveseats. In front of me, at the back of the room, were floor to ceiling glass panes, two of them being lockable doors that lead to that same forest that resided behind the house.
Jesus christ, I felt so out of place in my cheap clothes and untamed appearance.
“Lixie, if you glare at them any harder, they will dig a hole into the floor just to escape it.” - Hyunjin laughed out loud, snapping my attention back to the boys. “Well, they would deserve it to be honest.  Sigh  Either way, this is Changbin and Jisung.” - he introduced us to each other, prompting the boys to greet me and bow in a way too low angle.
I tried greeting them back, but the inappropriate sight of them kept popping up in my mind whenever I looked at the two, rendering me a stuttering mess as I just covered my face with my hands and crouched down, my knees loudly popping in response. Laughter broke out around me, Lixie’s somewhere in it too, but I was too flustered to pay attention properly.
Who the fuck meets someone half-naked??
“Hey, please, as funny as it is, you know you shouldn’t be crouching. C’mon, sit down with me?” - Felix came to my rescue as I peeked up at him through my fingers, still too embarrassed to face them fully.
I let him drag me to a loveseat, where he gently pushed me down and nestled into my lap, no questions asked.
“I don’t think she’s gonna survive this night, her ears are already so red!” - Jisung laughed out once again, causing everyone to join in.
He was right, to give him where credit was due, Felix’s action had caught me completely off-guard as he had never done this before. Mostly because I was still uncomfortable with hugs, because trust me, he had tried in the past plenty of times. But strangely, as much as it flustered me, his action and presence also calmed me down. So, I willed my arms to close loosely around his middle, my head resting on top of his fluffy nest of hair. You could practically feel his happiness in response, how he leaned against me even more with all his weight.
Everyone looked at us, causing me to stiffen up in defence.
“What?” - I glared back at them, tightening my hold on the boy in my arms. “Nothing, nothing.” - Jisung said with held up arms, surrendering. “Yea, we just see why Lixie likes you so much now.” - Changbin did the same, joining in with Jisung.
I raised an eyebrow at that. That was the second time they’d said that Felix liked me a lot, something that was hard for me to believe with my zero self-confidence.
“Does he now?” - I murmured, glancing down at the lax boy in my arms. “When are the others coming?” - he asked instead, ignoring my question altogether, but I didn't really mind.
I listened to them as they spoke with each other, occasionally joining in when a question was directed at me after Felix grabbed my hands and disinfected them. I didn't even notice I’d scraped them, the scars so small and unnoticeable. Even so, he insisted that I let him clean the skin, and who was I to deny his doe-eyed request.
It was strange.
Usually, I wasn’t this comfortable in strangers’ presence, yet, here I was, having an okay time sitting in the same room as them, occasionally exchanging a few words with each other. The remaining boys had arrived one by one as well, joining us in the living room once they’d freshened up and changed into some comfier clothes. They had all greeted me and I’d waved back at them from behind Felix, who hadn’t moved away from me, not even once over the course of these past few hours. Most of the boys had amusement swimming in their eyes once they’d noticed us and our position, some even allowing a small smile to sneak itself onto their lips. It was fascinating to watch, a silent telltale sign that my friend wasn’t like this usually.
“What’re we watching?” - one of them asked, Seungmin, I believed. “We haven’t really chosen yet.” - Hyunjin replied, seemingly bored as he draped himself over their youngest, who I only knew because we were in the same semester, although in different majors. “Why don’t you choose something, hm?” - Felix asked me as he patted my hand and I was immediately struck with the urge to disappear, all heads now turned towards me. “I uh, I dunno, I’m fine with anything?” “Oh come ooon, surely you have a favourite movie!” - Jisung whined, entirely too comfortable in my presence.
That was the other strange thing. Everyone seemed to be behaving as if I was an old time friend -and i hoped that was the case-, except for one of them, Minho. His gaze on me was cold and calculative, as if he was ready for me to commit a grave sin against them. But he was only occasionally peering into my soul, as he masked it well in front of the others, hiding it from them. I involuntarily held Felix closer to me a bit, scared.
“On a second note, wasn’t it Innie’s turn to choose?” - Felix redirected the attention from me thankfully, causing chaos to erupt as they playfully argued and eventually settled on a movie, although it was a hard fight.
On a horror one, of course it was a horror movie.
“I’ll go and get some snacks with the others, mkay?” - he murmured, patting my arms so I would let him go. “Okay. Also, uh, where’s the bathroom?” - I murmured back, slightly anxious now that he was out of my hold.
He gave me clear instructions with a small smile and I followed them, happy to finally relieve and freshen myself up. Checking myself in the mirror as I was washing my hands, I tucked a few strands of hair back into their supposed place and turned my necklace around, so the clasp was at the back of my neck. I knew I looked terrible, especially amongst these popular people, urging me to put this and that in its place, straighten my clothes out here and there. It was of no use, of course, but I couldn’t help it.
Walking out of the bathroom, I went back to the living room, only to be met with a strange sight.
Felix was in the hold of a giggling Chan, pouting. In one of the loveseats was a delighted Hyunjin with an absolutely done Jeongin in his arms. In the other seat were Jisung and Minho, seemingly in their own world, something I was secretly grateful for. That left the aussies, Seungmin and Changbin on the big couch, with an empty space left.
A space left for me, undoubtedly, unless I wanted to sit on the carpeted floor boards.The thought didn’t sound as bad as one would think, since I used to do that a lot when there wasn’t enough space for me and my friends on the sofa. I didn’t mind it, really.
Not wanting to deal with that whole chaos just yet that was in front of my eyes, I sauntered over towards the kitchen, desperate to have a glass of water. I'd forgotten to drink ever since coming here, a bad habit of mine that I couldn’t manage to fix so far. Looking around for glasses, I spotted them in a windowed cabinet. I gently grabbed one, closing the door quietly and filling the glass with water from the tap. At this point, I was so parched that even the room temperature water felt heavenly, urging me to gulp it down as fast as I could.
Wiping my face with my sleeves, I sighed as I knew I couldn’t stall for more time and had to go back.
As soon as I was in his peripheral, Felix greeted me and shoved Changbin away onto a very displeased Seungmin, patting the now newly created empty seat for me. I shifted from one foot to the other, lips pursed as I looked at the short, buff male with uncertainty. He huffed and muttered something under his breath, causing Chan to gasp and berate him over it. But even then, Changbin looked at me with a small smile and motioned towards the seat with his head, telling me it was okay to sit there.
So I did, even though I was sure it wasn’t okay with all of them.
And thus, the movie night began.
Snacks were passed around, along with drinks -alcoholic and not-. I occasionally had some, juice being more than enough for me, besides, I had always been hesitant to consume things offered up by someone else. That was how I’d always worked, my long time friends needing to beat it into me that it was fine to eat their offered up food. 
Everything was great, until the first jumpscare happened. I lightly jerked in my place, stiff and hopeful that nobody had noticed.
I was horrible with jumpscares.
Scary, creepy atmosphere? I was fine with it. But put anything in front of me fast enough and I would have a heart attack, may it be a rotting corpse or a cute plushie.
Nobody seemed to have noticed me, so I really thought I was fine.
I wasn’t.
Jumpscares kept happening throughout the whole movie, causing Felix to put a hand on my thigh in a soothing manner. Although at first it had the opposite effect, his touch causing me to jump and almost collide into Changbin, almost. I could hear a laugh being stifled, but I was too on edge to care whom it was from.
And just when I thought I was in the clear, finally free from this curse, I felt air blown onto my ear as the credits were rolling, causing me to let out a loud yelp. With a hand on my heaving chest, I looked next to me to find a wheezing Seungmin, no doubt the cause of it all. The others joined in with his laughter, even Felix was having fun over my misery.
“Alright, that’s enough, otherwise we’ll scare her away and then Lixie will be angry.” - Chan chuckled out, earning Felix’s approval from his arms.
I pursed my lips and settled back into my place, crossing my arms and looking at the TV, waiting for the next movie to start.
“Wait, are you pouting right now?” - Felix asked in disbelief as I just looked away from him, refusing to answer. “Oh my god, you totally are! Big baby is pouting! Someone, take a picture for me!” - he continued, not even giving me a chance to stop before I heard several camera shutters going off, causing my eyes to widen.
I couldn’t believe him, what a friend I had.
I looked back at him in betrayal, flustered as I realised what he had just called me. Unable to look at him or any of the others at this point, I covered my face with my hands and rested my elbows on my legs, wanting to just disappear magically, as if that could ever happen.
“I fucking hate you guys.” - I muttered out, not changing my position in the slightest. “That means she loves you, don’t let it fool you.” “Especially you, Felix.” “Love you too~”
After everyone had their fun teasing me -and believe me, they had-, they started a new movie, giving me a chance to finally lean against the back of the sofa comfortably and let out a silent sigh of relief. It was an action movie this time, no jumpscares to rattle me, thankfully.
The hours went by as we watched movie after movie, some of the boys gradually falling asleep, until it was only me and Chan awake, Felix peacefully snoring away in his hold. Changbin just decided to lean onto me at one point and I was too socially awkward to do anything about it, so I just let him snooze away there, cursing him for not leaning in the other direction where his menace of a friend slept.
“Thank you, by the way.” - Chan’s gentle voice reached my ears, causing me to look at him in confusion. “For being there for Felix.” - he successfully cleared my confusion with even more confusion. “I didn’t do anything. In fact, I could have done more, especially in the last week or so…” - I whispered out, afraid of voicing my mistakes out loud in front of Felix's protective friend. “We know it’s hard to be our friend, especially in uni. We all see some of the looks our so called fans and admirers give to anyone who so much as speaks to us, and yet, here you are. You had the chance to not let Lixie get close to you, talk with you. But you persisted, even after trying to distance yourself. So thank you, for making him this happy, for being his friend.”
My eyes drifted towards the freckled male’s sleeping form, how he lightly scrunched up his nose and turned in Chan’s hold, only to grab onto him tighter, as if he was his lifeline.
“I never really cared for people, what they thought of me. Sure, the stares can get under your skin, but what does it matter? I’m already normally stared at, be it for my height, for how I dress or for how I look. It's just more intense now, that's all. Really, I’m the one who's thankful here. Felix braved through the cold and harsh facade I put up, determined to befriend me, and I couldn’t be happier about it. My life was dull, washed out before meeting him, but now it’s bright and warm. So thank you, for letting him be my friend.” - I smiled at Chan’s dark silhouette, unshed tears clinging onto my waterline.
The darkness of the night gave me a sense of safety, fogging up my mind and letting me speak of my true feelings.
“Gosh, you’re even sweeter than he said. You’re always welcome here, okay? Now let’s get these kids to sleep.” - he said as he passed a sleeping Felix into my arms, the boy immediately latching onto my clothes.
He gathered Changbin into his own hold, the male mumbling something, but remaining asleep. Chan looked at him with utter adoration, as if he was his own blood, something that didn’t go unnoticed by my tired eyes.
“Oh yeah, Lixie’s room is on the second floor, third door on the right. You can sleep in the room next door, since it’s a guest room, but I guess he’d already told you that, haha. Have a good night.” - and with that, he left, leaving me blinking at his leaving form until I couldn’t see it in the dark.
Well… I guess I had no choice now.
Positioning the sleeping boy in my hold so his legs were wound around my waist, I gently held onto his thighs and back and slowly stood up, not wanting to drop him or topple over like the tower I was. Finding myself stable, I made careful steps towards the faint shape of the staircase, carefully making my way up on it. It was a slow journey, but I wasn’t about to risk breaking my friend’s back open on the hard edge of a stair, no thanks.
But how did Chan go up and down so fucking fast? It was pitch black…
Eventually, I made my way to Felix’s room. Opening it was a bit tricky, since I had my hands full, but I managed. All the while I could hear Chan moving about, no doubt placing everyone else in their rooms so they wouldn't wake up with a sore neck. I found it endearing, how they cared so much and so openly for each other, in my presence. Looking around in the darkness, I somehow made out the bed’s silhouette after straining my eyes, slowly placing the boy in my hold onto it.
Now that, that was a war in itself.
In his sleep, he had somehow linked his legs together, so he was latched onto me in every possible way. No matter how much I tugged on his arms or legs, he just wouldn’t fucking let go. So with the heaviest sigh I could produce, I grabbed my bag that I had put into the guest room when I'd arrived here and blindly searched around for my toothbrush. Having successfully secured it, I secured my hands around Felix’s sleeping form once more and trudged into his own bathroom -which was, again, hard to find in the dark-, intent on washing my teeth before sleeping. At least let me have this, since I couldn’t shower or change into pyjamas…
After successfully suffering through that and not spitting on the sleeping boy accidentally, I went back to his bed and laid down. Felix wiggled around a bit, as if he sensed that we were finally on a bed and laid on top of me, legs latched onto mine.
He was a cuddlebug, alright.
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meggsngrits · 1 year
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WISH | Chapter 2: FULL MOON
Pairing: Pro Hero Bakugou x mangaka!Reader
Contains: Pro Hero AU Setting, Aged-Up Characters, Reader is Quirkless, Fake Dating, Eventual Smut, Very Fluffy and Light-Hearted, Mentions of Depression, Therapy, Previous Break Ups, etc. It's a Christmas fic! More Warnings in Chapter Notes.
Word Count: 3.1K
Spotify Playlist
Author’s Note: CW // Depression, Uncleanliness (Reader's apartment is unkept and so is she).
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Chapter 2: FULL MOON
“All I’m saying is, that it could be worth it.” Your best friend Jewels’ voice drawled through your earbud as you twirled your stylus between your fingers, staring down at a half finished manga panel on your digital tablet that sat angled up at you.
“And all I’m saying is, that it sounds like a crock of shit.” You countered, eyes flicking over between your sketch and a photo reference before touching the pen back to the screen, carefully outlining the drawing. You slowly traced along your sketched lines, trying to concentrate until Jewels brought you back with her exhale of an annoyed huff right in your ear. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, knowing what was about to come. 
“Y/N,” she began, “you just submitted volume 12 to your editor, and volume 9 is on the shelves today. Literally. You’re so far ahead of your production schedule that it’s not even funny. I can’t remember the last time you left your apartment or took a break. When was the last time we hung out, huh?”
Your stylus paused above the screen, guilt beginning to eat at you. You couldn’t rightly remember. Hell, when was the last time someone had even come over? Honestly you were glad they hadn’t. Usually clean and neat, your apartment had become a victim of your depression and workaholic tendencies. You looked around at your small, but cozy apartment, feeling embarrassed despite no one being there to see the mess but yourself.
Your desk was crowded with tea cups, takeaway containers, old mail, and other trash that you had yet to clean up. The only spotless area was around your drawing tablet. Even below your feet as they dangled off your chair was a mess of books for art references, a thesaurus, a dictionary, and other bullshit that never made its way back to the bookshelves overhead.
With no company in weeks, you hadn’t bothered to clean or tidy really anything. The couch had become a dumping ground for half-folded laundry. The TV was always on but you had no clue what was playing. It only added to the ambient noise to drown out any thoughts so you could solely focus on writing and drawing. The kitchen was a disaster: a sink full of dishes and counters cluttered with numerous coffee cups and bags of tea. After running out of clean dishes, you resorted to takeaway and plastic utensils which were piled high on top of the kitchen garbage can.
You dared not sniff the t-shirt you were wearing as you couldn’t remember the last time you changed it. Was it three nights ago?... Damn. Things really were bad weren’t they? And you hadn’t bothered to try to fix any of it either…
When you didn’t answer right away, Jewels continued, adding softly, “I know you’ve been filling your days with your manga to keep yourself distracted from—“
“Don’t say his name, Jewels, please,” you requested desperately, setting your stylus down and closing your eyes. You knew she was right. Absorbing yourself in work had been the best way to get over a breakup at the time, but that was six months ago. You thought you were okay… But having to write and draw out the moment your ex broke your heart just reopened that wound all over again. 
It sent you into a spiral that resulted in you working as far ahead as you could on your manga and letting everything else around you, including yourself, fall into disarray. Your publisher was thrilled, your fan base was ecstatic, but your mental health and social life tanked. Of course, Jewels noticed, so why hadn’t you?
“I won’t say his name, babe, but all I’m asking is for you to come out to the art festival with me tonight, and,” she added, trying to lighten the mood, “if you just so happen to stop by the Matchmaker’s tent to get your soulmate fortune told, well…” She trailed off, not bothering to hold back a giggle.
The only way out is through, you supposed. And it’s not like hanging out with Jewels at an art festival wasn’t going to be fun… You sighed and saved out the manga panel you had been working on before placing your stylus in its small charging dock. Your mind was made up. “I will say ‘yes’ to the art festival, and ‘maybe’ to the Matchmaker,” you conceded.
Jewels let out an excited squeal, making you rip your earbud out of your ear at the high pitched noise. “Fuckin’ hell,” you mumbled, rubbing your ear before popping the ear bud back in just in time to hear her rattling off a time to meet and what she was going to wear. A small smile made its way to your face as you agreed to be ready then and ended the call. 
Maybe this would be just what you needed. The time you had before meeting Jewels would be enough for you to shower, put on fresh clothes, and tidy up your desk at the very least.
You quickly grabbed a clean towel from the pile of laundry on the couch and went to the bathroom to start a warm shower. Standing beneath the shower head, you imagined all of those hard memories and bad thoughts were being washed down the drain. You had to pull yourself out of this rut. If not for yourself, then for your work at the very least.
Your manga was everything. It was basically your auto-biography afterall, just with some extra added spice and drama for good measure. That’s what people enjoyed reading, but no one needed to know it was based closely on your real life or that you were the main character. And you planned to keep it that way.
Choosing to write under a pseudonym had been an easy choice to make. Only a couple of people closest to you knew who you were and how you made your money. Things were simply better this way, but it made it harder to create friendships and date when you were keeping such a big part of your life a secret.
Regardless, it was what you wanted, and you hoped to have a happy ending for your manga (and yourself) one day. Only then would you be content with wrapping up the series and moving on to something new. And to do that, you needed to get out of this depressive funk.
With some determination returned, you finished washing up and pulled on a comfy, long sleeve shirt and jeans. A glance out the window told you that you’d need your trusty snow boots and long coat if you were going to brave the elements for an outdoor arts festival.
Once happy with your appearance, you went to your desk and quickly tidied it up with the little time you had left before you had to meet Jewels. It was far from perfect, and there was still the rest of the apartment to tackle, but it was one step closer to feeling normal again. With your heart feeling a little lighter, you threw on your boots and coat then made your way out into the wintery streets to meet your best friend for some quality time and maybe, just maybe, a hint at meeting your soulmate and creating a happy ending for both you and your story.
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
A full moon hung high in the sky, accented by colorful holiday lights strung between white tented booths, all boasting some kind of handmade artwork like paintings, wood carvings, pottery and more. Jewels looped her arm through yours as your boots crunched in the snow, making your way from booth to booth.
“Oooh, wouldja look at that!” She pointed excitedly to a landscape that seemed to be done completely in black pen ink. You nodded and stepped up to the booth so she could leave your side to take a look. As Jewels looked around, you found yourself eyeing the booths further up ahead, subconsciously looking for the one you knew Jewels would want you to stop at: the Matchmaker’s.
The Matchmaker, as they were called, supposedly possessed a quirk of the same name. The user could tell anyone the location and time of where one would meet their soulmate. For a generous payment of course.
For someone who had penned a best-selling manga, money wasn’t exactly an issue for you, but you still preferred to live within your means and keep a hefty amount of money in savings. You had been told stories of how steep this price tag could be, and it’s not like there was a guarantee that it would actually work.
Because what if the time and place was at a busy intersection? Or at a party with multiple people? How would you know which one was your soulmate? There were too many variables. Plus, you weren’t sure if you actually believed in that woo-woo kind of crap. Love at first sight and soulmates sounded amazing in fiction, but real life? Psh. Yeah, right…
“Hellooooo?” Jewels waved her hands in front of your face. You blinked a few times, coming back to earth.
“Ah, sorry,” you replied, looking away from the line of booths to the recently purchased landscape artwork tucked carefully under her arm.
“You still with me, babe?” She asked, taking a moment to look where your gaze had been moments ago herself. She seemed to know what you had been staring at and turned back to you with a coy smile. “Mmhmm, I know what you’re looking for. Come on, let’s go find the Matchmaker’s tent.”
She grabbed your hand with her free one and pulled you along. You begin to try to make excuses, but Jewels’ steps never slowed as she stomped through snow, bringing you closer and closer to a gold tent that stood out among the rest with its flashy lights and large sign reading “Find Your Soulmate.” How gimmicky could they get? Sheesh.
“What if it’s too soon for a new relationship?” You asked, your brain fumbling to find a way out now that talking to the Matchmaker was becoming more and more real with each step forward.
“It’s been 6 months since you broke up with— you know who.” Jewels caught herself before she said his name, but argued with you nonetheless.
“What if it’s just a big waste of money?” You tried again.
Without missing a beat, Jewels replied, “But what if it isn’t? Don’t you deserve to have happiness in your life? This could bring it right to you.”
Happiness. That stung a bit. All you had right now was your manga, and the more you dipped your pen into the ink of your life to draw it all for all to see and read, the less you felt human. You were drawing on some of the darkest points in your life right now. It’s no wonder you felt so sad and empty. 
“I don’t know…” You relented a bit, trying not to dwell too hard on it.
“Well, worst case, it could be good for the manga. A chapter on matching making gone right—“ Jewels offered helpfully, as if the manga based on your life were more like a silly rom-com than a drama.
“Or wrong…” You countered.
Jewels’ feet came to a stop right in front of the pretty gold tent. If it weren’t for the gimmicky slogans and lights plastered all over it, it would almost look like royalty among all the other plain tents. But Jewels wasn’t looking at the lights or the “Soulmates Found Here” sign. She was looking at you, a warm smile on her lips as she gestured to the tent flap. “Just give it a chance. You never know.”
The time had come to choose. Would you go inside and offer up a sum of money you were never going to get back in exchange for information on a soulmate you may never actually meet? Or would you walk away, leaving the decision entirely up to fate?
You sucked in a breath as you stared at the tent, making your second impulsive decision of the evening. “I guess it’ll be good for the manga at least…”
“That’s my girl! Inside now! I can’t wait to hear all about it!” Before you could change your mind, Jewels was shoving you inside the tent on your own, opting to wait outside to give you some privacy.
As your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit tent, a voice called out to you.
“Hello there.” You turned to see a young girl no more than thirteen sitting at a tiny round table. Almost as if she were like a fortune teller. 
The irony was not lost on you as you gave her a polite nod. “Hello.”
“Why don’t you have a seat?” She gestured to the chair in front of her. You quickly took a seat in the chair, swallowing against the lump in your throat as you began to feel silly. What 28-year-old woman came to a thirteen-year-old for matchmaking?
As if reading your mind, she began to launch into what seemed like a very practiced explanation. “I’m the Matchmaker, in case you were wondering. I know I seem young for this line of work, but it doesn’t mean that my quirk is any less right. Would you like to hear how it works?”
Well, that answered that. 
You nodded before nervously answering aloud. “Um, yes, please.”
In an almost bored tone, as if she were reading from a script, she explained the process. “For a modest fee, I will tell you the first and soonest time and location that you can possibly meet your soulmate. Any other dates or times thereafter will increase in cost. All I will need to do is touch your hand for a few moments, then I will write down the time and location for you.”
“I see.” You wiped your sweaty hands on the tops of your jeans, hoping she didn’t notice.
“Do you have any questions?” She asked, her head tilting slightly.
You weren’t sure if she would actually answer honestly, but you figured you’d ask anyway. After all, all you had heard were stories whispered in online forums about the Matchmaker, themselves. You’d never actually heard of anything concrete - positive or negative, let alone anyone actually finding their soulmate through the Matchmaking quirk she possessed. It could very well all be a trick to make some quick money.
You decided to go straight for it, the most important question: “Has this actually worked before?” 
“Yes,” came her simple reply.
You waited for her to offer up more. Anything really. Maybe an example. But she offered nothing. She just continued to look at you and wait. You pried a little further. “…How many times?”
“Several,” came her same monotone reply.
Another one-worded response. If you had any confidence in this working before, it was definitely down the drain now. Without trying to sound too annoyed, you asked her, “Are you usually this curt with questions?”
“Yes. Would you like to pay the fee?” She tilted her head at you again, blinking just once as she waited.
You weren’t even startled by the quickness of her answer at this point. It was now or never, and you had already made it this far. Why not jump in feet first? “…yes.”
You paid the “modest” fee with your debit card, feeling a pain in your stomach after seeing the amount on the card reader. You reminded yourself that this would be great content for your manga. An investment. You were giving up wholly on the idea that any of this would actually work.
With your payment cleared, the Matchmaker offered her hand on the table to you wordlessly, palm up. You wiped your hand on your jeans once more before taking her hand. She closed her eyes and gently squeezed your hand. But there were no movie theatrics. No wind whipping around the two of you. No glowing light. Nothing that would signify anything had actually happened.
Instead, her eyes opened and she removed her hand from yours stiffly then pulled out a notepad and pen from under the table cloth. She scrawled a date, time, and location then ripped the paper from the pad, folded it in half, and forced it into your hand.
“Good luck.” She said dismissively, the ghost of a smile on her lips. You felt a bit numb as you stood up from the table and returned outside the tent to find Jewels in the same spot you’d left her in.
Her face brightened, despite the look of your dejected face. Her gaze slid to the slip of paper pinched between your fingers, her smile widening. “So? How’d it go?”
You failed to match her enthusiasm as you held up the paper. “Well, I got it.” 
“Lemme see, lemme see!” She hopped up and down excitedly, waiting for you to open it as if it were a gift on Christmas morning.
You slowly unfolded the piece of paper between the two of you. Your eyes scanned across it once, twice, three times. You felt Jewels stiffen beside you as she absorbed the numbers and letters scrawled across the page in neat handwriting. 
You sucked in a breath. “The day after tomorrow. Monday.”
Jewels nodded then pointed at the address. “I know that place. It’s a public park.”
You rolled your eyes towards the night sky, unable to hide your disappointment and annoyance. “Of course it fuckin’ is… a park full of people, I’m sure.”
“But you’re going to go aren’t you?” She asked, sounding as if she were fully prepared to drag you there kicking and screaming if need be. But you weren’t going to not go, not after spending that wild amount of money.
You folded the paper as it was before and shoved it deep into your coat pocket for safekeeping before answering. “I just spent a month’s worth of groceries in that tent. I’m definitely going. I don’t think I’ll be meeting my soulmate but something better fucking happen to bring me some good luck.”
“Careful what you wish for, Y/N…” Jewels said, looking up at the moon overhead as the two of you began walking back through the booths of artwork, hearts heavy with the expectations of Monday and what it could bring.
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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ I made a wish and you came true. ˚₊‧✩*ੈ
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Azalea's, Camelia's and Rhododendron's: Chapter 6
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Summary: Life always seemed to throw bullshit your way. A bullshit childhood, a bullshit family with the exception of your older brother, a bullshit bodyguard team because of aforementioned older brother… To say you were tired of it would be an understatement. You just wanted to bask in your self-made richness as a bestselling author, all by yourself being the key point, and pretend you’re not doing it to avoid your trauma. But now you have to deal with seven incredibly hot, stubborn and frustrating men forcibly barging into your life against both of your wishes and ruining your peaceful silence. So, if they were going to be hardheads, you’ll be one right back.
Pairing: BTS x reader, featuring older brother Bang Chan.
Warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of forced marriage.
Word Count: 3k
Surprise!!! Sorry I've been MIA for so long, graduating college is no jokes my peeps, and adulting is even worse. I go to bed at 9PM like an old lady and eat cereal out of a Tupperware container bc I'm too lazy to wash a bowl. Enjoy this chapter and I hope to keep updating more for you guys.
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Jungkook nervously picks at the fingerless glove that hides his hand tattoos, sitting idly in the living room. It's been a couple of hours since you left the manor with Yoongi and Jimin in tow and he regrets not taking advantage of the opportunity to make up with you sooner. Mira is skirting around the house doing her normal cleaning activities and he can hear her placing heavy tomes back on the wide bookshelves in your office. She's been eyeballing him all morning in what he assumes is irritation... or dislike... or probably both, he deserves it.
He moves to stand outside the door frame of your office, staring at the floor and scuffing his foot on the floor like a child, stealing glances at the woman every few seconds.
"I can feel you burning a hole in the back of my head child, spit it out."
Cheeks burning a fiery red upon being caught by the woman, he feels like he's back in training and should be standing at attention right now.
"I just, umm... I'm sorry about the things I said the other day." Scratching the back of his head in embarrassment and shame, staring down at his shoes again.
Quirking a brow at him, she begins placing the disheveled papers on your desk into a neat pile. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, though I appreciate the sentiment, I'm also not the one to give out your forgiveness either."
Nodding in understanding, he lets out a quiet sigh, beginning to turn around when he hears her speak up.
"I spent over twenty years caring for her as if she were my own, and not once did I ever suspect something was wrong. I failed her as the only mother figure she had in her life, and I'll never let it happen again. I will protect her at all costs, even from you." There's an unbreakable fierceness in her eyes, and Jungkook can tell that biological or not, it's clear as day how much she loves you as a daughter.
"I understand. I promise I will never do anything to hurt her again, and I will do my very best to protect her from others." Going into a deep bow out of respect and apology to the caretaker before him.
She locks her eyes on him when he lifts his head, holding him to that promise in her heart.
Her words about you piqued his curiosity and as he's about to ask about your real mother, the alarm system beeps to the opening of the front door, signaling your arrival home.
"We're back!" You yell, Jimin and yourself carrying drawstring bags, and Jungkook observes his second eldest hyung stumble his way through the entryway like a newborn calf.
Catching his breath, Yoongi whips his head at you and your partner in crime. "I told you to never do that while I was in the car, are you trying to give me a heart attack!?"
The two of you are cackling in delight, it was Jimin's idea to switch the car to manual on the way home; you had taken full advantage of your six-gear V10 engine.
"Hey Mira, Hwasa is coming over later, so she'll be here for dinner" You call out to her. The three of you moving to your office with the drawstring bags.
Jimin watches you walk behind your desk and crouch down to press a false panel in the baseboard of your bottom shelf, making the entire section slide out like a drawer, revealing a safe as well as a packed duffel bag behind the backboard. You place the bag in your hands next to the duffel bag and turn to grab the others from Jimin and Yoongi, placing them in and sliding the shelf back in place with a click.
"I'm not gonna lie, that's some spy-type shit and I used to work at the NIS." Yoongi pipes up behind you, leaving you and Jimin to start giggling at his comment.
You get up and move to sit down in your desk chair, "I promise I'm not a spy, Namjoon should know about it if my brother was detailed enough in the information he provided to you guys."
Confused, Jimin asks why your brother would include the location of your safe to bodyguards. It would make sense to know about it if they were home security guards but knowing where your safe is does nothing to help them protect you personally.
You go on to explain that it's not the safe but the compartment itself that's important to know about. The duffel inside is a go-bag for emergencies that require your swift evacuation from the manor, containing everything you would need in the event you need to go into hiding.
The two continue to stare at you like you've grown a second head until Yoongi breaks the silence. "Ya know this doesn't help your case on the spy thing." Jimin nods in agreement, "Yep definitely think you're a spy now."
Rolling your eyes, you shoo them off with the agreement to sort through the bags at night, eyes following them out the door. Turning your attention to your computer, you begin skimming through your emails, noting the file from your lawyer with the restraining order paperwork against Shin. There's also an email from his lawyer with the paperwork for the compensation the judge ordered him to pay you. Forwarding both to Chan you check your work email, finding that Hwasa had already sent you drafts of your return announcement and a tentative schedule for your book promotions to be approved by you.
With your eyes trained on the promotion dates you don't notice the figure standing in the doorway. Jungkook stands timidly much like the same way he did with Mira earlier. Finally swallowing down his fear, he knocks lightly on the doorframe to get your attention. Acknowledging him with a hum, you stay focused on the screen in front of you. When you don't hear any movement or response, you look up to lock eyes with him.
"Come in Jungkook, take a seat." You say, moving your eyes back to your work. The youngest slowly makes his way over to one of the guest chairs sitting in front of your desk, timidly sitting down like it was going to bite him in the ass. He sits for a few seconds, waiting for you to ask him what he wants or lock your eyes back on him, and when it becomes clear you aren't going to initiate this chat with him, he prepares himself to bite the bullet. Yoongi had told him that you'd offered forgiveness after he had promised to put effort into fixing the situation (of course leaving out the part about the 'effort' being absolutely destroying your abusers' reputations). He knows he'd been harsher than Yoongi, and he hopes he can repair the damage he caused as his brother had.
Taking a deep breath he begins his apology, "I'd like to say that I'm very sorry about what I said, it was uncalled for, and I shouldn't have judged you based on my past client's behavior or projected my frustrations on you." He finishes with a silent exhale of relief for getting that off his chest, watching as you stop typing and quirk an eyebrow, looking at him over the glasses on your nose like a judgy librarian.
"Did you think it would be that easy? A few heartfelt words and then all of your guilt can melt away."
"O-of course not!" He stutters out, "I know I have to make the effort to fix this. I crossed a line, not only professionally but personally, and doing so caused you harm. I would like to genuinely make this up to you."
Placing your glasses down on the desk, you lean back to take in the man sitting before you. "And how exactly are you going to do that? I may have been able to strike a deal with Yoongi, but that doesn't mean I've forgiven him yet either. He knows he has to meet my expectations to fix this, but what do you have to offer? What do you have or what can you do to prove to me you mean it?" Crossing your arms, you wait for his response.
"Anything and everything you want from me I'll do; I promise I'll protect you and not just in the scope of my job but emotionally too."
You narrow your eyes at his response, "What makes you think I want anything from you? Much less your protection over my private emotions?"
He knew this wouldn't be easy, earning just a minuscule amount of your trust to begin repairing the damage he's done. But he feels the resentment in your words, and he feels the pain he caused you within that resentment. He wants to heal it, he needs to heal it, if not for himself but for you. A woman who has been hurt by this world far too many times, a woman who is so headstrong despite being torn down so many times. He needs to heal the hurt that he has caused because he took away the little trust you had left in the compassion of human beings.
"I know you don't trust me; I know you resent me for the things I said. I won't try to deny that fact, or that you have every right to deny me the trust to fix the pain I have caused you. Words from people like me probably mean nothing to you, which is why I want to do everything I can to show you that I can be trusted with your safety. I want to do everything in my power to earn your forgiveness, even if that means I have to resign, or wear a carrot costume around Seoul, or drink the most disgusting concoction you can come up with."
You have to hide your desire to crack up at imagining him walking around in a carrot costume, straightening your expression as he looks at you in desperation as he continues to list out even more ridiculous punishments you could put him through. Coming closer to slipping into giggles the more he continues.
He cuts himself off when you raise a hand to stop his rambling, taking a deep breath before you begin to speak.
"Okay, I get it. I'm not going to make you do any of those ridiculous things, but I'll admit I don't know what I could have you do that could fix this either." You take your glasses and put them back on, refocusing on his face.
"Instead, I want you to be the best damn bodyguard you can be without me asking for it. You want me to tell you anything and everything I want from you but I'm not going to do that, if you want to fix this then you're going to have to figure out those things on your own. I want you to impress me, okay?"
Nodding eagerly at your conclusion, he nearly throws the chair back from the force of standing up. Bowing down multiple times as he thanks you relentlessly while vacating your office, excited to go tell his brothers and come up with a plan to accomplish the task you have given him.
You'd think you'd just told an intern that you would let him proofread your drafts, but you can't help the quirk of your mouth into a smirk at his enthusiasm.
Later that night Hwasa came to the manor to finish setting your comeback into stone for the announcement the next morning, staying for dinner as expected, and then left some cardboard file boxes that you'd texted her to bring.
She had pestered you on why you needed them nearly the whole time she was there, and all you'd supplied her with was that they were for your next book. Once everyone else had headed off to bed for the night; Yoongi, Jimin, and you spent hours on end sorting each envelope by date, opening them up, and then filing them away in the boxes.
Working well into the early hours of the morning, when they finally left you to get a few hours of sleep in, you sat looking at the completed file boxes containing the horrors of your childhood.
You hadn't let yourself cry looking at the images, having long since shed your last tears over the pains your monster of a father caused. But you had caught the tears the two men with you had tried to hide, the almost silent gasps of mortification every time they opened up a new envelope.
It made you feel like you had become too numb to the atrocities that had been committed against you, and their anger and sorrow also made you feel relief in a way as well. There were people near you willing to feel the pain and sorrow you could no longer take on, and for that, you felt grateful.
A buzz from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, and you check it to find the announcement from the company of your return from hiatus. You shoot Chan a text that you need to see him today, and he responds almost immediately with a time to meet at his office. 
The anticipation and anxiety sit heavy in your gut. You've quietly held your career outside of the Chaebol world, true identity unknown to the tabloids and all of your father's past business partners. He never let you out in public much regardless, but this is going to bring a whole new spotlight onto you and your family, and Chan has the right to know before shit hits the fan.
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Your Louboutin's click menacingly down the silent hallway of your brothers company, Jungkook and Yoongi flank you a few steps ahead while the rest of the boys follow behind. You probably look like something straight out of a mafia movie, and with the impending hellfire you're about to rain down on your family, you feel the sentiment is appropriate. 
The employees of Chan's company always go silent when you appear, the hushed whispers of gossip passing around. Most of his employees theorize you're something akin to a Black Widow, a terrifyingly powerful mistress to their goofy CEO, and then there are those that know you by your Pen Name, who think the reason you went on hiatus was to be with Chan. 
The two of you have laughed at the gossip Felix has passed on from the employees over the years, and you have no desire to correct them either. Doing so would allow for people to dig more into your brothers background, which would lead to your true identity, defeating the purpose of going by a Pen Name in the first place. 
So, yes, you pull a little bit of enjoyment out of scaring the shit out of his employees by looking like a widow on her 5th husband all dead by mysterious natural causes. Life as an author can be a bit boring sometimes, sue you for having a dark sense of humor, you gotta find entertainment somewhere. 
Jungkook holds open the door to Chan's office for you and as you step into his office, the heaviness of the situation settles in the room. His gaze meets yours, filled with concern and curiosity. Without a word, he gestures for you to take a seat opposite him. You sink into the plush chair, the weight of the world resting on your shoulders.
The boys take their places around the room and when your brother moves to dismiss them, you pipe up. 
"Jimin and Yoongi stay." 
He shares a confused look with you but doesn't protest, and Jungkook looks like a kicked puppy with his big doe eyes watching you as he files out the door with the rest of his hyungs.
"I see you're getting along well with the team I hired you." He says, bringing your attention back to him.
Snorting, you deadpan back, "Not at all."
"O...Kay?" He looks at your two remaining bodyguards for answers only to find none. "Anyway, what's going on? Why did you need to see me? You should be focusing on your comeback promotions."
"I've finished the Map of the Soul series, and I'm going to start on a new book."
"That's great-" 
 You cut his response short, ripping the theoretical band-aid off. "A book about Father... About me." 
His shock is evident on his face, and he quickly clears his throat, looking at Yoongi and Jimin in mild panic. "Bug, I think we should have this conversation in private."
Any other bodyguards would take that as their cue to leave, but they simply look to you for direction on the issue, and you can tell your brother notices it. 
"They already know about it, about all of it."
Your response has him whipping his head back in your direction so quick you're surprised he didn't pull a muscle.
"They WHAT!?" 
If this wasn't such a heavy topic, you would chuckle at his reaction.
"It's just them, that's why I had them stay. They're going to be kept in the loop while I'm writing the book in order to discretely keep an eye on any potential threats to its release."
You watch as he takes in this information, leaning back in his chair in deep thought, occasionally looking up at you and then the boys.
Finally he settles his gaze back on you, "You're sure about this? This won't just stir up our family it'll stir up the conglomerate world too." 
"Absolutely positive. I trusted in the justice system and they failed me, I won't give them the chance to fail the next person who gets sold off like a peace of meat for the benefit of corporate gain."
You can see the wince Chan tries to hide at your words, you know he has a lot of guilt at not seeing the truth behind your engagement sooner. Not to mention the treatment you suffered at the hands of your Father. 
"You know I will always support you, no matter what." He looks you dead in the eyes, "But there's one problem..."
Maintaining eye contact, you wait for him to finish his words. 
"Mother called me, she's coming back to Korea."
And just like that, everything comes crashing back down again.
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Taglist: @yoongiigolden @chim-possible @ayoo-bangtan @janiva @devilsbooksworld @backinblack1967 @missseoulite @miraxflor @memerswrites @SchokoShaker @simpforhyunjin @zae007live @onlyasgoodasitgets @quinsly @fuck-you-im-gae @tinyoonsblog @iamkookiesforyou @yoursoontobestepmom @emu007 @childfmoonn @candied-lavender @silscintilla @sporadicfuryface @definetlythinkimanalien @btsizlyfe @rinkud @midiplier @purplebeebs @avadakadabra93
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dumbstuffsstuff · 1 year
Text
Althaitham’s Weakness || Genshin Impact Fic || (Lee!Alhaitham)
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Warning: Slight bondage
Lee!Haitham
Ler!Kaveh
———
Kaveh and Alhaitham are tired of each other, they are constantly nagging at one another and throwing passive insults. Kaveh is not one to lose an argument. And after he finds an interesting new fact about Alhaitham, he uses it to his advantage.
———
“Ugh!!”
“Whoops.”
Kaveh throws the dirty rag onto the floor and puts his hands on his hips.
“I told you to be careful! You need glasses because you never watch where you’re going!” Kaveh scolds Alhaitham who had tripped over the bucket of soapy water that Kaveh was using to clean surfaces in the Akademiya.
“Maybe don’t put it where I cannot see,” Alhaitham argues in a monotone voice.
“Whatever,” Kaveh rubs his temple with his fingers, “go clean the hallway, at least you’ll be far away from me.”
“I will do so gladly.”
Kaveh gasps and puts a dramatic hand to his heart.
“Hmph!” He crosses his arms and heads back to dust some bookshelves, “Don’t forget to sweep under all the cabinets.”
No answer.
“Just letting you know…” Kaveh mumbles, “Cause I know how lazy you get when it comes to cleaning…”
“What was that?” Alhaitham reappears behind Kaveh.
“Nothing~” He sings. Alhaitham groans and heads back to sweep the floors.
“Neat freak…” Haitham whispers.
“Excuse me?!!”
“How do you hear me from over there?!”
“I’m not a neat freak! You’re just unorganized and unsanitary.”
“Unsanitary??”
“Yes, now come here and help me dust off the bookshelves, I can’t reach the top.”
Alhaitham sighs in annoyance. He picks up a feather duster and helps Kaveh dusting off the top of the shelves.
“Why clean the top? Nobody’s gonna see it.”
“Well unless you wanna dust every book one by one, I suggest you stop complaining,” Kaveh smirks. Alhaitham uses every strength in him to not punch that cocky smile off of his face. He rolls his eyes and continues.
“Ah, come on now, Haitham. Don’t be such a grouch,” Kaveh flutters the feather duster gently against Alhaitham’s side. Alhaitham felt as though he had jumped out of his skin. He smacks the feather duster away from him and scowls at his peer. A faint blush forming on the bridge of his nose.
“Alhaitham?” At first Kaveh looks taken aback by the reaction, but his shock quickly turns into mischief.
“Kaveh…”
“Alhaitham, is there something you want to tell me?” He flutters the duster in Haitham’s direction, causing the muscular man to flinch and back up. Kaveh follows him slowly, like a fox approaching its prey.
“What are you talking about, Kaveh?”
“I think you and I both know.”
“Touch me and I’ll- I’ll-“
“You’ll what?”
Alhaitham uses his dendro powers to attempt to create a baracade which would’ve enclosed him in a bloom until Kaveh eventually left, but Kaveh was always a step ahead. Before he knew it, Alhaitham’s wrists were tied together by strong vines and were forced above his head. He leans against the wall, completely helpless. The blush on his face grows, and he can’t help but feel a tinge of nervousness (more than a tinge really, but he’d never let it show).
“K-Kaveh! Let me go this instant!”
“Uhmmmm… No!” Kaveh laughs at his adversary’s predicament, “I just can’t pass up this opportunity! Especially after you’ve been insulting me all afternoon.”
“They weren’t insults they were facts!”
Kaveh twirls the duster around Alhaitham’s defined abs. Alhaitham immediately shuts up, sucking in his stomach and gritting his teeth. He’s lucky enough that his shirt prevents the duster from causing any more of a reaction.
“I can’t believe the great alhaitham has a weakness as childish as being ticklish! That’s absolutely adorable!”
Alhaitham wished in this very moment that he could curl up into a hole and stay there. Kaveh knew all the right ways to tease him and he found it totally unfair.
“These abs of yours sure are nicely toned~” Kaveh uses his slim fingers to stroke each ab and hollow. Alhaitham holds his breath, trying to turn his red face away from Kaveh. The more he tries to break free from the vines around his wrists, the harder it became to stop the giggles from rising.
“Ooh, this must tickle a lot huh? Yeah, I can tell~”
“K-Kahaveh…”
“Oh! Was that a giggle? Cute, let me hear it again!”
“Noho..!”
“No? Oh alright then.”
Kaveh digs his fingers into Haitham’s sides. Haitham begins to giggle instantly, and somehow the silkiness of his shirt seemed to make the tickles worse.
“AHhahahhaha!! K-Kahahaveh! You stohop that!”
“Begging already? I thought you were tough~”
“Nghhkkk…” Kaveh’s comment caused Alhaitham to try and contain his laughter again. Kaveh was unsatisfied with this.
“Now we can’t have that can we?”
He scurries his fingers up and down the sides of Alhaitham’s torso, getting a loud reaction every time he gets too close to his armpits.
“AHHhahahaha!!! KAHVEH!! Stahahahap! Cuhut that out nohow!!”
“But you just havent learned your lesson yet.”
“Whahahahat??? AHAHAHAHA!! KAHAHAVEH!!”
Kaveh scratches at Haitham’s armpits, and Haitham twists from side to side trying to avoid the fingers. As much as he tries to pull his arms down, the vines won’t let him.
“KAHAHAHAVEHEHEH!!”
“Oh a bad spot huh?”
“NAHAhahahahohoho!!”
“Seems like it to me.”
“KAhahaveh you asshohole!!”
Kaveh lets out a dramatic gasp, “What did you call me?!”
“I called you an asshole!”
“That’s it! You’ve just extended your sentence.”
“Wait wait wait! Kaveh no! Kaveh-! KAHAHAHAAVEH!!”
Kaveh wiggles his hands over Alhaitham’s ribs, plucking each bone like a harp.
“WAHAHAHAHA!!! Nooohohohoho plehehease!! Nohohot thehere!!”
Alhaitham slides to the floor, arms remaining above him, and Kaveh follows.
“Alhaitham! You are really begging me to stop now, it feels great to have power.”
Alhaitham groans through his laughter.
“Now I wonder…”
“Kahahveh..”
“If you’re even more ticklish…”
“K-Kaveh don’t you dare!”
“…riiiight…”
“KAVEH-!”
“HERE!”
“NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOO!”
Kaveh tickles his stomach, occasionally wriggling his finger into his navel, unable to control his own laughter at the man’s hysterics.
“NAAAHAHAHAHAHAA!! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!! PLEHEHEASE NOT THERE!”
“Ah! I found it! Alhaitham has a ticklish tummy, that’s soo cute!”
“WHAHAHAHA?!!” Alhaitham half questions.
Kaveh blushes slightly. He just called him cute? Out of pettiness and to hide his embarrassment, he lifts the poor guy’s shirt, takes a big breath and blows a big raspberry into the sensitive skin.
“AAAAHAHAHHAAHHAHA!! KAHAHA!! NOOHOHOHO!! STAHAHAH!! ENOHOHOUGH!! I CAHANT TAKE THIS! PLEHEEASE IM SOHOHORRY!!”
“Sorry isn’t going to cut it now!”
“AHHAHAHA!! PLEHEEASE! I WIHILL DIHIE! STOHOHOP!”
“What is going on here?!”
Suddenly it all stops. Kaveh’s head snaps up, Alhaitham falls into himself, gasping for air and letting out the last little airy giggles.
In front of the two older men are a slightly flustered and surprised Cyno and an a confused Tighnari.
Kaveh’s face turns pink, along with Alhaitham who realizes that the two kids are seeing him in such an awkward state. Kaveh releases the vines and Alhaitham is quick to fix himself and return to his normal composure.
“Well… *ahem*…” Tighnari starts, “it seems like you two are haviny fun sooo we will just grab what we’re here for and be on our way.” He grabs a book from a shelf and rushes out of the room with Cyno, who just smirks at the two and follows his friend.
Alhaitham and Kaveh sit there red-faced. Unable to comprehend what had just happened. Until Kaveh felt a pair of glaring eyes at him. He flinches when he sees Alhaitham inching closer to him with fury on his face. That was Kaveh’s signal to run.
“DON’T TRY TO RUN AWAY KAVEH!”
“LEAVE ME ALOONEE!!”
Oh poor Kaveh. TvT
———
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noxsoulmate · 1 year
Text
💞 Noxy’s Alternate Reconciliation Fic 💞
Ship: Tarlos | Fandom: 911 Lone Star | Author: noxsoulmate | Read on ao3
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Chapter: 4/6 | Word Count: 4010 | Rating: Explicit | Warnings/Tags: alternate universe - canon divergence, drunk Carlos. Concerned TK, TK takes care of Carlos, drunken confessions, post-break up, getting back together, mutual pining, boys using their words, idiots in love, explicit sexual content, makeup sex, domestic fluff, telling their friends, healthy communication | Art made by: @chaotictarlos 💕
Summary:
“Carlos, who are you talking about?” “My boyfriend. He left,” Carlos slurred. TK’s heart was racing now, a silent laugh escaping him. But he needed to be absolutely sure who the sleeping, drunken Carlos was talking about. “What’s his name?” “Tyler Kennedy. But he’ll kill you if you call him that.”
~*~
An alternative rendition of how TK and Carlos may have gotten back together.
This fic is finished, all chapters will be posted before the year ends!
💞 Chapter 1 💞
💞 Chapter 2 💞
💞 Chapter 3 💞
💞 Read Chapter 4 on ao3 💞
Sneak peek under the cut:
Leading TK into the loft, his eyes covered so it would be somewhat of a surprise, was a feeling of pure bliss for Carlos. It wasn’t yet what it would be once they added TK’s stuff – but it was still composed of all the things they had chosen together during the months before their breakup. And when TK admitted that it had been too dark for him to truly look around and that he’d purposefully not checked anything in the morning twilight, Carlos had felt a deep, deep need to make this moment as special as he could.
“Carlos,” TK laughed, shaking his head without dislodging Carlos’ hand from his eyes. “Is this really necessary?”
“It absolutely is,” Carlos whispered into his ear, reveling in the way he made his boyfriend shiver. It was probably triggered as much by Carlos’ breath on his neck as it was from the feeling of stepping into a warm room after spending hours outside in the cold. But either way, it was a good look on TK.
Pulling his eyes away from his boyfriend, Carlos looked around the living room one last time – not that he had cleaned up or anything before hastening to the café… but he was also a neat person by default, so…
“Okay,” he whispered, and taking his hand away he stepped aside so TK could fully concentrate on the sight before him. 
Watching the love of his life take in their home for the first time was an experience Carlos would cherish forever. He noticed the moment TK recognized the couch, saw when his boyfriend discovered the bookshelves and the art they had picked out together; and while TK drank it all in, Carlos drank in the sight of him.
“Carlos…” TK whispered, his fingers covering his mouth and his eyes sparkling as they still wandered around the place. “You… you…”
It seemed words were failing him, and Carlos wished he could bottle up this moment in some way. Record it and play it over and over again. As it was, all he could do was enjoy the view when TK stepped up to him, softly resting his hands on Carlos’ cheeks, and then pulling him in for a deep and long kiss.
“I can’t believe you still built us our home after what I did,” TK eventually murmured, lips still brushing against his.
Carlos kissed him once more before pulling back just far enough to look at him. “This was always meant to be ours, how could I do anything else?”
💞 Continue on ao3 💞
Noxy's Tagging List: @chaotictarlos, @detective-giggles, @sgirl18, @sapphire11, @bubblesandroses8, @firstprince-history-huh, @beautifulhigh, @rangergurlgleek1211, @shadesofdeviant, @otter-love-asl, @tarlos-spain, @ramblingdisaster73, @first-kanaphan, @xtltokio, @lightningboltreader, @buckybarnesalways, @tarlossource
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unavernales · 1 year
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Haru wished they could hold Paion's hand forever. It was comforting and warm. The moment the other lets go she feels a little sad. That sadness was soon forgotten though, the sight of a humongous slobbery beast had her stepping backwards. Yikes!! Terrifying!!
When Paion returns she tilts her body to peek around behind him. A dog like that could break back in...
When it felt safe he nodded. "Uh-huh." Haru takes one step inside before crouching to remove his shoes. They're then set neatly aside - very neatly. He even makes sure the backs of the shoes are aligned and they're completely straight.
"Are we going to Paion's bedroom?"
paion watches haru set her shoes aside. so neat. they recall the vampire's room. tidy. almost neurotically so.
no, paion. you're off the clock.
"uh... no? we can stay in the living room. i think it'll be more comfortable." there wasn't really anywhere to sit in the bedroom... maybe haru was concerned about kimi? "she won't be able to come inside. she's big, but trained. i promise." the doctor reassures as he leads haru into the living room. the house is large with bursting bookshelves and lots of windows. dark wood and little novelties gifted by his patients act as decor beyond the modern sleekness. it's as homey as paion could manage. he sits on a leather couch, and when haru sits beside him, he rests his arm on the back of the couch right behind the little vampire. it felt... right to do so. was that okay?
"i just wanted to be sure we're on the right page with this," paion begins gently. "i really like spending time with you. you're very sweet, and you're funny. it's impossible not to like you, actually," he admits a little shyly. "but i don't want to make you uncomfortable. or to make you feel like you have to do things just because we're spending time together."
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readnburied · 2 months
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Book Review: A Lullaby for Witches by Hester Fox
Date of Publishing: February 1st, 2022
Author: Hester Fox
Publisher: Graydon House
Genre: Historical Fiction, Fantasy, Gothic
This is a standalone novel and follows the life of Augusta Podos and Margaret Harlowe who happen to be two different women from two different times but with a single connection between them. And when Augusta finds her dream job, that connection manifests into her reality as Margaret tries to take control of her life, not just because of the connection between them but for some ulterior and sinister motive. And Augusta needs to figure out whether to help the poor soul or save herself. But considering the connection between them, she’s not sure she can do either. 
I had forgotten I have this book until I was browsing my bookshelves and came across it. I love books depicting witches and witchcraft so this immediately intrigued me. But after reading the synopsis which told me it’s a gothic story, I knew I have to give this book a read and I did not regret it. I’m obsessed with gothic stories and it’s hard to find them sometimes.
There are two timelines running simultaneously throughout the narrative and I’m not sure which one I preferred more since both of them are so equally interesting. I loved Margaret’s life and what she’d been through was heartbreaking. I sympathized with her until I realized what she intended to do. And I don’t know if any of you have read the story, but the author does such a good job of making you empathize with Margaret that you don’t know what her true nature is until towards the end and I have to say the author might be good at writing mystery thrillers if they’re into writing them. 
Margaret’s motives seemed fine to me initially but as the story progressed and the truth came out, I have to say I was furious with her and I didn’t want her to do what she eventually did. But I’m glad justice was served in the end but yes, for a moment the whole story did get incredibly tense. 
The characters are very well fleshed out and it was as if you’d be able to find them walking around in the real world. You just can’t help but feel empathy for literally every character, and that includes the negative characters, and yes there are a couple. 
I enjoyed every bit of this story, especially the horror, gothic bits where I really wished to switch places with Augusta and live her life. I love art and its history but I’m not that into it. However, after reading this story, I actually wanted to know what it’d be like working in a museum or an old estate like Augusta. I love gothic places so working in one or living in one would be a dream come true. 
Initially the premise of the story didn’t seem that new to me. I could feel as if I’ve read something similar to this before but after half of the story, I understood how unique and beautiful it was. I thought it would have a cliche ending but it didn’t and that’s where it surprised me and I’m glad it did because this book wouldn’t be getting its own review if it hadn’t. 
The tone and setting of the story was impeccable and so intriguing. I loved the gothic tones and I definitely wish I could write a gothic story as well as the author. And the spooky stuff that happens in the story definitely added to the intrigue, not to mention the witchcraft that’s one of the main premise of the story. It’s like the author took all my favorite things and put them together in a neat and interesting story and I’m definitely looking forward to reading all their books. 
The side characters were strangely interesting. I’m saying strangely because sometimes authors don’t care about making the side characters as interesting but in this book that wasn’t the case and that just shows how detail-oriented the writer is that they think of everything. 
The author has written quite a few books and a new one is set to come out this year and let me tell you all, I’ll definitely be reading all the books and giving you my opinion on them. And I urge you all to go and buy this books or if possible, all the books written by this author because it’s crucial that you read this book and experience the story the author is trying to tell. The characters seem incredibly real and some of the situations the author created actually take place in real life despite this story falling in the category of fantasy. So do give this story a chance and I’m sure you’re not going to regret it. 
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getawayfox · 3 years
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Thank you @wanderingbandurria for the tag! <3
hardcover or paperback / rent or buy / reads in silence or reads with music / standalone or series / annotations or pristine pages / ebook or physical copy / dog ears or bookmarks / mismatched series or complete set / cover matters or you don't judge / lend books or keep them to yourself / enjoys lit classes or despises them / browses shops or orders online / reads reviews or goes in blind / unreturned books or clean library record / rereads or once was enough / fanfic enthusiast or a stickler for canon / deep reader or easily distracted / must read the book before seeing the movie or order doesn't matter / neat bookshelves or messy bookshelves / skips ahead or resists temptation / reads aloud or in your head / guesses plot twists or never sees them coming
Tagging @goodboylupin and @direwolf-summer if you want to :)
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viperbarnes · 3 years
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Longer Than Forever – One of Four
[B. Barnes]
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Medieval/Fantasy AU
Summary: You’d heard rumours of him. Terrible stories of horror and brutality, of merciless bloodshed. The Winter Knight was a demon in every way imaginable, and you expect your arranged marriage to him to be no different. However, the truth is far more complicated, and the man you anticipate fearing the most may just be your only solace.
Warnings: Major warnings for a scene with dubious consent, smut, talk of depression, attempted suicide, and attempted assault.
Note: This story was previously posted on another platform!
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You keep your eyes down and your head lowered as you’re guided through the Imperial Palace. You’re led by a severe-looking man who tips his nose high as he moves, as if despite his role as a steward, he thought this task beneath him. At your side, your father’s hand is curled gently around your arm, and you’re thankful for the small amount of comfort it lends. In a castle as large and cold as Palais de la Hiver, you would need every comfort you could find.
You already know it would be a hard task, the stoney walls, large echoing rooms and passages, finely furnished, but not enough to hide the sheer level of discomfort the Palace was built to offer. It was entirely different from your family’s cozy manor. Entirely different from anything you’d ever known.
Your family was wealthy, your father owned great stretches of land near the border of the kingdom, but you’d earnt that wealth and land through generations of hard work. Your ancestor’s had been allies with the former ruling empire, they had worked the lands they’d been gifted to sell crops, and their children had made it into a business.
But the former royals had been deposed of many years ago, when you were still a child. Your kingdom had been conquered and now the lands your father owned were the reason you were in your current situation.
Lord Pierce may have extended the offer of an allying marriage between you and one of his loyal knights, but it was never really an offer at all. Lord Pierce was not a man known for his leniency or tolerance of discord. Outwardly, he may never lift a hand himself, but he had spies and agents everywhere and it would only take one misspoken word and entire families would disappear, their land ceased.
Any pretence of choice or power your father held in this situation was just that; pretence.
You’re led into a drawing room of sorts, though it lacked any real amount of recreation, discounting the small chess set in the corner and the bookshelves lining the walls. A fireplace crackles away on the far side, and in the centre of the room two chaise lounges sit opposite one another, a small table between them.
The servant waits for you to be seated before he bows low.
“Lord Pierce shall be with you soon.” He tells you, though you hardly listen. You sit numbly with your hands in your lap, staring across the room at the fire. Your father paces, occasionally stopping to stand behind you with his hand resting on your shoulder briefly, before nerves take him again and he paces once more.
Under any other circumstances you might’ve been at least a little excited to meet your future husband. You wouldn’t have picked him yourself, but you were hardly expected to anyway. Any excitement was quelled by rumour. Lord Pierce’s most loyal and trusted men, those knighted were all ruthless soldiers.
Although natives to your lands had lived with your conquerors for many years now, there was still an air of mystery, a divide between the two cultures. The Hydran’s kept to themselves in the castle, dishing out edicts and enforcing the law where necessary, but never fully integrating themselves into society.
It didn’t help that the knights were all universally feared. It didn’t matter that you were no longer at war, Pierce ruled with an iron fist and his men had total authority when they deigned to visit the towns or villages. They acted with complete impunity, and their known violence and unforgiving nature only served to further the peoples’ fear.
And you were to marry one of these men.
You had done your best over the past days to remain positive, but the reality of your situation was setting in. You could only hope now that your future husband’s reputation was reserved for the battlefield.
The door opens suddenly and both you and your father jump in your places, standing immediately as Lord Pierce comes sweeping into the room. Perhaps in his heyday he might’ve been a handsome man, but his features had since shrivelled, giving away his age, though he still looked spry, still moved with ease.
His warm smile is almost convincing as he approaches, holding his hand out for your father to shake in greeting.
“Sir, how good to see you well.” Pierce firmly shakes your father’s hand, before his eyes turn on you. You curtsy, just in time for his time-ripened fingers to take your hand, and he tuts at your formality. You pause, uncertain of what to do when he does a slight bow of his own, bringing your hand to his lips.
“As lovely as you described.” He compliments, standing straight once more and you duck your head in gratitude. He releases your hand and holds his arms wide for a moment.
“Well, let us not stand around, please, sit!”
You do as asked, eyes traveling to where Pierce now gestures to a man who had entered behind him, though you’d been far too involved with the feared ruler to pay him mind previously.
The man steps around the couches, not to sit, simply to stand at the end between both, his gloved hands clasped before him. It takes you a moment to see beyond the dark mass of clothing he wears and make out the individual parts of his pitch black armour, the cape that is swung around his neck and over his shoulders, billowing out behind him. Details of silver stand out to you as you look closer, spying several belt buckles and—
You swallow at the sight of the large sword hung on his hip, and your gaze flickers up to take in the man again, this time as a whole.
Tall, broad, and dark. Despite his pale skin, dark is the only word that comes to mind to describe him. His hair was long and hangs about his face, perhaps neat at some point prior to now, but had since been windswept. His eyes are directed to the floor, so you can’t see them, but dark shadows linger underneath, making his complexion rather sallow in the dim lighting of the sitting room.
His face is rather handsome, you can’t help but think, a thick but shortly trimmed beard covering the lower portion of it. It’s then however, your eyes catch upon something shiny at his shoulder, a pin that holds his cloak in place and you freeze, blood running cold.
A skull, six curling tentacles reaching out from underneath it.
You look away from the knight and lace your shaking fingers together in your lap. Your father and Lord Pierce had been speaking all this time about your marriage, and your dowry of at least half your family’s land. That was Lord Pierce’s ploy all along, there had been no denying it.
He could care less about forming alliances with local families, it was the border land he wanted most. You don’t doubt that your husband would only act as a proxy for Pierce’s control, carrying out whatever the warlord wished for it, no questions asked.
You swallow thickly as at last Lord Pierce and your father stand, stepping toward the Knight, but you find yourself frozen to the spot. They don’t immediately notice, Pierce holding a hand out to gesture at his knight.
“This is my Winter Knight, Sir James. I’m sure you’ll have heard of him,” He speaks to your father, still ignoring how you haven't moved yet. You had heard of him. You weren’t sure of anybody who hadn’t.
Among Lord Pierce’s Knights, The Winter Knight was perhaps one of the most storied. The man had never lost a fight, and was obedient to Lord Pierce as if he were a hound. When talk of Lord Pierce’s Knights came about, the whispered deeds of The Winter Knight were among the most feared.
All of them awful.
All of them horrific.
You feel your stomach drop to your knees, but you have no more time to dwell as suddenly all eyes are on you, and you blink up at the men, Lord Pierce giving you an unsettlingly encouraging look, and you follow to where his hand is still held out in gesture to his knight.
You stand, like you’re supposed to, and step closer to the knight, like you’re supposed to. Your shaky hands gather your skirts and you curtsy like you’re supposed to, offering out your hand, like you’re supposed to.
You nearly gasp when black-gloved fingers take your own, far lighter than you might have thought, his fingers certainly holding yours, however the touch feels as soft as a feather.
The knight bows deep, bringing your hand to his lips gently. You keep your eyes firmly on the floor, afraid you might begin shaking worse than you already were, afraid that your future husband may feel the tremble in your fingers. The brief glance you do steal does nothing to settle your growing anxiety or nerves, his features seemingly devoid of any emotion at all, and the dark, imposing man only becoming darker, more imposing in your mind with his complete lack of reaction.
His movements were swift and smooth enough to appear natural, but something tells you diplomacy was not his calling. No, in your mind's eye you conjure wicked images of the man in the midst of a heated battle, blood marring his still emotionless features.
You’re thankful when he drops your hand at last and you take an involuntary step backwards, toward your father. The knight’s eyes remain downturned. Lord Pierce claps his hands.
“A handsome couple I should say!”
Your father hums along feebly, agreeing.
“The wedding shall be tomorrow. A servant will escort the Lady to her temporary rooms for tonight, and I will act as her guardian at tomorrow's nuptials.” Lord Pierce informs you both, making your heart begin to thump wildly in your chest, and your head snaps to your father with wide eyes.
“B-but Sire, I—” Your father begins, stepping forward, but he’s swiftly cut off.
“—I understand your people have your wedding traditions, but we are in the midst of important siege planning, it would be unwise for me to allow you to stay. As it is, nobody enters the Palais and nobody leaves it until we are finished. Your arrival and departure are the only exceptions, of course.” Lord Pierce tells him with a wave of his hand. There was no room for argument, a sternness now to his words.
Your father sputters, but turns to look at you, eyes brimming with unshed tears and apologies. You silently beg him not to leave, but somewhat reluctantly, his gaze hardens, and he looks away, bowing to Lord Pierce.
“Very well, My Lord. I shall depart with haste…”
You force fight the urge to throw yourself at him, beg him to stay, but instead curl your fists tightly into your palms, remaining rooted to the spot as your father leans in to kiss your forehead.
“I… I love you. I’m so—” Before he can finish his apology, he shuts his mouth, lips forming into a thin line. He nods at you firmly, finally.
You watch as the same man who had escorted you inside the palace leads your father from the room, the door shutting loudly behind them. A few tears escape your eyes and trail down your cheeks.
You jump when a hand lands on your shoulder.
“I know it is unfortunate, but you will be just fine. Before you know it, Palais de la Hiver will be home.” Lord Pierce tells you, and if you hadn’t heard all the stories about his cruelty, his sympathetic smile and warm eyes might have fooled you.
You swallow and let your eyes fall to the stone floor.
Home?
This would never be your home.
—-
You feel numb.
Everything about your wedding was already planned and organised, and you float through the day like a fog in a valley. The ladies that were clearly assigned to help you prepare hardly speak to you, and while they aren’t outright unkind, the room is filled with tension. You can tell they wished to be elsewhere.
They don’t know you. They don’t trust you. You aren’t one of them.
You see nothing of Lord Pierce or the man you’re set to marry right up until the ruler appears and takes your arm to lead you to the altar. The whole ceremony plays out unfamiliar to you, Hydran traditions and weddings vastly different from your own native ones, but that hardly seemed to matter.
The ceremonial room isn’t large or particularly grand. A few other knights, ladies and officials seem to have gathered to pay witness, and in the few moments you lift your eyes from the floor as you’re led forward, it seems as though all watch on with fascinated boredom.
When you finally reach the officiant, Lord Pierce releases your arm, taking your hand and transferring it into the clutches of a dark glove. For a moment you peek up at your soon-to-be husband, only to find him once more with that blank expression. You cast your eyes back to the ground and try to keep your lip from wobbling.
You must disassociate, your mind travelling elsewhere, because the ceremony is over before you know it, the Hydran officiant untying your wrists from where you and Sir James’ hands had been symbolically bound together. There is a polite clapping as you both turn, presented to the bored audience as man and wife and Lord Pierce announces a feast.
The feast has far more guests than your wedding did, and although you and Sir James sit at a long table joined by other apparently important figures, you feel as though the celebration has more to do with the acquisition of your father’s lands than your union.
You sit quietly and watch the festivities, the whole room loud and laughing, music playing raucously as couples drink and dance. Nobody approaches either you or your new husband. Nobody seems to care at all. You can’t even bring yourself to cry, as numb as you are now.
Throughout the meal, you briefly steal glances at your husband, and part of you feels almost angry for his impassiveness, the way his eyes flick slowly around the room. You can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.
You do think it odd that for a knight he seemed to have no colleagues willing to come congratulate him. In fact, it’s odd to you that nobody seems to address him at all. The only person who does is Lord Pierce, and even then he only ever seems to command him. Did the tales of your husband’s brutality isolate him from those within his own circles as well?
Were you truly now married to a man feared even by his own people?
You swallow, and smooth your hands over your lap for the hundredth time since the meal had begun. At any moment now you would retire to your new rooms, the chambers you will share with your new husband, and you will find out how much of a monster he really is. The thought should have made you scared, at the very least nervous, but you felt too numb for that, one small blessing.
It only takes another twenty minutes, and you notice Lord Pierce lean into Sir James, speaking quietly into the man’s ear. Predictably, the knight’s face doesn’t change, he only nods shortly. You feel your heartbeat jump when Sir James stands, and he doesn’t even speak, simply holds his hand out for you expectantly.
For the first time ever his eyes fall upon you and you realise with some amount of surprise, that they’re a stunning bright blue.
You take the hand offered, and keep your head low as you’re led from the table. You might’ve thought the feasting crowd would have noticed the bride and groom leaving, dreaded the whistles and cheering on from the men, but there’s nothing, not a soul seems moved by your exit from the evening.
The hallways are cold and empty as you move through them, doubly so with your company, and you attempt to distract yourself by keeping track of which hall led where and what staircases you climbed and which you didn’t, but the palace is a maze.
You do stop eventually, at a large wooden door Sir James pushes open with one hand. Unfortunately, your numbness takes leave of you then, your heart thumping and you feel as if you’ve been dropped in frozen water.
Your blood pumps loudly in your ears as you are guided inside, and you distract yourself once more by taking an inventory of the chambers before you.
They were large enough, though not particularly lavish, and the furnishings that were present seemed like they might have been put there by someone else. A fireplace with a seat and table by it, a tall bookcase nearby. On the other side of the room, opposite the fireplace was an armoured figure, and it takes you a moment to realise that it is only a mannequin, with your husband’s armour placed upon it.
The back of the room holds the bed, and directly to the left of it, curtained doors that you suppose lead to a balcony. On the right side of the bed is another door, a washroom you suppose.
There are few cupboards and trunks for things, and you wonder how suddenly this marriage was thrust upon Sir James if he had not yet found time to acquire more furniture for your own possessions. It matters not, you spy your own trunk by the wall, a maid clearly having collected it from the room you’d occupied last night.
Your husband closes the door and immediately moves to the fire, stoking it. You take several deep breaths before moving toward the table, where you spy a bottle of something and two glasses, clearly placed there in anticipation of your return to the chamber. You wonder by who, though. You hardly think your husband the sort.
You don’t speak or offer him a drink, you simply pour a good amount into each glass and take a hefty swig of your own before you look up again, nearly jumping when you find Sir James stood, just watching you. He doesn’t move, he just stares at you and for a moment you think perhaps you should have waited, but then he does something that catches you completely by surprise;
His head cocks the tiniest amount, and his eyes narrow in interest.
It’s the first sort-of expression you’ve ever seen cross his face, the first acknowledgement of you being in the same room as him at all, and you wonder what on earth it meant. You see his eyes flick down to your glass, and then back to your face.
You swallow thickly before taking a final drink, finishing the remaining wine and placing the glass back down on the table.
This was it, whether you liked it or not. You look down at yourself, not even really sure of what your gown looked like, or how it came undone. You knew what was required of you, you wouldn’t struggle or fight. Perhaps if he knew this, he’d be kinder. You decide to voice as much, but spare yourself the embarrassment by turning away, moving toward the bed.
“I know what is expected from me. I will yield.” Your hands shake almost violently when you begin pulling apart the fastenings of your dress, but you push down the fear and the worry, focusing instead on undressing. If you could be quick, perhaps he would be too, and you would be left to sleep sooner.
You don’t look back at your husband as you do this, but you know he watches, the prickle of skin on the back of your neck alerting you to his attention. It feels wrong, and yet, this man was your husband. This was the only right way for a man to see you like this.
By the time you’re fully nude, and you’ve gathered the courage to look back at him, you find him exactly where he was the last time you’d looked at him, but now, his eyes seem to be averted, cast downwards.
A moment of panic fills you. What if he did not like what he saw?! You had no desire to be married to this man, but you were now, and his approval of you was important!
You lie down quickly, unwilling to entertain the crazed, panicked thoughts rushing through your mind. No man could be truly displeased with a woman lying ready for them, yes? All you had to do was be a good wife and perhaps your life would not become completely miserable. You could take joy in that, at the very least.
Hours seem to pass in the time it takes his footsteps to near, and you steal a look to where your husband appears in the corner of your vision. You watch him pull his coat and doublet off, each being placed neatly back into a drawer, and the sight almost makes you laugh.
This strange, fearsome man would prioritise cleanliness on his wedding night?
You stay silent however, and turn your eyes away as he continues to undress. He nears at one point, and you tense up, readying yourself, only to stop when he bends low, takes your own clothes from the floor, and sets them tidily inside the same drawer. Your mind spins and whirs and you can’t decide if it's an act of kindness or of his own desire to have his chambers clean.
He approaches you for good then, to the side of the bed and you shift slightly to make more room if he needs it. A tiny peek at his body tells you the man had survived more injuries than you can count with the number of scars that cover his muscled body.
You hold your breath when he gracefully climbs atop you, and you stare up at the ceiling of the four-poster bed, begging your nerves to calm down. You jump when a warm hand grasps your ankle, you gaze snapping to the touch. Sir James seems to pause with your movement, his eyes locked onto yours and your heartbeat quadruples. He dips his chin just slightly, still looking at you, and then continues to move your leg, slowly, perhaps even gently.
You can’t help but watch him as he settles between your legs. You swallow, and with his eyes now moving elsewhere, you look back to the ceiling, your jaw beginning to shake some as you feel him shuffle forwards. He doesn’t lie atop you, instead he places his hands on your hips and carefully tugs you down the bed.
You talk yourself down through each movement he makes, staring upwards even when your vision becomes blurry and you’re forced to close your eyes. One of his hands keeps your body against his while you guess the other guides his length to your entrance. You force yourself to swallow the gasp that climbs up your throat when a hand, a finger prods there instead.
Confusion fills you, and you gasp when the finger pushes into you, dragging and a little painful, but it’s pulled away again in a few seconds, and you keep your eyes closed, too embarrassed now to open them, too scared to move as more fingers glide up your core, settling at the place just above. You wonder what he’s doing, but as he slowly moves his fingers in small circles, you feel the muscles in your core twitch.
It takes you a moment to realise that the ministrations aren’t unpleasant. It’s an odd sensation, warmth crawling over your skin like you were sinking into a hot bath. It doesn’t calm your nerves, but you do feel your body begin to relax.
After a few minutes, the movement stops, and you feel his fingers travel down again, back to your entrance where, just like before, one digit presses in. It doesn’t drag or hurt this time, aided by a wetness you had not realised had spread there. A second finger joins a moment later, and this time he pumps them slowly, sending a slight thrill though you involuntarily.
The fingers stop then, and the hand seems to be pulled away completely. For a moment you debate opening your eyes, but then you feel something warm and hard press against your entrance, and before you can even think a second more, you’re gasping sharply as he sinks inside.
He doesn’t stop or pause like he had with your ankle, but his press forward slows some, both his hands moving back to your hips. You take shallow, hurried breaths as you feel his cock stretch you out, your muscles screaming in discomfort, but you force yourself to be quiet, even when your eyes begin leaking again, and you shake uncontrollably as the tears drip down your cheeks and onto the bed below.
He’s sheathed all the way inside you when a hand leaves your hip. You yelp softly, not expecting the fingers that clutch gently at your chin, holding it still from your shaking. His hold is so soft and gentle, you can’t help but open your eyes, half expecting to find another man.
Sir James leans forward slightly, his expression almost entirely the same as it always is, except for a tiny furrow in his brow. Looking at him almost distracts you some, and you can only stare in mild surprise as he then lifts his hand from your chin, and uses the rough, calloused pad of his thumb to wipe at the wetness on your cheeks, one, and then the other.
Your breathing stutters at the tenderness of it, and even though he speaks no words, the message is clear: He did not intend on hurting you, on making this more painful than it had to be.
Shock only makes you shake more, but the pit of anxiety in your chest seems to dissipate.
He pulls his hand away, and back to your hip.
His first thrust hurts, and you wince. The second does too, but less so and soon he seems to have carved out a place in you that feels somewhat comfortable, and you manage to relax. You keep your eyes fixated on the ceiling, your tears drying.
At last his hips stutter and his breathing gets heavier, and finally with a deep exhale and juddering last thrust forward, you feel the fruits of his labour pool inside you, the feeling of which surprises you for. You swallow thick at the thought of bearing a child to this man, but decide to consider such subjects later.
He pulls out of you quickly, and in seconds is on his feet, moving away from the bed. You watch him as he goes for a new drawer, and he pulls several items from it. He dresses himself in breeches made for sleeping, but steps back toward the bed with a rag and a plain tunic held out.
You blink in surprise, and gingerly take the items from him, using the rag to wipe at the mess between your legs, and then slipping the shirt over your head, taking comfort in the warmth of no longer lying nude. Your husband takes back the rag, disappearing into the washroom before stalking out of it once more. You watch him as he moves about the room, putting out any candles until the chamber is cast in only the small light from the fireplace.
When he returns to the bed, he keeps to the opposite side, but pulls back the blankets and furs and allows you to climb beneath them before he himself follows. He does not touch you further, or bid you goodnight, and you are left with your own dizzying thoughts.
You were confused, and grateful, and in slight disbelief, but you fall asleep with more hope for your future than you had woken up with.
—-
Life in Palais de la Hiver is different in every way than what you knew.
You were a Lady now, and as such had no chores to do, no work, no schedule to keep you busy. In fact, as long as you stayed out of the way of any private business, nobody seemed to notice you at all. Every morning your husband was gone before you awoke, returning only near midday to wash and change from his training, before he left again to do who knows what.
In the evenings he would return and quietly eat whatever meal had been delivered to you by the servants, before climbing into bed and the cycle would repeat. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.
You had begun imposing your own schedule. When you rose in the morning, you would dress and eat, before taking a stroll in the castle grounds. You’d given yourself the task of memorising the layout of the areas you were allowed, and in the process, you’d discovered the training ring where the knights would spar.
The ring was overlooked by a balcony that was often occupied by many ladies of the court, clearly vying for the attention of various men. Eventually you make a habit out of watching the knights too, though you keep to yourself, all too aware that you were unwelcome.
You observe your husband more than any of the others, seeing his skill and prowess for yourself. Unlike the other knights, who appeared to take pleasure in violence even within a training scenario, there was never any rage behind your husband’s movements. Much as he was outside of the ring, he always appeared to be indifferent, his actions almost effortless.
If any one thing had become clear to you over the past several months, however, it was the fact that your husband was… different. Aside from the fact he never spoke a word to you, and appeared to hold zero capacity for emotion, the other knights treated him as though he were a dog.
Snide comments and barked orders, your husband obeyed every one of them, even if they, the orders or the man, were below him. The other knights didn’t treat each other the same way, they seemed to have camaraderie, if not friendship.
It makes you confused, and almost angry, but it’s not your place to address.
So you continue on.
After you watch the training for a while, you return to your chambers. You had taken up embroidery and knitting, but you weren’t particularly good at either, so you usually end up reading. When your husband returns at noon to clean up, you always stand to greet him, though he never gives you more than a polite nod as he passes to the washroom, eyes downturned.
You’d begun a ritual of cleaning off his boots and armour when he hung it up. You’d seen him do it every so often, when it was well and truly caked on, and so once he’d left again to oversee his other duties, you’d take a cloth and water and wipe down each piece, before placing it back on it's mantle.
You don’t know if he’d noticed or not, as usual, he never said anything.
You observe one morning while watching the men train, the winter chill in the air requiring you to wrap yourself in a thick shawl, that your husband’s long hair appears to bother him. You’d seen him flick it out of his eyes on many occasions, but for some reason this morning with the wind whipping around the ring non-stop, he appears to be truly frustrated.
Well, as frustrated as he could manage. Nobody else would have noticed, and if you weren’t so used to him by now, you wouldn’t have either, but his hand clenches by his side before he tucks the hair behind his ear, his brow furrowing deeper, and slightly more telling, his nostrils flare. You briefly wonder about offering to cut his hair, before you realise that you had no talent for the art.
It isn’t until you’ve returned to the warmth of your chambers, your embroidery in your hands, that you get an idea.
You make him a ribbon.
It takes you two whole months, and even though your design was fairly simple, your talent was truly non-existent. You also had to contend with the cold that makes your fingers and hands ache after short periods of time, but eventually you sit with a completed ribbon.
It’s black, like the rest of the clothes he wore, but with a dark blue thread you’d created a row of flowers along it, connected by thin white diamonds. You aren’t quite sure what he might think, but you were rather proud.
You’re inspecting it one last time, sitting in the chair by the fireplace when the door swings swiftly open. You jump slightly, ribbon falling to your lap as your husband stalks inside, closing the door gently behind him.
You stand quickly, as you always do, clutching your gift tightly in your hand now as you step toward where he already moves toward the washroom.
“Wait! Please… if you might…?” You realise rather suddenly, that you have no idea how you should address him, but you see him stop anyway. He turns to look at you slowly, brow creased barely noticeably, and you quickly take several more steps toward him.
“I noticed that your hair keeps bothering you while you train… I made this for you, to keep it back…” You hold out the ribbon, trying to keep your hand from shaking too much. Your husband’s eyes drop from your face to your hand.
You see his brow furrow deeper, and hesitantly he takes the gift from you, holding it’s length with both hands as he inspects it closely. You think your heart might burst from your chest in anticipation. When his eyes meet yours once more, and he bows his head deep and low, you have to suppress the urge to jump up and down.
You let out your held air and watch as he stands straight again, turning on his heel and continuing on toward the washroom. It was more of a reaction than you had expected, and even with his silence, his mostly-blank expression, the acknowledgement makes you feel as though you float through clouds.
The next morning when you come to watch the knights train, you hardly recognise Sir James, his face on full display for perhaps the first time you’ve ever seen, his dark hair pulled back from his face, held together by a dark blue and black ribbon.
In a moment between spars, when he rights himself and rolls his shoulders, his eyes cast upwards toward the balcony. Your breath catches in your throat when his eyes lock with yours, staring for just a moment longer than necessary.
—-
Despite the steps forward you make in turning Palais de la Hiver into your home, you’re possessed continually by a pervasive loneliness and depression that refuses to leave you. Some days you were alright, you’d read and walk and find things to fill your time. On other days, you’d stand on your balcony and stare at the massive drop below, wondering if it would be enough to send you away for good, to release you.
As the winter joins you in full force you spend more time out there, standing, staring down below you.
If you were to die, nobody aside from your family would care. Your husband would likely hardly notice your absence, and anybody else at the castle would probably be unsure of your name, let alone if you disappeared or not. However, heights scare you, and any time you attempt to climb up onto the bannister, you scramble back again, afraid.
You would have to try something else.
Your husband has many weapons, he keeps them, his swords and daggers, on his person always, but there was one item he owned that he did not bring with him. A small knife that you’d seen him occasionally clean and place under his pillow. Perhaps once it might’ve scared you to know your husband slept with a weapon so near, but at some point you had either stopped caring or realised he wouldn’t use it on you.
So you take it, one cold and drizzly afternoon, after your husband has returned and left once more for the day, and you know you’ll be alone for hours. You think about perhaps leaving a note, but decide against it. Your life intersecting with his would be nothing more than a passing breeze, you imagine. He would find you, alert Lord Pierce, you would be buried, and life would go on.
Still, you don’t want to make a mess on the carpets, or on the chair you’d spend most of your days in. You think you’d like to be in the open air, so that perhaps your soul can fly freely, return home, and escape the castle walls.
You stand on the balcony once again, eyes dipping down briefly before you shakily lift the knife. It’s cold and heavy in your hands, but you weren’t scared of the pain. You’d thought about this for a long time, one whole year in fact, and it would be the easiest conclusion to your tale.
Despite this, your eyes leak warm tears against your cheeks as you finally place the sharp, gleaming tip of the knife against your chest, directly over your heart. You wouldn’t risk a wound you could survive. You swallow and just hold it there for a moment, calming yourself and evening out your breathing.
This is what you wanted.
You don’t hear the door to your chambers open, the wind and your heart too loud in your ears, but you do see the flicker of movement at the corner of your eyes. Your head snaps quickly to the left in fright, and you find your husband standing by the door to the balcony, his hand on the handle as if he were about to close it when he’d seen you.
For the first time in the whole year you’d been married, his expression is no longer blank, his eyes wide and mouth parted in surprise. For a split second you can only stare at one another, before his eyes drop to the knife held to your chest. A frenzy seems to overcome you both then and you cry out as he lunges for you.
You try to escape him, lifting the knife high and attempting to bring it to your chest before he can reach you, but your hands are grabbed tightly. You thrash against his hold, even manage to drive an elbow into his chest, forcing him back. As you try to clamber away from him, you’re grabbed roughly around the middle with one arm, another hand shooting out and wrapping around your wrist tightly, forcing it, and the knife, away from you.
“Let— Let me go! Let me go!” You gasp, struggling and squirming against him, but he doesn’t listen, only forcing your arm back even more, until it almost hurts, before his thumb suddenly presses down against the inside of your wrist, the force and pain of which shocks you. You cry out again, even as your hand is involuntarily forced open at the move, the knife tumbling from your grasp and over the edge of the balcony.
A sob is torn from your throat as you see it fall, and your husband’s hold on you slackens enough for you to shoot forward, hands clutching the ledge as you lean to watch. He doesn’t release you entirely, his arm around your middle still tight, as if he thinks you may try to jump. You don’t however, instead collapsing in a heap against him, allowing him to hold you up as you begin to sob.
Why did he have to try and stop you?! You want to scream and shout and strike him, but you can do nothing but weep pathetically. Your husband makes no move, not until the rain begins again. You’d have been happy to stay right where you are, but the arm around your middle shifts, and your legs are swept out from under you. You droop even more as he carries you out of the wet, deflating completely as you cry.
In the warmth of the room, you realise how cold you are, your body shaking involuntarily now. Your husband sets you on the chair by the fire and walks away, making you wipe at your eyes, sniffling softly. You jump when he steps in front of you again.
His serious and intent expression as he wraps the blanket from your bed around your shoulders might’ve been funny had the circumstances been different. He seems to fuss for several moments, pulling the blanket securely and tucking it up. When he stops, he pauses, before crouching down in front of you.
You blink tearfully at him, unsure of what to say or do. You watch him as he hesitantly raises a hand, and then lays it on your lap, palm up. You’re too upset and shaken to think clearly, and you react instinctively, unfurling your own hand and placing it in his. He’s warm, and even though his hands are rough and calloused, there’s a comfort in the simple touch that makes your cry again.
You realise that it has been a whole year since someone touched you.
Your mouth seems to work unbound then, and you find yourself sobbing once more as you begin to tell him of your unhappiness. His face remains still, though for once you’re thankful that he appears emotionless. You needed that, for just a moment as you bared all.
“And— and I—” You stutter, lip trembling as you finally stop to catch your breath, eyes falling to your lap as your shoulders lose all tension, and you feel yourself all but slump down in the chair.
“I miss my mother… I want to go home,” You whimper, quietly, lip trembling.
Your husband doesn’t speak, but he does squeeze your hand gently, making you look up at him. When you do, he releases his hold on you, and reaches out to wipe your eyes, like he’d done that very first night, first one, and then the other. He nods softly, frowning slightly.
He doesn’t leave again that afternoon, as you might’ve expected him too, like he probably had planned to when he’d first come back for whatever reason in the first place. Instead helps you into bed, and then sits himself in the chair by the fireplace. You drift in and out of sleep as the rain pours outside, exhausted from your outburst.
When you wake briefly after the night has fallen, you find that he has joined you in bed, though he does not sleep. His eyes open when you shift, and he watches you for several moments as you settle again. He moves slowly then, extending his arm to the vast space between you, his hand once again offered, palm up. You breath in shakily as you place your hand in his again, closing your eyes as he takes proper hold.
When you wake the next morning your hand is still outstretched, but your husband is gone.
A sudden knocking on your chamber door startles you, making you jump up in bed. When it continues, you stumble to your feet, wrapping yourself in a gown before meekly pulling the wooden door open. You almost never had visitors, and you always woke after your husband had taken his breakfast, your plates left for you on the table.
A young man in the armour of the castle guards greets you, his bow half-hearted at most.
“Sir James has asked for you to dress and meet him in the stables, my Lady.”
“My husband?” You ask, confused.
“Yes, my Lady. He urges you to hurry, due to the weather.” He bows again before you can reply, and you’re left standing there blinking into the corridor.
You really felt no desire to leave your rooms at all today, not after the stress of yesterday, and you’d rather been hoping to be alone, but you find yourself hurrying to dress anyway. When you’re ready, you step out of your rooms and find your way to the stables.
You arrive to find your husband standing by a large, stocky horse that was tacked up and even lightly armoured in traditional Hyrdan fashion. He appeared to be fiddling with part of a strap when he notices you.
“Good morning,” You greet nervously, his own head nodding slowly before he lifts his hand, holding it out towards you. It was strange how suddenly you had both taken to the touch.
You give your own nod, heart jumping to your throat when he releases your hand, and leans down, taking your waist in his hands and lifting you to the horse's back as though you weighed nothing.
You have to shuffle to sit properly, your skirts quite in the way, but you sit side saddle, holding tightly onto the saddlehorn when Sir James’ hands leave you, and he climbs up easily, situating himself behind you, much closer than you are expecting.
It isn’t that you’re embarrassed for your husband to be so close, but the fact that the two of you had hardly interacted before yesterday, let alone physically, makes you feel as though it’s something taboo. Moreso when his arms come around you on either side, taking the reins in his hands.
You briefly cast a look up at him as he gently nudges the horse into motion, your hand shooting out to grip his arm when you jerk a little off balance, and he glances down at you. Releasing the reins to hold them with only one hand, he wraps his arm around your middle, holding you more secure as he guides the horse from the stable.
You want to ask where exactly he’s taking you, but you keep quiet, knowing you won’t get a reply. Once you’ve ridden out of the Palais gates, you feel his hold on you tighten even more and quickly the horse is galloping fast down the road, mud and dirt flicking up behind you as you go.
You were never one for horseback riding, apparent as it is, and your nerves jitter anxiously at the edges of your vision, held back only by the strong arm around your middle, and the trust you’ve decided to place in the owner.
You ride for two hours, stopping briefly under a tree when the rain passes through, taking the chance to stretch your legs some, before you mount once more and go on your way. You begin to wonder what exactly you’re doing when the land starts becoming more familiar, and when you pass a signpost that leads you toward your hometown, your hand squeezes at your husband’s arm, just as your heart squeezes in your chest.
You’re swallowing thickly, and trying to blink the tears from welling up in your eyes when he slows his horse, bringing her into a light trot as you approach a large manor house. Servants and maids mill about, collecting water, and doing their chores, and when you’ve finally come to a stop, you all but slip from the staddle, your husband’s arm around your middle preventing you from outright falling, but he does lower you gently, only letting go once your feet have found the ground.
You don’t watch him dismount, too focused on running as fast as you can toward your mother, who must have seen you approaching from the window. She comes stumbling down the front steps, skirts held in her hands, her face pulled into a wide, desperate smile as you throw your arms around her.
“Mama!”
“My baby! My baby! You’re home!” She cries into your neck, and you feel the flow of warm tears down your own cheeks as well. You pull back a little, enough for her to kiss your face, and you coo, excitedly giving your father a hug too when he appears, almost dumbfounded behind her.
“You— You’re— You came home?!” he stutters, holding you tightly, a hand stroking down the back of your head and you nod, pulling away to wipe your face.
“F-for the day, I suspect…” You smile, and look over your shoulder, searching for your husband who stands rigid by his horse, face impassive as ever, but he watches you closely.
You look back to your parents, who have both followed your gaze, their faces suddenly nervous by the knight’s presence. They knew the rumours too, but at this point, you had no idea what to believe. Your husband had been kind to you, for the most part, it didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t seen him train, it wasn’t as though he wasn’t a seasoned warrior
Letting go of your mother to step back toward your husband, you hold out a hand for him. His shoulders seem to straighten, and you get the feeling he had intended to keep away while you reunited with your family. He steps toward you quickly, his eyes flicking to your parents, then back to you before he places his hand in yours.
“My husband, Sir James.” You introduce him properly.
“Well…!” You mother blinks in surprise as she takes him in fully, his height and size intimidating without all his armour, let alone with him currently in it.
“I… I will set the tea on…!” She announces, turning away and ushering you all inside.
For a moment before you step through the door, you turn back, unable to keep the grateful smile from your face. Your husband blinks down at you, perhaps startled by your sudden spin. Your sheer happiness spurs on your next movements, and you quickly lean forward and press a kiss to his stubbly cheek.
“Thank you,” You say softly, pulling back and watching his eyes dart around your features for a moment. You see his lips part, and he swallows before closing them again, and nodding.
With his hand still in yours, you lead him into your family home.
175 notes · View notes
fruitcoops · 3 years
Note
Hi!! This is based on a reddit post I saw where a woman found her husband's "secret stash" of all the love letters/cards/post it notes she had written for him through all the years that he kept!! (🥺) and I would love to see it rewritten with Coops, if you want! Thanks for all the stories you write. I v much appreciate u
Okay so I looked up the story you’re talking about, and that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever read. My god. I’ve mentioned that Remus leaves notes in a  couple of past fics, so this was just a perfect ask! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Hattie is mine!
For the anon who watched a sad video in their class: Have some coops fluff to dull the pain!
Remus sneezed as he shifted the nightstand a smidge to the left, exposing a dozen dust bunnies that were starting to look more like dust rhinos. He pulled and rocked and pushed, but the small table refused to move far enough for the vacuum cleaner head to fit through. “We need to clean this more often,” he muttered, opening the top drawer to unload some of the weight from inside.
Three books, a handful of pens, a spare toothbrush, a waterbottle…Remus shook his head at Sirius’ collection of oddities, smiling to himself. The nightstand moved a bit more when he wiggled it, but not quite to the point he needed it.
The lower drawer was bigger, and scattered with whatever Sirius had left in his pockets at the end of the day—Remus found three different packs of gum and laughed a little at the knickknacks they hadn’t been able to fit on their dresser. Part of him wanted to put everything back and ask Sirius to go through his own shit, but it was kind of neat finding souvenirs of their everyday lives.
Remus paused when his hand hit something solid and smooth before the back of the drawer. He felt around blindly, then carefully pulled it out. A box? His curiosity got the better of him before he could debate the nosiness of opening it; he lifted the shiny lid, tingling with anticipation, then frowned.
Paper. The box was full of slips of paper.
Lined, colorful, plain white, even some of his old PT stationary—everything Remus could think of, including a few cards at the bottom. He took a piece off the top and unfolded it, then nearly dropped the whole container when his own handwriting stared back at him.
Left @ 8 to see Leo. You were still out cold—sorry for wearing you out (not😊). Will be back around 4-ish. Love you! <3
Remus blinked at the note in shock for a moment. He remembered writing it on the old bookmark the morning after they went to the trampoline place and spent five hours jumping until they could hardly feel their legs. “But this was last summer,” he said aloud. “I—what?”
He poured a few more into his palm and set the box down gently, then sat back against the side of the bed and began to read.
Crock pot turned on. Pls remind me to take it off @ 5 pm. If I’m not home, pls unplug it @ 4:45 was written on a corner of printer paper.
Happy birthday baby! You are wonderful in every way and I love you so much <3 Here’s to hoping all your wishes come true! Love, Re, on a birthday card he had picked out because the dog on the front looked just like Hattie.
An entire conversation, complete with doodles and sarcastic comments from both of them, written on a piece of lined paper from one of the many conferences they had attended together.
-          Eggs
-          Chicken
-          Bread
-          Sweet tarts (for my sweetheart)
-          Oreos (there’s a sale this week, coupon under note 😊)
-          Pasta (twirly kind)
Love you <3
in his loopy half-cursive, with the shape of a fridge magnet still indented at the top near the crumpled edges from being shoved in Sirius’ back pocket.
“Well, shit,” Remus said, sniffling despite the fact that no tears dampened his eyes. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Dozens, if not hundreds, of little papers stared up at him from the open box and he blew out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to the one in his hand. He hadn’t realized just how many notes he had written over the course of their time together, and he skimmed his fingers through the rest before carefully putting the ones he had taken back in and closing the lid. The box fit into the drawer with ease and he leaned his head on the wood for a second to slow his heartbeat.
The nightstand moved the last few inches once the rest of the clutter was strewn across the floor and Remus quickly vacuumed the dust elephants before dumping it all back in. As much as he itched to throw some of it out—the empty wrappers and pen caps didn’t seem to have a use—he was afraid he’d accidentally toss an important memento. Hell, the note box had looked like a pile of confetti at first.
The front door opened just as he began lugging the vacuum cleaner downstairs. “Re, I’m home!” Sirius called, then broke into a bright smile when Remus appeared in the stairwell. He was soaked in sweat and Hattie was breathing hard; she collapsed on her bed with a dramatic groan after drinking a few mouthfuls of water, too exhausted to do more than thump her tail on the floor.
“Heya, handsome.” Remus’ heart picked up its pace again. You kept all my notes, it shrieked happily, doing its best to break right out of his chest with affection.
Sirius tilted his head when he saw the vacuum and the dust on Remus’ pants. “Were you cleaning?”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to get under the bed for a while, and I didn’t have anything else to do.” He shrugged. “You’re welcome to do it next time, if you like.”
“I’ll do the dishes to make up for it,” Sirius said as he leaned in for a kiss.
“No, you won’t.”
“No, I won’t. But I will dust the bookshelves and wipe down the kitchen.” They both laughed and Remus stood on his tiptoes for a second kiss, sliding his teeth over Sirius’ lower lip and drawing a noise of surprise from his mouth. “Hi. What was that for?”
“Love you.”
Sirius glanced down at himself, then raised an eyebrow. “…because I walked the dog? Or is it the sweat?”
“It’s definitely not the sweat,” Remus snorted, smacking his rear as he passed. “You can take yourself right upstairs with that. Where did you even go?”
“Around the neighborhood, then to the park. She grabbed my hat and we played keepaway for a bit.”
Remus hummed as he bent down to plug the vacuum into the wall socket. “How the hell did she—oh, ew!”
“What?” Sirius asked with mock-innocence as he lifted Remus higher off the ground and tucked his gross, sweaty face into his neck. “You don’t want cuddles?”
“You are literally dripping! Get the fuck off,” Remus said around his laughter, swatting at his shoulder when Sirius started swinging him back and forth slightly. “Sweat monster.”
“C’est vrai.” Sirius kissed the hinge of his jaw and set him down, then headed toward the stairs with a final grin. “Thank you for cleaning, mon loup.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Remus said, rolling his eyes playfully. A soon as he heard the bathroom door close, he let go of the vacuum and did a happy dance in the kitchen, much to Hattie’s amusement. He would have to remember to leave notes more often.
251 notes · View notes
softlyspector · 3 years
Text
Winter
Summary: When Bucky is nearly assassinated, he finds more than he expects in the forest surrounding the palace.
Pairing: Prince Bucky x Witch Reader
Word Count: ~3k
Warnings: Blood
A/N: This had been sitting in my drafts forever. Now feels like a good time to start posting again.
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You know, whispers the song of the wind, a witch lives in those woods.
He rolls his eyes.
He knows better than most what lurks in these woods.
Demons of all kinds dance about, waiting for the faintest sign of weakness before they struck like vipers. Since his mother died and, with her the magic, all sorts had awoken in the woods she guarded with her prowling wolves.
Now, his mother was ash and the wolves only howled.
Often, he wanted to howl with them, but thought he did not deserve the pleasure of snarling displeasure.
The great beasts stayed corralled near the palace in any case, teeth locked in the spaces between the iron gates and swirling snow.
Cold has settled between his bones, his blood warm and slippery between his fingers, rivulets that flow like his mother’s tears.
He wonders, as he unhitches his sword and lets it slide to the ground, the whipping wind cackling in his ears, if his father is happy.
Having his only son assassinated was something he had always expected from his father, the bitingly cruel man that sat on a throne bathed in ash and blood, but hurt nonetheless.
“The weight is slowing me down,” he snarls at that wind, that laughing demon.
In truth, the weight is killing him.
He’s lost his way in the snowstorm that descended from the mountains with a fury that he didn’t recognize.
Something to do with his mother, he’d guess.
You are already dead, it whispers. The mother’s white wolf lost in a storm.
He stumbles, cold pinching him, making his knees lock, legs fold.
The earth seems to shake when he finally collapses, fingers crimson, a trail of hot, bright red behind him.
He wishes his mother’s wolves could find him now, they’d protected him always as a child.
Though, maybe, like everything else, they too had been corrupted when she died.
He thinks of them, trapped, pink tongues across razor sharp teeth, howling out a grief so deep it broke the heart of anyone that heard it.
He rolls onto his back, attempting the staunch the blood spilling over his fingers, crusting beneath his fingernails.
Bucky huffs out a breath that sets his lungs burning. He will not die like this.
But the tips of his fingers are already blue in the fierce cold, icing his heart. He doesn’t need a looking glass to know that his lips too are cracked and blue.
“I will not die here,” he says.
The words are empty, and the wraith that has taken the form of a swirling figure at the edge of his vision laughs, skeletal and wispy. Bucky sighs, squeezes his eyes shut.
Words, they’re always empty. Actions speak, and told his father attempted to have him murdered. His mother’s snowstorm is killing him. A wraith is looming and he can feel his heart slowing, his beating blood falling uselessly on the icy earth.
Death feels inevitable in that moment, destined and true.
There’s a crack, a howl.
Winter white swirls in his eyes, everything tilting sideways. He’s going to pass out, before he sees what thing has now emerged from the forest to kill him with fire.
The worst days in his life were the ones where everything tried to kill him.
He’d always overcome them. Training, and camp, more training, soldiering.
Soldiering, and killing.
Those were the worst.
His eyes roll back, just catching the expression and frosted eyebrows of a woman so beautiful he thinks maybe, by the skin of his teeth, he’s made it to heaven.
~
It’s warm when he wakes, though still white.
White painted brick, the red of it speckling out in places, white pine bookshelves stacked with neat rows of white books, gold embossed titles on their spines. White blanks out the wide window, white light filtering into the room.
A white fur blanket is draped across his lap.
He feathers his fingers through it before he realizes he’s nude.
His sword was somewhere lost in the snow, though he doubts it would help him now.
What vexes him is the loss of his knives, stashed anywhere they would fit in the gaps of his amour.
He sits up, side covered in cloth, though no blood shows through the fabric.
“I would have poisoned the blade meant to kill Prince James of the White Palace,” a voice says, a woman gliding into the room, draped in a long robe. She smiles, “But I also would have plunged it straight through your heart.”
He swallows, watches her ladle something into a teacup from the iron pot hanging above the smoldering fire.
Normally he would have shot to his feet, fingers curling around anything that could be used as a weapon. Training and soldiering and camp and training. But she doesn’t worry him, feels trust sink inexplicably in between the spaces of his bones.
She crosses the room, sits quietly down, peers at him with her head tilted to the side until he finally takes the cup from her.
“The white wolf,” she says, reaching out to flick a strand of too long hair away from his forehead. “When you rule this land will you also bathe it in darkness and shadow?”
“There isn’t much of a chance of that,” he says, sniffing at the cup. “The king will be disappointed I’m not dead.”
She smiles, “Yes, but I’m glad that you’re alive.”
He takes a sip of the tea and it reminds him of warmer days, of a palace full of laughter and the setting sun, of the wolves curled at the base of his mother’s chair.
She tilts her head again, watching him slowly sip the tea, “You don’t seem surprised to find yourself here. End up in the homes of strange women often?”
Bucky shakes his head, hands her the empty teacup. “No. I’m grateful and feel that I shouldn’t question my continuing life too much.”
“And you think I seem harmless.”
“Aren’t you?” He asks, glancing around, searching for his clothes. “A maiden in the woods?”
She laughs, stands, swishes away gracefully, long embroidered bell sleeves trailing after her. “One would think you would know better Prince James. Considering the things that you know lurk in these woods.”
“Stories,” he says. “Only stories.”
“Your mother knew better. I know you aren’t as blind as your father is,” she says, disappearing through a doorway, returning seconds later with his clothes, clean and crisp. “Your armor is near the entryway.” She folds her fingers inside her sleeves after depositing his clothes in his lap. “When you’re ready to leave.”
He nods, shaking out his tunic to pull over his head. “The official line of the crown is that nothing strange makes a home in our forests.”
She smiles, settles by his legs again, “And you believe this line.”
“No,” he says, watching her eyes, watching her lean close. “No, I believe there’s much we don’t know about the forest.”
She blinks and the spell is broken, “I’m glad to hear that. The men you were with at the pass have all been slaughtered. If it weren’t for your mother’s sudden storm, you would have been killed by the assassins. I expect they’re facing trial at the White Palace this very moment and you’re right not to question why your heart continues to beat.”
He nods, feels the familiar roll of guilt in his belly.
She seems otherworldly, this woman. With deep eyes that speak in riddles and sparkle with warmth.
“Did you know my mother?” He asks, shifting his legs over the edge of the bed, shucking his trousers on over his nakedness without a shred of shame.
She doesn’t seem bothered, stays seated and examines her fingernails. “She knew everyone in the forest.”
“Witch of the Forest is that your title?” He asks, only a little sarcastic. “Where are my shoes?” He’s avoiding looking at her.
“With your armor.” Her fingers wrap delicately around his wrist. “You should rest, the magic is still working.”
He shudders, pries his hand out of her grip. “You are a witch then.”
“Worry not,” she says, rising to her feet, swaying across the floor, “I’m a good witch. You can take your shoes and go whenever it pleases you. Though I expect the tea will be making you tired soon.”
Drowsiness hits him hard in the center of his chest and he settles back into the bed. “Was that you with the fire?”
“Yes.”
“Wraith?”
She hums and he squints, “Silver?”
“Dagger through the heart.” She’s laughing at him. “And still no thank you to the witch who saved you from the wound in your side and the creature that would consume you before you were blessed with death.”
He doesn’t answer, eyes falling shut, wondering why he’s not more concerned with the situation he’s found him in. “How long?”
“Until you’re healed? A day. You need rest before you face the king and all his demons.”
Bucky heaves himself to his feet, wobbly at first and then better, getting his legs beneath him. “Thanks for your help.”
She nods, watches him with those strange eyes, a gaze that simultaneously makes him want to run away and devour her.
He clears his throat and stands, pacing by her to the front door of her cabin. He stoops to shove his feet into boots, gather up his armor.
Her head is tilted to the side again, eyes soft. “If you find you ever need a place to stay during your father’s campaigns, you have a refuge here.”
Bucky thinks he’ll never see her again, but something in her gaze says they’ll be seeing each other again quite soon.
He nods to her, she inclines her head back, and when he opens the door he’s surprised to find the world a piercing white, though the storm has since stopped.
In the distance, he hears a wolf howl.
~
The palace grounds are mud and dead trees, cobbled together stables and beaten people.
His mother’s wolves, once beloved, pristine creatures, are howling, snarling, teething on the iron gates that corral them, white coats muddied to a dull brown, coal rimmed around their eyes.
They cease growling when he passes by, on his way to the throne room, through the mud and remaining snowy slush.
His father is on the throne when he reaches the throne room. He stoops, keeps his eyes averted, trying not to wince at the pain lancing through his side, up his spine. Something slippery wet coats the floor.
“Your assassins have been executed. You kneel in their blood.”
“Father,” he greets, standing, ignoring the peeling of his boots against the sticky dying blood.
He father raises a brow, eyes cold. “You’re healed?”
There is no pretense of his father not knowing, what had happened, where he had been stabbed. He had ordered it after all, and they both know it.
“Yes.”
“We are fortunate. That my heir lives on.”
Silence stretches thin between them. Until Bucky dips his head, turns away. “James,” his father says to his retreating back, “see to those wolves. They’ve been a nuisance since my wife passed on.”
He sighs but doesn’t turn.
It’s been three weeks since he lost his mother.
He can’t get the witch out of his head.
~
The second times he sees her, its with fingers wrapped around the iron front gates, eyes sharp from between the crowd of peasants she stands with.
“Are the wolves being cared for?” She asks when he comes near, her voice sharp with reproach.
The others shrink away from the gate, but she doesn’t move. “Healing well?” She says when he doesn’t answer.
“Healed.”
She hums.
He doesn’t drop her gaze.
“Shall I come in then?” She asks. “I have something for the wolves.”
“What do you know of wolves?”
She tilts her head to the side. “Have you been their keeper then?”
He wonders what she knows of the beasts, inconsolable even weeks later, headless of the commands that had tamed them easily before.
“No, then,” she says when he doesn’t answer. “Could it really hurt to let me see them? I come bearing gifts.”
“For the wolves?”
She nods.
“Fine.”
Once through the gate, she leads the way as though she’s made the trek many times.
The wolves at snapping at each other, howling, snow swirling down around them. There’s a basket on the witch’s arm, and they still when she nears.
She falls to her knees, smudging the hem of her peasant dress, presses something through the iron bars.
The beasts prowl, circle closer, sniffing.
The bloody slab of red meat is gone in seconds, devoured by the alpha, save a bit for his mate.
She stands to her feet, the alpha eye level with her on all fours, towering, monstrous creatures that they were. She turns her head, meeting Bucky’s eyes. “They miss her, Prince James.”
Bucky suddenly remembers where he is, like shaking off a stupor, a long sleep. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says, glance at the spires of the castle behind him, piercing the gray sky like long tipped talons.
“Yes,” she agrees, though she seems burdened by that thought. “It’s dangerous here.” She turns to him, eyes flicking over him. “It’s always safe in my cottage, though.”
What double meaning her words hold, he doesn’t have time to ask.
She turns, takes a step forward.
There’s a flash, and suddenly she’s feathers and wings, a dark spot against a slate gray, snow filled sky.
~
He presses one last kiss to her bare shoulder, hips flush with hers.
Bucky collapses against her, his chest to her back. It’s a long while, dozing together in the sun, sated by skin, before he peels open his eyes, shifts his gaze over the serene planes of her face.
She turns onto her side when he finally pulls away, watching him as he tugs her close, to kiss her sweaty brow, tuck her beneath his chin.
Spring has settled over the world, the perfume of flowers thick in his nose, the weight of sunshine warm on scarred skin.
Broken flesh healed once more by the witch that had come to live in his heart. For many moons now she had, years passing by unexpectedly, love folding into his soul not necessarily returned. He’s older, roughened by the elements, scarred by time and blades alike. There are squint lines beside his eyes, new stripes on his skin to match those left by his father, and training, and the punishing soldiers’ camps.
He’s spent many afternoons like this though, wrapped in this tiny world before he was cruelly thrust back into his reality of blood and tears.
A reality sometimes interrupted, fractured by the sudden appearance of the woman in his arms.
Feeding the wolves who had taken her as a new master, fingers buried deep in their fur.
Finding her name traced into the fogged glass of the mirror in his bathing chamber.
A single dark feather on his pillow.
A birds wing brushing against his amour before a battle.
She is wraith and witch and goddess bundled into one.
He loves her all the more dearly for it.
“Suppose my father finally finds his end,” he says into the cloud of her hair. “Would you follow me to the throne?”
“It’s forbidden for a commoner,” she says, mirth in her eyes when she pulls back to meet his gaze. “I would make a fantastic mistress though.”
He grunts, rolls his eyes. “That won’t do.”
“Compromise, darling.”
“Compromise won’t do.”
She smiles, nuzzles her nose against his chest. “Yes, it has always been abundantly clear that whatever you do, you do it with your whole heart. I do think you’ll have much larger problems to deal with.”
He imagines the lords, gathering forces against the Butcher’s son, who would never have the stomach to be as cruel and brutal as his father. “You’re right.” He would have an uprising on his hands, gods forbid peace and justice descend upon their land.
“Of course I am. I know all.” She shifts away from him, to the edge of the bed to drape a slip around her body.
She settles like a thick fog in his mind most days, splitting his vision between the crown that needed him to free the land of his father’s brutal reign, and the home he wants so badly he feels it in the tendons stretched between his bones.
Why shouldn’t he have both?
She gave him what he wanted long before he realized it was what he was searching for. A home away from war, a place to rest and heal after battle. Rest he did, here in her home, wounds stitching together swiftly with the aid of her magic.
Safe, he had realized, the second time he inadvertently came to her home. He was safe with her.
He’s not sure when the thing between them began to take flight.
Maybe after his third visit when she asked about the stripes on his back, and he had admitted the scars were courtesy of the king, bedeviled as he was by his son’s chronic lack of malice, his unwillingness to follow in his father’s footsteps.
Maybe when he kissed her by the river that first spring.
Maybe when she had taught him how to care for his mother’s grieving beasts. They still prefer the witch over him, and he can’t much blame them.
Maybe when she touched his chest with gentle fingertips, and told him that not only was he a good man, but that he was meant to do great things.
“I would, you know,” she says, moving to boil water in the kettle over the fire. “If you could find a way. Though I fear making a common witch your wife, would not win you any popularity contests, among the lords or the common people.”
“Would you?” He sits up, reaching for her hand, remembering the first time he had kissed it, soft skin against his winter roughened lips. “I could use your counsel. You’re wiser than I could ever hope to be.”
She sits in his lap, pats his cheek, and he remembers the first time they made love, frantic and wanting, like the missing piece of the puzzle in his heart sliding home. “Promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Promise you’ll remember this moment, that you won’t change who you are.”
“I promise.” Lips against the heartbeat in her wrist.
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ask-feederjin · 3 years
Note
Hi!!~~ <3 So... How much has Jungkook's physical condition changed?
Do you think he tires easily with physical tasks? I can only imagine him puffing all the time ><
Jin had just put the final revisions on a work project when a notification popped up on his computer.
“Hi!!~~ <3 So... How much has Jungkook's physical condition changed?
Do you think he tires easily with physical tasks? I can only imagine him puffing all the time ><”
Oh if only, Jin sighs softly. He wishes he could say that their youngest does, but that would be a lie. Either way, Anon needs an answer!
-
Oh, he wishes! Poor Jungkook has a ridiculously fast metabolism, much to his dismay. It was great for him when he was a gym rat, effortlessly maintaining his washboard abs. But now it is his ultimate curse.
We’ve been doing research on how to lower or, in Jungkook’s words, “completely ruin” his metabolism.
So far, we’ve chosen to have him switch to a completely sedentary activity level, bulk up on carbs, flip into “starvation mode” between stuffings and replacing that banana milk he likes to drink with soda. We also heard that lack of sleep can contribute to a drop in metabolism, but I vetoed that one. Jungkook may be willing to suffer sleep deprivation to get fatter, but that’s not something I’m willing to support.
On the topic of him getting tired… Hmm… I think it would only really happen if he was going out of his way to be active? Like, him just walking around or lifting basic things doesn’t phase him yet, but exercise on the other hand… Give me one second!
-
“Jungkook!” Jin called out.
“Yeah?” He heard back. It sounded like Jungkook had just woken up from a post breakfast nap.
“Could you come here please, baby?” Jin was now curious. How has his physicality changed in the past two months? Would he get out of breath easily? Or has his years of exercise and healthy eating still blocked that?
“Do I have to?” He whined. Jin felt butterflies in his stomach at just how lazy his boyfriend has gotten.
“Yes!” Jin laughed.
After what sounded like some shuffling and grunting, Jungkook sleepily wandered into Jin’s office.
“You never make me come to you…” The youngest complained halfheartedly, scratching his tummy.
“Forgive me just this once, your highness.” Jin snarked back. “I just wanted to… do a little test.”
Jungkook perked up the the word ‘test’. Jin knew he would never pass up an opportunity to prove himself.
“What do I need to do?” The younger man asked excitedly, watching as Jin pushed his rolling desk chair to the corner of the room.
“Well… first I’m going to need you to stand riiiight here. There, perfect!” Jin maneuvered the taller boy to stand right in front of his computer screen. “Wait just a second, babe.”
The screen suddenly changed from spreadsheets to a camera screen. Jin pressed record…
-
The video starts off in a well kept room. Orderly bookshelves line the background, tiny potted vines trailing down the fronts.
Pulling away from the screen, you catch a blurry glimpse of knobby knuckles and trimmed nails. Front and center stands a rather tall young man. He has short, shiny black hair and warm brown eyes. Said eyes are currently large with confusion.
The young man is wearing a rather ill-fitting set of pajamas. The bottoms fit well enough, but the top’s buttons are slightly strained. A soft looking paunch hangs out from the too small shirt, wobbling as the young man shifts uncertainly. He rests both hands on the mass, rubbing slowly.
“Okay, -ahem-.” You hear a man’s voice says off camera say. “Hello, everyone! This is the first video I’ll be uploading to the blog, yay! It was originally going to be the third month weigh in, but it seems I just couldn’t wait.”
The young man on screen chuckles a bit, relaxing at the lighthearted conversation.
The voice resumes speaking, “Either way! We’re here now! This is Jungkook, some of you might recognize his face from the profile section of the blog, but if you haven’t then here he is! Say hi, Kookie.”
Jungkook blushes, waving at the camera. “Hi guys… I’m uh, I’m Jungkook.”
“Oh! And I’m Jin!” The disembodied voice frantically shouts. Jungkook bursts into giggles. “I’m Jin! The owner of the blog! I’m also apparently an idiot.” Jin ducks his head into the camera, giving you an unattractive, sideways close up of his eyes and nose.
“Veryprofessional, Jin.” Jungkook grins teasingly.
Jin’s too-close head turns, presumably to glare at the focus of the video. “Yes, I am a professional thank you very much. Now take your shirt off, fatty.”
Jin walks to the side of the room again, giving you a nearly full view of Jungkook’s body. The young man blushes again, levity gone, and starts to unbutton his sleep shirt.
With each button undone, the fabric gratefully springs to the side. Soon the boy’s tan tummy lays bare, angry looking stretchmarks decorating the lower part of it.
Jungkook tosses his shirt off camera, breathing slowly and evenly. “Wh-what now?”
“Jiggle it.”
Jungkook’s breath hitched, eyes closing slightly. He brings both large hands to his jello like gut and proceeds to bounce it up and down. For a minute of two, he shakes it briefly, only to let go and wait for the jiggly mass to settle. He stares at the camera, as if he’s watching himself in the feedback footage.
One hand slides up to cup his soft chest, while the other slaps gently at his belly entranced by the bounce.
“Now, turn to your side.” Jin’s voice startles Jungkook out of his self exploration. Jin himself walks towards the now sideways Jungkook, pressing up against his back. Jin reaches his arms around Jungkook to lift the younger man’s pot belly. He squeezes, pinches and lets it drop to watch it wobble.
“Tsk tsk tsk…” He pokes a long finger into the pliant flesh. “Someone’s let himself go it seems…”
“Ah~! I- I have!” Jungkook moans. “I’m soooo lazy, and- and greedy.”
“Lazy is right you little piggy.” Jin pulls away from playing with the taller boy’s belly button, walking back off screen. “Why don’t we give our viewer’s a little show? See how out of shape you’ve really gotten?”
Jungkook can only nod, face a bright red.
“Gimme fifty jumping jacks.”
“Fifty?! Jin! That’s too many!” Jungkook gapes at the man off screen.
“You used to do sets of eighty not even a year ago, I’m sure your fat ass can manage one set of fifty.”
“I’ll try I guess…” Jungkook doesn’t look optimistic. He gets in position anyway and starts counting out loud.
“One, two, three, four, five, six…”
The up and down movement vigorously shakes his little jelly belly, truly revealing just how much fat had accumulated there.
“Fifteen, sixteen, seh-seventeen, eight -hah hah- eighteen…” The poor boy’s face was tomato red and shiny with sudden sweat. His arms keep perfect time, but his legs move less far apart with each jump.
“Nine-hah-teen, twenty!” Jungkook is huffing now, tiny breasts quaking each time he lands. He is so out of breath now that he only mutters what vaguely sounds like numbers with each jumping jack.
“Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three…” Jin picks up where the out of breath young man left off. “Come on tubby, you were doing this in your sleep six months ago! What happened?”
Jungkook is gasping now, arms waving less with each jump, feet not even moving apart. A drop of sweat hangs precariously off of a perky nipple, only to fall onto his gut not even a second later.
“Are you seriously this out of shape?” Jin sounds genuinely surprised now, instead of teasing. Jungkook plops onto the floor panting. His previously neat hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, neck and chest pink from effort. “Kookie, you only did 31 jumping jacks.”
“I- gasp- I can’t…” The chubby boy leans back against the bookshelf. “I’m too fat…”
“Oh no. I’ll be the one to tell you when you’re too fat. Right now?” Jin squats down and smacks Jungkook’s sweaty belly, eliciting a moan from the boy. “You’re barely overweight.”
“I’ll get bigger! I promise!” The younger man pleads, having seemingly forgotten about the fact that he’s being recorded.
“Bigger? Eating like you are now? I don’t think so. You’re going to have to pick up the pace if you want to be the fattest boy in the house. Even Hobi will get bigger than you at this rate.” Jin gave Jungkook’s red, sweaty paunch one last wobbling pat before standing back up again. Jungkook stays on the ground, not even bothering to hide the bulge in his pajama pants.
“Okay guys!” The older man addresses the camera, winking. “It looks like Jungkook can still do thirty one jumping jacks before he gives up. You could say his stamina isn’t what it used to be! I’m gonna get this little piggy back to bed now. I think the poor thing’ll need another nap after so much exercise. Thank you for watching!”
Jin leans forward
The screen goes black.
-
I went ahead and attached a video instead of just writing down the answer ^-^;
I hope you don’t mind using headphones, haha! It got a little steamy there for a second… I should really get a video editing program so I can cut out those bits of me turning the camera on and off. Maybe even use my phone next time or something.
Oh well, lessons for later.
I hope that answers your question, Anon!
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brutal-nemesis · 3 years
Text
E&T-Honey I Shrunk the Test Subject
Hiiii here is the stupid content no one asked for (title from @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi)
Masterlist - Next→
Ingredients: possessive whumper, manhandling/noncon touching (unsexy), spider, a lil bit of choking
“This is my favorite thing I have done, ever.”
“Change me back right now, Neteri.”
“Mmmmm...maybe later.” He huffed angrily and crossed his arms, glaring up at her. When she’d said she wanted to test something on him today, figured it would be...he didn’t know, something normal? Not...not…this. He wished he could run away as she stared down at him, but there wasn’t anywhere for him to go.
He was stuck up here, standing on the palm of her hand as she looked at him through a magnifying glass.
She poked at his stomach with the tip of her finger, giggling as he stumbled back in order to stay on his feet. “Oh Erebus, you’re so cute all teeny like this. My hypothesis was correct after all!”
“And what was your hypothesis?”
“That you would be even cuter if I shrunk you! And I was so, so right,” she cooed, shifting so both of her hands were wrapped around him, bringing him up and rubbing him against her cheek. He squirmed desperately, but he was no match for her now.
“Put me down!”
“Okay!” She let go of him with one hand, still holding him firmly in the other, and grabbed something from under the table. She gently dropped him onto a soft surface...surrounded by curved glass walls. He looked up in disbelief. A jar. She’d put him in a jar.
“Neteri, this isn’t what-let me out of here!” he yelled, banging his fist against the glass uselessly. 
“Don’t worry bud, I’ll take you outside later. For now, I have some things to do, so just sit tight, okay?” He protested further, but she just ignored him and screwed on the lid. She’d poked holes in it, at least, but now he was even more trapped. He found it hard to stand as she started walking, so he angrily sat down on the thick layer of cotton and scraps of cloth that lined the bottom of the jar, watching helplessly as she carried him along.
She brought him into a room he’d never seen before, but he assumed it was her office. Bookshelves lined the walls, and papers were stacked in neat piles here and there. She gently set the jar down on her desk, gathering some materials before sitting down and getting to work. Erebus sighed, looking around more closely at his prison.
There really wasn’t much in there besides the layer of bedding, just a small stick and a coin. He laid back, sighing. This was worse than being stuck in his cell, since there he had things to do, and more importantly, privacy. Here, everything he did was very much on display for Neteri. Every now and then, she’d glance up at him and smile, or even just watch him for a little bit. Why did she even want him here if she wasn’t going to do anything to him? Wait, he...he was just her desk ornament, wasn’t he? A little pet for her to look at while she worked. Humiliated, he rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the soft material. There wasn’t any way to escape her gaze except for burying himself completely, but he was certain she’d just tease him for doing that.
A little while later, he heard her unscrewing the lid, and upon looking up, he saw her hand reaching in. He tried his best to get away, but there wasn’t really anywhere for him to run. She managed to pinch the back of his shirt between her fingers, and he struggled uselessly as she pulled him up and out of the jar. “You’re so wiggly,” she remarked, grabbing him in her other hand and letting go of his shirt.
“Yeah, because I don’t like you grabbing me and picking me up!”
“Oh come on, how can I resist?” She rubbed the side of his face with her thumb. “You’re so lil and cute and all mine; I just wanna hold you.” She moved her thumb, stroking his hair now. “Maybe I’ll just keep you like this forever. My own little Erebus.”
A look of horror crept across his face. “You wouldn’t-you can’t-”
She laughed. “No, I can’t. The spell only lasts for twenty-four hours.”
“Well that’s-wait I’m going to be stuck like this for a day?!”
Neteri smiled wickedly. “Yes you are. And you can bet I’m going to make the most of this. I’m almost done here, and then I’ll take you outside, ‘kay?”
“Are you going to let go of me while you-”
“Nope.” Erebus groaned, but tried to make himself as comfortable as possible in her hand, trying to ignore the way she was constantly petting him with her finger in one spot or another. Thankfully, she finished her work soon after and let go of him, placing him gently on her palm. “Alright, lil guy, do you want to ride in the jar or on my shoulder? Or,” she gasped, “I could put you in my pocket! Nevermind, I’m putting you in my pocket.”
“Hey, wait-” Erebus cried, but she paid him no heed, dumping him into the breast pocket of her coat. After some struggling, he managed to right himself, standing so his head and shoulders were sticking out. Neteri was looking down at him with the happiest smile he’d seen her wear since...ever, really.
“This is so amazing look at you in there you’re so small and aaahhhh!” She jumped up and down a few times, and Erebus had to hold tightly to the edge of her pocket to avoid being thrown out. 
“Cut it out, Neteri, you’re going to kill me!”
She looked down at him, realizing her mistake. “Oh no I’m so sorry little bud are you okay?!”
“I mean for a lot of reasons, no, but physically I’m...not in pain.”
“Great! Let’s get going, then.” She slung her bag over her shoulder, and off they went. It was strange, seeing the world from this height. He felt so small-well, of course he was small, but-just...height wise? Regular person size height wise? He felt like he was a kid again, only being this high off the ground. This was sort of how Neteri saw things, wasn’t it? He was a little lower than that, but still, the tops of doorways were so far, not even close to his head at all. 
Musings aside, he was relieved when they made it to one of the many palace gardens they visited every so often. He begrudgingly climbed onto Neteri’s hand, glad to get out of her pocket, at least. She petted his head a few times, muttering “Tiny Erebus,” to herself, before lowering him enough that he could step onto the ground. They were right next to one of the plant beds, and Erebus couldn’t help but look up in awe. The plants were so tall, their leaves big enough for him to easily hide under.
“You can go wandering in there if you want, but don’t go too far or...well, you’ll see,” Neteri said. Erebus was tempted to ask what exactly she meant by that, but he refrained, simply nodding and heading off into the veritable jungle. Soon enough, he lost himself in the strange little world among the plants, fascinated by the way they looked from this angle. He didn’t know how long he spent just wandering around, studying the huge flowers, stems, and leaves. For a moment, he almost didn’t mind being small. But just for a moment.
Because then he saw something moving.
Erebus was frozen in horror as he watched the long, shiny legs scuttling towards him. He’d never really been afraid of spiders, but they usually weren’t so big, certainly not almost up to his knees. He finally managed to get his legs to move, breaking into a run. He didn’t really think it would hurt him, but he didn’t want to take his chances and that thing was still freaky. He tried to gauge where he was, but it was impossible to tell. He could hardly see the sky through all these tall stems and leaves, much less Neteri. And no way was he calling for her. If she knew he was being chased by a spider, she’d never let him live it down.
Erebus just kept going, hoping he could lose it, when something suddenly jerked on his neck, temporarily choking him and knocking him onto his back. He frantically felt his neck as he coughed, feeling for whatever had pulled him, but there was nothing besides his stupid collar, which hadn’t caught on anything, as far as he could tell. He scurried to his feet and tried to keep going, but again his neck was pulled back. He waved his hand around, and there wasn’t anything there, but it felt like he was being tugged back by...a leash. Oh. This is what Neteri meant by him not being able to go too far away. 
Thankfully, he seemed to have lost the spider, so he turned around and headed in the direction the leash had pulled him earlier. It did end up leading him back to Neteri, who looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “Did you try to run, Erebus?” She tapped a ring on her finger that he hadn’t noticed before, a tinge of harshness in her eyes. 
“I-no, I was just...running...from something.” He’d...he’d rather take teasing over punishment.
Her gaze softened instantly, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. “Wait did you get chased by a bug or something that’s so cute!” She grabbed him before he could dodge, bringing him up and rubbing him against her cheek again. “You poor sweet little thing I’ll always protect you from those big scary bugs.”
Erebus then remembered that teasing was basically punishment. 
He couldn’t wait for this damn spell to wear off.
Next→
Random bits tag: @yet-another-heathen @as-a-matter-of-whump @galaxywhump
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dreamii-yume · 3 years
Note
So, in the event, Rook has shown that he just carries rope with him. You may do whatever you wish with that information 👀
This was an ask from a few...weeks ago? I don’t remember exactly how long this was sitting in my inbox because I was waiting for the perfect time to answer it (//∇//)
Rook had been a very kind and helpful senior to you this year. You’ll be lying if you say that you didn’t think he was a bit strange like the others, but he has that certain charm in him that makes it difficult for you to complete look away from his direction. Besides, it got to the point where you just got used to him and even thought his actions were somehow entertaining...If you were the spectator, rather than the target that is.
Rook is a very doting person as well, you are by no means an exception to this peculiarity of his. He’ll appear when you least expected it, often startling you out of your skin just by a mere greeting alone. He would always talk to you as if he’s reciting a poem ever so often, making you think that you may or may not have completely lost his point here, it’s almost like he’s talking in a different language. He always acts like this towards you, and to everyone else as well, you could never know what he’s thinking or what he wants in the first place. Part of you just thought that he may just have been built differently than others, but then again, Rook is an elusive individual to begin with so everything could all be an act in the first place.
Long store short; you were both fascinated and terrified of this man.
But as strange and conflicting your relationship with Rook is, you still respected the guy as your senior to some extent. Say what you want about the the Pomefiore Vice Dorm Leader but you can’t deny his wide range of capabilities. When you are at a lost for things that you think you can’t do, he was the one who provided you with the advices and help that you needed during those times. Before you knew it, you had already owe him in many ways and yet, Rook had never once asked for anything in return.
“Worry not, mon petite chérie. For I am only doing of what I must.” He would say to you as an excuse, often filling you with guilt sometimes. Especially whenever he would ever so gently pat your head, chuckling to himself as he towers down upon you. “Seeing the beauty in your smile is enough to make my own heart flutter in happiness. Oui, believe me when I say that it’s that marvelous.”
Huh...So, people who accepts things like that as payment still exists in this time and age too. Forgive yourself from being too suspicious of his behavior though, you just don’t think a single smile is worth all that trouble but you guessed this was just another “agree-to-disagree” kind of situation. Who knows? The two of you did grew up in two different upbringings. Or quite literally, two different worlds.
Anyways, although you respected his choices after all this time, you thought it was just common sense to at least provide him with a simple gift in his birthday. You saw how everyone else such as Epel, Vil, and Trey were preparing their own gifts, so you don’t think he’ll be able to reject yours this time. You made your way through the Pomefiore lounge where the party was being held, but was unable to see a single glimpse of your peculiar senior around. It was a lively party and he may be busy with the other dorm residents, so you felt a bit out of place and proceeded to ask people you personally knew about his whereabouts.
“Rook? I was talking to him earlier but now, I have no idea where he went.” Vil said with a sigh as he crossed his arms. “That guy is as elusive as always, even I wouldn’t know exactly what’s running through that mind of his. It puts me in an unsettling position actually.”
“But it’s his birthday for goodness sake, he’s the main protagonist of the day. He should be the one to at least entertain the guest out here, not hiding in plain shadows, seriously.” You laughed nervously as Vil ranted in irritation, huffing by the end. He then glanced at you and soon took notice of the gift you’re holding. “If that gift is for him then, just leave it at his room. It’s unlocked, I believe. We stacked the other gifts he got earlier there too so it wouldn’t clog up the lounge.”
“O-Oh, is that so...Thank you very much.” Thus, ended your conversation with the Dorm Leader with a bow, watching as he walked away saying how Epel had been consuming way too much sugar for the night. With no more leads to follow, you chose to go with Vil’s suggestion and headed out to his room, still at a lost for where your senior could be.
It was true, the moment you spotted the room and turned the doorknob around, it easily spun open. “...Pardon my intrusion...” You slowly said as you took a peak before entering, unsure if anyone was actually inside. There was no one, just some elagant room design as expected with the Pomefiore dorm, with neat furnitures decorated all around. You could feel your own heart cry when you compare to your own dorm which trademark lies within the ghost residents.
You felt slightly anxious, it was your first time visiting his room like this so you couldn’t help but to gawk at some things you’ve never seen before. This was your chance to explore another man’s room, albeit only for a few seconds and by the looks of it, it really hits different that of Ace or Deuce. It has the exact same smell as Rook and the sense of familiarity was somehow calming, probably because you’re so used to being in close proximity with him now. His belongings were all well-organized, the books are neatly stacked on the bookshelves, along with some...questionable collection of bows and arrows stuck on the wall. You also noticed a spare hat and a single telescope lying on his desk, you could ask what it was for, but you preferred to keep the question for yourself.
You shook your head eventually, quickly but carefully prancing inside to place your gift on his desk. Finally, your quest has been conquered, although looking around, the other presents that Vil mentioned was nowhere to be found. Maybe he has them already opened and kept at a certain storage of some sort? Anyways, that wasn’t your problem now, you did what you needed to do, it was your time to bounce out of this room, feeling as if you’re invading too much of his personal privacy. Rook did told you that he never liked that in a person.
...Until, something else caught your eye.
You stopped, eyes blinking repeatedly at the slight tear in the wallpaper near his bed. There was something hidden inside, no, it doesn’t seem like it’s trying to hide at all. It was deliberately placed in a place like that for everyone to see. So, like a cat overwhelmed by curiosity, you stepped close to inspect it, even going as far as stepping on the neatly draped bed sheets of his to get a closer look.
“Eh...?” It was a mass of pictures of almost everything and everyone you can think of upon coming to this school. It was stuck inside the wall like a collection of some sort and it took you a while to actually get what all of this meant. “There’s so many pictures...Pfft...!”
You ended up laughing at yourself for feeling so tense, you honestly felt stupid for the amount of suspense you gave yourself. Of course, this was definitely something that Rook Hunt will do, what did you think it was going to be? Sure, it is creepy to think that someone is keeping tabs at everyone and everything through photography but this is just normal in this school. At least, to those who knew Rook to some extent, it’s not really a big deal nowadays, especially at this school. Anyways, you calmed your laughter down and stared back at the pictures to actually admire them as despite it all, every one of them are all well-taken.
Humming throughout your exploration, you thought it would be interesting to see if you could spot yourself in one of these photos. You looked around and at first, it was tough since you weren’t anywhere in the photos that the wallpaper could reveal but after a while you found a glimpse of your own face at the very edge. However, the tear in the wallpaper stops there so it filled you with disappointment to not be able to see the photo he took of you. “That’s a bummer...” You pouted slightly.
However, combined with overwhelming curiosity, your mischievous side couldn’t help but to come out. You peaked through the small hole inside the wallpaper and confirmed that there is more, as you expected Rook would have, just not visible from your angle. You didn’t want to damage anything but you carefully slipped your fingers in the small opening, trying to get a better look of the picture. You were mainly trying to shine light on them, just a little bit more and you could make out of its content. It got your heart pumping somehow, eager to see what kind of photo you were in.
“Bonjour~”
Screaming almost immediately due to panic and shock, you made the mistake of instinctively gripping his wallpaper tight, dragging them down completely by accident. You turned around, face flushed and clutched your chest as your heart beats so fast that it feels like it could jump out at any moment. “R-Ro-Rook-san!?” You stammered out, your butt hitting the bed while your legs shook. “W-Wha-When...!?”
Rook only gave out a chuckle as you frantically try to calm your nerves, which was nearly impossible after the stunt that he just pulled. You knew he loved doing this and to think you’d be used to it by now, but this one felt so different than the other times you were startled by him. He was so close to you with that greeting, too close in fact. Just where the hell does he keep coming from, you didn’t even hear a single sound from your surroundings. Rook stood straight before glancing over at the mess you had realized you made when his expression turned that of worry.
You were still gripping onto the ruined wallpaper at this point so, you gasped and quickly turned around, preparing for any damage you may have caused. However, at that moment, you stopped once your eyes had finally caught what kind of picture were inside those wallpapers all along.
“Aah...To think mon chére fleur herself would be the one to unravel my collection! How embarrassing~!” Rook said, placing a hand on his slowly heating up his cheeks. He bats an eye to your direction, looking all embarrassed as you stared, unblinking at his work. He soon smirked and chuckled darkly, leaning in closer to you from behind, in which you shivered at. “...But how does it look in your perspective? Aren’t they all beautiful?”
Yes, they were harmless pictures, that’s all there is supposed to be on it. But these pictures striked a nerve in you, one such that you didn’t know could cause this much wave of alarming fear in your body.
They were harmless but they were not normal in the slightest. For almost all of what the wallpaper had revealed was all about you, and only you that it makes you sick to the stomach. Everything that you remember doing in your daily routine had been taken into consideration, from a picture of you yawning as you wake up in the morning, to a picture of you sleeping peacefully at night. Pictures of you seemingly eating, walking, talking, everything that you’ve been doing is pasted on the same wall before you, all taken in such high resolution. If that wasn’t enough, even a few photos of you in the nude was in there, bathing and changing, you unconsciously wrapped your hands around yourself as goosebumps quickly formed.
Rook had literally been watching your every movements, documenting your life with a camera and capturing everything, including things that hits way too close. Deeply disturbed, your eyes tried to glance everywhere but the pictures, only to find no escape to them. Some pictures had even been tampered with before taking the shot, like that one photo where his hands shows his hands deliberately spreading your legs for the camera as you slept. You shivered, unconsciously thinking about that other one where it was your breasts that was fully out for the world to see and oh, god...That one with your sleeping face covered with a suspicious white liquid, you almost gagged at the mental image.
“...W-What is this...” You slowly looked up at Rook with fear in your eyes, trembling like a leaf as the same guy looked down upon you with a chilling smile. It was honestly too nauseating that you instinctively brought a hand to your mouth, just in case something does come out.
“Beauty, my Love.” Rook purred closer to you, his eyes brimming with desire. “Your beauty.”
He caught your chin in a gentle yet tight grip. “I had it preserve in a memory that I would forever see. Just keeping them in my mind alone was not enough.” He said, closing in on you on his bed, preventing any possible escape routes. “...For I am a greedy man.”
And with that, you found yourself in his bind, pinning you down on the bed with your hands on each side of your head. “Now...The reason why you invaded my sanctuary was...?” Rook asked but he was not expecting you to answer at all. Instead, his eyes glanced to the side, eyeing the gift you left on his desk. “...Ah, of course. Vil must’ve given you permission to hand your gift in.”
You were as stiff as a rock, too tense to even act and move. The hands on your wrists doesn’t seem too tight but a feeling in your gut screams at you to not even try if you didn’t want to get hurt. You were left gulping down your own nervousness as Rook turned back to you with the same smile. “Merci. I’ll be sure to treasure whatever you have given me.” He whispered as he leaned closer, giving you a delicate kiss on the temple in which you squeaked at. “...But nonetheless, you trespassed on someone else’s territory, petite proie. A predator’s territory, on top of that.”
“I-I’m sor-“
“Non, an apology is not what I need. Someone as beautiful as you should not make that kind face.” Rook cuts you off, before suggestively licking his lips. He sat up, confident enough to let go of your wrist, knowing fully well that you wouldn’t have the guts to push him off. He straddled above your stomach, which left you confused and wary to wonder what he was planning to do. However, looking back at him, your eyes widened in caution as he suddenly pulled out a long and thick rope, one that would certainly burn your skin if you struggle too much. Where in the hell did he... “Lift your head up high and reap what you have sowed. That is the beauty that can justify your crimes.”
“Now...” You breathe heavily as he tightened his hold on the rope, biting his lip eagerly. You can’t even imagine how much he has planned inside his head. It made you visit the terrifying possibility that he was ready for this moment from the very beginning, curiated and planned. Your heart drops at the thought, if that is really the case, then...Just how much? How much further into the future did he plan exactly? “Allow me to indulge myself to this fine opportunity you gave me, beloved Trickster.
“...A fine opportunity, indeed. Beautifully so.”
Allow Yume to flex on her non-existing French skills along with her companion, Google Translate. i sincerely apologize to any French Darlings out there yume did not attend a single French class in her life lol
Someone teach me French so I can write more things about this sexy bitch.
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