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#like when she told him that his flute was deserving of a name
imaginecolby · 1 year
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baby blues || c.b.
summary: when you tell colby you're pregnant, he gives you a reaction you definitely weren't expecting.
shoutout to my sweets @brocksblueroses for the prompt idea. <3
you and colby had been together for a number of years, and at this point had already started talking about marriage and children. it was something that you both wanted. however, you and him were currently in very busy stages of your life, and really didn't have time at the moment.
despite that, you and him were definitely not taking the necessary precautions to prevent pregnancy. 
"holy shit." you said with a sigh, staring down at the positive pregnancy test in your hands. this was the third pregnancy test you'd taken in two days, all of them coming back positive.
you quietly stepped out of the bathroom and maneuvered around the house. you found katrina in the living room, sitting on the couch. you caught her attention and waved her up to you. you led her into the bathoom and she stopped in her tracks when she saw the pregnancy tests on the counter. 
"shut up." she said, gasping as she saw that they were all positive. "y/n!" she squealed, turning to you with a wide smile on her face.
"i can't believe this." you said quietly as she held you in a hug. "what am i gonna tell colby?" you asked, the reality starting to set in.
"the truth? y/n, he loves you. he's gonna be excited about this. i know youve been talking about having kids at some point." she said, squeezing your shoulders. you pulled away and looked up at her, tears starting to well.
"yeah, but not this soon. we don't have the time for this right now." you sighed.
"you'll make the time. it'll work out." she said, hugging you again.
a few days passed since you took your last pregnancy test. you'd gone to the doctor just to confirm, and make sure everything was on the up and up. fortunately, it was.
when you came home that afternoon, katrina had a celebratory spread laid out on the counter. cake, treats, snacks, and sparkling water, a bouquet of congratulatory balloons sat in the middle of everything.
"what's all this?" you asked, walking over to her in the kitchen.
"we're celebrating! i know it's just the four of us here, but you deserve to be celebrated. you and colby both." she said. you flinched at the mention of his name.
"right." you sighed.
"you still haven't told him?" she asked, and you just shook your head.
"im scared!" you whisper yelled.
"well, you have about thirty seconds to get over that." she said, and you raised a brow at her. "boys! come downstairs!" she called.
"katrina! what the fuck!" you said, your heart racing in your chest.
"fifteen." she said, handing you a flute of sparkling water.
"what's all this?" sam asked as he and colby moved into the kitchen.
"what are we celebrating?" colby asked, moving to stand next to you. his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he took a flute of sparkling water into his hand. 
"well," you said, taking a deep breath. you pulled out of colby's arms and reached into your purse, pulling out the positive pregnancy tests, placing them into his hand. "i'm pregnant." you said softly.
you heard sam gasp, but your gaze was locked on colby. you watched as his eyes widened. his mouth had fallen open, and his brows were furrowed. 
"c'mon, lets give them a minute." katrina said, taking sam upstairs. 
"tell me what you're thinking. what you're feeling." you said, moving closer to him.
"you're messing with me. these aren't real." he said, tossing them on the counter with a huff.
"yes, they're real. this isn't something i would joke with you about." he said.
"we don't have the time for this right now! i have way too much on my plate and there's no way i can add this to the mix."
"you think i haven't been busy too? you think that i don't know that we don't really have the time for this?" you shot back. "why are you acting like this? we've talked about this being something that we wanted, but you're acting like you wanna take it all back."
"that's not what i said." 
"actions speak louder than words, babe. and your actions are yelling at me right now. you and i both know that we weren't doing everything we could to prevent this, so it was bound to happen eventually."
"i'm not dealing with this right now. or with you." he spat before storming off upstairs. you watched as he walked into his room, slamming the door behind him. you flinched as it sounded, the tears finally spilling over. 
you grabbed your keys and your purse, running out of the front door. you heard katrina calling out for you but you didn't stop. you pulled out of the driveway and sped down the street. you didn't know where you were going, but you knew you couldn't stay in that house.
your phone was buzzing in the cupholder next to you, phone calls and text messages coming through from katrina and sam. you ignored them and continued driving. you finally pulled over, the tears becoming too much to see through. 
you grabbed your phone, bypassing the messages, and scrolled to the message thread with your sister. you tapped on her icon to call her, her immediatley answering.
"hey, are you home? can i come over?" you asked, trying to hide the lump in your throat.
"yes, im here. come over." she said, without hesitation. you knew she could hear the sadness in your voice.
once you arrived at your sister’s, she answered the door with your nephew on her hip. the sight of them made you start sobbing on her porch. she immediately pulled you into her arms and hugged you tight before leading you inside. you sat on her couch sobbing into your hands before she spoke. 
“y/n, talk to me. whats going on?” she asked. 
“im pregnant.” you said, sitting up and wiping your face. 
“honey, thats great! but why does it seem like youre less than excited about that.”
“colby had not such a great reaction to it when i told him.” you said, sniffling and holding back the tears that were threatening to fall again.
“oh no. i thought you guys wanted this? what did he say?” she asked. 
you told her about the events that took place prior before you arrived. 
“i know he’s stressed and work has been busy for him. for both of us.  but he made seem like he didn't want this anymore. it made me feel like he didn’t want me anymore.” you sighed. 
“y/n, no. that's not true. that boy is head over heels in love with you. if he told you that he wanted to have a kid with you, then he means it. i do agree that he couldn't have taken his stress out on you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want you. or want this with you. give him, and yourself, time to cool off before talking about it.” she said. 
you ended up spending the rest of the evening with your sister, hanging out with her and playing with your nephew. 
a few days passed before you and colby saw each other again. he had been texting you incessantly, but you weren’t ready to talk to him just yet. 
“colby, what hell is wrong with you?” katrina asked him as she and sam sat with him on the couch. “that girl loves you and wants nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with you. and i know you want that too. now that its finally happening for you, you wanna throw it all away?” 
“no, i dont wanna throw it all away. i want to be a father. i want to marry y/n. i love her more than anyone or anything in this world. i was having a bad day and took that out on her, and i know i shouldn’t have. but now she’s ignoring my calls and my texts, im afraid i fucked this up beyond repair.” 
“well, it looks like you're gonna have to do more than that. prove to her that you’re ready for this.” katrina said to him. 
and with that, he sprung into action. he got dressed and drove to the store. flowers, candy, and the biggest teddy bear he could find. 
“hopefully these will help.” he said to himself after leaving the store. he drove to your apartment, taking a deep breath before knocking on the door. 
you answered the door and inhaled sharply when you saw him standing outside. 
“what are you doing here?” you asked quietly. 
“can i come in?” he asked, chin resting on the top of the teddy bear’s head. you nodded and ushered him in, watching as he walked over to the living room. you stood there quietly before he spoke again.
“baby’s first teddy.” he said softly, waving the paw at you. you stared at him, suddenly overcome with emotion. you ran over to him, the teddy bear fell to the floor as his arms opened to accept your hug. 
“i love you so much.” you said, your voice muffled by his chest. 
“i love you so much.” colby repeated, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. he pushed you away and held your face in his hands, thumbs running across your cheeks. “we need to talk.”
you nodded and followed him over to the couch. he took your hands in his, pressing a kiss to each of them. 
“y/n, i am so incredibly sorry. i know that i hurt you, and im so incredibly sorry for that. i was having a bad day, and i’ve been so overwhelmed with everything. but i know that doesn’t excuse how i spoke to you.”
“i appreciate your apology. emotions were high and we both kinda let them blow up.” you sighed, and colby nodded in agreement. “i hate that we let things happen like that, but your reaction made me feel like shit.”
“i know, and i’m sorry. i felt like shit after you left. i didn’t leave my room for two days.”
“i’ve been cooped up here for two days.” you laughed. you turn to face him completely, taking his hands in yours. “but we’re together now. how are we feeling?” you asked.
“nervous. excited. every emotion all at once.” he said, and you nodded in agreement. you reached towards your purse and rifled through it, pulling out your printed ultrasound from your doctor’s visit.
“there’s our baby.” you said, pointing out the tiny little dot that your doctor identified as your baby.
colby was speechless. you watched as his eyes started watering, a look of joy spreading across his face. this was the reaction you wanted to get from him.
“oh my god. i can’t believe we’re going to be parents.” he said softly, his gaze locked on the paper in his hands. you lifted his chin to meet your gaze again.
“and you’re really ready for this? this is something we both want, right?” you asked him.
“more than anything. y/n, i love you, and having a baby is something we already talked about wanting. i know it’s not an ideal time right now, for either of us. but we’ll make it work. i love you and i could never live with myself knowing that i let you go through this alone.” he said. you could fell the sincerity behind his words, and you were beyond happy to know that you were about to embark on the biggest adventure of your relationship.
later that night, you and colby were still in your apartment, getting ready for bed. you were laying down in bed, already starting to fall asleep, when you felt the mattress shift. you opened your eyes, and saw colby’s head next to your belly, the palm of his hand pressing against it.
“hi baby. this is your daddy. i don’t know if you can hear me yet, but i hope you know that your mommy and i are already so excited to see you. it’s been a crazy few days, adjusting to the news of your arrival, but we can’t wait until you’re here with us, and we can hold you and see you.” he spoke softly, his lips pressing just above your belly button. 
he moved to the head of the bed, situating on his pillows. you rolled over to face him, moving to press a kiss to his lips.
“you’re gonna be a great dad.” you said softly.
“you’re gonna be a great mom.” he said with a smile, kissing you again.
you both made yourself comfortable in bed, colby’s arms tight around your waist, your back flush to his chest. you felt yourself get misty as a small tear ran down your cheek.
this was going to be huge adjustment, but you knew that you and colby were up to the task. you knew that, as long as you were together, you and colby were going to be great parents, and you were gonna raise a great kid.
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ash5monster01 · 9 months
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Perfect to Love
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Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader!PlusSize
Warnings: fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, angst, trust issues.
Summary: Beth Walker was used to living in the shadows. She had only one friend and anyone else who paid her mind usually bullied her for her size. So she learned to keep her mouth shut, her head down, and her heart closed because she had to accept the fact that she would be nothing more than the fat girl to people. That is until Robin decides Beth needs more in life and that might just include a boy who she never would’ve thought could see her for who she truly was.
word count: 1,326
→ Part 1
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"Bertha!" chuckles from teenage boys followed the sneer that came from Colin Matterson's mouth, football captain, and all around douche. Beth recoiled into her self as heads turned to look at her and her peers chuckled. People thought they were clever adding two little letters to her name, instead they were just mean.
"Eat shit Matterson!" Robin stood and yelled to which the boy just brushed off and continued on his way to a seat in the bleachers. Beth felt her breaths coming out in heavy paces but she appreciated Robin for sticking up for her. "Don't listen to him Beth, he's an asshole"
"You know I ignore him" Beth told her, adjusting the strap to her marching band helmet. Robin took notice of how her flute trembled in her hand despite the tough facade she was putting on.
"Still Beth, people like him aren't going to matter by the end of the year" Vickie piped in. Ever since the three had been placed beside each other in the line up they had gotten to know each other. They also learned that Beth was super cool despite being silent most of the time. Things used to not be so bad until Barb Holland passed away, leaving her to be the only bigger girl left in their grade.
"I know, just hurts that he's right" both girls instantly gave offended looks, quickly muttering off how she was one of the most prettiest girls they knew but sometimes those comments didn't hold a lot of weight opposed to the mean ones. Beth knew it was wrong to not think her friends were sincere but if Colin Matterson was the one calling her beautiful things would be a bit different. Being seen at all by somebody new would be different.
"Beth nobody is perfect and you in comparison to Colin Matterson is a thousand times better and I mean it. You have more personality and good qualities in your pinky finger than he does all together" Beth offered a smile because a small part of her knew she was right. Yet after years of opposite comments there was still a small part of her that believed Robin was just saying it to make her feel better.
"Thanks Rob" but Robin knew she still didn’t get through to the girl and that thought frustrated her more than anything. Beth deserved to be seen for the amazing person she was, somebody like that shouldn’t have to hide from the world because of some stupid standard of beauty. It pissed Robin off to no end especially when she knew if Beth looked how people thought she should look she would be the most popular girl in school.
Robin kept this in mind throughout the entirety of the pep rally, walking Beth to her car, and waiting for Steve to pick her up. She was frustrated not only trying to find a way for others to see how amazing Beth was but for Beth to see herself as such. Robin knew what hating yourself could be like, it took years for her to accept being gay. Some things you can’t change and the sooner you learn to accept them the happier you’ll be. Yet since she couldn’t come up with a sure fire way she continued to be frustrated.
“What’s with you?” Robing looked up from the returns she was stacking to see Steve leaned against the counter giving her a confused look.
“What do you mean?” she asked and he quickly chuckled, a shake of his head swaying some stray hairs loose.
“You’ve barely said a word since we’ve gotten here. Normally you’re going on and on about how cute Vickie was at band practice today. You being quiet is weird” Steve told her and Robin finally sighed, falling against the counter like she had finally given up.
“It’s Beth” Steve rose his eyebrows in a suggestive way and Robin shook her head against the counter top, a sign that it wasn’t like he thought.
“Beth Walker, you remember her?” Robin asked and Steve shook his head which only caused Robin to sigh harder.
“She’s my friend and easily the sweetest girl on this planet but she gets terrorized at school, she doesn’t even know how cool she is because of how terrible to other students are to her” Robin explained and Steve suddenly felt guilty for not knowing her despite being a grade ahead.
“Why are they bullying her?” Steve asked, curious as to what reason someone would have to treat a sweet girl badly.
“She’s bigger, kinda like Barb but shorter. They call her Bertha” Steve cringed at the mean name, even he could feel the sting of it.
“That’s awful Rob” he told her and she nodded as she lifted her head from the counter.
“It is and Steve she is so great. Like the coolest chick you’d ever meet. She drives a brand new corvette and the kids still treat her like shit” Steve smiled at Robins defense for the girl, the thought comforting him to know she’d do the same for him.
“Have you tried telling her this?” Robin let out a small groan as she started to pick at a stray string on her shirt.
“All the time but I know she doesn’t listen. I can’t blame her though, when the same people keep building you up and hundreds of strangers tear you down it doesn’t do much. That’s a battle meant to be lost” Robin wished that her words could resonate with the girl but the only way they would is if someone like Colin Matterson finally came around and started saying them. Then suddenly it hit her. “You used to be a dick right?”
“Woah, what the hell?” Steve held his hands up and Robin rolled her eyes.
“You know what I mean Steve, you weren’t the best guy back in the day” Robin defended and he dropped his head.
“That’s way harsh Rob, you know I’m not like that anymore” Robin nodded and began to move around the counter to face him.
“Well yeah, you’re super cool now. But guys like Colin Matterson still think you’re King of Hawkins?” Steve thought about it before nodding, he graduated with the Mr. Popular reputation even if he still didn’t feel like he had it.
“Not that I’m proud of it but yeah, those guys all still think I’m hot shit” Steve said as he crossed his arms. “So what’re you getting at?”
“Meet Beth, hang out with her in public, if people see you with her they might realize it’s not her size that matters” Steves eyes widened, totally not seeing where this conversation was going.
“I don’t know Rob-”
“Please Steve, she’s so great. It doesn’t have to be right away, I can bring her to a movie night or something. She just deserves to be seen for who she is and I can’t help her with that but you can” Steve pressed his hand to his eyes, thinking about it for a moment before turning to her.
“One movie night, then I’ll think about it” he told her as he pointed a finger at her and she began to jump and cheer. “You’re something else”
“And you’re the best Steve Harrington, truly” Steve tried to hide his smile but he couldn’t help it as he watched Robin become so happy over the thought that she could help a friend.
If Robin had claimed this girl was so special maybe it was worth a shot. Hell he never even really thought of Barb as big, it was mainly Tommy and Carol that ever bullied people for things like that. Yet he realized he wasn’t much better never even realizing her when he knew most of her grade because of Nancy. The size didn’t matter to him, but if he didn’t like her and started bringing her around wouldn’t that be just like using her?
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a/n: if this is a story you guys would be interested in plz let me know, I am also aware I have not finished my Rooster Series yet but I do have the outlines for the remaining chapters so I wanted to get a head start on this. I think the concept would be cute and I’m a sucker for the fact I think Steve Harrington would be all about plus size girls. I think this could be a cute short little series <3
let me know if you want to be added to the tag list
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kingsansa · 2 years
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In good faith prompt - hair
He’s drunk enough one night that he ends up in the web archives of the Westerosi Chronicle because he’s tired of pretending not to care.
There are several filter options. The mouse hovers over the drop down menu. Selects From Earliest to Latest.
Sansa Stark. Two words, 10 letters.
Enter.
Three pages of results appear.
STARK TRUST HOUSES THOUSANDS OF THE CITY’S HOMELESS, Eddard Stark and a smiling Catelyn at some gala. Robb is at their side, a stone faced teenager, trying so hard to be his father’s son.
Not Sansa.
It’s her mother she’s trying her very best to emulate, beaming into the camera, missing teeth and all. Her father’s hand holds her shoulder and her mother’s hand holds hers.
A team player, even then.
Jon scrolls down.
THE WOMEN WHO SPENT THEIR MOTHER’S DAY HELPING OTHERS. Alerie and Margaery Tyrell, Wynafred and Wylla Manderly, Maege, Dacey, and Alysanne Mormont. At the very end, Catelyn and Sansa.
She’s older, here. 12 or so. Her mother’s arm is around her shoulders. She’s still wearing her hairnet, something her and the Mormont’s have in common. Even tired, she still remembers to smile.
Then, she isn’t anymore.
He has to scroll past them, all of the titles beginning with her father’s name. The pictures of her wearing black. It’s like pressing on a bruise. He remembers his father’s funeral, how he felt at the sight of the cameras outside of the church, the rage that rose up in his throat like bile—
He never gave her much; always took. But he would allow her to keep this.
RHAEGAR TARGARYEN CELEBRATES 20 YEARS AT TARGTECH.
The night they met.
An entire article, waxing poetic about his father’s improvements and accomplishments. Pictures of him everywhere. He’s always haunting him, but tonight, Jon is preoccupied with another ghost. It’s the only reason he doesn’t click out of the article, the only reason he keeps going despite the tightness of his throat—
She was beautiful.
And he’d been so angry that his father thought fit to trust him with something so beautiful, something so delicate. Innocent. Big blue eyes, waiting for him to prompt her to speak. Gloved hands holding a flute of champagne, skimming the pearls strung around her throat. Red hair pinned artfully at the top of her head to reveal the slender slope of her neck. To tempt him.
When he got home, must have told himself a thousand times that it didn’t work.
In this picture, they are strangers, surrounded by people that are much more familiar to them. Dany is to his left and Robb and his wife are to hers. His hand is high on her waist. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
She’d asked him if he wanted to dance, and he said he didn’t like dancing. His first time being a disappointment. Not his last.
And just a week later, their very first event as a couple.
Some dinner for the Stark Trust. Them leaving the hotel where the party is being held, hand in hand. The very beginning.
And then:
A museum opening. Them on the steps, hand in hand. She’s smiling. He isn’t. An official confirmation.
It was more than enough.
There’s a set of photos for almost every couple weeks that they were together, accompanied with a story. Not his father’s doing, even with how much he used to talk about legacy, and not Robb’s, who hated any kind of press. It was just…them. The rebellious heir to a weapon empire who seemed to be falling in line, and the stunning spare. An unexpected, charming match. A dangerous one, too.
People watched them. They were worth watching.
Jon scrolls, flexing his hand. As if he’d be able to feel hers inside of it if he tried hard enough.
JON TARGARYEN, ROBB STARK, RENLY BARATHEON, AND MORE HIT THE PITCH FOR CHARITY BASEBALL GAME.
The last good day.
Towards the end, they were having more and more of those, and it was starting to scare him. That he was picturing her as someone that could be permanent, rather than what she was. A distraction, young—
Someone who deserved better.
She gently pestered him until he let her put sunscreen on his face—multiple times. She cheered him on from the sidelines. She fussed over his resulting injuries, insisting on bandaging him up herself. Alright, darling, she’d say, after he told her that he’d be going in every time she tried to convince him to sit the next round out.
There’s a picture of her leaning down from the bleachers to talk to him, pig tails hanging from her shoulders. Jon doesn’t remember what they were talking about. He wishes he could remember. He wants to know what he said that made her smile.
There’s no article about the split.
It wasn’t a public thing. It helped that it happened cold turkey. That one day they were together, and the next day they just weren’t. By the time he realized what happened, she already left. He stopped going to parties, to galas, to luncheons—there was no need for that anymore.
It took a minute for people to catch on, and when they did, it was after the funeral, and his father was dead. That overshadowed everything else.
Besides—she was just gone. There was no story in that.
Jon clicks in the third page, even though he knows what he’ll see.
Willas, holding her hand. Willas, carrying her on his back. Willas, with his arm slung over her shoulder. Willas making her laugh, and Willas making her smile—
It always reaches her eyes. Makes the corners crinkle.
He always makes her happy.
Jon shuts his laptop, leaving himself vulnerable to the dark. He tries not to wonder, selfishly, if he could have ever done the same. There’s no point.
She might be back, but she’s still gone. Lost to him.
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liviusofpella · 2 years
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part one: champagne problems
Pairing: Tyril x OC (Jude)
Word count: 2790
Warnings: cursing, alcohol usage
A/n: Very self-indulgent fic with the perfect amount of horny and drama. That's all I have to say.
inspo board | playlist (to be updated)
Tag list: honourable mention: @cashweasel (I'm sorry for keeping you waiting for so long), @brycesgirl @lazypartridge @watatsumi-island @sophie-summer (though feel free to skip this one if you're not interested :))
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The large raindrops pattered loudly against the pavement, ruining the guests’ expensive hairstyles, and the sky responded to their curses with long rumbles. Tyril watched the guests arrive from the kitchen window, reminiscing while sipping a glass of champagne.
The one thing that nobody forced him to do as a child, and he found relaxing now as an adult, was cooking. As a boy, Tyril would spend long hours in the kitchen with Leilana, his family’s cook, who would help him with the homework, allow him to help with dinner and stay past her work hours just to accompany him. Tyril was a lonely child. Until Jude, he didn’t really have a friend, and while both of his parents were always away on a business and his sister too invested in her numerous extracurriculars, Leilana, now an elderly lady, was his only companion. He smiled, remembering how she tried to teach him baking macarons and that while she was not looking he added a lot of flour. Tyril’s macarons were not exactly edible, but they made for great hockey pucks. 
His thoughts were interrupted by his mother and sister entering the room, talking loudly.
“What did I do to deserve this,” Vena Starfury pinched the bridge of her nose, having just heard that not only her daughter broke off her engagement but also her husband decided to postpone his retirement by a couple of months. She looked at Tyril, hopefully. “Tell me that at least you have good news.”
“That depends on your definition of good,” Tyril answered calmly before shoving down his throat a spoonful of red caviar. “Jude’s coming.”
Vena covered her forehead with her hand.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Adrina covered her lips with her hand, trying her best not to smile, and when their mother left the room, Tyril winked at her. Mrs Starfury rarely cursed, and when she did it sounded so unnaturally that it always made everyone smile. Tyril also seemed to have an innate talent for irritating his mother without trying. 
“Good thing she doesn’t know about you and Julian,” Adrina commented, following her brother out into the main room, where most of the guests were already mingling. 
“Depending on whether he took his medication like a good boy today, she might find out.”
“Well then, good luck.”
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The soft tones of a classical piece blended with the resonant chatter of the guests, occasional laughter and the clinking of glasses. Swerving right as to dodge the waiter holding an ornamented silver tray with eight champagne flutes, Jude almost collided with Adeline, who watched his rapid actions in horror, fearing that either the champagne will spill onto her dress or Jude will step on it. It was only in the last second when he managed to regain his balance. 
“Fucking hell,” she muttered, her hand landing on her chest involuntarily. Jude straightened his back, fixed his navy blue blazer and grinned at her.
“Ciao, sugar, how’s it hanging? Thought you didn’t swear, you prude.”
“That’s the effect you have on me, Julian.”
“Why so formal, Adelina?”
“Oh, shut up. Tyril’s waiting in the ballroom,” she instructed, narrowing her eyes slightly but trying not to show too much irritation. She hated being called by her birth name ever since in the eight grade someone told her that it sounds like a hooker name. Not knowing the true reason behind Adeline’s decision to slightly modify her name, Jude silently claimed his victory, flashed one more strained smile at her and turned left, wondering if he remembered the floor plan properly. As soon as he reached the end of the hall, he looked right and smiled, seeing a familiar silhouette within the sea of black suits. 
Tyril was wearing a black shirt and trousers, his waist tightly hugged by a belt with a gold buckle, and an ivory blazer on top. Jude whistled once he came closer, drawing Tyril’s attention—he hid his phone into the back pocket of his trousers, and although he fought bravely he failed, and a sheepish smile crept up on his lips. 
“Looking good, Starfury. Addie, always lovely to see you,” Jude bowed theatrically, making Adrina chuckle and Tyril roll his eyes. Using the opportunity of a waiter passing by, Tyril grabbed two flutes of champagne and emptied them within seconds.
Jude raised an eyebrow. Drinking under Mrs Starfury’s attentive gaze was unlike Tyril. “Which drink is it already?”
“Sec—"
"Fifth," Adrina interrupted, "so please have an eye on him tonight? I'd rather not piss mom off even more by not talking to the guests at my party." 
"Wouldn't want you to be put in timeout, go. Oh, and congrats on graduating, by the way," Jude winked at her and once she was out of earshot, he addressed the man next to him. "Getting drunk without me?" 
"If you had to listen to my mother tonight, you'd be lying unconscious under the table by now," Tyril shrugged. Given that they were standing in a room full of people, he couldn't embrace Jude, thus he didn't know what to do with his hands. He eventually put them in his pockets. "She found out about Adrina's broken off engagement and father's delayed retirement. Did you run across Adeline by any chance?"
"I did, she looked pissed. What'd you say to her?"
"That you'll be here. Somehow you made a lot of enemies, Jude."
The blonde shrugged his shoulders. His boyfriend’s ex-fiancee was the last thing he wanted to talk about, therefore, he took a look around the grand room, while Tyril sneakily reached for another glass. 
“Your house looks exactly the same as ten years ago, but somehow even more like a museum.”
Even your mother looks even more like a statue, he wanted to add, but bit his tongue before the words could escape his lips. Jude chugged a glass of champagne and placed the flute on a table, then wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand. 
The amount of white surfaces surrounding him was blinding, the marble and white stone brought about the association of mortuary and Mrs. Starfury’s piercing, adamant gaze provoked an uncomfortable churning in Jude’s stomach. Standing straight in the middle of the group in her black, satin jumpsuit with her long slender fingers wrapped around a champagne flute, watching him intently as if trying to drive him away with the sheer force of her gaze, she looked intimidating. Tyril’s mother emanated an aura of ethereality, nobody could deny that she was glamorous and moved as fluently as the blades of grass in the wind, but Jude was convinced she looked like a ghost of an upper-class Victorian lady haunting these halls and wailing for her lost youth. Given that Vena and Valir’s marriage was arranged, Jude’s theory did make a bit of sense there. Unwillingly, Jude took his eyes off the black-clad ghost.
Tyril hummed. The Starfury heir refused to drop his father’s gaze, despite people stopping by him to greet him. “This house is just for show, like this whole family.” 
“Unsurprisingly, they’re not happy to see me. Not that I care,” Jude added, sliding his fingers into the pockets of his trousers. “I didn’t expect to be greeted like the plague, though.”
Tyril's lips curled when his father decided to focus his attention on the guests, the only visible sign of the resentment that squeezed his heart, clouded judgement and clenched his fists. Seeing that, Jude stepped in, regretting he couldn't take his partner's hands into his, trying to soothe him. "Meet me in your room in an hour?"
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“Finally!” Jude exclaimed excitedly, picking himself up from the bed. Once Tyril turned the key in the door’s lock, St. Clair wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and locked their lips together in a searing kiss. A quiet, surprised moan escaped Tyril’s throat, but his body reacted automatically, forcing him to embrace the man in front of his and part his lips with the tip of his tongue.
The room filled with short, ragged breaths and shy moans as the men slowly made their way towards the palatial king-sized bed. The downpour outside intensified, pattering loudly against the windows, while the indistinct chatter of the extravagant banquet one floor below quietened, soon fading into oblivion. After what seemed like an eternity, Jude pulled back to take a breath, too overwhelmed by the ecstasy to open his eyes—instead, he rested his forehead against Tyril’s, his hands sliding down to blindly unbutton his blazer. In the background the bell tolled twelve times and a crowd of people cheered almost as if they were welcoming the new year. Soon after, indistinct tones of a classical piece reached their ears.
“Dance with me,” Tyril said into his ear. 
"Always, my love."
Julian, suddenly overcome with a wave of exhaustion, nestled up to his lover, for once feeling grateful for their height difference, and hummed feeling the warmness of the taller man's body. A fist seemed to clench around Tyril's heart at the sight, making it hard to breathe and most certainly impossible not to blush. Wrapping his arms around Jude, Tyril pressed a kiss to the top of his head, smiling at the thought of Jude choosing to appear at a formal banquet with his trademark messy nest on his head.
And despite Jude not being the best and most certainly the most supple dancer, the men rocked their bodies softly from left to right, not saying a word as no word was needed. At that moment, although short and bittersweet, they felt grateful that the universe granted them a second chance. 
"I'm grateful to have you in my life," Jude said softly, raising his chin to look his lover in the eyes. "Even if it's just for a moment."
The corner of Tyril's lips quirked almost unnoticeably.
He has a sparkle in his eyes when he looks at me, Tyril thought ten minutes later. Leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed on his chest, Tyril reciprocated the burning gaze of his lover who was watching him from the other end of the balcony, illuminated by the soft yellow wall light. He smiles, seems to be looking at my lips, but his mind is somewhere else. 
“Fuck it,” the blonde murmured, having pondered long enough, and lit up the cigarette he’d been rolling around in his fingers for a few minutes. 
Tyril watched him pull at the cigarette, hold the smoke for a couple of seconds with his eyes closed and eventually blowing it out. Jude wasn't a regular smoker, but he always had a pack of cigarettes on him just in case and as much as Tyril hated the smell he couldn't help but find himself fascinated with the way Jude's lips closed around the contraption, the way he always looked so focused and stunning creating perfect circles with his lips. 
Having caught Tyril staring, Jude smiled at nodded at him.
"What's up, handsome?" 
"You should spend the night at my place."
A quiet, somewhat mocking "oh" escaped Jude's lips. It wasn't very often that Tyril invited anyone to his penthouse, the posh, extravagant two storey apartment that he barely spent time at. "And how are you going to entertain me?"
"I believe the ideas will appear in my head once I have you naked in my bedroom, leaning against the window with the rising sun shining at your body and the awakening city watching us."
Jude bit his lip and put out his cigarette. "Careful, your horny poet side starts to show."
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Adeline was easily the most stunning woman in the room, not just that day, but any day in any room, and if anyone dared think otherwise Tyril would call them a fool. He loved her, a bit too much even, but not the kind of love that he loved Jude. Love for Jude was pure, natural, easy, loving Adeline required patience and often times felt one-sided. Adeline Perillard was sweet, intelligent, dedicated and loyal, but she had one flaw that's been heavy on Tyril's heart—she was becoming more and more selfish. It was half of the reason why he broke off their engagement.
And if that wasn't enough, there was also Selene—innocent, troubled, undecided, yet something in his heart was telling him that she's the one. His best friend, confidant, lover, his finite and ultimate zing. There was one issue, though—he didn't know anything about her.
"You're missing steps," Adeline said quietly, raising her head to look into her partner's absent eyes. Tyril hummed in response, not bothering to meet her gaze, and She quickly realized that it was a futile effort. Tyril's mind was somewhere else, partly in his room with Jude, partly arguing with his parents. Having given up on grabbing his attention, the brunette rested her head against Tyril's chest again, in the exact spot where Jude's head had been resting just minutes before, and feigned a smile at Tyril's parents when the dancing couple entered her sight.
Seeing that Adeline was still wearing her engagement ring, Vena smiled faintly at the thought that perhaps not all is lost and despite her son's reckless "city break" with a random girl as she decided to call it, Tyril and Adeline decided to start over. Little did she know that them being together was purely promotional, and both had already found another significant other. 
Unlike Jude and certainly unlike Selene, Adeline was an incredible dancer. Her moves were fluent and charismatic, in her red, sparkling dress she looked as if she was floating above the ground, holding the hand of her lover. In reality, though, she felt a knot in her stomach and a wave of sadness crashing into her heart. Burying her face into Tyril's body, Adeline tried to blink away the tears, but failed miserably as the sudden movement drew Tyril’s attention.
"Adeline?" he hummed, dropping his gaze to the woman in his arms. When she didn't react, his hand slid up into her hair and his cheek rested against the side of her head. "Do you want to step outside?"
Once a weak confirmation reached his ears, Tyril left the room, shielding Adeline from curious glances. 
"Are you alright?"
"Obviously not," she murmured, blowing her nose. Despite her best efforts, the tears just wouldn't stop ruining her make-up. "Pretending to be your fiancée again is one thing, but seeing you sending loving glances at the man I've always been worried about is another. You have to stop hurting me,” she wept. “First you run away with some whore instead of trying to fix our relationship! And then you get back with the guy who’d apparently always been on your mind when you were with me? I know I fucked up, Tyril, I know I wasn’t there when you needed me, but I do not deserve to be treated like this.”
Tyril clenched his jaw. Deep down in his heart, he knew Adeline was right, but in that exact moment when he felt that he was truly happy with Jude, his mind clouded with anger. Feeling as if Adeline was trying to ruin his happiness, his brain frantically looked for the best, the most hurtful comeback. 
“Then why did you agree to this stunt?” he asked. “I have a hard time believing you care about the media’s attention, so why?”
Perillard laughed ruefully.“God, you’re so imperceptive! I love you, idiot! Believe me when I say I tried my hardest to hate you, but I can’t. I was stupid and naive enough to believe that perhaps we could try to pick up the pieces of our relationship, but now, having watched you and your new toy for long enough, I think I know what’s your problem,” Adeline continued, her desperation turning into anger. Tyril not responding, infuriated her even more. “You fall in love easily, but are unable of truly loving. You run when there’s the first sign of trouble. You’re pathetic.”
Tyril laughed involuntarily. He hated that she was right. 
“We’re done,” she added, calmly, wiping the tears off her cheeks. “I’m done.”
Adeline twirled around and headed towards the exit, running upon Jude as she went. Despite the urge to stop and tell him how much she hated him, the woman straightened her back and raised her chin. Jude, confused and alarmed by the screams resonating in the empty hall, came out of the main room. 
“Take me home,” Tyril asked with his hands still balled into fists. Suddenly, as if waking up from lethargy, he felt all the alcohol he drank, the lightheadedness and exhaustion, which ironically made him feel as if a massive weight was just lifted from his chest. “Please, take me home.”
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moocowmoocow · 2 years
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John/Delenn, two miserable people at a wedding!
John was happy for Susan. He really was. He tugged at his dress uniform which had been in storage on the Agamemnon for years and felt constricting. He took a sip from a champagne flute he’d been nursing for awhile and grimaced. It was flat.
The grimace turned to a genuine smile when he watched a giggling Susan shove cake into the face of the blond woman she married. Who would have thought she’d find love with a telepath? John vividly remembered her pushing a telepath out of a window on Io. If anyone deserved some happiness, it was Susan.
It was just damned awkward to be at a wedding where he knew no one and everyone else knew everyone. It made him -
It made him miss Anna.
He swallowed the rest of the champagne before his attention was drawn to a loud disturbance at the table where the ambassadors sat. It looked like the Centauri ambassador was drunk and looking to annoy the Narn ambassador. The woman sat between them sighed and pushed away from the table.
When John heard that a Minbari had become partly human through the soldiers’ grapevine, he wasn’t sure how he felt. He had killed Minbari and the Minbari had killed many humans. Nearly wiped them out. He shoved it into the back of his mind - it was some other bastard’s problem, not his.
But seeing her, that was something else entirely. He was quite aware he was staring but everyone was wrapped up in the celebrations and didn’t notice. And the glass she held — was that?
Orange juice.
He made his way over to where she stood away from the crowd, glass in one hand, the other arm held across her waist. “Excuse me,” he said. “Is that orange juice?”
She startled before she turned toward him. But not before she could conceal a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Yes.”
“Can you show me where you got some?”
She nodded and he followed her toward a less busy portion of the bar. They both received new glasses. John took a swallow and dear lord, it tasted even better than he remembered. He didn’t even try to hide the moan that escaped him. His companion smirked at him. “Good?”
“I’ve been in out on the rim for months, Ambassador. Sometimes I dream about oranges.”
“We do not have oranges on Minbar, but we have a fruit that is very similar. A little less acidic and purple. It makes me both less and more homesick when I drink it.”
John finished his glass and was gratified to see a new one appear. “Are you homesick often?”
“No. Not often.” She paused and John caught a glimpse of the sorrow in her eyes again. “I had forgotten what a large role alcohol plays in human rituals.”
“Well, since there’s orange juice, you won’t have to worry about drinking alone.”
“That’s very kind of you - what is your name?”
“John Sheridan.”
He watched her eyes widen a bit. But instead of throwing her drink in his face and calling him Starkiller, she merely bowed. “Delenn.”
And the two of them fell into conversation. He told her about his father’s orange trees and she told him about the gardens of Minbar. He told her stories of Susan before Babylon 5 and his current command and she told him stories about the station and its residents. He started to envy Susan. They were laughing about cats when Susan came to their table. “Thank you for coming, John.”
“Susan! Congratulations!” He stood and swept her into a hug.
“Ask her to dance,” Susan whispered in his ear.
And after Susan left, he followed her orders. He asked Delenn to dance, to build more bridges between humans and Minbari. And with a smile that dazzled him, she agreed.
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weiwuxian-lanzhan · 3 years
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mcheang · 3 years
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Volpina vs Old Lady
Anybody recognize her? 😂
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After a disappointing vacation to Africa, Nana decided to visit Paris instead. There were less bad kitties there.
Plagg suddenly sneezed. Adrien felt a chill down his spine and raised the aircon temperature.
Nana liked Paris. The culture and friendly Parisians were charming, she was even getting addicted to the goodies at the Dupain-Cheng patisserie. She decided to visit there every day to try a new treat.
Marinette was such a darling girl that she even gave Nana a homemade Christmas present for being such a regular customer.
The only thing annoying Nana were the frequent akumas and that bad black kitty.
Not that the akumas ever attacked her. They just disrupted her holiday itinerary. And she is not impressed by a flirty kitty distracting a serious heroine.
One day, nearing Christmas, Nana had just neared the patisserie to give Marinette one of her handmade scarves. They both love to bond about the joys of knitting. When she saw a girl in ugly orange play a flute, before suddenly turning into Marinette, but with an evil smile.
Ugh. Another akuma. But this one trying to frame Marinette? Unacceptable.
As Volpina started wrecking the bakery (the real Marinette was outside giving gifts to the homeless and orphanages), Nana suddenly came in and said, “Bad akuma!”
To Volpina’s surprise, the little old lady whacked her in the head with a surprisingly heavy purse, breaking her illusion in a puff of orange smoke.
Nana: framing a sweet girl on Christmas Eve? Unforgivable! Take that! And that!
Basically Nana gives Volpina a major beat down.
Tom: Nana, stop, she’s just a girl!
Nana: she’s an akuma with a magical suit.
Tom: true...but still...
Nana: she framed your daughter
Tom: she’s not worth it
Nana: she still deserves a good smack. In my day, we would have used a cane.
I think a cane would be preferable to her purse...
Volpina: Hawkmoth, help!
The akuma left Lila alone. Nana had to stop now. But Lila was still bruised without a miraculous cure.
Lila: what is wrong with you? How could you hurt me?
Nana: how could you frame Marinette? Such a sweet girl, giving gifts to the poor.
Lila: she’s a bully
Nana: ha! As if! I know bullies, and Marinette is definitely not one. You seem like the type.
Lila: I am not! I help Prince Ali with his charities.
Nana: never heard of him. But if you yourself claim to be innocent, why the desire for revenge, huh?
Lila: it was Hawkmoth!
Nana: he only persuades you to do what you already want to do!
Lila: no, I-
Nana smacked Lila on the face again. “And that’s for still trying to frame Marinette on Christmas Eve!”
Lila burst into tears and ran away, terrified of the old lady. It’s not like she can turn people on an elderly lady...especially when they also seem either awed or petrified of her.
Hawkmoth felt Volpina’s pain and wondered what would happen if he akumatized the old lady...maybe another day...he called back his akuma.
Nathalie looked up when Gabriel left his lair. “No new akuma? What happened to Miss Rossi’s petty jealous tantrum?”
Gabriel: she got beat up by an old lady
Nathalie: I wish I could have seen it
Gabriel: I’m pretty sure I saw a customer filming it.
Nathalie: do you think Lila’s resulting embarrassment will be worth an akuma?
Gabriel:...you just want to watch her get beat up again, don’t you?
Nathalie: I’m the one who has to spend more time with her at photoshoots. The brat is insufferable and exhausting. And she never shuts up! If she’s not bragging, she’s whining.
Gabriel: mmm....consider it an extra Christmas present then.
True to form, the video of Nana beating up Volpina before calling out Lila for wanting to frame Marinette got a million hits within ten minutes. Lila’s accusations about Marinette being a bully are in direct contrast to her public actions giving free presents and food. Nana’s remark about how Hawkmoth only encouraged her inner desires also struck home. Lila wanted to hurt Marinette. If she were really a victim, she would want justice/revenge and truth, not framework. That’s not how previous bullied-victims-turned-akumas had done. Stoneheart and Evillustrator sought revenge, not framing. Lady Wifi and Silencer sought truth.
Confronted by all the negative comments, Lila is transformed back into Volpina to frame Nana as a wacko old lady.
She returns to the patisserie with her new disguise and wrecks the shop, insulting Marinette’s family in the process.
Marinette correctly suspects this is a vengeful Volpina rather than the real Nana, who mentioned she would be on a museum tour.
Nana learns of the imposter and asks her fellow tour groupées to help clear her name. They all post her true whereabouts and declare her innocence.
Chat Noir is alarmed at this and runs to the museum to protect Nana because obviously Volpina will be after her.
To everyone’s surprise, Nana is not welcoming towards the hero offering her a lift to safety. Instead he is the next one to receive a purse in the face.
Nana: bad kitty! Didn’t your parents teach you to treat your elders with respect? Learn to ask for permission before carrying me around like a bride across the city! And you think an old lady can’t take care of herself? Give us more credit! Don’t assume we are all fragile and vulnerable. I can take care of myself!
Ladybug arrives.
Ladybug: Nana! Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright. Um...why are you hitting Chat Noir with a ruler?
Nana: this bad kitty needs to learn manners.
Ladybug: Chat, say you’re sorry. But Nana, we can’t ask you to fight in this battle for us. It’s our job to take care of you. Which is a shame because you are really good at kicking akuma butt.
Nana patted Ladybug’s cheek. “Such a sweet girl. Don’t worry. I can check out the gift store and hide in there. But that faker will probably find me there. Why not use me as bait?”
Rena shows up. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Rena plays her flute and transforms into Nana.
Nana hummed, eyeing her doppleganger. “Not bad.”
Volpina does show up, intent on proving she can take on an old lady. Come on, she has agility, she should have some strength too.
Only Nana turns out to be an angry Rena.
When Lila is deakumatized, both Rena and Nana tear into her for lying and framing an old lady. And yes, the matter is clear that Lila and Ladybug are not best friends at all.
There are videos of this, of course. And some commenters join the cause to unravel Lila’s outrageous lies, helpfully told by their classmates.
It is enough to gather the attention of the embassy. Mrs Rossi is ashamed of her daughter and agrees to send her back home because clearly she will be very negative in this city for a while now.
Not that home is any better since her videos have gone viral all around the world.
Lila is sentenced to homeschooling where she is safe. But to prevent her from learning of her own infamy, all electronics are confiscated. Lila herself knows any dreams of fame and riches are now dashed unless she wants to turn to crime.
She will have to undergo a major physical transformation and get a new name if she wants to re-enter society....after she is cleared by her psychiatrist that is...
Back in Paris, Chat wonders why the old lady seems to hate him. Then he finds a news article about her beating up a lion.
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Plagg: she hates cats in general. Lucky us.
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My Little Physician Empress ~ Yin Zhen x Reader
Just a story in which reader, a regular girl, was allowed since very young to aid her father in being a Royal Physician, and helped the princes through the years without asking for anything in return.
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Since ancient times, views on physician women have been distorted times and times again - Sometimes they are shamans, other times they are witches, and oftentimes, they simply don't deserve to live, no matter how many lives they save, or how capable they are.
Even now, in Qing dynasty, there is stigma, and all the physicians in the palace are men.
But that will soon change when, one day, a Physician from outside the palace is able to come up with a proper cure for the plague that was rampaging the people and somehow, found its way inside the palace too, and he was rewarded handsomely - He was awarded a wish granted - Any wish he wanted.
And that was to have his daughter allowed to aid him in his work inside the palace. He explained how his daughter played around with concoctions one day, and somehow gave him the brilliant idea for a revolutionary cure, and with this story, the Emperor indulged the old man and got them both in the palace.
They didn't earn a lot of money, but it was enough for them to dress appropriately with living in the palace. The girl never got any kind of accessory, so she mainly held her hand in a simply braid, occasionally put some flowers in it, and was ready to go on with the day in aiding her father.
But she was always a curious little girl, and very often, she went outside to play and discover every nook and cranny around the palace - Which is when she met the fourth prince - Not that she knew, though.
She held some struggling and splashing in the water one night, and saw a eunuch running away. Upon investigating, she saw a child who wasn't trashing around anymore, and he was about her age. She jumped in the lotus pond, getting him to the surface and, after opening his jacket, she pressed on his chest between his lungs and leaned in to give him the kiss of life.
As expected, the boy then jolted in a sitting position and started coughing, before falling into her arms once again, exhausted.
"How are you feeling?" she asked in a gentle voice, her hand on his cheek to get his attention. "Fine...I'm better now...Whoever pushed me is going to get killed, I'll make sure of that." the boy was angry, and rightfully so. He tried to get up, but was still wobbly, so the girl helped him go back to his room, letting him lean on her side. "It was an Eunuch. I saw him running away from the pond after you got underneath the water." she told him what she saw. "Now that I think about it...Who are you? I've never seen you around the palace, have I?" he asked suspiciously. "Don't be suspicious of the person who saved your life. I am Y/N, daughter of the Royal Physician who came up with the cure for the plague." she explained in a gentle manner. "Figures. Then, that means you know who I am, don't you?" he scoffed lightly. "Uh...No, not really. Should I?" she tilted her head a little to the side. "You don't? They why did you save me?" he asked, even more confused now. "...Because you were dying?! Did you notice that? Was I supposed to let you die there? Tell me, I can quite literally drag you back to the pond and throw you back if you want? I will ask for you name first and only then rescue you." she scolded him in disbelief at his ungratefulness. "No. No, you're right. Anyway, thanks for saving me. How did you save me? I know I blacked out as some point, right?" he said, and with all the nonchalance in the world, she answered. "I gave you the kiss of life." this answer made the boy stop in his tracks, yelling at her. "YOU DID WHAT?! That’s... That’s improper! I will have you flogged and caned for that! You’re a woman, and I’m a man, and we are both unmarried, it’s... It’s...!" he gaped at her in horror. "You do realise you stopped breathing, don't you? And if I didn't get you breathing again, your heart would have stopped. If your heart stopped pumping, blood wouldn't have gone everywhere in your body, to all your organs, therefor you would have gotten a total system failure in less than 10 to 15 minutes. That means, for idiots like you who don't value life, that you would have died if I didn't do that." she rolled her eyes at him, dragging him inside the pavilion, where lots of eunuchs and maids fussed over him. "Su Peisheng! Reward this maid handsomely, she saved my life." the little boy said - He must be one of the princes, the girl thought, amused. "No thanks. I saved your life, that's all. You yelled enough at me, I don't want anything from you anymore. Next time I try to save your life, remind me to ask you your name first and only then ask consent to save your life." the girl rolled her eyes at him, thinking him hypocritical, and turned around to go home, only to have the boy catch her wrist immediately. "Then, ask for anything, and I'll give it to you." he said, very seriously. "Fine. I'm not a maid, I'm a Female Physician, therefor you must address me properly from now on. Physician Y/N. Got it?" her voice was authoritarian, but she didn't inspire malice or evil, and it quite amused the young prince. "Very well. Until we meet again, Physician Y/N." and thus, making her smile softly, she left the place with a nod of Goodnight. "Su Peisheng." the boy called out his eunuch one again. "What do Physician girls like?" he asked, almost innocently. "Forgive me, Your Highness, this one does not know, for there have not been female physicians in the palace before. However, girls usually like feminine things like clothes and accessories. Miss Y/N wasn't wearing any, as far as I saw." the eunuch provided the young prince with the information. "I see...Very well. Tomorrow, you will send some red agate earrings to her. Make sure you give them to her directly." the boy ordered his slave, who nodded in agreement.
However, the next day, the eunuch returned as he left - With the gift box in his hands and endless apologies. "Miss Y/N wanted me to inform you never to gift her...To quote her...Useless things. Pardon my rudeness, Your Highness, I am merely telling you her words. She said that expensive earrings won't help her save lives. I tried to convince her, but she threatened to throw them in the pigstry." the eunuch kowtowed to the ground in front of the young prince, only for him to raise him up and chuckle in amusement. "Don't worry, it's fine. I'll just bring them to mother and ask her for advice. This is no ordinary girl I'm dealing with."
And this way, his mother advised him to find rare healing-related books, even more so, from the West, and gift them to her. She immediately accepted them, and Yin Zhen often found the mysterious girl reading by the wisteria tree, unbothered by anything and anyone.
The 4th prince often looked at her and got reminded of his annoying 3rd prince brother, but at least she wasn't so obsolete and dissolute like him.
He would find her occasionally swinging in the Apricot garden, where it was mostly quiet and very few people visited, and even so, he would often hear her practicing flute-playing.
The next Prince she met was, to Yin Zhen’s entertainment and slight jealousy, was the 3rd Prince, Yin Zhi, as she was delivering medicine to one of the Imperial Concubines, the foreign melodious tune of an instrument she has never heard of before, and as expected, her curiosity led her directly to this Prince who seemed just a bit older than her, standing under a tree and practicing said instrument.
The girl could only stay there in awe, the wonderful melody taking over her senses and imagination, only for a sudden screech to destroy everything, making her yelp in shock. The jerk of a Prince made the bow unceremoniously scratch the violin’s strings, making a God Forsaken ear-bleeding noise.
“Hope you enjoyed that as well, stalker.” the prince sneered at her, but to his surprise, she merely chuckled. “Wonderful how such an elegant instrument can create hellish sounds in the wrong hands. Only someone hardworking, dedicated and with grace can play this instrument. You are a Prince, aren’t you?” she leaned on the tree, a knowing smirk on her face. “If you figured that out, then why aren’t you bowing to the ground right now?” the aggressiveness displayed in his voice and words seemed to contradict his actions as he sat down at the table, where neatly drawn blueprints and parts to be engineered with. “I can accept the consequences of my mistake and I even won’t protest, should you want to take my head off, should you be so kind as to explain to me the process of building this wonderful instrument. It is a Western one, is it not?” she sat down next to him, analysing the papers carefully. “What would some lowly maid like you know of Western technology? Why should I waste my time on you?” he scoffed, looking down at her. “Do you not find sharing such groundbreaking information with someone genuinely interested to be rather... Enlightening? From my short stay here, in the Palace, I have found out that the 2nd Prince is rather dissolute and promiscuous, but at the same time, a very intelligent and lonely person who cannot interact with others. From the looks of it, you simply have completely different aspirations and interests, while your brothers are solely interested in this Game of Thrones, and you cannot possibly have a proper, intellectual conversation with them. Correct me if I’m wrong, however, and I will leave you alone.” that vixen-like smile on her face made the Prince want to strangle her and wipe that stupid smirk off her face for daring to figure him out so well. At the same time, however, he hasn’t felt so challenged in his life and frankly, this little maid could prove to be more interesting than expected. “I’ll have you thrown to the Office of Punishments should you dare bore me at any time after the cheeky, daring stunt you pulled. Now, you better be paying attention to every word I am about to tell you, I hate repeating myself for dumb airheads, understood?” his voice was serious and mature, especially for someone his age, but that only meant that Y/N had what to learn from him, and for that, she was grateful. “I swear to do my best and keep up with your intellectual explanations, so please, do be patient with me for I am very grateful for the time you are taking out of your schedule to teach me.” she bowed her head to him, and thus, with a soft huff, the Prince began explaining the to the girl about the peculiar instrument in his hands. “This is called a Violin, and this is called a Bow. As you guessed, this instrument was created in the West, from a country called “Italy”, in an unknown date from the 16th century. Although paintings from back then show the Violin had 3 strings, now, as you can see, it has four...” and so, he continued by showing her the component parts of the violin both on the instrument, and on the blueprints, only for him to, in the end, gift her the ink drawing he made of the original blueprint, as a way for her to promise to continue studying on her own too.
There were many other Royal Princes and Princesses, but many weren’t as interesting as the 3rd and 4th Prince who, quite frankly, were a force to be reckoned with. While Yin Zhi would teach her how to build a clock, or show her interesting literature, Yin Zhen would be adamant in taking her horse-riding and, surprisingly, he was rather interested in her healing knowledge, thus why, he would always acquire the rarest books from all over the world and, instead of giving them for the Physicians to learn, he would gift them to this lovely maid whose company he loved so much.
Time passed quickly, they got older, both Y/N and her father rapidly advanced in their ranks thanks to their revolutionary treatments that cured every illness, and the princes all grew into fine men - Which meant that the true Game of Thrones began for everyone in the palace, not just them.
The first to go down was the Crown Prince who, as Y/N discovered, had ricing powder put in his food. “It is quite simple, and unfortunately, incredibly deadly, even in small doses. All you need is the beans from a castor oil plant, you make them into powder and... You’ve got one of the deadliest poisons there are. My only guess is, it would have to have been someone from the Imperial Kitchens who could do such a feat because, if the powder was put on the dishes after being prepared, it would still be mildly visible, whereas if it was put in a big pot, it would get homogenized and thus, leave no visible or taste trace.” Y/N explained in front of the Emperor, standing poised and ignoring all the other many eyes staring at her. “I have heard many times of ricin, but none was ever brave enough to dare bring it into the Palace, especially after I have forbidden any dish to be made with Castor oil! For the poison to act, one administration was enough?” Emperor Kangxi asked, rage and sorrow evident on his face. “No, Your Majesty. I imagine that the culprit played it smart and only added small doses of ricin powder in His Highness’s food, but regularly. I have read the Medical Files from the Bureau of Imperial Physicians and I have noticed that His Highness was complaining of an upset stomach, difficulty in breathing, occasional coughs that turned bloody over time and spiking fevers - Again, all over a rather long period of time. If the culprit were to use a large dose of powder, the Princes wouldn’t have been able to finish all the food from the plate and, therefor, the Ricin would have been tenfold easier to detect. In this situation, however, small doses meant nobody would believe His Highness got sick because of the food, because of his healthy appetite, hence why he was treated symptomatically for unrelated, yet very possible diseases.” the Female Physician went on further with the deduction, which angered the Emperor even further. “These jackals won’t even allow my sons to eat anymore! From now on, every meal will have to be tested before any person from the Royal Family eats it. Find the culprit immediately!” the Emperor thundered, his voice echoing throughout the Hall of Mental Cultivation. “Your Majesty, if I may... Ricin cannot be detected with silver, and if it is put in hot meals, it wouldn’t be traceable anymore. There is no way to detect it. While ingesting the poison is admittedly the least toxic pathway into the human body... Even with a small dose, it starts to cause internal damage in as little as 6 hours after ingesting. In regular doses, death can occur in a maximum of 3 days, which means, to my understanding, that His Highness may have started being poisoned a week ago at most.” the girl spoke confidently, but also with a tint of reticence. “Are you trying to tell me there is no way of detecting the culprit?!” the man rose up from his throne, pointing his finger at her. “On the contrary. With the grace and cooperation of His Highness, the 4th Prince, a small pouch of herbs mixed with ricin powder was found in the pockets of one of the eunuchs helping at the Imperial Kitchens. That is to say... If the truth comes out that this eunuch was the one who put the powder in the food... We need a testimony and evidence that would point towards the mastermind behind this operation of regicide. His Highness was the Crown Prince and a mere eunuch wouldn’t be affected in any way by the future Emperor, however that may be, but someone who could benefit in having another candidate on the throne would get actively involved in working from the shadows...” she didn’t dare move her sight from the furious Eye of Heaven, no matter how much she wanted to avert her eyes and look at the Prince, begging to be taken away from there because the tension was crushing. “Yin Zhen!” calling out his son’s name, he stepped next to Y/N, bowed and knelt next to her. “The two of you did good in solving this crime. From now on, the two of you shall continue unmasking the truth of this mystery and bring justice to my son, the Crown Prince, got it? No matter who it is, I will have them punished!” the Emperor’s last command was abided by the two of them bowing to the ground and calling out their responses - “Yes, Your Majesty!”
And thus, the Hall of Mental Cultivation was cleared and the two people in cause walked away, looking at each other and letting out sighs of relief.
“Let’s not do that again.” the girl managed to mutter, putting the back of her hand to her forehead, exhausted from the trial. “You’re tired just from this? I was expecting a lot worse.” the Prince smirked at her, seeing her roll her eyes. “Yes, well, the Royal Family business isn’t for me. I’m fine just healing people and studying. It’s actually relaxing, you should try that once in a while.” she nudged him softly, only for him to stop in his tracks. “What if I tell you I want you to join the Royal Family.” he crossed his arms, looking at her with a playful expression. “I’d tell you... You’ve lost your mind... And that nobody would agree to something like this. I suppose I should remind you that... I am a commoner and you are, and I hope it doesn’t come as a shock to you, not only the Prince but... A very strong candidate at being the next Crown Prince.” she shook her head in amusement. “Father wants to promote you to Noble Lady Shuyu.” he refuted immediately. “Having ‘Noble’ in a title does not make you of noble birth. Don’t make it difficult for either of us, Yin Zhen. Not to mention, you would be doing me a great disservice by marrying me.” she explained, cautiously looking around for any prying eyes. “How is giving you a life of unlimited luxuries means I’m doing you a disservice?” he stepped closer to her, holding her hands to his chest. “I am jealous, first of all. Even if I am to be your main wife, which, by the way, is impossible, you would still need to have a huge amount of concubines because that is the life of a Duke and/or the Emperor, should you actually get the title. That doesn’t exactly sit amazingly well with me to begin with... And that also means I’m not exactly the most Virtuous, Selfless and King Empress that everyone would want the woman holding this title to be. That and... If I marry into the Royal Family, I won’t be able to continue my Physician work, and I will only have to stay inside a stupid, but nicely furnished palace, with tons of servants to do whatever the hell I want and many more other women who will be jealous of me and will plot to kill me. Ah, yes and the unfortunate case of you getting bored of me for a younger girl, when we get older, but that’s just that.” she got her hands back, and smiled at him sarcastically. “You’re an impossible woman, you know that, right? If you do, you should also know that, for you, I would give up the title of Crown Prince. If I am a duke, then it shouldn’t matter if I marry one woman alone, and whether or not she continues her hobby of healing people in a palace far away from the Forbidden City, where there would be no envious eye that would wish you harm. How does that sound.” his words were soft and gentle, and with every sweet word, he could see the girl’s defenses lowering down, bit by bit. “You would be an idiot to turn down the title you worked so hard for, especially after this perfect opportunity has just knocked on our doors. Don’t be stupid, Yin Zhen. I can still love you even if we are not legally married. Listen, we both know the 2nd Prince is the culprit, right? Him and his lousy mother of his, who wants to become the next Empress. I have a plan to take both of them down, and if we succeed, your place on the throne is automatically... But we have to be very smart about it. Very, very smart. Are you in?” she turned to look at him, as he stepped very close to her, cupping her face and kissing her forehead. “Since when have you become so scheming?” he asked, proud and amused. “Since I have a reason to win.” she winked at him, putting her hand on his face so he could lean down and hear the plot.
Months passed, and Y/N has been as busy as ever taking care of the women of the Harem since Imperial Concubine Yu was pregnant and the Empress, the late 1st Prince’s mother, protectively took her under her wing, while the sole Female Physician was to take care of her.
Thankfully, every plan was set in motion and time flew so fast, it was unexpected that 9 months already passed and the Concubine was ready to give birth already. Unfortunately for her, the Empress, along with the Empress Dowager, were away to pray for Buddha, and thus, the Noble Consort was now the most powerful woman in the Harem, and able to take decisions in place of the Empress.
As Y/N helped the Concubine give birth, to her shock, she realised the baby was very much yellow - But not only the little prince’s body, but his eyes as well. It caused a lot of shock and stir ups... But the unfortunate timing of arrival of the Noble Consort was enough to grab the baby from the midwife’s hands and toss is carelessly to the eunuchs who was digging a hole in the backyard of the Empress’s palace, to bury the infant alive, while the poor Concubine mother was frantically trying to escape the grasp of the eunuch keeping her away so she could rescue her baby.
But it was in vain, and no matter how much the mother begged, the Consort was absolutely ruthless. She was digging into the dirt, trying to rescue her child, but all of the Empress’s maids were uselessly staring, frightened and very much afraid for their lives.
Smartly, Y/N went inside the Empress’s palace and took her seal - As she ran back to the scene of the crime and yelled at the Consort to end this mess.
“The golden seal of the Empress is here! Enough of this mess! Yes, the infant has golden eyes, but the truth is, this might just be a medical problem, and we cannot know for sure if it is not investigated! Under such context, we must wait for Her Highness the Empress to make the decision! Noble Consort, I have begged you again and again to cease your actions, but I have no other way of stopping you. Seeing this golden seal is like seeing Her Highness the Empress herself, whether the 17th Prince is indeed sick, and how Noble Lady Yu should be dealt with, we must all wait for the decree of Her Highness the Empress. Any other person isn’t allowed to take any arbitrary action!” as Y/N glared angrily at the Noble Consort, showing off the Imperial Box that was hiding the Empress’s seal, the well known voice of the Eunuch announcing his Majesty’s arrival resounded through the place. “What happened?” the Emperor asked, followed by the 2nd, 3rd and 4th  Princes. “Greeting His Majesty. Your Majesty, the little prince was born with golden pupils. His whole body is yellow. The Empress isn’t in the palace. I’m enforcing the palace law on her behalf. I was just about to punish the mother and child, but who knew that the servants of Changchun Palace would publicly stop me.” the Consort threw a shady look at the Physician. “Your Majesty, I dare not hinder Noble Consort in implementing the law. It’s just that Her Highness the Empress repeatedly instructed that we all must protect Noble Lady Yu. Before the Empress returns, no one is allowed to make punishments without permission. Moreover, whether the little prince is indeed sick or not, as a Physician, I must advise everyone not to make conclusions based solely on what we see. There was no time for me, or any of my colleagues to check the health of the little prince, therefor, this may all just be an unfortunate misunderstanding, not a bad omen. The action of Her Highness the Noble Consort is too hasty.” Y/N confidently explained the problem for the Emperor. “You wench, how dare you speak ill of my mother?!” the new Crown Prince, the 2nd Prince, rushed forward to slap the girl’s face angrily. “Father, there is nothing impossible in this vast world. I, who has been studying various Western practices would know that what we may consider impossible or strange, other would deem normal, and vice versa. It may just be as the Female Physician says - That the 17th Prince’s golden pupils are just because of some strange illness that, if treated, will disappear.” the 3rd Prince stuck up to the girl. “Your Majesty, my child surely has some weird illness! I beg you, Your Majesty, I beg you to immediately have him treated.” the mother’s pleas melted the Emperor’s heart. “Li Yu.” the Emperor called out his head eunuch. “Call the Imperial Medical College for a consult. And find out if Physician Y/N’s father returned from his trip abroad.” and thus, the Emperor called everyone in cause once again to the Hall of Mental Cultivation to hear the testimonies and make a decision.
Two elder doctors came inside the Palace and reported their explanations to the Emperor, while the poor, desperate mother was thrown out of the room so she could calm down and stop shrieking.
“I’ve seen a lot of babies with yellowish faces, but I’ve never seen a case where the pupils are also golden yellow.” one of them explained. “Is there no way to cure him?” Yin Zhen asked the Physicians. “This is not an illness, so there is no way to cure it. There is no such thing as a child with golden pupils in this world.” Physician Zhang answered adamant. “I know Your Majesty is unwilling to do it, but if we don’t resolve it today, if the sun rises tomorrow, the news that a Noble Lady of the Forbidden Palace has given birth to a child with golden pupils will spread to the empire as if it has wings. I fear that people will be in panic and it will be hard to handle the consequences. Hence, I hardened my heart, all for Your Majesty’s sake, for the Qing Empire. Even if everyone will blame me for it, I won’t mind. Your Majesty, why are you still  hesitating?” the dead silence that followed was, as if on cue, disturbed by the baby’s cries. With a hurried smile, Y/N hurried to take the baby in her arms and kneel in front of the Emperor. “Your Majesty, look! Although the little prince is yellowish all over, his cry is very strong! Your Majesty, he is a live person and he is connected with Your Majesty by blood! How could you kill him so easily?!” Y/N spoke quickly, hoping to appeal to the Emperor’s soft heart strings. “Isn’t the Empress to kind? Indulging a mere physician to act like this? When your masters are talking, how could you interfere?!” the Noble Consort harshly reprimanded the girl. “I recognize my mistakes, however, as a Physician myself, while it is true that I do not know everything in this world, I can also say that I had my fair share of travelling, albeit, not as much as my father. The yellowing of the body may as well be jaundice, especially if we take into account the severity of the colour. In some texts that I have read, it is said that, on rare occasions, if the jaundice is severe, it may even affect the colour of the eyes. Your Majesty, I have no reason to work against anyone. My work is to heal people, which is why I am fighting so hard to save this child - Not only because he is Your Majesty’s child, but because all lives must be treasured and treated with great importance. If this child is sick and I can cure him, than I have done my purpose in life.” the girl gritted her teeth, trying to control herself. “Father, can’t you see you’ve been indulging this wench for far too long? You give a common wench a helping hand, and now look how unruly and disruptive she is! Speaking back to her superiors! Shameless!” the Crown Prince growled at the girl who was incriminating his mother. “Father, if I may - As Physician Y/N said, all of our Imperial Physicians have been working only inside the palace for so long. If a strange illness occurs, they may have no knowledge of that, perhaps even outside of the usual textbooks. If I understood correctly, Y/N father has returned to the palace just yesterday, perhaps his opinion will be of use, should this simply be a case of misdiagnosis.” the 4th Prince quickly defended her. “Nonesense! Could a distinguished Imperial Physician of the Imperial Medical College have less knowledge and experience than a common maid like you with no proper training or education?” Physician Zhang scoffed at her. “Your Majesty, although I’m well-versed in children’s illnesses, there is nothing truly impossible in this vast world. Maybe there are still a lot of strange illnesses that I’ve never had a chance to be in contact with. Many Physicians tried to get rid of the plague, but only Physician Liyue was able to do it, a common man from outside the Palace with no former education. Just because we haven’t seen it, doesn’t mean it can’t exist.” Physician Yang spoke modestly. “Physician Yang, are you old and muddled?! A matter that you yourself isn’t sure of, you dare report it to His Majesty?! If a problem indeed occurs, a natural calamity or a human-made disaster, can you bare the crime? No. Your Majesty, this concerns the fortune of the Qing Empire. You mustn’t be soft-hearted.” the Noble Consort quickly responded as harsh as ever.
However, just as she said that, Y/N’s father clumsily stepped inside the room and knelt next to his daughter, greeting the Emperor who, in haste, told him to check the child.
In doing so, he merely smiled and said the same diagnosis as his daughter did.
Jaundice.
“Can’t be. Not like I haven’t seen jaundice in children before.” Physician Zhang refuted immediately. “That’s because you are lacking in knowledge. Your Majesty, this jaundice, even if it’s not treated, the little prince would recover within 7 days. This illness is pathological and related to the bile of the expectant mother. It is usually connected with the pregnant mother having too much accumulation of bile.” the father explained. “Your daughter gave the same diagnosis.” the Emperor muttered. “Can it be cured?” “Your Majesty, don’t worry. If I prescribe a formula to reduce the jaundice, in less than 2 weeks, the 17th prince’s jaundice will subside.” and thus, the Emperor ordered to have the child be treated with care...And the Consort changed sides as much as her face changed instantly.
And thus, the Emperor forgave the Consort and had this matter be banned from being talked of...Until the 4th Prince spoke up.
“Father, before we leave, I had urgent news to speak to you about, and they concern the Noble Consort.” the Prince left his father’s side and stepped in front of him, next to Y/N. “Is this about your brother’s death?” the Emperor’s face became grim as soon as he saw the nod of the prince’s head. “Very well, speak.” “Su Peisheng, have the body brought in.” the Prince ordered. “Noble Consort, you are not afraid when you kill a man, so why are you afraid when you see a corpse?” the Prince asked, simply, as he took off the sheet to show off the man’s face. “Do you not recognise him? Or perhaps, your son does?” the Prince interrogated the indignant woman. “What are your implications, Yin Zhen?!” the Crown Prince stomped in front of his brother. “Your Mayesty, this is the Mongolian chef from the Imperial Kitchen. While he is also the one who cooked food for Noble Lady Yu, he is also the one who prepared the daily Mongolian treat that the 1st Prince enjoyed so much.” Yin Zhen spoke up confidently. “That’s right... Your Majesty, I have taken care of Noble Lady Yu since the beginning of her pregnancy, and pretty early on, Noble Lady Yu was gifted Mongolian scones from her hometown. She loved them so much, I imagine she ate quite a lot. She said she had no idea there was a Mongolian chef in the Palace and she was incredibly happy to see that she could eat her home food after so long. She would eat three pieces every day - At least that’s what I saw, if she ate more when I wasn’t supervising her, I cannot know.” the Physician girl explained as she stood up, tall and ready for action. “Your Majesty, I had these scones be brought here as well.” the 4th Prince spoke and a scone was given to Y/N’s father. “Do you know what they are made of?” her father asked as he took a bite. “I believe milk was added to the dough, or ghee to the skin. She also ate assorted confectionary to replace staple food.” Y/N told her father. “Yes, I understand. Your Majesty, the child contracted jaundice mostly because the mother’s body is moist and hot, so the bile gets accumulated. I usually advise pregnant women to watch their food intake and not to eat too much sweet, hot and unpleasant smelling food, to prevent damage to the spleen and stomach.” Physician Liyue explained. “Ah, I understand. I didn’t give it much thought because Mongolian women are used to eating these things, but since she’s been away from home for so long, her body adjusted to our food, so naturally, getting a large intake of food from home again made her body react as ours would.” Y/N nodded in understanding. “Very well, so we have found out the truth behind the Prince’s illness. Now, Yin Zhen, tell me about the body. Who killed him.” the Emperor urged his son to speak. “We just have to look at who wanted the 17th Prince buried alive the most and we will know. And on who benefits the most in having our 1st Prince brother killed.” Yin Zhen explained. “That man is dead, brother. On what bases are you accusing me and my mother?” the Crown Prince sneered at his younger brother. “Your Majesty, the 17th Prince was just born, he is just an innocent child. Why would anyone want him dead? Unless... Someone didn’t want him to be born safely to begin with. Carefully thinking about it, since Noble Lady Yu got pregnant, Her Highness the Noble Consort has repeatedly made things difficult for her. First, using her dog to cause her trauma at the Imperial Gardens, and then repeating the same feat at the Lychee banquet organized by Her Highness the Empress. When Noble Lady Yu gave birth, the first person to charge in Changchun Palace was also Her Highness the Noble Consort. She insisted on having the 17th Prince buried alive. To say that this matter has nothing to do with her, it’s really hard for anyone to believe that.” Y/N accused the Consort, only to be, once again, slapped by her son. “Father, this is a conspiracy, don’t listen to the lies of this servant! It is a plot made to frame me and my Royal Mother!” the Crown Prince desperately tried to defend himself. “Father, if this is a conspiracy, why then everyone else asked for a Physician to be brought and inspect the 17th Prince’s condition, while only the Noble Consort alone was so adamant in killing the child?” Yin Zhen struck again. “Not to mention, even when Noble Lady Yu went up to her to stop her, she didn’t spare her. Instead, she ordered her to be killed along with the child. If she truly had no intention to kill, why was she so hasty and resolute?” Y/N chimed in quickly. “Your Majesty, you cannot sentence myself or the Crown Prince merely just based on a corpse and some speculations! This person is dead, who knew if someone else forced him to kill himself as to frame me and my son?” the Noble Consort shrieked desperately. “Father, when I sent my men to the Imperial Kitchen, they discovered one letter written in blood and 20 taels of gold. It shows that this person had sensed that something bad would happen to him. Father, look for yourself at the evidence left behind.” and thus, the eunuch brought forth a messy letter and the Prince showed it to the Emperor -” 'The person who will silence me will surely be the Crown Prince’ - And with this, father, we found a small pouch of Ricin laying on top of it. It means that the culprits behind these two crimes that we thought unrelated are, in fact, mother and son.” the 4th prince explained, picking up the pouch as well. “Wh-What?! What is this madness? I would ever use such a stupid servant to kill my brother!” the Crown Prince yelled out, but it was in vain. “Not only that, testimonies from the Office of Punishments came out. The men from the Imperial Kitchens that were involved in either of these crimes, all ratted out their mastermind and all point out towards either Noble Consort or the 2nd Prince.” the Prince continued, and the atmosphere in the place was harder and harder to bear. “Your Majesty! Your Majesty, it really wasn’t like this! I really didn’t know! I’m being framed! Framed! Me... My son...! We’re being framed!” the Consort tried to beg, plea and weep, but nothing worked. “ENOUGH! I don’t want to hear any more explanations from you. You killed my beloved son out of greed, just for you to become the next Crown Prince. I have overlooked so many of your mistakes and evidence of a possible coup... You were already the Crown Prince, what more did you want?! Shameless, both of you! Men, take them away! Both of them shall be thrown into the Cold Palace until further notice!” the Emperor’s rage seethed fear into everyone, as they bid his order, uncaring of the two’s desperate pleas. “Yin Zhen, you did well. Although a tragic truth, I was expecting this. As the matter of a new Crown Prince has to be instilled, I will make the final Imperial Edict tomorrow... However, you must know that you are the chosen one. I only wish that you do not act as carelessly and shamelessly as your brother did.” the Emperor sighed, feeling older than ever. “Father...I...! Your Majesty, you are magnanimous, I do not know how to thank you.” the Prince kowotowed to the ground, only to hear a weak chuckle from his father. “Rise, no need for that. Physician Y/N, you and your father once again saved us with your vast knowledge and expertise. I shall grant you both the title of Noble Officials of the Third Rank and shall enjoy all the benefits and luxuries that come with it. You have served me well and I am sure you will continue to do so in the future as well. You are all dismissed.” the Emperor said as everyone bowed to greet him off. “That worked better than expected.” the Prince smirked, looking down at the stunned girl. “Am I a genius or what?” she spoke breathlessly before starting to laugh in glee. “Dear, I have no idea what silly thing you plotted while I was away, but... I have to say, you pulled quite the stunt.” her father patted her hair lovingly. “I suppose once in a while I do like to have some dangerous fun, huh? Good thing I have two Royal Helping Hands to take me out of the water should I suddenly forget to swim.” she grinned carelessly, only for her father to shake her head, smiling. “Just be careful. Although... I am sure you will be protected. I will take my leave now.” and with a small bow, the left the three alone. “Was any of that true?” the 3rd Prince eyed the two carefully. “Well... She really did want to kill the baby by burying it alive. The rest was... Induced or fabricated. But nobody has to know, right? It’s all our dirty little secret.” the girl winked at him and, taking the 4th Prince’s hand, pulled him outside. “How does it feel being a Noble Lady?” the Prince chuckled, pulling her close to his chest and smiling warmly. “None the wiser.” she snorted in amusement. “Honestly, Yin Zhen, it’s just a title. It’s not like anyone is going to care in any way. I am still going to be just a common girl with no right to stay anywhere close to you. Besides, you know as well as I do that, in the very small chance that the Emperor does accidentally impregnate a common maid and he wives her, she is still going to be treated poorly and will be bound to the Back Palace alone. You know as well as I do that nobody is allowed to enter the Back Palace so freely. I don’t want any of that.” she spoke, cautiously. “If I am going to be the Emperor, that mean the whole China is going to be mine. It doesn’t matter which woman is my Empress, as long as all the other concubines are there for political reasons. All they care about is wealth, fame and luxuries for their families, but none care for me the way you do. You saved me from drowning when you had no idea who I was, and you rejected any gift I gave you that wasn’t useful for your education. I know you don’t want to be pretentious or have me think that you love me solely for luxuries but that does not mean I should be forbidden from pampering you whenever I feel like it. Just accept it. I do not want any other woman to stay in the Empress’s throne besides me other than you. Don’t deny me that, Y/N.” he cupped her face, making her look up at him, his eyes tender and filled with love. “I can’t do it, Yin Zhen. I can’t. I can’t let you damage your image. You will be the best Emperor China’s ever had, you cannot have a common peasant woman be the Mother of the Nation. You will found a woman to genuinely love you and care for you as much as I do, and she will be worthy of you, and of noble blood... And you will forget about me, and I will no longer inconvenience you. You will be just fine without me, Yin Zhen.” her eyes gleaming, close to tears, as she spoke those painful words, but the prince had none of that. “I will have none of that modesty and selflessness of yours. Keep that to yourself. I am going to be the Emperor. The Eye of Heaven. If I cannot even choose the woman I love to be my Empress, than what’s the point in being diligent in everything else? No matter how hard working you are, at the end of the day, you need to have clarify and peace from your confidante, and for me, that is you. I will hear no more of your excuses, I will solve all of them. In fact, I know just how you can get the ultimate approval from my father, as if everything you’ve done so far over the years hasn’t been enough. In a month, the palace will hold a banquet for the Princess of Western Liang and her Diplomatic Corp. I trust you and you alone to accompany me to this. I know it’s not something you are used to, but I will prepare people to teach you the basic according skills needed. This is all you’re going to need to do, and it will impress Father without a doubt. Please, Y/N. Do it for me. Do it for us. I want to marry you and love you. I want to see you dressed in the most gorgeous Empress dress, to have you by my side at the coronation, to see you smile as I put accessories in your hair. I want to see you happy, and I want to see you by my side every day and every night. Screw the rules, the Emperor can do as he pleases in his private time.” the fire inside Yin Zhen’s heart seemed to reach the girl for she merely smiled and, with an unexpected turn of events, she threw her hands around his neck and pulled him down into a deep kiss. “You better abide your own words, otherwise this Empress is going to drive her new hair pin into your jugular vein and have you assassinated in your sleep.” she muttered with a teasing smirk. “That’s the Y/N I love.” and with that, he pulled her into another, and yet another kiss, with as much fire, love and passion as the previous ones.
For the whole month, the girl, getting used to servants and new luxuries in her home, trained in all the skills Yin Zhen’s servants thought necessary, as to become a proper Noble Lady and, as he would always say, His Empress.
As she was practicing her walking on heels through the palace, her maid, Shi Lian, seemed to be in quite the mood for chatting, telling her that the Western Liang delegation came by just earlier that day and that they are carrying this beautiful, exotic precious unique hairpin. However, unexpectedly, a huge crowd started gathering all around the two and the people started pulling and pushing around aimlessly, creating a huge commotion, making her fall on the street. Thankfully, just as she was about to get crashed by an incoming carriage horse, she felt lifted up.
“Are you injured?” the sweet voice of the man who so heroically rescued her called out, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he protectively held her waist. “Thanks to you, I am. Are you my guardian angel or what? I can’t believe how perfectly you arrived to save me.” she put her hand to her chest, trying to calm down. “I had orders to greet the corp. You silly... It’s great fate that I’m here. I’ll bring you back and send for an Imperial Physician to look after you.” he spoke strictly, only for the curtains of the carriage to be harshly drawn away and a glaring woman to stick her head out of the window. “4th Prince, are you going to leave me and the envoys of Western Liang behind?” she scolded in an evil way. “...Yin Zhen, I am alright, I promise. Shi Lian is with me. You said it yourself, this banquet is important, you cannot leave. Go attend your business. I insist.” the girl looked him deep into his eyes, knowing that they always understood each other from their looks. “Fine. But I will leave a guard behind to escort you home. Take care, Y/N.” and thus, with one last look, he left, as Y/N could only smile at how caring and attentive her hero is.
The silly man, however, as expected, dotted so much on her that he called her own father to care for her.
“Miss, looks like 4th Prince really cares about you! Ah, before I forget, the Matron has a massage for you. This afternoon, the Princess of Western Liang will be visiting the Imperial Palace and you are designated as her retinue.” Shi Lian’s sweet and innocent smile quickly disappeared. “Oh... Great. I have to take care of a bitch. May the Heaven watch over me.” Y/N muttered as she leaned her head on her father’s shoulder. “I heard she is pretty aggressive. She’d bully maidens without excuses. She’s fearsome... Miss, you have to be more careful.” the maid held her master’s hands, looking worried at her. “Don’t worry, I can do it. If this is the last step towards success, not even all the torture Wu Zetian went through can stop me.” Y/N’s voice was low, dark and dangerous. She was like a fearsome lioness ready to strike and maul anyone approaching her cub.
The next afternoon, after dressing is soft and demure looking clothes, Y/N went to show the Princess around the Imperial Palace. The load of exotic jewelry would blow away anyone’s mind, but she wasn’t interested in anything except for the fine craftmanship and the great detail put into everything.
“Ah, it’s you who was saved by 4th Prince yesterday morning outside the palace! To think 4th Prince would ignore me because of a slave girl!” the Princess stared at her condescendingly. “I am but a humble Palace maid. Surely 4th Prince would pay his undivided attention to you, Princess.” the girl bowed respectfully in front of the Princess. “I’d love to see what you’ve got! I heard the Tea ceremony of the Great Qing is extraordinary. Blow away my mind!” the Princess ordered immediately.
Thanking Yin Zhen for having all his servants meticulously teach her every art needed, Y/N proceeded in preparing the Tea Ceremony in such an elegant and graceful manner that the Princess was greatly jealous.
“She’s just a slave girl! In what position is she compared with me? Somebody drive her away, I don’t like her!” however, just as she was throwing her tantrum, Yin Zhen’s eunuch came by to invite Y/N to the banquet.
With a smile on her face, she went back to her home to change in the outfit prepared by the 4th Prince himself, and at dusk, when the glowing sunset brought out Yin Zhen’s most handsome features, she saw him. Tiredness was painted on his face.
“Yin Zhen... You look exhausted. Will you be alright?” she asked softly, cautiously raising her hand to caress his face. “I will be, yes. I am merely worried about you... But seeing you like this lifted all my worries. You are the most beautiful woman in the world.” saying so, he caressed her hand, kissing it.  “I have to look my best when standing besides the most handsome man in the world, correct?” she winked cheekily at him, and thus, they went together inside the palace where the banquet was taking place.
There were songs, and dances, and just about anything you could expect - And there, on display, the precious hairpin of Western Liang, the jewel inlaid to it glistening mesmerisingly.
Seeing her confused look, he explained that the envoys are willing to part with the hairpin as a tribute only if they pass several tests. As it was a matter o Great Qing’s reputation, His Majesty couldn’t possibly refuse.
“Three tests and the hairpin is ours? How arrogant. No matter, I’m sure we can beat them.” the girl scoffed, standing besides Yin Zhen’s seat.
The first test, as expected, was Music. Western Liang sends out an envoy adept in music. The test is rather prompt to the palace and no one is prepared for that, so no one responds. Truly, perhaps she was a master at playing Pipa, and she was beautiful too, but that was not to say some intimidation wouldn’t work on the arrogant and prideful Western Liang.
“How do you like this song, Your Highness?” the girl asked, a proud smile on her face. “Very well. Your pipa is superbly crafted.” the Emperor spoke, making the girl frown, indignant. “You only complimented the pipa. Does that mean you don’t like the song?” the girl asked, offended. “That is an understatement. Though I am not an expert, I can tell the song you played was ingenious. However, and pardon me for being blunt, your skill is quite ordinary.” the 4th Prince commented, making Y/N bite her lip to stop herself from chuckling. “This is the Number 1 ancient tune from Western Liang. Few people in Qara-Hoja can play it. The way I play it is considered sound from Heaven.” the girl was angrily gripping her pipa. “Sound from Heaven? That’s an overstatement! I might as well tell you, a song like that, any Palace maid in the Qing Empire can play.” and thus, Y/N walked forward, holding the beautiful wine pot, as if to serve the pipa player. “Any? Any maid at all? Fine, can YOU play it?” the girl asked, volcanic-like. “No really... But the song you played... I’ve been practicing it since childhood.” and thus, Y/N sat down in place of the Western Liang pipa player and played her own tune with perfect dexterity. “If a Palace Maid can play it, why am I here?” and thus, the first win was awared to the Qing Empire.
With a modest bow, Y/N went back by Yin Zhen’s side, and to the trained eye, it was obvious the both of them were radiating with pride for one another.
The second test is about Poetry. Western Liang’s envoy is rather accomplished in literature, however, no one can defeat Yin Zhen’s outstanding talent.
“Y/N, you write for me. You have beautiful calligraphy and can write fast enough. I trust you.” and thus, the two of you sit down at a table in the middle of the banquet - Yin Zhen pours out elegant line after line, as Y/N carefully writes down the love poem that, no doubt was dedicated to her. An hour elapses and neither admits defeat. No one dares to even breathe heavily, fearing they might disturb the two poets.
Despite everyone’s concentration, the ink maid’s hand trembles just enough to pour ink all over Y/N’s paper and clothes.  “What’s your problem?!” Y/N gasped from shock at being covered by the black liquid. “Pardon me, I didn’t mean it!” the maid nonchalantly says as she bows to the groud. “I saw it perfectly. That maid didn’t mean it... But the maid that writes has got such a temper!” unable to say anything, Y/N looked at the Prince who allowed her to quickly go change into another outfit, just as beautiful and chosen by him, and return. That Princess was going to be roasted pork very soon. “Careless as that maid is, this one is only too stupid. They both should be punished, or that’s unfair for 4th Prince.” the evil Princess sneered. “Western Liang is nowhere near the sea, but I have a feeling the Princess of Western Liang lives by the sea.” Yin Zhen retorted immediately. “What does that mean?” the Princess asked, confused, only for Y/N to smirk at her beloved’s silver, witty tongue. To think that this Bitchy Princess would trouble herself with a sea of trivials, despite her affections for him. “Your Highness, I am willing to make up for my mistake and write down what 4th Prince just composed, not missing a single word.” and so she did, shocking the Princess with her fantastic memory and even more, her elegant calligraphy. And thus, Yin Zhen gets easily the 2nd win.
The two then needed a break and went outside, to look at the beautiful moon and feel the chilly breeze of Spring. Y/N, without a care, leaned on Yin Zhen’s, sighing content.
“I know I’m amazing, but to think some bitchy Princess would get jealous of me... That’s something else.” Y/N muttered, clinging lazily on his sleeve. “I know she has ill-intentions towards you. That maid, my men have been tracing her. She is working for the Princess to frame you.” the Prince spoke, aggravated. “Well, good for her. She couldn’t beat us. We are the true perfect match of Heaven and Earth. Nothing can keep us apart.” Y/N scoffed at the lame princess’s intentions, making the Prince chuckle.  “Fearless as always. You are incredible.” he commented, simple, but effective. “Oh, you should see yourself, my darling. Do you know what the 3rd test is about?” she asked, only to see him shake his head. “Not sure yet, no. But whatever it is, I fear the Princess would want to be the one to compete against you. She’s just that petty.” the Prince explained, only for a servant to call the two inside.
Apparently, the Princess decided that the last test would be, lo’ and behold, Dancing. It was perfect. She knew just what to do.
“I am just a maid. Never have I thought I’d have the privilege to compete against Her Highness, the Princess of Western Liang.” Y/N bowed in front of the Princess gracefully, only for the Princess to sneer arrogantly. “You don’t deserve it! However... You played a part in the two previous tests. I’d like to see if you really have what it takes, or you are just borrowing help from the 4th Prince. So? You dare not?!” the Princess raised her voice aggressively. “I do have nothing that’s worth mentioning... However, I do believe that dancing should be one of my strengths. Allow me to change into the appropriate outfit for dancing and I shall show you, Your Highness.” and thus, Y/N quickly left the banquet to change into a beautiful Tang dynasty pink outfit the flowed like water around her, highlighting her featured delicately. Her hair, she had the top part in a bun, with beautiful golden hair pins decorated with agate and pearls, and wore agate earrings as well. On her face, despite the gorgeous make up, she had a half mask, outstandingly embellished with different precious gems that would sparkle brighter than the whole Western Liang.
Y/N watched the Princess dancing first - A rather basic dance, beautiful, yet, but of no fantastic feat. Despite all this, all envoys seem to think very little the little Physician girl, and even His Majesty and his Ministers seem to show little faith in her. Understandable, she thought, considering that all her life she strayed away from luxuries and feminine arts and studies. 
“Do you see? Looks like you are just a slave girl to everyone! You don’t deserve the competition against me!” the Princess laughed, taunting the girl, who merely smiled. “Then, Your Highness might want to be careful... Because losing to me... It’s really mortifying.” and thus, hearing the Prince reassuring his father that she will win without a doubt, Y/N proceeded in dancing the most beautiful dance.
Lanling Prince in Battle.
Throughout the month, she has been perfecting this dance in front of Yin Zhen, and it was his favourite. Such a tragic love story, of two lovers, their hearts and souls united in life and in death, no matter what. A love story of a woman loving a man so much that she would even march to war to bring him back. A love story of a man so tormented by his wife’s death that he goes insane and destroys everything in his path.
The half mask, symbolizing the beautiful features of the man, and the beautiful face of the woman, a dance that symbolizes their feelings, their love, themselves, the fate, their life - A single dance, a single person, symbolizing two soulmates.
It was the perfect dance, and it was to no wonder that this was their favourite dance... To dance together. Although it was a dance for one person alone, Yin Zhen could never resist embracing her and dancing with her. He couldn’t resist touching her and holding her up in his graces as if she was a Goddess.
It took every ounce of strength the Prince had not to join her in the dance, but as she finished, everyone was so in awe that they forgot to breathe, only to then burst into cheerful and loud applause.
“I... Lost? No... No way... How...?” the Princess was shocked as if by lightning. Absolutely horrified that a slave girl was infinitely better than her. “Do tell me how the Prince helped me here.” Y/N smirked condescendingly at the Princess who started growling. “Y-You...! How dare you?! A stupid slave girl, speaking back to me?! You deserve to be punished!” the Princess started wagging her finger accusatory at her. “Like you wanted to punish the maid who deliberately threw ink on the poem paper, realizing that Western Liang cannot, in this world, beat the Prince’s genius? Is this what Western Liang has to do to win? Cheat and frame? How ridiculous and disappointing.” Y/N shrugged simply, walking by the 4th Prince’s side. “Your Majesty! She wants me to call white black and even sow discord between the two nations! Justice be served, Your Majesty!” the maid shrieked, pointing at Y/N, as the girl sighed, taking off the mask. “I’m the bad guy now, huh?” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I got my people, and you don’t have the right to an opinion here. You are from Western Liang.” the Prince, having made a secret investigation earlier, seemed to have enough evidence to get those two into trouble, but now enough to actually create a war. “As virtue rises one foot, vice rises ten. Prince, you are incredible. The maid was going to make you trip. If you had, no matter how beautiful you danced, there was no way you would have won. Still, you were as beautiful as ever. Congratulations, you are the reason behind Qing’s wins. I told you I know why I have faith in you completely.” he praised as he poured her a cup of wine, making her seat next to him and celebrate their win, as the Princess is taken out of the palace to receive punishment when she returns home.
And thus, Western Liang not only lose all 3 tests, but they are also completely humiliated by their Princess’s cheating, and present the hairpin, shamefully.
“Son, you earned this hairpin, I will confer it upon you!” the Emperor handed the hairpin to his son, who bowed his head as a thanks. “I thank you, Royal Father. However, may I ask for another grace? To give it to someone else?” he asked, as the Emperor laughed. “Now that I’ve given it to you, it’s totally up to you.” and thus, as Yin Zhen opens the delicately embellished box, he takes out the hair pin, walking in front of Y/N. “Come here. I promised I will be the one to put accessories in your hair. You earned this, my love.” he said as he put his hand on her waist, kissing her forehead. “U-Uh... Yin Zhen... Everyone is looking at us.” Y/N muttered bashfully, unable to look at him. “Good. I want them to know that you are my wife, and my future Empress, and that if anyone even dares to think of laying a finger on you, they are going to be brutally disposed of.” he smiled sweetly, lifting her chin up with his finger. “Very bold, doing that in front of even your Father. Very good. What a wonderful husband I have.” she chuckled lightly as she was guided outside, to watch the fireworks show. “I already told him I want to marry you. Wasn’t much he could say after today’s wonderful wins. I have to say, you are really good at making people do what you want.” Yin Zhen chuckled lightly, bringing the girl to his chest. “You know what I think? That you talk too much and that you should kiss your wife more often. How’s that sound, My Darling Emperor?” Y/N smirked like a vixen. “I love the sound of that... My Little Physician Empress.”
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neonlights92 · 3 years
Text
RUN: Chapter III
Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for.  He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants.  So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly.  And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.
You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook.   So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos.  How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?
WARNINGS: Language, some violence and smut.
A/N:ENJOY!!!!
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Jungkook shone.  He really, really did. 
You watched him from across the room - the way he drew people in like a magnet.  He was stunning.
You knew he could tell you were watching him.  The way his eyes flickered to yours, and the side of his mouth pulled up slightly. 
Perhaps he enjoyed the power he had over you.  After all, you were his wife.  It was only normal that he wanted you to be attracted to him… Wasn’t it?
You couldn’t ponder on that thought.  Couldn’t let yourself think about Jungkook wanting you to love him.  It was too much - too overwhelming.
You turned from him quickly, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in almost one gulp.  You cringed at the unfamiliar taste - and the burn at back of your throat - but you needed a distraction.  From your husband, of all people.
Your life really was ridiculous. 
“Y/N?” 
You turned quickly, snapped out of your reverie by the sound of your name. 
Kim Namjoon stared back at you, a small smile on his face.
“Namjoon,” You relaxed a little, lips splitting into a smile of your own, “Hi.  How are you?”
“I’m fine,” He gestured at the champagne flute in your hands, “You’re going to snap that.”
You looked down noticing your grip was like a vice and gasped. 
“Shit.”  You loosened your fingers and blushed, “That would’ve been embarrassing.”
He gave you a sympathetic look, “Tough week?”
You groaned, setting the glass to one side and shaking your head, “Tough month.” 
Namjoon and you were fairly close.  The two of you had grown up together - along with Nayeon and Jungkook - and you felt you could genuinely trust him.  He was the only member of the Special Seven - apart from Jungkook of course - that you felt you had a real friendship with.
Namjoon was different to other made men.
He was intelligent and grounded.  He didn’t act on impulse or throw himself into situations he couldn’t handle. 
Namjoon was like the centre of gravity that Bangtan desperately needed.  
You liked that about him.
“It’s not your doting husband, is it?” He asked, raising a sarcastic brow.
You assumed he knew the truth about your marriage - even down to the fact Jungkook had no romantic feelings towards you.  The two of them were close - brothers, really - and you imagined they shared everything with one another. 
“It’s not his fault,” You answered, though you weren’t sure you totally believed it, “We were both… Forced into this.”
“But you love him.”  The words weren’t questioning - they were a statement.  Namjoon always was so intuitive.
“How did you - I  mean… What are you talking about?” He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Anybody with eyes can tell you love him Y/N - that you have loved him for years.” 
Something inside you twinged.
It wasn’t that you cared that other people knew.  You didn’t.  Love wasn’t something to be ashamed of.
It was just…. Well Jungkook knowing that other people knew.
Would he care?
And at this point… Did it even really matter?
“It’s not his fault he doesn’t feel the same way,” You said eventually, deciding it wasn’t even worth it to deny Namjoon’s accusations, “That’s just life.” “Jungkook is an idiot,” Namjoon wrinkled his nose, “He wouldn’t know love or commitment if it whacked him in the fucking face.  He’s spent his entire life dropping women’s panties and not sticking around to get to know them.  He thinks he’s incapable of anything more.”
You raised a brow, “I think he just doesn’t want anything more.”
“Bullshit,” Namjoon shook his head, “He doesn’t know what he wants.”
“And you do?” You replied, smiling a little at the way Namjoon’s brow furrowed into a frown. 
He seemed genuinely annoyed at your husband’s behaviour.
“I know he’s too much of a pussy to even open himself up to the idea of being with you for real,” He shrugged, hands reaching for his pockets, “Even told him so myself.” “Really?  And what did he say?  I’m sure that went down a treat…”
“Told me to fuck off of course.  But what else did I expect from the ever eloquent Jeon Jungkook?”  You laughed at that and so did Namjoon, shaking his head at his younger friend’s apparent stupidity, “Honestly.  I know Jungkook.  And I know that deep down inside, all he really wants is to be loved, Y/N.  And I think you could help him realise that.”
His words warmed you down to the tips of your toes.
“You think so?”
When he nodded, you felt something in your chest expand and lighten.
For the first time since you’d found out about your engagement, you felt a little better about things.
If Namjoon thought Jungkook had the capability to come around.. Then maybe things weren’t so bleak.
You placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled warmly, “Thank you.  For speaking to me.  It really has helped.” “Just being honest,” He shrugged, “Thought you deserved to know my opinion, I guess.” 
“You always have been the smartest Bangtan boy.”
A throat cleared from somewhere to your life and you both turned to look, lips lifting unconsciously into a smile at the sight of your husband.  But Jungkook wasn’t smiling.  In fact, his mouth was pulled taut into a firm line.
And he was… Glaring at Namjoon.
“What are you two talking about?” Jungkook asked, hard eyes turning on you.
You felt a little intimidated by the way his gaze seemed to sear straight through you. 
“Just catching up, Jungkookie.”  You watched your husband cringe at the nickname that rolled off Namjoon's tongue, “Don’t keep her locked away for so long again.”
“I’ll try not to Joonie.”  His eyes were still pitch black, “You ready to go, Y/N?  I’m getting tired.”
You arched a brow at his odd behaviour. 
If you didn’t know any better you would think he was jealous.
But there was absolutely no way Jungkook would feel jealous or possessive over you… Was there?   
“Okay.”  You nodded swiftly and turned to Namjoon, “It was nice speaking to you Joon.  I hope we can catch up again soon.” His eyes were soft and he smiled, “You can count on that.”
You didn’t even realise Jungkook’s hand had slipped into yours until he was pulling you away from the crowd almost roughly.  Namjoon gave you a little wave and a knowing wink, and you shook your head, confused by your husband’s sudden shift in behaviour.
There was no way he was actually jealous, was there?
Not after knowing the way you felt about him.
Not after pushing you away himself and making it clear he wasn’t interested in a real marriage.
No.  You shook your head.
He must just be tired, like he’d said.
When the two of you made your way outside, you finally tugged your husband’s hand and forced him to look at you.
“What?” The word was sharp and angry.
You flinched, “Are you… Okay?”
“Just peachy.  Enjoyed your little chat with Namjoon?”
You followed him down the marble staircase, towards the garage.
“Wait.  Is that why you’re acting like this?”  You were speaking to Jungkook’s back - why was he walking so damn fast? - as you struggled to keep up, “Because I was talking to Namjoon?”
Your husband decided not to answer as he grabbed the keys wordlessly from the valet and continued making his way towards the car.  You trailed after him, feeling dejected and hurt by his sudden sourly attitude. 
What right did he have to be angry at you when all you had been doing was talking to a friend?
“Jungkook!” 
His name flew out of you angrily, just as the two of you reached the car.
He froze for a moment, and then turned, eyes hard like two glass balls of obsidian black.
You finally caught up with him, confused and hurt at the way he was treating you.  It made absolutely no sense.  
“Why are you mad at me?” “I’m not mad.” You rolled your eyes, “Obviously you are.  I’m not stupid.  So why are you mad?” “I’m not mad,” He answered unlocking the car and - despite his apparent fury - opening the passenger door for you, “I just find it sweet that you and Namjoon seem to get on so well.”
He slammed his own car door shut and your fingers twitched as you clicked in your seatbelt.
“You’re being stupid.” He turned to you again, his eyes wide, “Sorry what?  This coming from the woman that basically pissed on me in front of Jihyo to mark her territory?” Ok.  Now you were mad.
“How the fuck can you even compare the two?”  You couldn’t believe how irrational he was being, “She was literally all over you.” “So was Namjoon!”
“Oh my god.”  You tugged a hand through your hair, “You’re an idiot.” “I’m an idiot am I?  For finding it uncomfortable that my wife and my best friend spent the evening flirting right in front of me?” “Why do you even care?”  Your eyes were watering with angry tears but you bit them back, “You made it very clear that you aren’t interested in making this marriage work the way I want it to.  So what does it matter if I flirt with Namjoon?” You knew maybe your words weren’t the wisest.  Perhaps you should’ve assured him that the reality was all you’d spoken to Namjoon about was how much you loved your oblivious husband.
But he’d hurt you.  You sort of wanted to hurt him back.
“Right,” He seethed, “So it’s not alright for me to have an affair, but totally fine for you to?”
Your heart clenched.
“Oh my god.  Oh MY GOD.  Jungkook what the fuck?  We were talking about you for god’s sake.  Okay?!”  You pinched the bridge of your nose and felt the tears catch on the edge of your fingers, “What the hell?  Why would I ever cheat on you?  Not only am I completely in love with you but Namjoon is your best friend!  Jesus.”
The words were like lava spilling from your mouth, hardening everything they touched.
You couldn’t take it back.  It was all out there in the open.
Completely in love with you, you’d said.
Shit.
You squeezed your eyes shut, counting to ten.  Waiting for something.  Anything.
After a moment, your husband cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry.”
Your pulse jumped.
“What?” You opened your eyes and when you looked at Jungkook, he was already regarding you with something… Different.  It wasn’t the same affection he usually regarded you with.  It was… Deeper.  You didn’t know what it was.
But it sort of scared you.  In a good way.
“I said I’m sorry.  You’re right.  I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.”  He shook his head and tugged a hand through his hair, “I was...Jealous.”
The word fell like a stone between the two of you.
“What?”  Your voice was like the wind, almost, “Why would you be jealous?” He smiled - small and gently - and shrugged, “You’re my wife.  That means something, doesn’t it?  So I don’t - I wasn’t thinking straight.  I reacted badly.  Forgive me.”
Your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest. 
“So it was a possessive thing,” You answered, licking your bottom lip.  Your husband’s eyes flickered to your mouth, “You wanted to stake your claim on me.”
He shook his head, “No.  It was more than that.”  He clicked his tongue, “I was jealous that you weren’t with me.  He made you laugh.  I hated that.”
Now you were sure you must be dreaming. 
There was no way your husband was saying these things.
You tucked your lip between your teeth, “What does that mean?” He shook his head, eyes searching your face before they fell on your mouth again.
“I don’t know.”
He leaned in slightly and you held your breath.
“Are you going to kiss me?”  You whispered - nerves wracking through your body hotly.  
It felt like the world stood still for a moment.  And then Jungkook’s eyes softened like butter. “Yeah.  I am.  If that’s okay?”
You nodded stiffly. And then he kissed you.
Your body hummed to life at the contact eyes falling closed immediately as you allowed your husband to bundle you up in his arms.  It was uncomfortable of course - cramped in the front seat of the car - but Junkook picked you up and pulled you towards him, anyway.
You giggled as your dress caught on the gear shift, and your husband laughed, pressing his forward to yours, settling you into his lap.
“You look beautiful,” He told you honestly, eyes earnest, “Did I tell you that already?” You shook your head - breathless and hot all over.
Jungkook - your Jungkook - was kissing you.
He was kissing you.  And he seemed to be really enjoying himself.
“Well you do,” He said decidedly, pressing his lips to your collarbone as he pushed the strap of your dress further down your arm, “You look beautiful.” Your heart caught in your chest, and it felt almost like you were on fire.
Everything Jungkook’s lips touched tingled, and even though you knew this was actually happening, it still felt like some kind of vivid dream.
“Thank you,” You whispered breathlessly, not knowing what else to say.
Jungkook smiled softly at your words, his mouth moving towards your collarbone and pressing kisses against the skin there. 
“I love these freckles,” He groaned, tracing the dots with the tip of his nose, “So cute.” Your heart flipped and you sighed, “Thank you.” 
He pulled away a little and pressed his forward to yours, chuckling softly.
“That’s all you have to say?”
You felt dazed as you stared back at him, “Huh?”
“Thank you,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your brow, “It’s all you have to say, it seems.”
“I’m a little…” You cleared your throat and felt a shiver crawl up your spine as Jungkook tucked some hair behind your ear, “Lost for words.”
Your husband smiled - self-satisfied and a little proud, “C’mere.”
He leaned towards you and once again you were swept up by his kisses.  It felt as though you were spinning out of axis - but it was so good.  Nothing had ever come close to this and you told yourself that if this was it - if this was the only time Jungkook was going to kiss you - then you were going to make it count.
You brought your shaky hands up to his chest, intending to push his jacket off his shoulders, but losing your nerve along the way.  Instead you tightened your grip on the material of his blazer.  You felt him smirk against your lips.
“Want me to take it off?” He asked, after a moment, pulling away so he could search your face for an answer.
You expected him to be cocky - smug - but instead his gaze was just questioning.  Your heart twisted. 
“Yeah,” You nodded furiously, “Please.”
He smiled again, and did as you’d told him to, removing the jacket and throwing it somewhere to your left.  You continued kissing him with fervor - making up for your lack of experience with enthusiasm - and after a while you felt his lips venture towards your throat… 
And then lower to the valley of your breasts.
And - for some reason unbeknownst to you - you froze.
Jungkook took that as a cue to stop and pulled away, a dark brow arched.
“Sorry.”  His hair was all out of place, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to-”
“No, I liked it.”  You assured him, feeling your heartbeat pulling out of your chest, “I just… This is my first time doing anything like…. This.”
“Right.”  He still seemed unconvinced.
“But I’m enjoying myself.  I was enjoying myself.  All of it.” 
Jungkook’s eyes were warmer than you’d ever seen them.  He pushed your hair out of your face and bit his bottom lip.
“We should probably stop anyway.”  
Your heart fell. 
“Oh.”
“We’re in the front seat of a car - anybody could walk by,” He added on, eyes following your expression carefully, “Not exactly a good idea.”
“Okay,” You nodded, suddenly realising the position you were in.
Jungkook had pushed the straps of your dress down your arm - exposing more of your cleavage than you probably were comfortable showing in public - your hair was a mess, your lips were puffy and your make up was probably all smudged.
You made to climb off your husband’s lap, before Jungkook grabbed the back of your head gently.  He forced you to look at him.
“I was enjoying myself, too.  For the record.”
And then he kissed you again, once, soundly - on the mouth.
God. 
You really did love him.
//
The days after your tryst in the car were filled with uncertainty.
Jungkook had driven the both of you home in almost complete silence - save for the murmuring of the radio - and when you climbed into bed that night, the only thing he offered you was an arm to cuddle into.
You’d taken it of course - gladly - and every night since then the two of you moved towards one another as soon as the bedside lamp clicked off.
But it wasn’t enough for you.
And apart from night time snuggling - nothing much had changed about your relationship.
But after having felt Jungkook’s lips on your own - felt the way his kisses seared straight through you - you wanted that feeling again.  And despite what he’d said about enjoying himself… You wondered if maybe that was just to spare your feelings.
Perhaps he’d realised all at once how little he was attracted to you.
Maybe that’s why he hadn’t made a move since.
The thought caused your throat to clog up, and your heart to clench, so you pushed it all back down, trying not to think about it.
Instead you found another pet project - this one a pair of dark blue jeans that Jungkook had ripped a hole through.  You’d heard him complaining to his butler, Minhyuk, about how they were his favourite pair, and you wanted to fix them for him.
You sat in the same armchair you always did - tucked into the corner of the master bedroom - and listened to the radio mumbling gently in the background.  It was some stupid cheesy love song, but still the lyrics caused the same feelings you tried so very hard to push back down, to bubble up.
A figure in the doorway paused your actions and you looked up.
It was your husband.  His eyes were unreadable.
“Jungkook,” You smiled softly, “Hi.”
You couldn’t hide your content at seeing him - could never hide how happy he made you - and you resigned yourself to stop trying.
He didn’t say a word.  Instead he walked over to you carefully and fingered the material of the jeans.
“Oh.”  You laughed gently, “I just heard you talking about them the other day.  Thought I could pull my weight around here.”
Your movements had stopped, but Jungkook’s big hand came to rest over your own.
He bent down so that his face was level with yours.
“You didn’t have to do that.”  His eyes were like two balls of fire now, melting you from the inside out.
You felt your bottom lip tremble, “I know.”
And then his mouth was on yours.  He took the jeans out of your hand and set them to one side, grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up as if you weighed nothing at all.
You giggled a little, and when Jungkook pulled away to watch you laugh, he couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out.
“You’re so…”  He didn’t finish the sentence, instead leading you over to the bed and laying you down.
His eyes were questioning as he played with the hem of your t-shirt, and without a second thought you lifted your arms, letting him pull it over your head.  It was embarrassing of course.
The first time Jungkook would see you in underwear and you were wearing the most unflattering beige bra.  But he didn’t seem to mind.
He helped you unhook the bra, and when your hands came to cover your breasts, he stopped you.
“Let me see them.  Please.”  His eyes were hot and you felt like you were suffocating almost.
You nodded wordlessly and pulled your arms down, watching as Jungkook took in your naked torso.  
“Fuck.  So beautiful.”  He whispered, leaning down and pressing his mouth against your breasts. 
You arched against him, feeling as though you were going to explode just from that one touch, and Jungkook smiled, “So sensitive, too.”
His lips moved to your nipple, and he sucked gently, watching you attentively.  His body was completely taut - waiting for your reactions - and when you moaned wantonly he smirked.
“Fuck,” You whispered and your husband clicked his tongue teasingly.
“Such profanity.”  He smirked and tugged your trousers down slowly, “Guess we’ll have to clean your mouth out with soap, Angel.” The nickname was like a surge of warmth, straight to your core.  He’d barely touched you and already you were panting like you could no longer take it.
“Please Jungkook,” You begged, not even knowing what you were begging for, “Please.” “Alright, shhh, shhh.  I’ll give you what you want baby,” His lips played with the hem of your panties, and after a moment he pulled those down too, “C’mere.” And then his mouth was on you and it felt like time itself had stood still.  You arched your back almost completely off the bed - and if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s steadying hands on your thighs you might have melted to the ground right then.
He licked at you diligently, and you found yourself winding tighter and tighter like a coil about to break from the pressure.
“Oh god… Oh god…”
His eyes bore straight through yours, and you felt like you might pass out from the intensity.  
“That’s it,” He whispered, removing his mouth and using his hands instead, “Cum for me Angel.”
And finally, a wave of indescribable pleasure washed over you.  It was so strong you thought you might shatter into a thousand pieces.
Jungkook coaxed you through your climax, and when you finally came down from your high - your bones like jelly - he climbed up your body and pressed a kiss to your lips.
“A thank you,” He smiled boyishly, “For the jeans.”
Your eyes were round and wide as you stared up at him, “But don’t you want-” 
“Nope.  Don’t need it.”
Jungkook pulled you under the covers, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you towards his chest. 
“But  Jungkook-”
“Sleep Angel.”  A soft kiss was pressed to your forehead, “We’ve got plenty of time for everything else.”
And in that heart-wrenching moment you realised that Jeon Jungkook not only owned your heart - he owned your body, mind and soul too.
“Okay,” You whispered, pressing a kiss against the firm plane of his chest, “Goodnight.” 
That night, you slept like a baby.
//
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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years
Text
Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 25 part two
(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)
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Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!
Jin Jerks Continued
Jin Furen is all judgy about Wei Wuxian, so it's hard to like her, since WWX is our protagonist and whatnot. But! Jin Furen is actually totally awesome. She adores Jiang Yanli and takes sides with her against her own son. She knows he likes Yanli and works her ass off to do all the courting for him, since he sucks at it, rather than picking a random wife for him and sticking him with her choice. She's always gentle with Yanli in her tone and body language. And Jin Zixuan had to get his good side from somebody.
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Wei Wuxian politely tells Jin Furen that it's all over (again/still) between Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, and cousin Jin Zixun rushes up to argue with him, saying he's being too proud and that he shouldn't talk to Jin Furen that way, since she is his senior. Wei Wuxian, still politely, explains the clan politics that underlie every one of these Zixuan-Yanli interactions. As a matter of clan pride, the Jiang Clan can't allow Yanli to be insulted.
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Cousin Jin Zixun immediately goes all in on the clan rivalry, beefing with Wei Wuxian about how much prey he caught. Everybody forgets all about Yanli's situation while they talk about the hunt results instead.
The Jin cultivators--parroting what they heard from Jin Guangyao--say that Wei Wuxian has flute-walked 30 percent of the prey into nets by himself. Lan Wangji actually decides to react to something, saying "30 percent? and giving Wei Wuxian such a series of LOOKS, oh my god. 
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This Wangxian moment is an important one, I think, because it shows where Lan Wangji's priorities are, and they're...wrong. He's continually telling Wei Wuxian "be good," in one way or another; trying to help him back to the correct way of being a cultivator.  Meanwhile the Lans are totally fine with the Jins being murderous shits who feel entitled to insult high-ranking ladies.
CJZX continues to snipe at Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji continues to judge WWX for being unsportsmanlike.
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(more after the cut!)
Wei Wuxian says that he's just showing his capability, and CJZX tries to tell him both that 1. he's practicing evil cultivation and 2. he's just playing the flute. WWX offers him Chenqing and says "show me your capability" which I think is cultivator speak for "fight me, bitch." 
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Cousin Jin Zixun moves the goalposts, saying that Wei Wuxian broke the rules, and starts in with class-based dogwhistling, saying "it's understandable that you don't know the rules," and citing examples of Wei Wuxian’s previous bad manners at cultivation events. 
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Things escalate and pretty soon Wei Wuxian is yelling at everybody, threatening to tell them why he doesn't carry his sword, (which would actually clear up SO much) and saying he's going to beat them all using necromancy whatever is just this side of necromancy. 
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Cousin Jin Zixun tosses his birth status at him, and then it's ON. Scary music, shaking fist, Chenqing booting up...
Lan Wangji, who has been singularly unhelpful since CJZX started talking, suddenly forgets his judginess as he's swept into motion by his constant fear of whatever is going to happen next time Wei Wuxian loses his temper. 
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He rushes to Wei Wuxian’s side, grabs his wrist, says his name, and wills him to chill the fuck out. Jiang Yanli joins him, grabbing Wei Wuxian's other arm, and Wei Wuxian manages to get control of himself.
Queen Yanli
Yanli has had it, and she has Wei Wuxian stand behind her while she goes to politely reduce Cousin Jin Zixun to a heap of smoldering cinders.
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First she recaps CJZX's accusations against Wei Wuxian; says she doesn't know a lot about the hunt, and apologizes formally on her brother’s behalf. WWX says "Shijie!" but she shakes her head at him and he shuts up.  
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CJZX laughs and tells her, in a tone designed to infuriate Wei Wuxian even further, that Wei Wuxian doesn’t rate her apologizing on his behalf, and says that their clans are like family; reinforcing WWX's outsider status. I don't think CJZX is taking orders from Jin Guangyao, because he's way too big of a snob for that, but he's definitely helping JGY to move his agenda forward.
Even Lan Wangji is having trouble staying cool during this exchange; he is focused on keeping Wei Wuxian in check but he’s also angry himself, judging from what his neck is doing here, anyway. *Stares at his neck for way too long*
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Wei Wuxian is super upset about Jiang Yanli apologizing, and he’s unable to hold back tears, even with Lan Wangji using the power of extreme staring to help him. 
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Jiang Yangli is nowhere near finished, though and she turns around and proceeds to tell everyone that they suck, that it's not Wei Wuxian's fault if he's more talented than everybody else, and that they are just making up rules because they are a bunch of losers. 
Clan Leader Yao has the nerve to say that they know the rules "in their hearts" which is just another class-based dogwhistle. 
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Yanli defends Wei Wuxian's cultivation method to everybody, saying it's something he worked at and put effort into--that it's different, not wrong. She's literally the only person who defends his cultivation style, even though they all have benefited from it.
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Then she gets right up in Cousin Jin Zixun's face and tells him that it's not ok for him to insult WWX by calling him the son of a servant, and she wants CJZX to apologize. (full gifset here) All of the Jins and Captain Blowhard Clan Leader Yao are SHOCKED at this idea. Jin Furen tries to talk Yanli down but Yanli politely nopes her away, so JFR tells CJZX to apologize.
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He's saved from having to actually do it by the arrival of Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen, who jump down off a box fly over to find out what's wrong.
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Jin Furen yells at smiley, blinkey Jin Guangyao, telling him he should be able to figure out what's wrong, saying "aren't you good at judging the situation," i.e. aren't you a conniving little creep? She's bitchy but she's not wrong.
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When the "30 percent" thing is explained again, Lan Xichen gives Wei Wuxian the same Lan Glare of Sportsmanship Disappointment that his brother did. 
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Lan Xichen: It's fine for my boyfriend's obviously power-hungry family to insult my brother's war-hero best friend in a bid to reduce his social status, but him using magic powers in our magical creature hunt is super wrong.  
Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen explain that they're going to open up more area for the hunt, but it's too late to make Cousin Jin Zixun happy. He takes his ball and goes home. 
The Breaking of the Fellowship
The remaining group stroll slowly through the woods, Jin Furen and Jiang Yanli together, while Wei Wuxian walks at a bit of a distance and Jin Zixuan follows right behind his mother. His mother offers to beat him to make Jiang Yanli feel better. See? Perfect Mother-in-Law material.
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Jiang Yanli tries to leave again, and is stopped again. This time Jin Furen tries to convince her to come back to the stands to sit with her and Jin Zixuan, and not to go with Wei Wuxian. First she tries saying that it's not appropriate for her and Wei Wuxian to be alone together. Yanli shuts that right down, saying that Wei Wuxian is her didi. Then Jin Furen says that Wei Wuxian has "strong wicked energy" and that he may do something evil. Like fighting back when he is ambushed on his way to a party.
Jiang Yanli repeats that Wei Wuxian is her didi, and says that she'll never leave him. JFR keeps trying but Wei Wuxian steps up and takes Yanli by the wrist and goes to lead her away. Jin Zixuan finally, FINALLY admits that he likes Jiang Yanli. 
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He is embarrassed, Jiang Yanli is delighted, and Lan Xichen is amused. 
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Jin Zixuan runs away and Jiang Yanli agrees to go back to Jinlintai with Jin Furen. Wei Wuxian is super immature unhappy about it....
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....but he accepts her decision, in a nearly wordless exchange that we’ll see echoes of much later, between him and Lan Wangji. (Exceptionally cruel gifset here)
Wei Wuxian formally bows to Jin Furen, asking her to take care of his sister. Because he recognizes this for the parting that it is.
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Jiang Yanli isn't wrong to make this choice. She deserves to be happy, and married women in this environment can't live with their original family. But she told Wei Wuxian, over and over, that the three of them have to stick together, only to change course and leave him behind with no warning. It’s not even five minutes since she said "I will never leave him."  Wei Wuxian isn’t the only person making impossible promises in these parts.  
Jiang Cheng and some Jiang cultivators show up, and everyone, including Wei Wuxian, tells Jiang Cheng that he missed an important scene, but nobody will tell him what actually happened. 
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Wei Wuxian says he's going into town, and he leaves Jiang Cheng behind just as abruptly as Jiang Yanli left him.
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Jiang Cheng asks Lan Xichen what happened, and Lan Xichen says "there was an argument but it's mostly smoothed over now; also, Jin Zixuan says he likes your sister."  Ha ha ha ha! Of course he does not say that, he says "You should ask your sister at the banquet" and Jin Guangyao says it wouldn't be appropriate for them, as outsiders, to comment.
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I would like to see Jiang Cheng respond to this by beating the crap out of them with Zidian for being a couple of coy bitches, but he just furrows his brow. 
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JGY hangs back from the group for a second to tell JC that WWX is sooooo great, before they all head back to Jinlintai.
Insecurest Boi
As everyone is walking Jiang Cheng hears Captain Blowhard saying that Lotus Pier made a strong impression today, and that they'll be able to recruit a whole lot of disciples. The cultivators are of two opinions about whether having Wei Wuxian is a good thing for a clan. 
Then a Jin cultivator says he heard that the Yin tiger amulet is made of the missing piece of Yin iron. He says he overheard it from Jin Guangyao. He says even if it's not for certain, the timing fits. Jiang Cheng reacts to this as if he 100% believes it, because Jiang Cheng is a dumbass sometimes. 
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He should just frickin’ ask Wei Wuxian about the amulet. Lan Wangji asked where he got it and Wei Wuxian told him, and Jiang Cheng, while they have their issues, is officially on WWX's side, so there’s no reason for WWX not to tell him.
The Jin cultivator goes on to say that the Jiang Clan ain't shit, that all their deeds belong to Wei Wuxian.  Jiang Cheng takes all of this on board totally unfiltered. Literally everything that any Jin cultivator other than MianMian says is propaganda coming from Jin Guangyao, but Jiang Cheng thinks they're friends and doesn't know how to recognize manipulation. 
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Jiang Cheng is hearing the exact same criticism that Jiang Yanli heard, but he's not equipped to handle it, and instead of fighting back he gets angry at Wei Wuxian. Despite all his recent growth, he is still crushingly insecure, and this is hitting him right in his tenderest spot. Jiang Fengmian has a lot to answer for.
Instant Replacement Sister
Wei Wuxian is off working through his own feelings; he's wandering the street in Lanling with a bottle of wine in hand. Wen Qing, in her red Wen robe and her hooded cloak, is wandering the street in the opposite direction. They pass each other without seeing, in a moment that's excruciating to watch the first time. 
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But then some Jin cultivators obligingly push her to the ground, and Wei Wuxian, with his beautiful heart of fucking gold, hears someone who needs help and turns around.
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For a moment he smiles in recognition, before the smile clouds over. Wen Qing, for her part, looks horrified; perhaps it’s everything she’s going through, but perhaps she can see that he, in his own way, is struggling nearly as much as she is. Meeting with her will galvanize him and give him the life direction he desperately needs.
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A Day Late and a Tael Short
Lan Wangji wants to solve Wei Wuxian's problem, but he lacks imagination, so his best idea is to hide him in Cloud Recesses. 
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Lan Xichen points out that Wei Wuxian might not be on board with that. This conversation is short, but it has some layers, once you know about their parents' relationship. Lan Wangji frowns but doesn't have a second idea.
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Text
Certainly- Kaz Brekker
The reader is a bit of an astrology and astronomy alike geek for this, which I hope y’all don’t mind! Also, in this case, phones exist so lets pretend that phones exist in Ketterdam, making it a bit of a modern au, I guess!
Also, this’ll probably be a bit ooc for Kaz
Fic type- angsty fluff
Warnings- blood, mentions of death, and the reader is sick (nothing specific, I just kind of took random symptoms and made up a word for the sickness)
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You were determined to see the stars before you went, and as you grew sicker, none of the crows knew when that would be, so, after a little convincing, the crows had gotten Colm to let you spend a couple of months at his farm in Novyi Zem, where the stars were the clearest at night, not burdened by light pollution or the screams of lively cities. 
It was the seven of you crammed into a basement, sharing beds, but none of them cared, and you were just glad to be with the people you called family. You were happy that they were with you, that Kaz was willing to wheel you everywhere when you got too weak to stand, that Jesper still made jokes, even despite watching you deteriorate. You were grateful for Inejs smile, Wylans music, Ninas impeccable tastes and Matthias and his big arms that could lift you and put you down without issue. 
The six of them had started taking shifts taking you outside. Nina took you outside Sunday nights, Matthias Mondays, Wylan Tuesdays, Jesper Thursdays, Inej Fridays and Kaz Saturdays. Wednesdays you rested up; ate when it was time to eat, used the bathroom when you needed, took a shower if it were the appropriate time, but other than that, you slept.
It was Kaz’s day to wheel you out, and you’d had a particularly rough day that day. Inej went with him, promising not to intrude on the time that you would spend together. She’d do backflips and run across the roof of the farm if you asked her to, but she’d not interrupt otherwise. 
“I love the stars,” you whispered, leaning back in your wheelchair and tightening the hold of the blanket over your lap. “Thank you both. For doing this.” 
“Don’t you worry, love,” Kaz murmured. “Just keep your eyes on the stars, okay?”
“We’re happy to do this,” Inej added. “All of us are. Really.” It was like both of them could sense it as well as you could. You had a feeling that the night would end terribly, just like the morning had begun.
You’d woken up only to need to rush to the toilet immediately, blood coming up your throat like bile, staining your skin and leaving your bottom lip red as a cherry. 
Kaz had been at your side in a minute, Nina and Wylan right behind him. Wylan kept your hair away from the sides of your face, Nina slowed your heartrate and Kaz wet a cloth with cold water to get your body temp down. 
Kaz had forced himself to stay in the moment, to not let his thoughts stray to the urge to sleep in the same bed as you to make sure that nothing happened while you slept--to be there in case something did--but to stay on the sun as it set and the faraway sound of Wylan playing his flute with the window open so that you’d be able to hear it. 
Once you’d gotten settled under a tree, Inej ran off, making her way inside and up to the barns roof, where she sat, keeping a watch from a distance as Kaz let you rest your head against his shoulder, gloved hand interlaced with yours. 
“I love you, Brekker,” you murmured. “Please don’t forget that. Ever.” 
“I won’t,” he whispered. “You’re gonna stay around and get better until we can spar again, and you can beat my ass even though I’ve my cane as a weapon.” 
“You know full well I can’t promise that,” you wished that you could. You desperately wished. “I’m going to die young, Kaz. I’m not gonna get to eighteen, much less eighty.” Kaz hated you for that.
He hated you because everything that you said somehow managed to be right. It was like you had a sixth sense for that kind of thing, and while, on missions, it proved useful, in that scenario, it just proved annoying. 
“You’re gonna make it to eighteen if it kills me,” he informed you. “I’ll take you around the globe if I need to, just to make sure you end up okay. I will not live a life without you in it, Y/N.” 
“You’re sweet,” you murmured. “Incredibly sweet.”
“Only to you, L/N.” That was the last bit of conversation for a long while as the sun set and the stars came out.
“Did you know that the moon isn’t circular?” You pointed lazily to it, bright and beautiful amongst the even brighter stars. “According to scientests, it’s actually shaped like a lemon!” Kaz didn’t fight his smile.
Of course you’d be spouting off the little factoids you knew about space. You loved it, how vast and crazy it all seemed. 
“And that the clouds at the center of the Milky Way smell like raspberries and rum?” Kaz snorted.
“Okay, now, theres no way that ones true!” 
“Oh,” you leaned up, booping his nose without a care in the world. “But it is! It’s in a study somewhere, I think! Look it up!” He laughed, pulling you closer to him as you rambled.
Inej had started doing running flips across the roof, spinning and dancing and no doubt laughing as she did. Kaz knew it was an elaborate effort to get you to smile, and it seemed to work as she moved; a delightful silhouette amongst a star filled sky. 
“I love you, Kaz Brekker,” you whispered. “You don’t need to say it back, but I really, truly do love you with every bone that exists in my body.”
“I love you too,” he said it without hesitation. “And I’ll love you until we’re old and grey, I swear it.”
“Don’t hold me to that promise,” you murmured. “You know how bad this is. Stop thinking that I’ll make it into the new year. I probably wont.”
“You will if it kills me, Y/N,” he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I’ll drain the bank dry if I have to, I swear to Ghezen.”
You didn’t say anything after, too exhausted to even think about starting an argument with him, simply not wanting to. 
But then, an hour later, Kaz felt fear trickle into his stomach like it hadn’t ever in his life.
“And then theres Supernova. It’s like a star that’s dying having it’s last celebration. Like when we get a really big win, or when we get away with what we intended to get away with, and we all get shitfaced before we collapse onto our beds and sleep for the night? A supernova is a dying stars explosion. It’s the last celebration that the star has before it dies out.” you’d been rambling.
“Tonight is my... tonight is my...” Kaz had called for Nina right then and there, screaming her name while he felt you go slack against him.
“Zenik!” He screamed, not caring at all if he were to wake up Jespers father. “Zenik, call in that fucking favor with the bloody Ravkan prince!” Matthias came barreling out after her, phone in hand, already speaking to someone as Nina began working, steadying your heart and trying her hardest to keep you alive. 
Kaz had to force himself to walk away from it all, pushing his feet away after giving your shoulders one last squeeze and walking far out into the field. 
Once he was sure he was out of earshot, he couldn’t stop himself. Tears flooded his eyes and he found himself glaring at the sky, wanting to scream, wanting to shout, wishing that there was someone around that he could gut like a fish. 
“Saints,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “Sankt Ilya, Sankt Adrik, Sankta Alina of The Fold, I know I am a terrible person, but Y/N is not. They’re good, they smile, they laugh, they’re kind to others when those people probably don’t deserve their kindness. I know I’m damned, I know that you probably strongly dislike me, but they’re different.” He’d never asked the Saints for anything before, and he never would again.
“Please, just, let them live. Let them get the life that they deserve. I’ll do my best to make them happy, but you have to let me,” he wiped the tears from his eyes as they came. “They deserve the life that you’re so willing to take away, and all I ask is that you don’t take it.” He heard the sounds of the ambulance car and raced back to you, gripping your hand as they helped you onto a stretcher and out of the field, through the house and out the entrance. 
I won’t lose them, he told himself. A world without them is one that’s unbearable. 
O N E Y E A R L A T E R 
You laughed as Nina chased you through the halls of the Little Palace, running quickly through the endless corridors, your laughter carrying through them as you kept yourself in front of Nina.
Nikolai had kept you in the Os Altan palace since that night, where Inej laughed and danced and did her flips, whilst Wylan played the piano and Kaz sat beside you, listening to your ramblings without a care in the world. 
“You seem delighted,” Nikolai noticed as you stopped in front of his office. “I’ve never seen you walk without that Brekker boy at your side, much less run while Zenik is on your tail!” You shrugged, laughing as Ninas front crashed into your back.
“This is the best I’ve felt in a year,” you murmured. “I figured I’d see if Nina was up to chase me around this morning, and I haven’t stopped running since!” You peered in through the open office door, looking for that familliar mop of dark brown hair.
Nina wrapped her arms around you and gave you a gentle squeeze. “He’ll be here any minute,” she murmured. “He and the boys are just finishing up a job for Nik in East Ravka, but Matthias told me the second that they’d left!”
“Trust me. Y/N,” Nikolais smooth voice murmured. “I put them on one of my fastest boats. I knew how long it’d take them to get from here to east Ravka and back, and I promised him he’d be here when you finally awoke.” 
“Hows it feel, anyway?” Zoya appeared at his side. “Eighteen, I mean.” You shrugged.
“I miss Kaz,” you murmured bluntly. “I hate that I have to tell him that he was right, but I still miss him.” 
Nikolai took Zoyas hand, pulling her close as you and Nina watched, smiles on your faces. 
“Young love,” Zoya teased. “Zenik, let go of them so that they can turn around.” Nina obeyed, letting you go and moving to lean against the doorway with Nikolai and Zoya. 
You turned, and smiled when your gazes met. “You were right, Brekker,” you murmured, walking toward him as he held out your gift to you. “I’m better now, and the second that you’re ready to spar, I’m gonna beat your ass, even though you’ve your cane as a weapon.” He grabbed your pinky with his the moment you were within distance.
“How’d the heist go?” You murmured once the two of you had walked out of earshot. 
“Good,” Kaz let himself be close to you as you two moved, squeezing your pinky as you slowed your steps. “Plan went off without a hitch, for three idiots and a mastermind with a limp. I brought you this from it,” he held the gift out to you again, and you took it in your free hand, examining it.
“I had to ask permission for that,” he murmured. “I had to get the Ravkan kings seal of approval to steal that for you.” You laughed, looking it over.
It was a journal. Black and leather bound, pages crisp and untouched. A pen was tucked into the cover. 
“I promise, we’ll go home soon,” you responded. “I miss Ketterdam. I could go for some waffles.” 
“Don’t they have waffles here?” Kaz questioned.
“Not Ketterdam waffles, love. Ketterdam waffles are unlike any pathetic waffle from here! Doused in syrup and whip cream--” You let out a satisfied sigh. “So good it’s almost surreal!” Kaz smirked.
“Waffle date when you’re well enough to return home then?” 
“Certainly.”
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johaerys-writes · 3 years
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Fandom: The Song of Achilles
Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus
My entry for Day 1: Music & Day 2: Deities of @patrochillesweek​ 2021! Where the Greeks in Troy celebrate Dionysus' festival, and Achilles and Patroclus spend some time alone (~4.5k words, rated E for smut, check Ao3 link for full list of tags)
Read on Ao3!
Chapter 1: With a Shuddering Gasp
The music from the lyres and cymbals drifted through the camp, mingling with the crackling of flames from the many bonfires that had been lit. The celebrations for Dionysus’ festival had been going on for most of the day and the night before, and the scent of incense and wine hung heavy in the air.
I had never before attended such a festival. It wasn’t celebrated this widely in Opus or Phthia, where I had grown up. The Dionysia was among the largest festivals in Athens, celebrated with days and nights filled with drink, dance and theatrical performances of all kinds. Here, in the Achaean’s camp, where people from the farthest reaches of Greece gathered, it had quickly become a tradition.
I had been in the healers’ tent for most of the day, and now the moon hung high over the dark sea. My fingers were red from scrubbing, my eyes were tired, and the pungent scent of astringent was thick in my nostrils. I was weary, but it was a pleasant sort of weariness. When I worked, my mind was free of thoughts, of worries. I focused only on the act of healing, on helping the wounded soldiers as best I could. A bloody skirmish earlier that day had filled the beds in the tent to bursting, yet no lives had been lost. Perhaps the Trojans had been as tired of bloodshed as the Greeks were on that chilly February afternoon.
“Your wound needs to be cleaned and dressed once a day,” I told the soldier I'd been tending to, securing the bandage around his arm. “And stay away from the thick of the fight, if you can help it. Sweat and dirt will only slow down the healing.”
He nodded and stood up, limping away. I brushed the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, letting out a soft sigh, just as Philomela, one of the healers’ assistants, approached me.
“It’s late, Patroclus,” she said. “You should join the celebrations, before they are over.”
I smiled at her. She was small in stature, with her wild curly hair bound in tight braids. She was one of Menelaus’ women, taken after an attack on one of the northern villages of Troy. She’d been brought to me one day with a cut on her thigh, her knees scraped, her eyes wide in panic and terror. I had been the first to treat her, and she had since regarded me with kindness and reserved affection. Menelaus was kind with his women, and he often let her join me while I worked, helping me, and I taught her what I knew.
“I don’t often join festivals like these,” I told her earnestly. “There's too much noise and commotion, and I am not a heavy drinker.”
“What about your prince?” she asked, her gaze darting away before settling on me again. “Achilles?”
The name was uttered quietly, almost apprehensively. It always stung, just a little, to know that the captives thought of Achilles with so much trepidation. His exploits had earned him something of a reputation, as I understood it: the Greeks revered him, while the Trojans feared the very mention of him. Philomela had visited our camp once or twice, and had seen that Achilles was quiet, almost gentle, when he wasn’t in his armour, yet a hint of disquiet was always there.
I shook my head, dipping my hands in the brass bowl that we used to clean ourselves. The water was cold and refreshing when I splashed it over my face and neck.
“Achilles does not much enjoy noisy gatherings like these either,” I said. “He... prefers being on his own these days.”
It had not always been so. Achilles relished the attention of others; he blossomed with it, and there was bound to be much of it if he joined in the celebration. His campaigns over the last couple of months had been met with overwhelming success, filling his men’s coffers with gold and riches and their camps with slaves. The leaders of the Achaeans would toast him and drink plenty of wine in his honour, the bards would sing of his achievements and his skill in battle until the early morning. Yet, boasting such as this was not always met with alacrity. There were many amongst the Danaans that envied Achilles the power of his station, and sneered at his reputation when they thought he was out of earshot.
Achilles was proud, and rarely paid attention to rumours and gossip. Yet, when he sometimes refused to grace Agamemnon’s lavish dinners with his presence, I could tell it was because the leader of the Greeks occasionally had trouble holding his tongue, especially after a few cups of wine. That was when the older man would gloat and boast, often blowing his own achievements out of proportion, in an effort to measure up to Achilles’ greatness, his promise of glory, the prophecy that had followed him since the moment of his birth, his reputation that only grew, day after day.
One does not need the blood of a goddess, he would say, his cheeks flushed from the drink, eyes gleaming, after recounting a story that was supposedly about a hero of old, if they have the favour of one. Would you not agree, Pelides?
Achilles pretended not to hear, not to know. He would smile at Agamemnon with all his teeth and toast him graciously, as Peleus had taught him, but he was still a man. He had learned to hide his true feelings from others, but I could still see how the whispers fuelled his frustration, how they turned him bitter, even when he insisted they did not.
Achilles was sharp and direct from nature; it troubled him when others were not. He wanted things to be simple and clear-cut, yet, here, they were anything but.
I sighed again, patting my hands dry on a linen towel. Philomela was by my side when we walked out of the tent, and into the festivities. The bonfires were burning high into the night, and from the lit braziers tendrils of incense smoke curled towards the stars. Soldiers and their women gathered around the heat, drinking and dancing to the rhythm of the music that the bands were tirelessly playing. Not a few were wearing animal furs, their faces darkened with soot, as was the custom.
No sooner had I walked out than someone grabbed me by the arm and thrust a cup of wine in my hands. I blinked up, startled, to see Diomedes grinning at me.
"Come," he said. "Drink. Celebrate with us."
I smiled politely and shook my head. "I really should be going back."
"What for?" Odysseus was quick to appear beside him, his usual easy smile ready on his lips. "You've been working all day. Everyone deserves a break, from time to time."
"That's right." Diomedes' wolfish grin got wider, his dark eyes sparkling. "All work and no play makes people dull, haven't you heard?"
Odysseus smiled encouragingly at me behind the rim of his own cup. "Have a drink with us. Just because he doesn't join us anymore doesn't mean you can't."
Of course he was referring to Achilles. It had not gone unnoticed that he had been avoiding gatherings such as these of late. I swallowed as I accepted the cup and reluctantly brought it to my lips. If my presence there could smooth those ruffled feathers, then a drink or two couldn't be that bad, could it?
The wine hit my tongue in a rush of heat, honey and spices. It warmed me as it glided down my throat, pushing the edges of my weariness away. I took another draught, letting its acidic sweetness jolt me awake.
My mild surprise must have been plain on my features, for Diomedes clapped me on the shoulder, chuckling knowingly. "That's it," he said, "that's a good lad. Now, drink up."
I didn't need further encouragement. The wine was unlike any I've ever tried; before long, I had drained my cup, and a servant had filled it to the brim again. The wild cadence of the drums and the flutes matched the beats of my heart, and I wasn't even thinking about my tired and aching limbs when Menelaus' arm wound around my shoulders, pulling me towards the writhing, undulating crowd.
In the smoke of the fires, in the heat of so many bodies moving close together, I forgot about my troubles, my worries. The edges of consciousness blurred, a mist that curled around me, rendering me indefinable. I closed my eyes and simply moved to the rhythm, blending into the crowd like a single petal amongst countless falling cherry blossoms, swirling with the wind.
In the depth of that mist, in the midst of that insubstantial territory, I saw him.
Achilles.
I saw him as he was once, years before, far away from the fires and blood of the war, from the intrigue, the whispers, the jealousy. I saw him running down the beach in Phthia, the pink undersides of his feet flickering. I saw the rich honey brown strands that hid in the depths of his golden hair, the wind that combed through them and brought them before his eyes when he turned to look at me. I saw him swimming in the stream in Pelion, the water running down his limbs in laze swirls.
I could see him clearly in my mind's eye, as if he were there. I could see him laughing, singing, playing his lyre in the pale light of morning, golden and vibrant and carefree. And in him, I saw myself.
I opened my eyes as the beat of the music reached a wild crescendo, as the people cheered and sang at the top of their lungs. Cups were raised high up in the air, wine swirling, overflowing, spilling from its confines and mixing with the brown dirt underfoot. Menelaus was dancing with one of his women — Aristea, his favourite, the fabric of her colourful dress tangling at her ankles as he swirled her about. Her laughter was drowned out by the noise, fading away.
I took a deep breath to center my focus, and stepped back, away from the crowd. My heart was still beating fast, and the music was hypnotic, but I knew I had to return to my own camp before it got too late.
Odysseus and Diomedes were caught in the festivities as well, so no one noticed me slipping away. Only Philomela's eyes caught mine amidst the sea of bobbing heads, and pushed her way towards me. She was holding a bowl filled with the sweets that the slaves had made earlier that day for the festival, dried fruits stuffed with nuts and drenched with syrup.
"For you," she said, smiling warmly at me, "and your prince."
~
The music and noisy chatter from the festival had dulled to a hazy, distant thrum by the time I made my way back to our camp. I was still feeling lightheaded from the drink, breathless from dancing and weaving through the endless rows of tents and throngs of inebriated, laughing soldiers. My brow was damp with sweat despite the chilly night, and my pulse still thumped in my throat in a strange sort of anticipation, a restless hunger. I clutched the bowl close to my chest, and hurried on.
The soft, plaintive sounds of Achilles’ lyre reached me as soon as I caught sight of the Phthian banners, fluttering in the breeze at the edges of our encampment.
Achilles was sitting on a bench, my mother’s golden lyre nestled in his lap. His fingers ran over the strings languidly, plucking notes that were brighter than water from a babbling stream, sweeter than honey. In the fire’s trembling halo, he seemed ethereal, very nearly transparent, yet at the same time more vibrant than I had ever seen him, dispelling the darkness of the night beyond. His hair caught the amber light on the flames and reflected it in aureate strands, his skin shimmered like polished gold, the muscles of his arms rose and fell underneath it like waves with every movement.
Beautiful, my mind supplied, as it always did when I looked at him. I had been gazing upon him since I was a child; it still was not enough for me to get used to him, to the effortless grace of his presence, the perfect symmetry of his eyes, his lips. The festivities that had been raging for a day and a night may have well been for Dionysus, yet it was Achilles, right there before me, who looked like a god, one for whom people gathered on wintry nights like this, to drink and dance and fornicate in his honour.
Would people remember him with kindness, I wondered, many years from now?
His jade green eyes snapped up to mine, and the familiar heat rushed through me, brushing away my swirling, distracted thoughts.
He set the lyre beside him and stood up. “You stayed with the healers until late tonight,” he said.
“I did,” I replied simply, standing at the edge of the fire. The bowl with the sweets was still cradled in my chest. Achilles glanced at it curiously, then at me.
“Is there something amiss?” he asked.
Of course he could tell I was different, just by looking at me, without me having to say anything. He always understood so much more about me than he let on.
“I just like looking at you.”
Achilles tilted his head ever so slightly to the side in question, a tiny fox’s smile curling the edges of his lips. He stood up and paced towards me unhurriedly, his footsteps barely audible on the soft earth.
My pulse raced ever so slightly when his finger brushed carefully under my eye. “You’re flushed,” he said.
“I had some wine. At the festival.”
“Ah.” His finger travelled higher, tracing my cheekbone. “Your pupils are larger than usual. What did you do?”
“Nothing.” I smiled. “It’s so I can see you better.”
Achilles huffed a quiet laugh at that, his features softened by pleasure. He always liked it when I gazed at him, praised him. The sound of his laughter slithered down my spine like warmed honey.
I do not know what possessed me then. Perhaps it was the drink, or the moon that hung high above us like a silver coin, or the way the firelight danced in his eyes and caressed the side of his face, but I had to be alone with him.
I took his hand in mine, walking backwards towards our tent. I could not look away, nor did I want to.
“One of Menelaus’ women gave me these sweets,” I told him. “They’re for you.”
“Is that so?” he hummed, amused. He caught on the game I was playing instantly, by reflex. “Then I’ll be sure to try them.”
We stepped in the tent together, the leather flap closing soundlessly behind us. I set the bowl on the low table that stood in the center of the place that we had come to call home, ever since we’d come to Troy.
We stood opposite each other across the table, facing each other, our breaths the only sounds. I swallowed; I did not know why I was feeling so restless all of a sudden, like it was the first time we had found ourselves alone.
“Take your pick,” I said, gesturing at the bowl.
Achilles quirked a fair brow as he glanced down at them, like a lord perusing a lowly merchant’s stall. “I will not choose at random,” he replied in an artfully haughty tone. “You must choose for me. You are my therapon; I know you will choose well.” He was in a playful mood, smiling at me like a mischievous boy; I loved it when he got like this. I didn’t often get to see him like that anymore.
I picked up one of the sweets and brought it to my lips. My teeth sank in the supple flesh of a dried fig, the walnuts within it softened from the syrup. I chewed slowly, my eyes never leaving him.
“How is it?” he asked. “Is it good?”
I shook my head. “Not good enough for you, my prince.”
Achilles bit back a grin, eyes shining. “Go on, then. Try another.”
And so I did. I picked up the syrupy fruits slowly, one after another, watching him. Every time Achilles asked me how it was, I answered in the same fashion: “Not good enough for you, my prince.”
I tried one of every sweet in the bowl, until my tongue clung to the roof of my mouth with the sweetness. When I had finished my thorough examination, Achilles crossed his arms leisurely before his chest.
“So, what is your verdict?” he asked, smirking. “Which one amongst them is the sweetest for me?”
I licked my lips, sticky with honey and spices, as my heartbeat soared. I reached into the bowl and dipped two fingers in the syrup, then slowly, holding Achilles’ gaze, I lifted them to my neck, dragging them across my skin.
“I am, my prince.”
Achilles’ eyes flashed in the half dark. There was something feral about the way his gaze honed in on me; a hunter’s gleam. He circled the table, closing the distance between us in two well-measured strides. I could smell the sweet scent of his sweat as he leaned in close, and a deeper, muskier one; the smell of his arousal. I bit the inside of my lip as his arm wound around my waist, pulling me until I was flush against him.
“Then I shall have you,” he whispered in my ear.
I shivered when his tongue brushed the side of my neck, warm and slick, velvet smooth. My head tipped backwards and I clung to him, holding him tight against me. His skin was hot to the touch underneath the fabric of his chiton, hotter than my own. Achilles’ mouth traced the hollow of my throat, the line of my jaw, the curve of my chin, before brushing over my own.
“I believe,” he hummed, his tongue flicking over my bottom lip, “this, here, is the sweetest yet.” His hands were on the base of my spine, drawing me in, and I was helpless in his hold. “You chose well.”
A soft moan escaped me, my fingers sinking into Achilles’ fragrant strands while he kissed me until my breath was all but gone from me. I followed the line of his neck, his shoulder, undoing the golden clasps that held his chiton in place. I could feel the weight of his waking interest pressing up against my thigh, and I suddenly couldn’t bear the feeling of clothes between us, or anything else; it had to be just us.
I pushed the fabric down, caressing and kissing every inch of skin I uncovered. I looked up at him when I had sunk down on my knees before him, bare as he was, his form illuminated by the shifting light of the brazier. My pulse hummed in my ears as I let my gaze follow the muscled planes of his chest and stomach, the definition in his arms, the strength of his powerful legs. He was watching me, too, through eyelashes that gleamed like threads of gold.
“My sweet Patroclus,” he whispered, thumb brushing over my lips, and in his gaze that familiar fondness lingered, unchanged through the many years I’d known him.
This. This was how I liked him best. When he was naked before me, body and heart, looking at me like this, touching me like this. This was when I knew he was mine, and mine alone; the world could not take this from me. From us.
I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around him, taking him in my mouth. Achilles shivered underneath me, his lips falling open on a quiet moan. His emerald eyes were dark with wanting, bottomless, when he reached down and threaded his long fingers through my hair. I was caught, pinned under that gaze, magnetised.
“Achilles,” I breathed, kissing the smooth skin of his navel as I stroked him, breathing in the musk of his sweat, the scent that rose from him: sandalwood, pomegranate, almonds and earth.
His hold on the back of my head tightened. He pulled me up gently and nudged me towards our bed, and I followed, half stumbling over my own toes.  
My back sank into the furs as Achilles climbed over me, hovering above me. His smile was half-obscured by the trembling shadows, framed by the curtain of golden hair that fell around his face. The scent of the oil he used wafted in the air when he opened the vial that lay beside our bed.
“There’s more I haven’t tried,” he said.
“Is there?” I whispered. I spread my thighs wider apart, sighing when I felt the pressure of his fingers between my legs.
“Yes.” He kissed and nipped his way down, glancing up at me mischievously every time his fingers and tongue drew more shivers from me. His breath was hot over me when he said, “I have saved the best for last.”
I laughed, but the edges of my laughter broke on a strained sob of pleasure. I could feel him everywhere, his hands wandering all over me, the heat of his mouth swallowing me whole. I closed my eyes and surrendered to him, to this blissful, blessed torture. I was helplessly drawn to him, in his hands a mere plaything. Like the lyre he played, I was but an instrument, his touches drawing sounds from me that were meant for his ears alone.
When my heart had been filled to bursting, just when I thought that I would unravel in his hands, he pulled back, climbing back up the length of me again. His cheeks were flushed and so were his lips, his length hard against my skin where it touched me.
I reached up and cupped the back of his neck, heart beating wildly in my chest. “Is there more you’d like to try?” I asked in a teasing whisper. “Or have you had enough?”
“Enough?” His laughter was husky, a tad breathless. He kissed me deeply, reaching for the oil once more. “I’ll never have enough, philtatos.”
I gasped softly when he pressed against me, opening me up. My arms and legs wound around him, as if by rote, clutching him hard, pulling him to me. We were flush against each other, our bodies locking perfectly like two pieces of a whole. There was no one else but him in the world; there was no room for anything else. Just my skin touching his skin, the smell of his hair and the sweetness of his mouth, his quiet sighs in the half dark, and this hunger: these endless wells of aching want that existed between us, this fire that burned eternal.
We moved and breathed in unison, the edges between us blurring once more, our bodies melting into one. I closed my eyes and lost myself in that heat, that pressure, the pleasure that built and built, yet it was still him that I saw behind my eyelids. Even when my gaze turned inward and I drifted, swimming in the deepest recesses of my mind, I could always find him there, waiting for me, his image crisp as if he were right before me. He was a part of me, as I was of him; there was no me without him.
Achilles buried his face in the crook of my neck as he thrust deeper, harder, more urgently. His brow was damp with sweat now, his fingers digging into the flesh of my thigh where he held me fast. I was pinned underneath him, legs spread open at either side of his powerful hips, my hands roaming over the taut muscles of his back. Muscles that I knew better than my own, lines and angles that I could trace in the dark, with my eyes closed.
“Patroclus,” Achilles said in a shuddering gasp against my throat as his thrusts got faster, more erratic. “Patroclus—”
Achilles often got impatient, chasing his finish like a lion locked on to a deer, yet I didn’t want this to end just yet. I didn’t want to lose this warm, melding feeling. I hugged him tightly and pushed him to the side, flipping us both around.
I pinned his wrists above his head and held his gaze as I rolled my hips slowly, sinking down on him.
Achilles looked up at me, flushed and panting, his skin glistening, his hair spread in lazy golden swirls about his head. I leaned down, pressing my forehead to his.
“The fastest of the Greeks,” I hummed, “in all things, it seems.”
Achilles laughed, the sound vibrating through me where we were connected. “A champion in all things, you mean.” He grinned wickedly, yet it wasn’t long before his laughter turned into breathless, shaky moans again, his length stiffening within me. My name poured forth from his mouth with every breath, over and over, kissing it onto my lips, whispering it over my flushed and warmed up skin.
Achilles had never told me that he loved me, and I had never told him. It was always understood between us, a truth as natural as breathing, buried deep beneath our skin and woven in our bones. Yet when he said my name like this — Patroclus, Pa-tro-clus — repeated it like a chant, like it was holy, I knew well what he meant.
And so did he.
“Achilles,” I whispered into his hair, threading my fingers through his. “Achilles,” I gasped when he bucked, arching underneath me. “Achilles,” I breathed, when I felt the warmth of his pleasure blossoming inside me, when he melted in my arms, when his eyelids fell over his eyes like the petals of a nightflower at dusk.
We lay like this for a long while, arms and legs tangled atop the furs. I held him tight, long after our breaths had eased and our heartbeats had found their natural rhythm. The music and voices from the festival drifted through the leather walls of our tent, mingled with the trill of the crickets, the hoot of distant night birds hidden in the trees. Though I knew where we were, what lay beyond the safe haven of our small home; though the weight of a long day of healing death was quick to return to my limbs, it did not quite stir the peace between us. I had him, like this, soft and pure and unblemished like the first time I’d seen him, the first time I’d kissed him, the first time I’d laid with him. No one could take this from me. From us.  
“Patroclus,” Achilles sighed sleepily, nuzzling into the hollow of my throat, arms coming around me to hold me close.
Yes, I thought. I knew well what he meant, when he said my name like this.
“Achilles,” I whispered in return, and closed my eyes.
~
Thank you so much for reading! Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) If you enjoyed this one-shot, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Have a great day! <3
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izzielizzie · 3 years
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Rough on the Surface but You Cut Through Like a Knife
summary: When Bronwyn Rojas ends up next to the ever obnoxious Nate Macauley in Spanish class, she doesn’t really mean to hit him with a book. Well, she does, but she doesn’t expect to end up in the principal’s office with him. And she definitely doesn’t expect to find him amusing.
alternatively: Bronwyn hits Nate with a book and a long overdue conversation ensues (AU)
title from Willow by Taylor Swift
I’m about to drop into my regular seat in AP Spanish, my last class of the day, when Señora Trias calls “Don’t sit yet niños, we have some seat switching to do!”
I groan along with the rest of the class and catch Kate’s eye. We’ve sat together the entire year. I don’t even think I know anyone else in my class. She shrugs in a resigned sort of way. Señora Trias is a force to reckoned with, and we both know she’ll never let us stay in the same seats. We follow the teacher’s instructions, and I’m too busy trying to figure out the complicated dance we’re doing - row one to the left, row two to the right, front to back and back to front - that I don’t even notice that I’ve ended up next to a boy in a ratty leather jacket. 
Ugh. Nathaniel Macauley. The school’s notorious drug dealer/womanizer/delinquent/major headache. 
And this headache is smirking at me.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“Nope, I’m all good… partner.”
I hate the way he says that word, it’s suggestive and disgusting and I suppress a shudder, turning instead to the front of the room, where we’re reviewing pluscuamperfecto. As a native Spanish speaker, I can confidently say I have no idea what the heck that is. 
“This is pointless,” Nate grumbles.
“Shhh,” I whisper back, taking a glance at his sharp jaw and deep blue eyes. I’ve known Nate from a distance my whole life, we’ve gone to the same schools since kindergarten, but this is the first time we’ve been so close - or exchanged words - in years.
I look back to the teacher, who’s now going over conjugations. I scribble them down in my notebook as Nate tips his chair back on two legs, rocking back and forth. 
“You’re going to kill yourself,” I inform him.
“Wow Rojas, I didn’t know you cared.”
I scoff and Señora Trias sends us a sharp look. “Señorita Rojas. Señor Macauley, no talking.”
I give Nate a sharp look. “Now look what you’ve done,” I hiss, feeling the reprimand as if it had been thrown at me. Nate just smirks. 
“You’ve never been in trouble have you?” he asks. I ignore him and he barks out a laugh, my silence serving as an answer. “Wow Rojas, I knew you were straight laced but I didn’t know you were that straight laced.”
And we all know you’re not I think, remembering the drug bust rumor Kate was whispering about last week. 
Nate clearly can tell I’m not interested in listening to him, so in the time it takes me to pull out the short novel we’re reading in class from my bag and read about a chapter, Nate doesn’t say a word. When I’m copying down the questions our teacher wrote on the board onto my notebook, he starts talking.
“What’s the answer to one?”
“Solo español por favor!” Señora Trias calls from the front of the class. I give Nate a triumphant look, expecting him to be unable to follow the teacher’s instruction of only talking in Spanish. Unfortunately this is Spanish class. And Nate’s not an idiot. He repeats the question in the correct language, and I decide that I’d be better off ignoring him. 
After a few moments, I can feel Nate leaning over my shoulder. I look over to see his eyes on my paper.  
“Stop that,” I whisper. 
“Spanish only,” he whispers back.
“That wasn’t even in Spanish!”
“Neither was that,” Nate points out. 
I huff and go back to my paper, flipping through my book to find the answer to my next question. 
“Help meeeee,” Nate whispers. 
“Shut up,” I say.
“Bronwynnnnnn.”
“Shhh.”
“Rrrrrrojas.”
My sister once told me about out of body experiences when we were children, and at the time I had scoffed because the supernatural does not exist. But when I close my book - marking my page with my finger because I’m not a philistine - and swing it straight into Nate’s face, I swear I’m not controlling myself at all.
“Would you shut up?” I snap as an unnatural silence overtakes the room. I look around for the first time, meeting stricken faces. Kate’s looking at me like she’s never met me before. 
“Bronwyn Rojas,” Señora Trias says dangerously. I risk a glance at Nate and feel a flash of sympathy when I see a red mark on his cheek. But he’s smirking at me so maybe he deserved it. 
I’m frozen, not quite sure what to say. Señora Trias points to the door. “Principal. Both of you.”
“Both!” Nate and I say at the same time.
“Yes, look at that you’re in sync, no use that rhythm to get to the office.” 
Not the best witty comment around, all things considered, but since Señora Trias looks like she’s ready to commit murder so I let it slide.
“So let me get this straight,” Principal Gupta says, staring at Nate and I, sitting side by side in the uncomfortable chairs in Gupta’s office. “You two were partnered in Spanish class, Bronwyn you were annoyed with Nathaniel, so you hit him with a book?”
Nate tips his chair back and I kick at his ankle. He kicks back. 
“Bronwyn.”
“Yes, sorry. This is correct,” I say. Principal Gupta stares at me. I’ve been getting a lot of stares lately. She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, the secretary appears at the door.
“There’s a problem in the cafeteria,” she informs Gupta, who sighs. She looks sharply at us. 
“I am going to be gone for ten minutes tops. Please refrain from murdering each other.”
I nod vehemently while Nate tips his chair back farther, his smirk growing. I count backwards from fifty in my head just to make sure Gupta is really gone before wheeling back towards him. I push down on the arm of his chair with all my might. Nate crashes to the ground, a look of shock on his face.
“Jesus Bronwyn.”
“Stop tilting your gosh darn chair” I hiss, my face only a few inches away from his. I can see myself reflected back in his dark blue eyes. I look mildly deranged. He smirks again and I raise my hand. He flinches away. Ha. Take that. 
He holds up his hands in surrender, leaning away from me. “Would it make you feel better if I sat on the floor Rojas?”
“Yes, yes it would.” 
Nate slides to the ground, and before I can realize what’s happening, he’s pulling me down by the waist. “What the heck?” I ask.
Nate shrugs. “If I have to sit on the floor, then you do too.” He pauses for a beat. “And your legs look good in that skirt.
I slap his shoulder. “Jackass!”
Nate laughs. “She swears!” he announces to an audience of… no one. 
“Why is that notable?” I ask, self-consciously tucking my legs underneath myself, ignoring my tingling waist where Nate’s fingers ended up under my shirt. 
“Because a minute ago you said ‘gosh darn’ and not even grandmothers would say that Rojas.”
I can feel my face flush, but I cross my arms anyway. My little sister always teases me about how I don’t swear. Not that she swears either. “Is it really a bad thing?”
“Yes.”
I flush more, irritated at myself that Nate’s opinion matters this much to me. He senses that I’m done talking because he looks straight ahead at Gupta’s desk, where we can just make out a picture of her and her daughter.
“How’s your sister doing? Maeve, right?” Nate asks, and I turn to stare at him in shock. My sister Maeve left elementary school with cancer a long time ago. Nate was just starting to know her - they were on the same soccer team - and I don’t expect him to remember her, let alone her name.
“Yeah, it’s Maeve,” I say, my tone considerably softer. Nothing makes me happier than my sister. “She’s okay.”
“She’s in remission right?” 
I turn my body so I’m looking straight ahead at him, a concession maybe. My anger is ebbing, and I’m sort of guilty about that bruise on his face. “She is. Thank you for asking.” Not many people do. 
“You’re welcome.” What he says next surprises me so much I almost miss what he says: “Want to talk about it?”
I look at him for a moment, at his dark eyes and smattering of freckles and his closed off expression, and I can’t help the feeling that he’s being serious. And I don’t know why that’s so off putting.
I shrug, trying to figure out what to say. “It just sucks, you know?” I finally land on.
Nate nods. “I know.” I think back to his mother’s funeral, the dark, rainy morning where he stood in an old suit, his father too drunk to even show up. I kept thinking about Maeve, about how some day I might have to stand in the same place, shouldering the burden of a million worlds. 
I imagine that’s how it feels to lose someone.
I feel the need suddenly, to make those eyes light up so I shift slightly closer to him and pluck at the sleeve of his leather jacket. 
“Hey, remember when we were locked in that music room at St. Pi?” I ask.
Nate glances over at me through hooded eyes, his eyelashes unnaturally long. He nods, a half smile on his lips. “I remember. Sixth grade right?”
“Yeah.” I remember that day like it was yesterday. We had been arguing - much like today - in the middle of a music class, and our teacher sent us to the storeroom to sort flutes until we calmed down or something. But we - and the teacher - had forgotten that the door to the store room door locked from the outside. Nate and I were locked in for nearly an hour, which to twelve year olds, felt like forever.
“It was a pretty good day you know?”
“Really? I thought I threw a clarinet case at you.”
“Well you did,” Nate says. “But you know… it was nice. You’re nice.”
“Aww.”
“But you are violent.”
“Touché,” I admit.
He smiles at me, his eyes soft, and I smile back. I’m about to reach up to touch the bruise on his face when Gupta comes back, breezing through the door like she’s floating. She groans when she sees us. 
“Why are you on the floor?”
“Heat rises,” Nate says with a shrug.
“It’s November."
Nate and I just look at each other and smile. We climb back into our seats, and when he tips his chair back, I don’t say anything. And when I say “gosh” instead of “god” when I’m assuring Gupta that “I swear to gosh I didn’t mean to hit him I’m so sorry” Nate doesn’t even bat an eye.
Truce, I guess. 
Gupta spends ten minutes talking about pressure and how sometimes we cave but if Nate forgives me it’s okay before she lets us leave. Nate and I mockingly shake hands before we get up and it’s… nice. 
The bell has already rung, so we turn in opposite directions, me to physics and him to gosh knows where when he turns to me.
“Hey, want to go to the mall on Saturday? You can buy me a pretzel for my troubles.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll throw something at you?”
Nate grins his Macauley grin. “I think I’ll risk it, Rojas.”
My smile is his answer.
39 notes · View notes
freddyfreebat · 4 years
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Jack Dylan Grazer Discovers Who He Is in Luca Guadagnino's “We Are Who We Are”
After supporting roles in the It and Shazam!, the young actor shifts gears with his turn as a capricious army brat in the Call Me By Your Name director's new HBO series.
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by Iana Murray / Photography by Nik Antonio  —  September 14, 2020
A few years ago, Jack Dylan Grazer took a trip to the movie theater. He was in Toronto and it was one of his days off from filming Shazam!, the DC comedy in which he plays the shape-shifting hero’s foster brother. He decided to watch Call Me By Your Name, and he immediately fell for it. Grazer took note of the director’s name that appeared in the credits—Luca Guadagnino—and turned to his mother.
“I want to work with him,” he told her. With eerie prescience, she assured him: “You will.”
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Whether Grazer, now 17, has a knack for manifestation, or it was all just happenstance, his wish came true in the form of We Are Who We Are, Guadagnino’s coming of age drama which follows a group of army brats living on an American military base in Italy. Thematically, the show is something of a spiritual successor to Call Me By Your Name: Grazer plays Fraser, a tempestuous 14-year-old with a pair of headphones constantly plugged in his ears. He’s the new arrival at the base with his mothers (Chloë Sevigny and Alice Braga), and quickly forms a deep bond with his neighbour, Caitlin (Jordan Kristine Seamon), as they both wrestle with their sexuality and identity in the midst of domestic troubles and teenage debauchery.
“He’s an enigma to himself,” Grazer says of his character. “He doesn’t really understand a lot of the things he does but he’s so forthright so he convinces himself that he knows everything. He feels like other people don’t deserve his intelligence. But he’s also very volatile and aggressive at times, and not because he’s coming from an angry place but because he’s constantly questioning who he is.”
If Fraser is just beginning his coming of age when we first meet him, Grazer is inching closer to the end. Starring in enormous blockbusters including IT, he became the Loser Club’s resident hypochondriac at age 12 and a superhero’s sidekick by 15. His films have grossed a combined total of over $1.5 billion. Suddenly the stakes are multiplied tenfold during what are ostensibly, and horrifyingly, the most awkward years of your life. Every misstep is now being monitored, examined through a microscope of millions. (See: His 3.8 million fans on Instagram, to say nothing of the countless stan accounts.) Child fame is a disarming transaction like that: a stable career and all the other perks of being a celebrity, but at the cost of normalcy. That unalleviating pressure forces a kid to mature fast.
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Grazer is acutely aware of this fact, admitting outright that he’s “not a normal person.” But he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I became 70 when I was 7!” he laughs. “I don’t know if I really had much of a childhood. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to grow up really fast.”
Nevertheless, he’s still 17. When we meet over Zoom, his shoulder length curls are damp and disheveled (he just got out of the shower), his black painted fingernails contrast with his brightly-lit, white bedroom as he rests his face on his hand. It’s a Saturday morning and he looks tired: It’s his first week back at school, which has traded classrooms for hours of video calls reminiscent of the one we’re currently on. “It feels like the days are shorter because the teachers don’t want to torture their students by keeping them on a computer for six hours a day,” he tells me. “You do miss the social aspect of being at school.”
If you were to judge Grazer by what’s out there on the internet, you’d expect an anarchic and relentless bundle of energy. A quick YouTube search brings up results like “jack dylan grazer being a drama queen” and “jack dylan grazer being chaotic in interviews for 4 and a half minutes straight.” He trolled a YouTube gamer on Instagram Live. His TikToks are inscrutable.
But here, he’s incredibly earnest, as he excitedly talks about his skateboarding hobby (a skill he picked up after auditioning for Mid90s) and his attempts to learn the flute (“I need to learn how to read sheet music, but it’s like reading Hebrew!”). He’s calm and thoughtful, as if this project we’re discussing requires a shift in sensibility.
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For Grazer, acting had always simply been fun. While other kids might take up a sport or get hooked on video games, he performed in musical theater with the Adderley School because he “just wanted to play.” His roles so far have been reflective of his carefree approach to the job: Up until now, he’s portrayed best friends with biting one-liners, or the younger version of the protagonist in a flashback. IT is a prime example of both. In the horror franchise, Grazer plays a neurotic germaphobe running from a fear-eating clown, but in reality, the film felt like “summer camp.” Both films never felt like work; he just learned his lines and got to hang out on extravagant sets with his best friends. Likewise, school amounted to being pulled off set by a teacher in between takes to cram in the mandatory hours.
But with We Are Who We Are, he steps into his first leading role, one that required him to convey longing and confusion through Elio-like physicality and subtext. It’s abnormal to talk about the show as a turning point for an actor who isn’t even a legal adult yet, but Grazer explains that the show required him to radically change his approach to acting. He spent six months in Italy (“It felt like I was in Call Me By Your Name.”) and built up the character beyond what was on the page in collaboration with Guadagnino. “His philosophy is that we know our characters better than anyone else—even the writers—because we are the characters essentially,” he explains.
In many ways, Grazer absorbed that philosophy entirely. He describes the experience less as a performance and more like a “rebirth”—perhaps even an attempt at method acting. Over those months in Italy, the distinctions between actor and character gradually became indistinguishable. “I had no other choice but to act and surrender to Fraser entirely and throw Jack Dylan Grazer out the window,” he says. “I would go out and get a coffee as Fraser and walk like Fraser. That was just me trying to get into [character], but then I slipped at some point and just became Fraser.”
One day on set, he looked at himself in the mirror, and the hardened kid standing there with a bleach-blond dye job and oversized shorts was unrecognizable to him. He could only see Fraser. While talking about his character, he seems to unintentionally switch pronouns, from “he” to “I”, as if the two still remain one and the same.
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The process was so transformative that it forced him to re-evaluate himself entirely. “I never really struggled with identity before,” Grazer tells me. “But I think the show opened up my eyes to question myself. Being Fraser forced me to question what I wanted and what I stood for and what I believed in. At some points, the show bled into reality.”
When asked how he has changed, he takes a pause and a pensive swivel in his armchair, unsure of how to answer. “I think I was more ignorant before I did the show,” he says, and he leaves it at that.
Coming of agers are a particularly well-trodden genre, but there’s a naturalistic, raw energy to We Are Who We Are that is distinctive from what we’ve seen before. Each character quietly struggles with their own problems and growing pains—for Fraser, it’s his sexuality. Caught in a fraught relationship with his lesbian mother and an infatuation with another man, his story doesn’t tick off the familiar beats. His personal discovery is instead internal and intimate. "I think every single person born as a boy has this guard. It’s this guard that they don’t even realize they have, where they’re initially like, ‘Being gay? I could never.’ But we’re all born as humans who are attracted to whatever we’re attracted to," he says. "I think that’s how Fraser interprets it as well. Yes, he’s reserved and nervous about it in the beginning because he’s unlocking this new idea for himself. He’s figuring it out, and that’s what you see in the show: him coming to terms with this idea."
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As our conversation winds to a close, I ask him if Martin Scorsese ever visited the set—his daughter, Francesca, plays the confident cool girl of the show’s teen cohort—and his eyes widen. “That was actually a really stressful day,” he divulges. Still, he revels in the memory, speaking so fast it’s like someone has put him on 2.5x speed as he shows off his impersonation of Guadagnino. The director was so nervous about Scorsese’s presence that production halted that day.
“Luca was like, ‘I cannot do this today because Martin Scorsese is on my set. I don’t know what to do, this is not good for me. I will have a panic attack before the day ends,’” Grazer says in his best Italian accent. “It’s like if you’re a painter and Van Gogh shows up.” 
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Admittedly, Grazer is also a self-proclaimed superfan of the Wolf of Wall Street director, and afterwards, he got to spend several days with his idol, as they went on lavish restaurant outings in Italy and talked about anything and everything.
He takes a second to compose himself. A giddy, Cheshire cat smile spreads across his face. The kid in him comes flooding back.
“...Oh my god!” he yells. “I met Martin Scorsese!”
631 notes · View notes
extravaguk · 3 years
Text
santa&prada
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part of my opposites attract! series. 
ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk
pairing: rich!jimin x reader
summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.
wordcount: 5k
genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me
rated: m 
warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.
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The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.
You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.
Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)
To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones. 
The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.
You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.
"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.
"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"
Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.
Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.
You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.
If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.
Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.
"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"
"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.
In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.
So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks? 
But apparently, you did. 
You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.
Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.
Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.
And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone. 
Except you.
Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve. 
"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat. 
"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin)  falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."
Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.
"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.
Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.
But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.
Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.
"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"
"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."
In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.
So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.
Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.
With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now.  Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence. 
Knock knock.
The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question.  Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.
"_____, I would like to-"
"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"
The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.
This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.
But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.
Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.
"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."
Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.
And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.
"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips. 
"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."
He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall. 
"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby." 
With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.
You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.
"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."
His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.
Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes. 
"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you. 
"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.
"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck. 
"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace.  It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."
And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.
"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.
Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing. 
"Let me take you on a date." 
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Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week. 
It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away. 
And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right. 
He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be. 
But that damn dress.
After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.
That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes. 
"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.
"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony. 
"N-no!" 
Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.
"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.
"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out. 
"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."
Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed. 
But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.
"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"
"Do it again."
And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful. 
"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one. 
"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance. 
Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.
"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."
Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."
"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"
Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible. 
But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth. 
"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future. 
And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you. 
It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.
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hercleverboy · 3 years
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kate!! 50 from general for the prompt list? so excited to read anything you come up with ☺️
amelia!!! much love to you x x
wc ↠ 1.1k
General #50 ↠ “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Spencer took a deep breath before standing up from the table, receiving an encouraging smile from his best man as he made his way to the front of the room.
The quiet chatter among the guests fell silent as everyone turned their attention to the groom, who was about to make his wedding speech. He was nervous, of course. It was wedding day, not even two hours earlier he’d married the love of his life, and now he had to make a speech in front of a room of people. God help him.
“Hi, um.” Spencer looked down at the cue cards that he held in front of him that he’d brought to prompt him with his words. Eidetic memory or not, he didn’t want the speech to sound like it was being read off paper, he didn’t want it to lack feeling and emotion. He looked up, his eyes locking on Y/N, his wife. She could see the worry in his expression, and simply gave him a smile that seemed to work wonders. He looked back down at his cards, before making the last-minute decision to tuck them away in the pocket of his suit jacket, instead deciding to speak from the heart.
He cleared his throat, and then began to recount one of the greatest stories of all time. “The first night that I told Y/N that I loved her, well— it’s a funny story, actually.”
“Morgan had all but forced me to come out to the bar with him and the team after we spent a week over in San Francisco. The case had gone surprisingly well, so I begrudgingly agreed to tag along. Really, I only agreed to go in the hopes that he would stop bothering me.” Spencer chuckled as he looked over to where Morgan sat, his best friend, his best man.
“Never, Pretty Boy. You’re stuck with me.” Morgan called out from his seat, earning a few laughs as Spencer shook his head at his friend.
“I’d been dating Y/N for only a few weeks at that point. Things were going good, but any of the team could tell you—I was absolutely petrified of messing things up. However, that night at the bar I was.. for lack of a better term, I was wasted.” The room erupted with laughter at hearing the genius say the word ‘wasted’, the team laughing the loudest as they recounted the memory. “So much so, that I actually managed to lose my house key? And my phone, uh, my phone was dead. So I had to go to Y/N’s.”
Spencer met Y/N’s eyes again, a smile creeping onto his face as he saw her own amused grin on her lips. “So I get there, and I’m knocking on the door like an idiot because I’m just so excited to see her.”
*
The door opened and Spencer let out a loud gasp at the sight of his girlfriend. “Y/N!” He stumbled forward, losing his balance, and throwing his arms around her. “Oh I missed you soooo much.”
Y/N frowned but couldn’t deny her amusement at his current state. She put her arms around him to steady him before she spoke. “Spencer, what’re you doing here?”
She used the grip she had on him to pull him inside as she closed the door behind him.
“Wellllll I managed to lose my key? So I had to ask the taxi- the taxi guy to drop me off here.” He slurred, sounding confused as he spoke.
Y/N moved him to sit on the couch before going to retrieve him a glass of water.
When she came back, he was drunkenly rambling about a mix of quantum physics and how the third Shrek film made no sense because ‘how did a donkey impregnate a dragon?’ He stopped his rambles when Y/N came back into view, his face lighting up at the sight of her.
“Y/N.” He sang, dragging out her name. “I’m sorry I came here, but I just- I didn’t know where else to go.” He shrugged, explaining it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He took the glass of water from her, taking a few sips in an over exaggerated and child-like manner.
“It’s okay, Spence. You know you’re always welcome here.”
He grinned at her, placing down the water (nearly missing the coffee table entirely and giving Y/N a near heart attack) before he laid down on the couch, putting his head on her lap and throwing his arms around her waist.
She chuckled, her hands coming down to run through his curls. “You tired?”
He nodded against her. “Hmm. Yep yep. Sleep sounds good.” He murmured.
“You can go to sleep, love. I’ll be here to take care of you in the morning.”
He gave a small smile sleepily. “You always take care of me. Hm.” He slurred, fighting against sleep. “Don’t deserve you.”
Y/N shushed him, hoping that running her hands through his hair would lull him to sleep.
“I love you.” He whispered before he finally let sleep take him.
*
“I found out a few weeks later that she’d actually said it back. And since then, we’ve been living happily ever after.” He grinned proudly. Having a woman as wonderful as Y/N be his was something he was so incredibly proud of, and he always made sure everyone knew just how grateful for her he was. “Uh, so I’d like to propose a toast, to my beautiful bride.” He beamed over at Y/N and could see the happy tears clouding her eyes. It took almost everything in him not to get choked up himself. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world. I love you, so much. I can’t wait to start the rest of our lives together.”
The sound of champagne flutes clinking together filled the room, followed by a short applause for the couple before the chatter resumed.
Spencer made his way back to his seat next to his bride, and she greeted him with a hug and a kiss to his cheek. “Nice speech, Mr Reid.”
“Well thank you, Mrs Reid. I do try.” He gave her a cheeky grin before leaning in to kiss her. The team, who were sat at the table with the happy couple ‘aww’d at the sight, smiles on all their faces as they witnessed the pair.
Y/N turned to Garcia, her maid of honour, and struck up conversation. Spencer looked at his wife, taking in every detail. She looked so beautiful in her stunning dress, it was a wonder that Spencer’s heart hadn’t stopped earlier when he saw her at the opposite end of the aisle. His eye caught the gleam of the new golden band that sat above her engagement ring, his heart swelling with happiness and pride at the sight. 
What a lucky man he was.
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