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pockettwinzz · 1 month

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Bully - P.JY

୨୧ Warnings ୨୧ : Lots of bullying, degrading, blood, hitting, trauma, sick parent, kissing, smut, NSFW, fluff, angst

୨୧ A/N ୨୧ : sorry for such drastic turns in this- (i was just trying to make a happy ending or else y'all might kill me kksksks) and yeah there's a poem in it too, i wrote it lolol. I'm not satisfied with this but oh well.. I pray that all some of my moots(who are also my faves) don't read this shi-

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 <3

୨୧ Word Count ୨୧ : 6.6k | 35,514 characters

You hated this place. The oppressive humidity sticks to your skin like a second layer of clothing. Even the air feels heavy, as if the atmosphere itself were a physical weight dragging you down. The sky is a relentless shade of gray, like someone smeared charcoal across the horizon, and the constant drizzle turns everything into a uniform shade of drab. You were sitting on the edge of the school's roof, your legs dangling over the edge. Your school backpack sat beside you, its contents scattered around you like a pathetic offering to the gods of lost hopes and dreams.

The sound of footsteps echoes across the rooftop, growing louder with each step. You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to see a teacher or a security guard approaching. But it's him, Jay. He struts across the rooftop with an arrogant swagger that you know all too well. His dirty-blond hair is slicked back, and his piercing brown eyes are narrowed into a predatory glare. He's dressed in a tight black T-shirt and dark jeans that hug his muscular frame. You can't help but feel a shiver of fear run down your spine.

Jay stops in front of you, his hands planted firmly on his hips. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the little mouse herself," he says with a sneer. "What are you doing up here, Yn? Trying to run away from your problems again?"

You grit your teeth, trying to ignore the venom in his voice. "I just need some time alone, Jay," you reply, your voice steady despite your racing heart. "Leave me alone."

He laughs, a cruel sound that grates on your nerves. "Oh, I'm not here to leave you alone, Yn. You know that." He steps closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I'll never leave you alone"

Your heart skips a beat, but you force yourself to remain still and calm. You know what he's capable of, and you don't want to provoke him any further. "What do you mean, Jay? I don't have anything that belongs to you," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jay's laugh is cold and mocking. "Oh, I don't want anything you have, mouse. I just want to make you suffer a little bit. You've been so lucky for so long, hiding behind your friends and your teachers. Well, today's the day that all that changes."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, worn leather book. You recognize it immediately; it was your diary. Jay snickers as he holds it up for you to see. "I found this little gem in your locker today. It's been so entertaining reading about all the things you've said about me." He winks, and the gesture is so revolting that you feel a shudder run through you. "Oh, and speaking of things you've said…"

He takes a step back and then, with a swift motion, kicks you as hard as he can in the stomach. The air is forced from your lungs in a painful whoosh, and you collapse to the ground, curled up in a ball. Tears well up in your eyes as you gasp for breath, the wet pavement pressing uncomfortably into your back. You feel a hot stinging sensation spread across your abdomen where he kicked you.

"That's for talking shit about me, mouse," he says, his voice cold and cruel. "And if you ever think about telling anyone about this, I'll make sure you regret it." With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you there on the ground, hurt and frightened. You want to cry out, to beg for mercy, but you're too scared to make a sound. All you can do is lie there and try to catch your breath, the taste of bile rising in the back of your throat.

You try to pull yourself up onto your elbows, wincing as the pain in your stomach flares anew, but you can't seem to get any air into your lungs. It feels like Jay has punched the wind out of you, both literally and figuratively. You close your eyes, feeling hot tears well up in the corners, and try to will yourself to breathe.

A few shallow gasps manage to find their way into your lungs, and with each one, you feel a tiny bit more like you can handle this. You force yourself to sit up, pressing your back against the walls for support, and take several deep, ragged breaths. The pain in your stomach begins to subside a little, and you're finally able to focus on something other than the ache.

"What am I going to do?" you whisper to yourself. You know you can't go to the teachers or your friends; Jay would only deny everything, and they wouldn't believe you anyway. And even if they did, they might not be able to protect you from him. You feel trapped, helpless, like there's no way out of this nightmare.

You close your eyes, trying to think of some sort of plan, but all you can see is Jay's angry face and the pain in your stomach. You decide to wait until the end of the day, when everyone else has left the school grounds, and then you'll find some way to get home without him noticing. Maybe if you can just stay out of his sight for a little while longer, things will eventually go back to normal.

Well, it's safe to say things aren't going as planned. The following week passes by in a blur of fear and avoidance. You manage to stay out of Jay's sight during school hours, but you're always on edge, waiting for the moment when his gaze will fall upon you. You're constantly looking over your shoulder, feeling like he's watching you even when you know he isn't. It's exhausting, and the stress starts to take a toll on your grades and your friendships.

Finally, one afternoon as you're hurrying to your next class, you catch a glimpse of him in the hallway. Your heart stops in your chest, and you feel like you can't breathe. He sees you, too, and starts to walk purposefully in your direction. You break into a panicked run, trying to lose him in the crowd, but he's too fast. He catches up to you and grabs your arm roughly, yanking you into an empty classroom.

"What do you want from me?" you choke out, tears streaming down your face. "I didn't do anything!"

Jay just laughs, a cruel and mocking sound. "Oh, you didn't do anything? Is that what you're going with?" He shoves you roughly against the chalkboard, pinning you there with one hand. "You're a pathetic and dumb liar, you know that?"

You cough, trying to catch your breath. "Jay, I swear I didn't-"

He cuts you off with a harsh shove. "Save it. You know what you did." His grip tightens on your arm, and it feels like he's crushing your bone. "Now, I want you to tell me where it is."

You try to pull away, but he's too strong. "Where's what?" you choke out, tears streaming down your face.

Jay sighs, as if you're being painfully dense. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear. "I know you have it. And I want it back."

You shake your head frantically, tears streaming down your face. "I don't have it! I swear! I don't know what you're talking about!"

Jay's grip tightens painfully, and he yanks you closer, his breath hot against your neck. "Don't lie to me," he whispers menacingly.

You cry out, trying to pull away from him, but it's no use. "I'm not lying! I swear I don't have it!"

Jay's face turns red with anger, and he shoves you roughly against the chalkboard again, the sharp edges biting into your back. Jay laughs, a cruel and mocking sound. "Oh, come on. You expect me to believe that?" He presses the heel of his hand against your cheek, forcing your head back against the chalkboard. "You're just as bad a liar as you are a thief."

He's not letting up. Every blow feels like it's breaking something new inside you. You want to scream, but you can't find the breath. You feel like you're choking on his anger, like it's filling your lungs and blocking everything else out. The pain is intense, but the fear is worse. Fear that this will never end, fear that he'll really kill you this time, fear that no one will ever believe you if you do survive.

He throws you to the ground, your head hitting the hardwood floor with a sickening thud. The pain shoots through your skull, making it impossible to focus on anything else. Jay stands over you, breathing heavily, his fists still clenched. You try to crawl away, but your body feels numb and weak. You can feel warm blood trickling down your face and neck, stinging your skin.

"I'm sorry," you manage to choke out between ragged breaths. "I'm so sorry." You spoke before you passes out, before your body completely gives out.

Jay watches you, unblinking, as your eyes flutter shut and your chest barely rises and falls. He stands there for a moment, his anger slowly dissipating, replaced by a strange sort of feeling. Regret? Maybe. Guilt? Hard to say. But he knows he can't leave you like this. He reaches down, rolling you onto your side gently, shaking your figure, "H-hey" he whispers "Wake up!"

"YN!! WAKE UP!" Jay shouts, shaking you harder. He feels tears streaming down his face as he tries to wake you up, but you just lie there, motionless. Panic surges through him as he realizes that he might have gone too far.

One of his friends, Jungwon, suddenly bursts into the room, taking in the scene before him with wide eyes. "Jay! What the fuck is going on?"

Jay looks up at Jungwon, panic still etching lines on his face. "I-I don't know. She just wouldn't wake up." He points at you, the tears streaming down his cheeks now.

"Call an ambulance right now" Jungwon says, his voice quivering. He looks at Jay, then back at you, and then back at Jay again, still unable to process what's happening. He dials 911 and hands the phone to Jay, who takes a deep breath before giving the operator their address.

You wake up to open curtains and a soft bed beneath you. The room is white, clean, and quiet. You take a deep breath and sit up, your head throbbing. You don't recognize the room or the person sitting by your bedside. Hell, you don't even remember why you were there.

Your parents rushed into the room, relief and worry etched on their faces. They flank you, their arms around your shoulders. "Oh, sweetie," your mom whispers, tears streaming down her face. "We were so worried." Your dad nods, his voice thick as he says, "We don't know what happened."

"Well," you manage, still trying to piece it together, "I d-don't remember anything…" You trail off, frowning.

Your parents exchange worried glances. Your dad squeezes your shoulder. "That's okay, sweetie. We're just glad you're here and safe now."

The following months are a blur of doctors, therapy. They think you don't remember anything but; You remember everything. The feeling of Jay's hands around your throat, the sound of his voice raised in anger, the pain of your body hitting the ground. You try to convince yourself that it was all just a terrible nightmare, but you can't shake the sense of foreboding that follows you everywhere.

You hadn't told anyone about the dreams. You didn't want them to worry, or think that you were losing your mind. But they were so vivid, so real, that it was hard to pretend they were just nightmares. Sometimes, when you were alone in your room, you could almost feel Jay's hands around your throat again, could almost hear his voice raised in anger. It was like he was haunting you, reminding you of what had happened and what could still happen if you didn't stay careful.

Going to school back after all this was a struggle. You felt like everyone was looking at you, judging you. You could feel the weight of their eyes on your back. You couldn't help but wonder if Jay was still out there, watching you too. Sometimes, when you thought you saw him in the hallway, your heart would skip a beat and you'd feel a cold sweat break out on your back.

Your friends were there for you, or at least they tried to be. They made sure you never walked home alone, and they always stayed close by your side. They didn't understand what had happened, and they didn't want to push you. But you could see the worry in their eyes, the fear that maybe this wasn't the end of it.

One day, as you're walking through the hallway, you feel someone tap you on the shoulder. You turn around, expecting it to be one of your friends playing a joke on you. But it's not. It's him. Jay. He looks different - his hair is shorter, he's lost some weight. But it's definitely him. His eyes are cold and hard as he says, "I've been looking for you."

You try to remain calm, but your heart is racing. You can't think of anything to say. "What do you want?" you manage to choke out.

"I-I'm sorry." He says, his voice shaking. "I don't know what came over me that night. I was just so angry…I lost control. I never meant to hurt you that badly." He steps closer, his voice lowering.

Your heart races as he says this. You can feel the fear rising up in your throat, choking you. You want to believe him, but you can't help but remember the way he felt when he had his hands around your throat, the sound of his voice as he screamed at you.

"It doesn't matter," you manage to choke out. "Just leave me alone." You turn away from him, wanting to put some distance between you. But he grabs your arm, his grip gentle.

"Please, I need to talk to you. I can't explain it, but I feel like things have been so messed up since that night. I don't want us to be like this anymore." He looks at you pleadingly, and for a moment, you almost believe him.

You hesitate, your heart racing. You can't help but wonder if this is all some sort of twisted game. But you can't deny the desperation in his eyes, the way he seems to truly regret what happened. "Okay," you say slowly.

He nods, looking relieved. "Thank you," he says, his voice softening. "I don't want things to go back to how they were before."

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of fear and hope in your chest. "Okay," you say slowly.

He nods, seeming to gain confidence from your agreement. "I just want to say that I'm sorry for what I did," he begins. "I don't know what I was thinking. I've been so lost since my mom has been... not so well and I've been taking it out on everyone around me. I never meant to hurt you."

You listen carefully to him, trying to decide if you believe him or not. A part of you wants to trust him, but another part of you can't help but remember the way he looked in your eyes that night, the way he hurt you. You stay silent, not sure what to say.

"I know it's hard to believe me," he says, "but I swear I'm not the same person I was before. I've been going to therapy, trying to work through my issues. I just want to start over with you." He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness.

You're still not sure what to think. A part of you wants to believe him, wants to trust him again. But another part of you is scared, afraid that if you let your guard down, he'll hurt you again. You decide to give him a chance, "Okay," you say softly. "I'll try."

He seems to relax a little, taking your words as a sign of hope. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I promise I'll never hurt you again. I'll do everything I can to make it up to you."

Jay had become a total sweetheart since that night. He was always checking in on you, making sure you were okay, and constantly apologizing for his behavior. He even started including you in his plans with his friends, making an effort to get to know you better. It felt like he was really trying to make things right.

He'd been true to his word, and you found yourself beginning to trust him again. You enjoyed spending time with him, and the more you got to know him, the more you realized that he was a good person deep down. He'd just been going through a rough patch. You forgave him for what happened, and slowly but surely, you began to feel closer to him again.

One day, as you sat together at lunch, you noticed a group of girls from your class glaring at you. "What are they looking at?" you ask Jay, feeling a little self-conscious.

He follows your gaze and frowns. "Probably just jealous," he says with a shrug. "They're just mad because they can't be us." He grins at you, then leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You know, you're really special to me. I mean, you're the only person I've ever really cared about. It's like, with you, everything just feels right." His words make your heart flutter, and you can't help but smile back at him.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and you stand up to gather your things. "Hey," Jay says, taking your hand in his, "do you want to hang out after school? We could go get coffee or something."

You blush, feeling warmth spread through your chest. "Sure," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "That sounds nice."

After school, you and Jay walk to a local coffee shop, hand in hand. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the city as you step inside the cozy little shop. The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, and you can't help but feel relaxed.

You find a table in the back, away from the crowds, and Jay orders you both a drink. As you wait for it to arrive, you can't help but marvel at how different things feel between the two of you now. It's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and you can finally just enjoy being with him.

"So," Jay says, taking a sip of his coffee, "I've been thinking about what we should do for our next date. I was thinking maybe we could go see a movie or go out for dinner. What do you think?"

"Already thinking bout another?" you tease, feeling a blush creep up on your cheeks. "I mean, we just got here." You take a sip of your coffee, savoring the warmth that spreads through your chest. "A movie does sound nice, though. What about that one with the cute animals? You know, the one that's been out for awhile but you haven't seen yet?"

Jay chuckles. "Yeah, that one sounds good. I've been meaning to catch it too. And as for another date, well, I'm just excited to spend more time with you, that's all." He reaches across the table and takes your hand in his again, giving it a squeeze. "You really are something special."

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach return. "Thanks," you manage to say, not quite meeting his eyes. You take another sip of your coffee, savoring the warmth that spreads through your body. It feels good to be wanted, to be loved. You glance around the coffee shop, taking in the people walking by, the sound of coffee being made, the soft murmur of conversation.

"So," you say, trying to change the subject, "what have you been up to lately? Anything interesting?" You want to know everything about him, to know what makes him tick.

"Oh, you know, just the usual. School, work, trying to find time to sleep," Jay says with a laugh. "But I've actually been working on this side project, something just for fun. I'm making a small song for someone." He grins at you, and you can't help but feel a surge of pride.

"Really?" you ask, genuinely excited. "That's so cool. I'd love to hear it sometime."

Jay leans in closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You'll have to wait then." He winks, and you feel your stomach flip-flop. "But I promise you won't be disappointed."

The evening passes by in a blur of laughter and conversation. You and Jay find yourselves completely lost in each other's company, hardly noticing the time slipping away. You can't help but squeal and giggle at all the right moments. As you walk out of the café, hand in hand, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you. You've never felt this way before, and it's both exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

You decide to walk around the city for awhile, taking in the sights and sounds. The air is crisp and cool, and the lights of the city twinkle like stars against the night sky. Jay's arm is around your waist, and you can't help but feel safe and protected when he's near.

He dropped you off at your apartment earlier than usual, knowing that you had an early class in the morning. You didn't want him to leave, but he insisted, giving you a soft kiss goodnight. As he drove away, you stood in the doorway, watching his car until it disappeared from sight.

It had been a few days since your date with Jay, and you can't help but feel a little antsy. Every time your phone buzzes, you hope it's him. You've texted him a few times, but he always seems to be busy with school or work. You're trying not to be too clingy, but it's hard not to miss him.

He hasn't been coming to school lately, and you're starting to worry. You check your phone obsessively, hoping for a text from him, but there's only silence. You decide to take matters into your own hands and track him down. You had even asked Jungwon about it, but he just shrugged and said that Jay had been pretty secretive about his personal life. So, you send Jay a message, telling him you're thinking about him and hope everything's okay.

It wasn't until you received a call from him that you finally heard his voice again. Your heart skipped a beat as you answered, feeling a rush of relief wash over you. "Hey, what's up?"

You could hear crying on the other end of the line, and your heart sank. "Jay, what's wrong? Are you okay?" you ask, your voice shaking.

He sniffles, and you can almost feel the pain in his voice. "I'm… I'm sorry, I didn't want to worry you. It's just… my mom. She's really sick, and the doctor says…" His voice trails off, and you can tell he's struggling to hold it together.

You're stunned into silence for a moment. You didn't know Jay had a mom. "Oh, Jay… I'm so sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?" You're sitting on the edge of your bed, clutching the blanket in your hands.

"No, no, it's okay. I just… I don't want to talk about it right now. I just wanted to let you know, so you wouldn't worry. I'm sorry I worried you in the first place." He sniffles again.

You pause, taking a deep breath. "You don't have to apologize. I care about you, and I want to be here for you, okay? Whatever you need, I'm here. Should I come over?"

Jay's voice is still shaky, but there's a hint of relief in it. "No, no, that's… that's really sweet of you, but I don't want you to see me like this. I'm a mess." He sniffles again. "I just wanted you to know. I'll… I'll let you know if there's anything I need, okay?"

Your heart aches for him, and you want nothing more than to be there for him. "Okay, Jay. You know you can call me anytime, right? If you ever need someone to talk to"

He sniffles again, and you can almost picture him wiping his eyes. "Thanks, Yn. You're really sweet. I'll… I'll keep you posted. I gotta go now, okay?"

The call ended, and you're left with a heavy heart. You stare at your phone for a moment, feeling helpless. There was a weird feeling in your stomach, like a mixture of sadness and fear. You knew that Jay was going through a tough time, and you wanted to be there for him. But you also felt selfish, like you wanted him to be there for you too.

You couldn't focus on anything for the rest of the day. You kept thinking about Jay and his mom, wondering if there was anything you could do to help. You knew he'd said he'd keep you posted, but the wait was agonizing.

A few days later, you receive another call from Jay. Your heart leaps into your throat when you see his name on the screen. "Hey, Yn. I'm… I'm really sorry to bother you. I just wanted to let you know… things aren't looking good with my mom. The doctor says her chances of surviving... Aren't much" His voice breaks, and you can hear the pain in his words.

You're stunned into silence, your mind racing with all the things you want to say but can't find the words for. Finally, you manage to croak out, "Oh, Jay… I'm so sorry. I wish there was something I could do. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?"

Jay sniffles and clears his throat. "C-can you come over?" he stutters. "I-I don't want to be alone right now."

"Of course, Jay. I'm on my way. Just send me your address"

You hang up the phone, feeling a mix of sadness and fear. You quickly find Jay's address and input it into your GPS. As you drive over to his house, your mind races with all the things you could say to comfort him. You know you can't take away his pain, but you want to be there for him in any way you can.

When you arrive at his house, you park your car and hurry to the front door. Jay answers it after a few moments, his eyes red and puffy. He doesn't say anything, just stands there, looking lost. You reach out and hug him, feeling his body shake with sobs as he clings to you. You let him cry for a moment, just holding him and rubbing his back.

As you enter the living room. You see it's dimly lit, and there's an overwhelming smell of medication in the air. You sit down next to him on the couch, and he leans into you, still crying. You don't know what to say, so you just hold him and let him cry. After a while, he pulls away and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I-I'm sorry, Yn. I didn't mean to… I just… I don't know what to do," he stammers. You pat his knee and hand him a tissue.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to be strong right now. You can cry. And you know, I'm here for you. We'll figure this out together, okay?" You say, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

Jay sniffles and nods, wiping his face with the tissue. "Thanks… I just don't want her to be alone. I can't even imagine…" His voice trails off, and he looks away, staring blankly at a photo of his mom on the coffee table.

You take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "You know, Jay, she's not alone. You're there with her, and I'm here with you. We'll get through this together, okay?" You look into his eyes, hoping that he can see the sincerity in yours.

He nods, sniffling, and wipes his nose again. "I-I just don't want her to suffer, you know? The doctor says there's not much more they can do, and I-I can't bear the thought of her being in pain."

"I feel so useless" Jay whispers, shaking his head. "She's the strongest person I know, and I can't do anything to help her." You squeeze his hand and lean in closer, resting your head on his shoulder. "Jay, she knows you're here for her. She knows how much you love her, and how much you're hurting right now. That means more to her than anything. Just being with her, holding her hand, talking to her, listening to her… that's all she needs right now."

"B-but-" Jay starts to protest, but you shush him by placing your lips on his. The kiss is gentle at first, a soft brush of lips against lips, but it grows more intense as he responds. Jay's hands move from your sides to your face, holding you to him. You can feel the raw emotion radiating from him, and it only serves to heighten the connection between you.

As the kiss ends, you pull back slightly, gazing into his eyes. "She knows, Jay. She knows that you're here for her, and that you love her more than anything. Just be there for her, okay? That's all she needs right now." You reach up and wipe a tear from his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

"And," you say, taking a deep breath, "I care about you, Jay. I care about your mom, too. You're not alone. This probably isn't the best time for this but, I love you Jay." You look into his eyes, trying to convey all of this with your gaze.

He seems to register this, his eyes widening slightly, before he blinks and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "I love you too, Yn." Then he takes your hand, kissing the back of your palm. "Thank you."

Months pass by, and Jay's mother's condition gets better. You're there for him every step of the way, holding his hand, listening to his fears, and sharing your own strength with him. There are good days and bad days, but you find comfort in knowing that Jay has someone who truly cares about him, someone who will never leave his side.

One afternoon, as you're watching a movie together on the couch, Jay leans in close, his lips brushing against yours. You melt into the kiss, feeling the warmth of his body and the desperation in his embrace. It's a passionate, intense kiss, and it's clear that Jay has been wanting this for a long time.

It felt so perfect to be in Jay's arms again. The weight of his body pressed against yours, his lips moving against yours, their warmth spreading through you. You moan into the kiss, your fingers tangled in his hair as he pulls you even closer. You can feel his heart racing against yours, the thudding of it in your chest matching the rhythm of your own. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts over your shirt, and you gasp into his mouth as desire surges through you.

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his own glassy with desire. "I want you," he whispers, his voice husky and raw. "I've wanted you for so long." He kisses you again, more urgently this time, as his hands move to unbutton your shirt. You help him, eager to feel his skin against yours once more.

As soon as your shirt is off, he groans, his lips moving down your neck, sucking and nipping at your skin. His hands find their way up your sides, under your bra, cupping your breasts over your lace-covered nipples. You gasp as his touch ignites a fire in your chest. You reach for the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and off, revealing his smooth, toned chest.

Jay leans in closer, their bodies flush against each other. His lips meet yours once more, his tongue darting out to tease and explore your mouth. His hands slide up your sides, around your waist, and down to your hips, lifting you up slightly so that you're straddling his lap. He groans into the kiss, feeling the heat between your legs pressed against his hard length.

You arch your back, pressing your breasts against his chest as he rolls his hips, grinding his erection against you. His hands cup your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, urging you to move against him. You moan into the kiss, feeling the familiar ache begin to build inside you.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. His teeth scrape against your skin, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. His fingers slide between you, parting your wet folds, and teasing your sensitive bundle of nerves. You cry out as he smiles against your skin.

You rock your hips against his hand, feeling the need building inside you, growing more insistent with each passing moment. "I need you so b-bad" your voice breathless and desperate. Jay groans, his fingers moving faster, stroking you in a rhythm that matches the ache in your core.

His other hand slips under your bra, cupping your breast over your nipple. You cry out, arching your back as he rolls the hardened peak between his thumb and forefinger. His lips find your neck again, sucking and nipping at your skin as he thrusts his hips, pushing his erection deeper against you.

You feel the familiar tugging sensation deep inside you, and with a groan, you begin to climax, your body tensing and convulsing around him. Jay holds you tightly, his fingers still moving as he brings you to the peak of pleasure again and again. He kisses you passionately, their tongues tangling together as your cries of pleasure echo around the room.

His hips begin to move faster, harder, matching the rhythm of your climaxes. You feel him get closer and closer, and with a hoarse cry, he thrusts deeply inside you, his body tense and shuddering as he releases himself, filling you completely. His grip on you tightens, and you can feel his weight pressing you into the bed as he comes down from the high of their shared passion.

You both catch your breath, your chests rising and falling in unison. Jay leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before moving lower, trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck. "You're incredible," he whispers, his voice husky and raw. .

As you both begin to catch your breath, Jay slides out of you, taking his weight off and moving up to lie beside you. He gently rolls you onto your side, spooning you from behind. His arm is draped over your waist, his hand resting on your hip, while the other cups your breast over your still-hardened nipple. You feel his erection pressed against your back, and you can't help but arch your hips slightly into him.

He kisses your neck, his lips trailing down to your shoulder. "I could do this all day," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "Just feel you wrapped around me like this."

You let out a soft moan "Me too," you reply, your voice husky with desire. "I could stay like this forever."

You were giggling as you clutched the blindfold, "Babe~" you whined playfully, you felt his chuckle rumble through his chest, and then his lips pressed into your neck, just below your ear.

"Do you wanna hear my song now?" He asked, his lips moving against your skin. "I've been practicing it all day." You could feel him smile against your neck. He opened your blind fold and placed you onto the couch as he lifted his guitar.

His fingers danced over the strings, the sound filling the room.

"In the realm of love and devotion,

Where hearts entwine in sweet emotion,

I stand before you, my love so true,

With words of hope and promise anew.

Upon a hill, beneath the stars above,

I declare my intentions, my undying love,

To spend forever by your side,

As partners in life, on love's sweet ride.

I bring to you a ring of gold,

A symbol of the love we hold,

A promise made, a vow so true,

To cherish and honor, to always be true.

With each step taken, our love does grow,

A bond that only lovers know,

Through joy and tears, through thick and thin,

Together we'll face life's battles and win.

I vow to be your rock, your guiding light,

To hold you close on every night,

To be your shelter in life's storm,

To keep you safe, to keep you warm.

Our love will be a beacon bright,

A shining star in the darkest night,

Guiding us through life's twists and turns,

With a flame that forever burns.

So will you, my love, be my partner for life,

To stand by my side as husband and wife,

To share in each other's triumphs and tears,

To love and cherish through all the years?

With this ring, I make my plea,

To spend forever in love with thee,

To be your partner, your best friend,

Until the very end.

So let us vow, on this day,

To love and cherish, come what may,

To walk hand in hand, through life's great dance,

With love and devotion, in sweet romance.

And as we stand, hearts beating as one,

Our journey together has just begun,

With love as our guide, we'll soar above,

In the epic tale of our eternal love."

As the last note of the song faded into the air, you felt tears well up in your eyes. Jay had written this song just for you, and it was absolutely beautiful. You could feel the emotion behind every word, and it made your heart swell with love and gratitude.

He set his guitar aside and moved back to spoon you from behind. His hands found their way to your waist, holding you close as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder blade. "So," he began, his voice quiet but steady, "Will you be my partner, my love, my wife?"

Tears streamed down your face as you turned your head to look at him. "Yes," you whispered, "Yes, Jay, I will." You felt your heart swell with love and happiness, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight. "I love you so much, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

He smiled at you, his eyes shining with tears of his own. "I love you too, Ynnie. I promise to always cherish you, to protect you, and to make you the happiest woman in the world." He kissed you softly on the lips, his tongue tracing the outline of your mouth before slipping inside.

The kiss deepened, and time seemed to stand still as you were lost in the feeling of being close to him. You could feel his heart racing against yours, and it only served to remind you of how perfectly you fit together.

@༘˚⋆𐙚｡Taglist ༘˚⋆𐙚｡ : (closed) @vixensss , @chaconne-exe , @heesky , @sammybeefangirls , @tanisha2060 , @kim2005bomi

(bolds couldn't be tagged)

༘˚⋆𐙚｡Permanent Taglist ༘˚⋆𐙚｡ @cha-eui @alvojake @heeslut4life @wondipity @dollywons @wonlvkay @hoonieshoney @emi-en

#pockettwinzz writes #divider by dollywons #jay enhypen #enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen jay smut #jay smut #jay angst #enhypen jay x reader #jay x y/n #jay fluff

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heraldofcrow · 3 months

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Honest “Favorite Character” Asks 🌿

I can’t find character asks that suit my type of discussion, so I made some. These are meant to be somewhat personal, therapeutic, and pensive.

Send someone one of their favorite characters along with any of the following questions.

—

1. Do you project onto this character?

2. Did you always like this character?

3. What first drew you to this character?

4. Did you initially dislike/hate this character?

5. If this character were a woman, would you honestly still like them? Or in reverse, what if they were a man?

6. Do you have any nicknames or pet names you use for this character?

7. Does the character’s age matter to you?

8. Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?

9. Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

10. Do you see yourself in this character even without projecting?

11. How did you “fall in love” with this character?

12. If you could write effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what story (s) would you write for this character?

13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?

14. Are you physically attracted to this character?

15. Are your thoughts surrounding this character usually sexual, non-sexual, or a mix of both?

16. Have you ever cried when thinking about this character? Genuinely?

17. Have you ever felt physical pain over this character? (ex: physical heartache).

18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

19. Does this character serve as a stress ball/ security blanket for you? Something you run to after a bad day to feel safe or happier?

20. Do you feel affectionate towards this character?

21. Are your feelings about this character platonic, romantic, or familial? All of these feelings at once maybe?

22. Do you think you will always love this character?

23. Has this character permanently altered or impacted your psyche in a way you won’t forget?

24. Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

25. What kind of fan-fiction do you read about this character? If you don’t read fan-fics about them, why not?

26. If you look for this character’s name on AO3, what tags are you including or excluding?

27. Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to?

28. Do you get defensive about this character? If yes, then why?

29. Do you affectionately bully this character?

30. Are you especially sensitive about this character?

31. Are you ashamed of liking this character?

32. If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?

33. Are you “blinded by love” for this character or do you accept any flaws they may have?

34. Does this character inspire you with little things in your daily life?

35. Has this character ever prevented you from sleeping because you can’t stop thinking about them?

36. Do you feel a spiritual/soulmate connection with this character?

37. Is your love for this character a secret from people you know in real life?

38. Do you tend to joke more about dying or killing for this character? Both? What causes the distinction?

39. Do you feel lovesick over this character?

40. Are you very empathetic towards this character? When they feel a certain way in the story, do you feel those emotions too?

41. Do you prefer to interact with this character directly via self-insert/reader type content? Or do you enjoy seeing them mostly with other characters in the story and/or your OCs?

42. If you could, would you write this character a song or poem?

43. What type of weather makes you think of this character?

44. Which season makes you think of this character?

45. Do you feel as if you are intimately familiar with this character?

46. How much do bad interpretations of this character upset you?

47. Does this character ever make you laugh sincerely?

48. What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

49. What’s your favorite personality trait in this character?

50. Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

#now go attack your mutuals and their favs <3 #i just couldn’t find the type of asks that help process feels on the blorbos so i just made em #character asks #fandom asks #character ask game #ask game #fictional characters #blorbos #mutuals #fandom

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yandere-kokeshi · 6 months

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Yandere Headcanons of Kratos

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about liking the different sex (male), kidnapping, forced affection, and mention of killing (duh).

A/N: yeah, I started writing this, and now it’s posted; I’d love requests from this man! This is written as the current Kratos (2022). Hope you enjoy <3!

@sakuracream, here it is!

He’s insanely protective, and just as possessive in the sense that everybody will know you are taken by his menacingly form standing behind you. He acts like a guard dog, always behind you with his resting face, ensuring that nobody disrespects you. But, he’s also caring in his own way.

It’s a slow burn with him. Kratos isn’t one for simply falling in love with someone, especially with the amount of guilt, shame, and fear he carries each day of his life. He’s lost so many, and doesn’t want to get attached again. Even if he admits it or not, Kratos suffers from abandonment + trust issues. There’s a lack of consistency in his life from as far back as he can remember. So, when first meeting you, it’s harsh.

The meetings of you two are likely between Atreus. You could be a sorcerer they ran into on a late evening, Atreus quickly becoming on good terms with you; begging for you to help him with certain topics, or teaching him things of magick.

You could be a blacksmith, Sindri making you two meet as his rather permanent weapon needs help. Or, in an infrequent case, an enemy turned into a good ally. Either way, opening up for him isn’t easy.

Again, it’s a slow burn. He slowly notices how you make him feel — and it irks him. He doesn’t like feeling fear when he loses sight of you, or when you mumble to yourself, he hates feeling jealousy on not being able to hear what you’re saying. It’s difficult for him to analyze his emotions, and with you being near him most of the time, he’s unsure how to approach you, especially if you’re of the different sex. His heart naturally flutters when you talk, his go-to responses of grunts or silence of listening current. Hands sweat when you nudge his shoulder or accidentally bump into him. To you, he’s a tough nut. But underneath all that, he’s analyzing his emotions better; looking at you with love.

Little by little, it starts with him writing in his journal about you. Descriptions of your characteristics, your likes & dislikes, how you two interact, how close you are to Atreus, and how your habits work; which he describes are quite adorable. This often leads to him stalking you, looking at you when you aren’t paying attention, and reading/and learning your body language like his backhand. It only adds to his adoration towards you, if by chance, you’re a motherly figure to his son.

With this and interacting with him for a long period of time on a daily basis, Kratos, at some point, lowers his guard — especially if Atreus openly says he trusts you.

And just like a snap of fingers, he prioritizes you. Actively looking at you when you aren’t around. Asking the others if he’d seen you; quickly shutting the conversation down if Atreus or Mimir ask what’s with him. Small touches are guaranteed, a hand guiding you on your lower back. Fingers ‘accidentally’ nudging to yours when you’re beside each other. Grabbing you by the waist to help you climb on rocks. Or teaching you factors of hunting that he knows you’ll enjoy doing.

At this point, he’s already attached, far too North. It’s a perfect family, is it not? You aren’t going anywhere without him. He’s fallen for you, quite hard. The rope has snapped, and you’ll be his.

This said, kidnapping is ensured. It’ll start slow at first, Kratos keeping you a bit longer at home so you can get used to it. He often invites you for supper and dinner; making stew, or having deer. He engages with small talk, admiring you and his son. Slowly but surely, he adds things inside the cabin that he knows you’ll like — shelves of books and poems, more blankets, clothes of your liking, and many items of those hobbies of yours. Atreus adds in too, gifting and creating you things with your thoughts in vain.

It is, until, one day, you’re permanently kept into the house. Once you try to leave, your smile goes away as you realize he’s blocking your way to the door — ordering you to sit back down. Depending on your reaction, he’s equally stronger than you are, and already has you sitting down, either with his strength or voice. If he needs to, he will chain you; he’s determined on not losing anybody close to him again.

The mere idea of losing you sends him into a panicked state, to which, he’s forced the option for you to stay here, forever.

Life in Midgard with Kratos is rather isolated — even though he doesn’t mean to. He loves you, and often fears the worst scenarios, which means everywhere you go, even to see an old-friend, he’s there with a possessive grip.

Within the stand of home, Kratos tries to make it cozy, and to your liking; adding things to make sure your ‘stay’ is more comfortable. He adds many blankets to the shared bed as needed to keep you warm, even though he’s a lava himself. Every night, he makes delicious food, and often tells you to retire everything to him as he promises to take care of you.

Affection is hard for him to express — especially with words, so he’s more passionate within his actions. If you two are out in public, he will be touching you one way or another; he has a fear that you’ll leave him, which makes him quite clingy. A hand on your hip, pinky-interlocking-pinky, or if he’s feeling threatened, he puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes you into him. If he’s not directly by your side, rest assured that he will be glaring at anyone who approaches you or even looks at you.

In private, it’s worse. He’s practically glued to your side, and if you’re sitting down, you better believe he’s scooching you closer to his body, and making you sit in/or between his lap.

Despite his ‘distant’ and gruff answers, he pays attention to the littlest things and wants to make you happy. Despite his possessiveness, If you mention missing your homeland, Kratos will wake you up early the next morning, take you to fatherland and let you visit for a short period of time; a large hand wrapped around yours the whole time.

Pass-to-conversation that you need more items for your certain hobby? He’s heading down to the trading posts at the butt-of-dawn, actively looking for what you said, and bringing it home with a grunt of, “Here.”

At some point in the future, he’d love to have a bigger family. The thought of having another kid, possibly a daughter, makes his heart flutter and a small smile widen. Though, if you’re of the different sex/or cannot get pregnant, he’s open to adopting or simply just having you and Atreus.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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circeyoru · 4 months

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Darkest Confession _ Part 2

[Human!Alastor x Serial Killer Enthusiast!Reader]

Part 1

Part 2 (here)

You’d say that it was a joke if you didn’t see those eyes and that smile. You’re not obsessed and addicted to serial killers without knowledge. No. You could only keep this self of you that hidden because you adapted some skills these serial killers use to blend in and be ‘normal’ like theyy haven’t killed, only you use it to hide your interest

You were attracted to serial killers, now there’s one that was holding you, presumably in his hunting and killing ground, confessing his love(?) to you and wanted to court you. Though the biggest question you had was, “Why did you confess?”

“My dear dear unusual soul, my feelings for you are like a raging ocean. What started as mere interest became fondness. Even now,” Alastor’s grin widened as his eyes narrowed to make way, “You have that spark in your eyes instead of fear. I love that about you. I love you.”

Was it Christmas or your birthday? Or was this April Fool’s? All in one? It was no sick joke. Alastor jokes and all, but this was a serious matter

This had to be your luck all put into one. Not only was he the serial killer that held your interest the longest, but you also cared for his civilian self. The previous killers that held your interest was over once the case was over or once you had figured them out from every perspective. Maybe it was because Alastor was the one killer that you connected as a person?

The tightened hold of your smaller hands brought you back to reality, your killer was waiting for your response. “My darling, your answer? May I court you? Will you be mine and in turn I yours?”

“Yes, you may.” Your voice came out firmer than your current rush of emotions. You hardly caught yourself when Alastor got up in the blink of an eye and twirled you around, dancing with you under the moonlight as he sang you a train of petnames and how he was glad there’d be no drastic measures taken to receive your interest

Changes were made, namely you had Alastor’s attention a lot more than the unspoken meet-ups you two shared. He’d be at your place, waiting for you by the door with a bouque of flowers and a poem to woo you, he’d back you home when you were done with work, all that romantic stuff. It had the jealous fans at a frenzy as they watched from somewhere or happened to see it

Though, you weren’t complaining

“Filthy thing, you better say away from Alastor! We’re destined for each other! You break of with him if you know what’s good for you! I’d kill you for him!” You merely keep your face neutral as you listened to the death threats, please, words are cheap and actions. Actions speak louder than words

“Darling! Sorry to kept you waiting!” Alastor burst through the front door with a smile, beaming happily like always, but more. You waved it off, saying you didn’t wait long. You had been sitting in the living room enjoying tea with a book on dissection, you recall Jack the Ripper had those skills. “Come, dear, I have something to show you.”

He’d lead you down a well hidden staircase to a soundproof basement, holding your hand like a gentleman so you wouldn’t trip from the darkness. He playfully covered your eyes, saying it was s surprise gift. You half joked if he was leading you to a room prepared to be your torture chamber to which he replied, “Oh heavens no! I wouldn’t even dream of it, dear. Your beauty is not to be locked up in this dingy place.”

When he finally removed his hand, he showed you with jazz hands at your gift

Alastor watched like a hawk. He debetted whether or not he should show something like this to you. But your case files you stored like precious family heirloom proved him otherwise. You weren’t afraid of blood and gore. He even once tested it when he brought you back into the forest, showing you how he hunted his favourite prey, deers. You were watching intensely as he cut the shot deer up, even whispering if that was how he did with his other prey

Your keen and observant eyes would catch onto details like no other. A skill even he couldn’t match to your degree and he considered and was praised for his preciseness. It was a skill you kept to yourself, you explained that’s why you’d return to previous crime scenes or where the bodies were found, because you’d find some clues that were missed

“Why didn’t you tip the authorities?” He remember asking when you added that you never phone the police even when finding something very very incrimadating. You answer saying you didn’t want to, you knew good and bad, right and wrong. It was right to tell the police, but it felt wrong for you to betray your interest, that being serial killers and their art. He fell for you all over again

However, he didn’t like that you gave so much of your time and energy to other serial killers. Sure now he had you, what if there was someone more interesting and you turn to that instead of him like you are doing now? He was lucky that he was the first serial killer you met during active moments. Hell, you were lucky you were never preyed upon

“There was one time where I tracked an active serial killer to his place. I was knocked out before I could investigate more. When I woke up, I was tied up and he wanted my eyes, wanted me to feel the pain and agony while I was tortured.” Oh how furious when he hear that but continued to listen. “As much as it’s a dream to be killed by a serial killer, I wasn’t feeling that ‘spark’ with that one and I escaped. After that, I phoned the authorities anonymously.”

“Why was he different? Won’t you feel like a betrayal?”

That look in your eyes when you remarked, it sent him a shiver while his smile widened at your words. “He wasn’t ‘the one’ and I didn’t like him. I look into every serial killer and he falls short. Can’t let him dirty my collection, so I had to put him out of his work.” When your eyes met him, there was interest and something more, “Have I told you your case is the most interesting and loving by far. There’s actually that ‘spark’ that I never felt before.”

That was it. He knew you were the one. The one for him. And him the one for you

Oh, how his blood boiled when some fan of his threatened for you to leave him. “This piece of flesh had the audacity to threaten the love of my life. My dear, my gift for you, is her life.”

You feel your face heat up as Alastor smiled brightly at you. As morbid as it was, you, a normal person off the streets, caught the attention of a serial killer that just so happened to hold your obsession and addiction for the longest time. Even having you to care and love him like a lover. Well, your family would be happy you have a lover, just not one they wanted you to have

Alastor hated physical touches unless he initiated it, but you were his exception to a lot of things. You ran up and hugged him, planting a kiss on his lips, a gesture he melted into and returned ten fold as the seconds passed

So this was love? A twisted and dark love

As Alastor got to work, you stood at a safe and suitable distance away to observe and note down everything. You wanted Alastor to be in his serial killer zone without outside interruptions. You wanted him to be in his element without a worry

This was the change you love and wouldn’t complain. You merely wish you met him sooner, so you didn’t have to waste your time and energy, as Alastor would phase it, on other unworthy serial killers

But all good things must come to an end. You were diagnosed with an incurable disease. Alastor used his fame and wealth to find you the best doctors and gave you the best treatment, yet you were getting no better with time. You didn’t have long to live and both of you can’t stand for that. The two of you were about to get married and everything would be all the more better!

“Love.” Alastor held your hand, the other held his signature weapon. “My Muse, are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You smiled up at him innocently. It was a request before you were killed by something you’d regret and detest. No way were you dying from that. “Please, show me your first hunt.”

Out of nowhere, Alastor took out a hunting knife and jabbed it into the side of your stomach, it didn’t hit any major organs or blood vessels. You instantly fell back, immediately gripping onto your side to keep the blood loss at a minimum. You looked up to Alastor, the loving look changed

“My father was my first prey. I stabbed him like so.” Alastor explained, then he pointed his shotgun in your face, “And then I gave him hope that he can escape.”

You kicked the gun out of his hold and got up, running deeper into the forest. A gunfire rang behind you and pain came to your left shoulder. You hit into a tree when your right ankle was shot through. Stumbling into the ground as everything became blurry. When you came too, the barrel of the gun was once again in your face

“I caught up to him and I did to you now.” Alastor narrated. “And fired.”

“And that was our love story.” You sighed dreamily as you finished the last of your tea, putting it down on your saucer. “Married and happy~”

The members of the hotel all stared at you with horrided looks, save for Niffty as she seemed to be taking notes for her own bad boy catching.

“But he killed you!” Vaggie exclaimed.

“I asked him too! He rejected it so many times that I loss count! Well, not really, but you get the idea.” You mused as you snapped your fingers, making a tea pot appear and refill your cup. Sipping it with grace and a small smile. “It’s my dream to be killed by a serial killer, you see, but none gave me that spark like Alastor. Honestly,” You lowered your tea, staring into the surface of the liquid to see your own reflection, you don’t understand what ‘look in your eye’ you got like Alastor does, “I’m forever grateful that Alastor made the first move to confess. Else I’d never have such a fulfilling life!”

Angel gave you a disgusted look, “That’s messed up on so many levels.”

Static came as pressure built in the room, while you sat comfortably in your seat, drinking your tea. The shadows twisted and rose to form your darling husbands enraged with radio dials for eyes and voodoo symbols around him. “Dear Angel, what did you say about my darling wife’s words?”

Angel hide behind Charlie and Vaggie as he peeked his head out, looking into your direction as if to beg for your help.

You smiled, “He means messed up in a good way. You need to keep up with the modern terms, love.”

Alastor snapped to you, his demonic aura all gone as he took your hand and kissed it like it would break with the slightest force. “And forget the wonderful time when we met? Never.”

Note: Hehe, added a bit of more formal writing for the ending. That's what I usually write in, this bullet-point format is new to me but very fast to write everything I want with limited time~ (⚈ᴥ⚈)

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

Taglist: (the people who wanted a part 2 for this)

@suya-x-syx

@speedycoffeedelight

@just-here-reading

#Darkest Confession #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #Circe's Nighty Writings

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sukunastoy · 7 months

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There’s really no plot to this, just writing as I randomly thought about a scenario. I have such a soft spot for Heian Era Sukuna that takes a wife without the intention of love but slowly grows fond of them.

Cw/Tw: No smut/not suggestive. Gender neutral reader. Forced marriage. Very brief death of no one important.

WC: 1.6k+

Thinking of Heian Era Sukuna, and you being forced to marry him. It's a cruel act to your parents who had pissed him off by hunting and harvesting berries on his land. In their defense, they weren't aware that Sukunas personal territory spread so far, but it made no difference in the end. As you were preparing breakfast for your parents the next morning, the king showed up in your village.

You weren't even able to finish cooking, you were to go with him, immediately. Your parents had begged and apologized, but the King took what he wanted, when he wanted it.

You followed dutifully, knowing resisting would only get you killed, and possibly your parents as well. Sukuna planned to only keep you for a few weeks, just to let your parents wallow in misery. You were confined to a room with nothing more than a place to sleep, and a small desk with a candle.

The weeks passed slowly, and you rarely saw the King. His right had servant, Uraume, would bring yon food and water daily, and a small bucket of warm water and a cloth to clean yourself. Otherwise, you were alone.

It was sad, and frightening, as you weren't sure of his intentions. But, despite having a window in your room, you never thought about running away. Unfortunately, someone tried to "rescue" you. They snuck into your window one night, thinking they would be able to get you out of there. When you refused to go, and begged they leave, it was still all too late. Sukuna was well aware someone was lurking near his home, and he entered your room quickly, catching your failed rescuer.

Sukuna dragged you and the now dead body of your would be savior back to your village.

He threw their mangled body at the feet of your parents, and declared in the moment you would be married to him and remain with him forever. Since they wanted to play stupid games, they'd receive stupid prizes. You'd be included into his collection of wives and concubines, cutting you off from your parents.

Your parents wailed and pleaded for his mercy, but you knew there was no way out of this. The king claimed you as his wife in-front of your village, and the two of you drank sake from the same cup, sealing this abrupt arrangement.

You left with him once more, only this time as one of his declared wives.

Back to the room you went. Though, you were told you may come out if you wanted to. But not to leave the property. You passed time by working on your calligraphy and poems, and even learning to properly sew. Sukuna never made appearances to you, and though you were grateful that he wasn't going to abuse you in some way, it was, rather unfortunately, very lonely.

You asked Uraume one day about his other wives, if they lived here too. To your surprise, they didn't. In fact, most of them had been killed off or sent away to slavery villages. Sukuna merely punished those who wronged him by taking away their offspring in one way or another. He'd claim them as one of his brides just to degrade the family name, and to cease their bloodline.

So you waited, waited for when the King would eventually dispose of you. What more could you do?

However, while you took a small walk through his expansive home one afternoon, you crossed paths with him.

You immediately went to the floor in a submissive bow, asking your husband forgiveness if you've gotten in his way or disturbed him. He told you to rise from the ground, and to just carry on as you were. Before he could get far, you called out for him in a cracked voice, asking if you could accompany him for at least a little while. Even if he only let you near him for a few minutes, you'd be okay with that.

He stopped while looking back to you, a curious expression on his face.

When he gestured with his chin for you to come along, you happily did so, hurrying to his side. The two of you walked along in silence, but some form of relief washed over you. Sitting alone in that room or just roaming the home without any interaction was causing immense stress in your heart. In the village, you had multiple interactions daily, and now, you rarely saw anyone else. Apart form Uraume, or some maids, who weren't allowed to really talk to you anyway.

Passing near your room, you stopped and bowed to your husband, expressing your gratitude for being at his side even if it was only a moment.

The next day, you found yourself encountering him in the hall again, and same as before, you were allowed to be in his presence.

This continued for a couple of weeks, before Sukuna met you at your room for the first time. It made you nervous, for some reason. But you stepped aside of course and he came into your room, looking around with a small glimpse of interest.

"Your calligraphy is very elegant and refined." He commented, looking down to your small spread of papers along the desk. You bowed immediately at his praise, thanking him. His voice and tone seemed so much different now, compared to when he took you from your home. It was calm and gentle.

One of the nights, a particularly bad storm tore you out of your sleep. You went out into the hall with a small candle, in search of someone to not be alone.

As you passed the doorway to the garden and balcony, you spotted someone outside.

It was your king. He was seated beneath the covered area, just relaxing and watching the rolling and flashing sky. Before you could even say anything, Sukuna patted the wooded planks next to him, briefly looking back to you.

You ducked your head in a quick bow and went to his side, kneeling down in the presence of your King.

He leaned back while putting his kiseru to his lips, inhaling slowly. With every clash of thunder, your body trembled and you subconsciously moved closer to Sukuna.

"The storm bothers you?"

"Yes, I've never enjoyed them." You spoke honestly, wincing at another bright flash of lightening.

One of Sukunas hands came to your side, pulling you more against him so you didn't have to worry if you were allowed to or not. You glanced up to him in shock, but he paid no attention to it. With a grateful smile, you rested your head against him, feeling more at ease that you weren't alone during the storm. The covering over the balcony went out far enough to keep the rain off of both of you, so you could sit comfortably.

These small interactions went on for a while, and each time it stormed, you found your king out on the balcony. He had even began bringing a small cushion for you to sit upon while next to him, anticipating your arrivals. It became something you looked forward to. Storms couldn't happen quick enough.

You never doubted his ability to be a monster however, just because he was being gentle to you in these moments. It was very clear he enjoyed doing horrendous things to those that irritated him. But you felt like you could relax a little, knowing you weren't someone getting on his nerves.

When the cold months arrived, your king still sat outside to relax on occasion, and you found yourself staying inside more, unable to handle the chilly temperatures. In the middle of the nights, you'd stay in the kitchen for a while, soaking up the warmth from the irori so you could get to sleep. But it was difficult...

With your village, a few families would bundle together in a larger home, and everyone would sleep next to each other for body heat. The kitchen irori would keep you warm, but once you had to go back to your room, the cold quickly found its way into your bones again.

Passing back to your room from the kitchen, your King was stepping in from the outside. You immediately bowed down in his presence, though visibly shaking from the cold.

A soft chuckle made you lift your head, and you saw him gesture with his hand to follow. He took you into his personal chambers, and you felt out of place for being in here, as only Uraume was allowed in to clean.

He had his own irori in the middle of his room, and it made it so warm and cozy inside.

You sighed out quietly as your body adjusted, feeling at ease from the warmth.

Sukuna leaned down to his bed, moving the blankets aside before motioning you over without words. For once, you had a moment of hesitation, worried what he was wanting. The two of you rarely spoke, and apart from him letting you be against him outside during a storm, you never touched. You swallowed your fears, and went to him as he expected.

He laid down on the cushions and pillows, seeming to save a spot next to him for you. You crawled into the space besides him, shuddering even more when you felt the heat from his body mix with your colder one.

One of his arms came around you, and pulled you closer, making you gulp.

"Relax." He said finally, pulling the blankets over both of your bodies.

"I'm just...I'm not sure what to do."

"You don't have to do anything. Just sleep." He reassured, caressing your back gently while closing his eyes.

You looked at him fondly, a small smile taking over your lips as you cuddled closer to him. His scent was so amazing, almost intoxicating actually. You nuzzled into his warm chest, so honored that the King was allowing such a thing. It certainly didn’t take you long to fall asleep after that, feeling safe and warm against the monster that was your husband.

#sukuna jjk #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna fluff #heian era

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inkskinned · 2 years

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hey it's nanowrimo. i have tips bc i've done it about 34 times.

Don't edit. Ever. Stop it. If you just decide to start a new project half thru this one with all new characters, no problem. pick up and keep writing as if you'd already written the first half of that.

"but i spelled it wrong" whatever. "but the grammar" whatever. make it exist first. no time for sense. think like you're working on a typewriter. no backspace. only forward go.

Don't re-read further than a paragraph or two backwards. "did i mention the gun before?" listen - it doesn't matter. if you need there to be a gun there, the gun is there. put it back in once you finish the book.

"i forgot the specifics of X thing i already wrote" whatever. change it, make a note/comment to figure it out later, and just write what makes sense for the moment. "no raquel it's legit the characters name and origin" idc that character is now reborn as Claudius from Elsewhere. it's fine.

only you see your mistakes. nobody else knows. one of the ways writing and dance overlap - only you know the choreography. nobody else will know if you miss a step, so just keep dancing and pretend you meant to do it like that.

it's an illusion that you need to write linearly - from point A to point B to point C. Nah; that's just timeline propaganda. I've written a LOT of books out of order and just reordered them once i've finished. if you have a scene you'd LOVE to write but can't get there yet because of plot, just fuckin write the scene. I've always found its easier to establish "point F" "point J" and "Point A" and then wiggle my way between those scenes.

write what you WANT to write. 230 pages of smut? of well-researched discussion on bread? whatever. the point is to strengthen muscles however you can.

if you miss a day, a week, whatever. not the end of the world. we all have dry days. also time is a myth so u can do this challenge whenever u want.

as soon as you try to write for a specific audience, you kill your voice. you are writing for yourself. stop thinking about how people will take ur book. it don't matter. what matter is u, enjoying writing. i luv u.

play to your strengths. i have characters talk so much because i don't know how to write a plot if it kills me but i'm really good at dialogue so.

i love a flight of fancy. write a poem in there. shift tactics and write in code. keep it fun for yourself.

see what happens if you shift something major about ur main characters - gender, wealth, superpowers. or if you change point-of-view. or if you kill everyone in a big explosion. do NOT edit anything before this or after it. often these little weird one-off exercises teach me what interests me about what i'm working on. it is never what i thought. plus it is a fun way to add like 1k words.

stretch.

it's for fun and for practice. stop doing that project if it's giving you anxiety. once my nano was literally 50k words of half-started stories. just things i tried and tried and tried and wasn't able to flesh out. oops. but i am now 50k words of a better writer.

add dragons?

read books/listen to books on tape/etc. people often make the mistake of "buckling down" to just write. you need inspiration. you need to like. fill up on words. you need to remember how it feels to lose yourself in a story.

i don't have the time or space to really talk about this in this post but a lot of creative people turn to drugs/alcohol because it can help you be more creative. this is harmful, and walking a blade that only cuts deep. if you notice you and your loved ones are turning more to substances, please know i love you and i hope you are able to get help soon. i feel like this almost never gets mentioned because it's kind of a hazy underbelly to art. you are always more important than the work.

on that note. drink your fukin. water.

don't talk about a story until you've finished it. once you tell the story, it exists already, and isn't about discovery. i usually have a very canned "haha we'll see" response.

grapes :) tasty snack.

i love you be free.

#edit: the command not to talk about it is from personal experience!#i have heard Otherwise in the tags so i will edit to say:#if you've noticed that you tend to like Talk A Lot about ur piece but never WRITE it -#consider voice-to-text #also #u might be like me and ... need to figure it out on the PAGE and not OUT LOUD #i am often an auditory processor so i wont tell people specifics but i'll be like #huh. so i have a character who is in love .... and they don't know it #and my friend will be like ''oh they should kiss' and meanwhile #somehow #saying it out loud im like #yeah thank u ur right the dress SHOULD be purple that's what the problem has been <3 #idk!!! it's up to you!!! my suggestion is to say LESS until you know for a FACT that saying MORE works better for you #-- always better to slowly unspool in ur exploration of that #than to accidentally talk too much and get Bored Of Project #idk idk idk #i have adhd so every book surprises me bc im like #wait where did any of this even COME FROM #and whatever little gremlin in my brain that writes is like :)#''heyyy girlie.......''#WHICH IS A LONG WAY TO SAY:#i didn't know about Not Talking About It as an option until i'd ruined a few projects!!#but there are people who need to do the other thing!!! and i love us both!!!!#wow brains are so funny!!!!

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trickstersaint · 2 months

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i think about the sheer hope of it, sometimes // april 2 2024

#poetry #NOT doing the prompt today. i don't give a fuck about the internet #poems about life #need a 'poems about not wanting to kill yourself' tag. would i be uncouth to start that skfjhds #escapril #escapril 2024 #napowrimo #poems about love #poems about friendship #poem #poems #poets on tumblr #poems and poetry #poetsandwriters #odes

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daysofyellowroses · 3 months

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beef

carmen berzatto x reader | 900 words | based on this very lovely request | no real warnings, just pretty damn cute if i do say so myself 🫶🏻💗🌼

In the sanctuary of your own thoughts, you can admit that when you were first getting ready to plan your wedding with Carmy, you were..nervous.

Not because you didn't want to get married, you were over the moon when Carm proposed. It felt like the perfect next step in your relationship, and being engaged was such a wonderful feeling.

But of course, you had to begin wedding plans eventually. Suffice to say, when you have a fiancé who's prone to stress and panic attacks, planning the biggest day of your lives is never going to be easy.

Except..it was?

Okay, it wasn't entirely 100% smooth sailing but for the most part..it was actually enjoyable.

Maybe it was something to do with you and Carm not wanting a typical huge wedding, maybe it was that everyone in your lives sensed the stress that could happen and stepped in to help. You liked to think it was a little from column A, a little from column B.

You were determined to keep things as close as possible to what you and Carm wanted, the plans you'd casually talk about while making dinner or relaxing on the couch watching TV.

Of course having your friends and family be involved was incredible, and you and Carm appreciated their support and ideas, but there were some nights you had to turn your phone on silent, unable to look at another suggestion for a venue, or dress, or a cake, or a DJ.

As it turned out, you found the perfect location when you weren't even trying. It was a random weekday that you and Carm had decided to take off, wanting to switch off from everything for a while and just enjoy each other's company. At someone's suggestion, you couldn't remember which of you had said it, you ended up at the botanic garden. It was so peaceful and beautiful, and walking around hand in hand with the love of your life, surrounded by colorful flowers and laughing at stupid jokes and stealing kisses made your heart soar. That evening, when another venue was suggested, you and Carm both looked at each other before you replied that you'd already found the perfect one.

Food was obviously a big part of your wedding plans, and you weren't sure why you were surprised that Carm and the bear crew insisted they could take care of it. You had hoped you'd at least have Syd on your side, but you were forced to take a stand on your own. It wasn't that you didn't want them all making the food, obviously it would be delicious, it was more a case of..you wanted them to be involved in the wedding in a different way, not just to be working as they always did.

You wanted them to be bridesmaids and ushers, to read poems and be in your wedding pictures. You wanted to dance with them all night, take shots, and stuff yourself with desserts. What you didn't want was for them all to be too exhausted to do any of that. In the end, you agreed that Carm could choose what would be on the menu, he just couldn't make it. One day off wouldn't kill him.

The guest list was surprisingly one of the easiest parts of the wedding plans. You and Carm both agreed you didn't want to invite great aunts you'd met once as a toddler or your entire kindergarten class, so you settled on family and friends who you were actually close to and wanted to celebrate with. You ended up with under hundred invites, just, but it felt like a little victory.

The dress..was not your favorite part, if you were honest. The dream of walking into a store, finding a dress, buying it and putting it aside for the wedding was dashed quickly when you were dragged into several bridal stores. It was am experience, sure, but standing in your underwear while an old woman squinted at you before hauling a dress over you was not ideal. You didn't want some huge Disney princess gown, and you weren't going to spend thousands on a dress you would wear once. In the end, you found a dress on a random website one night, sending the link to Syd and immediately buying it when she said she loved it. $150 and with some sneaky tailoring it could be worn again, that was definitely a victory.

By the time you'd got your dress, the wedding seemed to be closer than ever. Spring had seemed so far away when you'd gotten engaged, but when the air felt warmer and the leaves were coming back onto the trees, you felt an excitement that it was really happening, you would wear the dress and stand in a beautiful garden in front of everyone you loved and tell Carm you would always be by his side.

Because that was what it was all for.

When you woke up at two in the morning in a panic that you'd forgotten to book a photographer/DJ/makeup artist, Carm was there to reassure you it was all okay, everything was under control. When you would be sitting on the counter listening to him tell you about his day, watching him smile to himself, when you would be laying on the couch watching TV and his hand would just gently stroke your arm or your waist or your hair.

There was never a doubt in your mind about marrying him, and through all the planning, that was what you focused on.

And when the big day finally came, you knew you couldn't have planned it any better when you were standing side by side with the man of your dreams, ready to take the next step.

#the bear #the bear 🐻#the bear fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #request #this was beyond fun to write #🌼💗🫶🏻#spot the simpsons reference

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bts-0t-7 · 5 months

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The Royal Calling | JJK

header by @liveyun Pair: Jungkook x F Reader

Summary: In the midst of surviving, you find yourself in a sticky situation. Your connection with the King, Jeon Jungkook, had you afraid for your life. Certainly, he wouldn’t kill you… Right? But slowly, you figured out your place in the depths of the castle and you yearned to live.

Genre: Fluff, non-idol au, werewolf au, royalty au, strangers to lovers (s2l)

Chapter Warnings: Abuse, PTSD, death, a little bit of self-degradation

A/N: I would have split this into a few different parts if it wasn’t for the fact that I wanted to make sure the year started with an OT7 fic. HEH - I would MAKE IT HAPPENNN- So yes, here is the first 10k+ fic :)) And to @liveyun, thanks for the header. I LUB YOU hehe 💜🌟

WC: 11,051

You were done for.

You knew you were done for.

There was no need for any form of explanation. The moment you stepped into the ballroom, you knew that the talking would start.

Since you were young, you never really knew your parents, only hearing from the pack’s elders that your mother passed away giving birth to you and your father had soon followed after his mate. Your earliest memories of your father weren’t bad at all. You remembered him being all smiley and happy, always doing his best to make you treasured.

So when he didn’t pick you up at kindergarten one day, you grew fussy. The pack alpha had suddenly come and taken you away, telling you the news. Up till today, you could remember the way he broke it to you - with a monotonous voice, void of any remorse or form of emotion.

“Your father died. You will stay with us now and earn your keep.”

That was all you remembered before you were thrown to the kitchen staff. Being young, you didn’t quite grasp the understanding of what was happening. All you could do then was cry. The maids and guards had tried their best to shelter you as you grew up, but with your Alpha ruling, nothing didn’t reach his eyes and ears.

Growing up, you never once cursed your family. With the help and slow-paced learning, you grew to understand the situation of your family thanks to the help of the maids. They always give you the easiest task - the less strenuous ones - taught you all that they knew, and fed you extra portions. The guards would sneak you books and poems and teach you after their shifts. The people in your pack were not all bad.

But as you started growing into adolescence and older, the maids and guards who cared for you grew old as well. So you started taking on their responsibilities, doing the harsh labour work without complaint. Soon, the shelter broke down its walls as well and people started seeing you more often. That was when you got the first taste of real dirt.

“How dare you! You slut! You - you -” The woman in front of you screeched in outrage but you were in a daze. Blood pooled in your mouth as you lay on the ground, unmoving and in shock.

It wasn’t until the alpha came and pulled you up did you attempted to get up on wobbly feet. Only to be shoved down again. “You will not speak, look, or hear to a single person in this pack. You are nothing and no one. Know your place, omega.”

You thought to give people around a chance. You weren’t to say - weak. But as your second gender tells you, you had a disadvantage to the majority of your peers. The guards have taught you self-defense but you never showed signs of using them. You were the runt of the pack and you should know your place. If you showed signs of studies, the alpha would be ruthless to those who taught you.

And you did not need anybody else dying.

So you kept silent and continued to work - not speaking, not looking, not hearing anything that the people in the pack talk about. But you sure were not completely deaf. You knew - you understood - yes, you just stayed unfazed.

And you thought that you could remain unfazed for the rest of your life until the alpha came into the kitchen one day and grabbed you off to the sides, pushing you against the wall and saying, “As much as I hate to let you go, all eligible women must attend the King’s royal ball this Friday. You will not have anything to wear. You will wear what you have on now.” He pushed you against the wall even harsher, arms pressing against your ribcage. You fought to breathe. “If I see that you do not wear this, I will personally strip you myself.”

You shivered at the tone of his voice. Feeling too exposed and humiliated, you nodded as the alpha let you go. You immediately scurried back to the kitchen, breathing deep puffs through your mouth.

“What got you so flushed, darling?” Marion asked.

You shook your head. “Nothing, Aunt. I just - Nothing.”

She knew something was up - you knew that much and was thankful that she did not pry any further.

It was Wednesday when Alpha told you about the ball on Friday. Not that you had anything to prepare, of course. You were forced to wear your housekeeping clothes to the Royal Ball. You had prepared yourself for the extravagance - but it was insufficient. All the cars took you directly outside and everybody was wearing makeup, dressed in the finest gowns, expensive hairpins, and flaring updos.

You, on the other hand, wore rags compared to their dresses, your hair a mess, and in no way anything could be done to it.

You felt the stares and snickers of other ladies as you exited the bus.

You felt so self-conscious.

Everybody from different regions, different backgrounds, different packs - came today to celebrate the King’s birthday in the tradition of a royal ball. You could see the looks of disgust from the court members and sympathy from the royal servants. But you didn’t want to look up. You wanted a large black hole to just swallow you whole - or home would be a good choice too.

“Remember, know your place, omega.” Alpha reminded you before walking off.

You weaved through the mass of beautifully dressed women to a corner of the room. As the orchestra started, you watched with a wistful gaze at the elegance the women possessed in their dances. You watched them through your hair, under your lashes, until ladies caught you and snickered your way.

You could hear the whispers and probes, the hurtful comments that were flung your way. This Friday was not a day where you could keep your emotions at bay with a nonchalant expression.

No. Not today.

You hid behind the curtain of your hair, humiliated and on the verge of tears. You didn’t wish to be here. You truly didn’t. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried to regulate your shallow breathing. You didn’t want to get punished when you went back to the pack. But if you didn’t get your body under control, you would be.

And you had enough unhealed cuts and bruises - your body couldn’t afford any more for the time being. Your flight response pushed you to react when a group of ladies walked past you, flaunting themselves.

But everybody stopped in their tracks the moment the large oak doors banged open. You flinched at the loud, sudden sound, gaining a glare from your alpha. You weren’t making out alive this time. Loud heavy footsteps approached, a voice powerfully projecting into the room asked, “Where is she?”

All eyes turned to you as you cowered back in fear.

You truly weren’t making it out alive.

You wore rags to the King’s birthday royal ball. Of course you would get a punishment. You just feared what type of royal punishment you would have to face. Beatings back in your pack have already weakened you and if it was any worse than those, you might as well have your soul float to heaven (or crawl to hell) first - before he reaches you.

But nothing goes the way one plans anyway. Expensive, shiny boots stopped in your vision.

Then, you felt a large, warm hand caress your cheek. Squeezing your eyes hard, you anticipated the incoming blow. But you weren’t ready for the man in front of you to ask, “Who did this to you?”

You didn’t dare look up.

“Look at me.”

You were truly done for.

You couldn't figure out if this was a trick order or not - so you kept your head down, afraid of breaking royal protocol. Not that you knew any.

The hand on your cheek moved down to your chin and tilted your head up. Your eyes met with the most chocolate, Bambi eyes you have seen. But they darkened and hardened the moment they grazed your face that your cheeks burned and you immediately averted your gaze.

He doesn’t want us.

Mate doesn’t want us.

“Tell me, who did this to you?”

You didn’t dare answer him. Unable to help yourself, tears streamed down your cheeks from the pressure that you were placed under. It has been boiling and now, being called out and rejected, you didn’t know how to control such immense emotions.

You were not expertly versed in the common language as most of the maids back home spoke mostly the Old Language. You used that more often and only during your nightly classes with the guards did you practise the common language.

Thumbs rubbed your cheek as you found the warmth of another hand landing on your other cheek, wiping away your tears. Slowly, you peeked open your eyes and found yourself looking straight into the eyes of your mate.

The werewolf king.

Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook hated parties.

Perhaps hate was too harsh a word to use. Dislike was more like it.

Jungkook absolutely disliked parties.

He felt that they were a waste of time and energy. But as the werewolf king, his birthday was always celebrated with a royal ball. Just like all others before him. So he just sucked it up and let the council prepare them. But he has not gone to those parties in years. All he does is make an appearance and leave. Those attendees look for a mate in him and he refuses to mate with anybody that isn’t his true mate.

Call him a romanticist, cause he is.

But of course, the old folks of the council did not appeal his decision. Not that he could care any less. He was 26 and he needed to produce an heir for the kingdom soon. Jungkook felt an impending headache coming his way. Pressing two fingers to his temples, he rubbed them and sighed.

He would wait, even if it was an eternity for his true soul.

Jungkook was in the middle of signing off new policies to be implemented when he smelt a fresh, new scent wafting in the palace. His study was far from the entrance of the palace so he was confused as to how he could sense such a scent from so far away.

Jungkook had always been sensitive to scents since young, therefore his lodgings have been the farthest from the city, located at the back with fresh air and trees. Intrigued, Jungkook got up and followed his instincts. It led him to the ballroom where his supposedly birthday party was held.

Now, he got a clearer waft of the intoxicating scent as he realised the sour notes to it. It made his nose crinkle and brows furrow. Why would one be so afraid? What caused one to be so afraid?

Jungkook couldn’t sense any outbreaks in the room so he wasn’t sure what was causing it. The echoing sounds did not make his headache any better either.

Just as he was about to enter, three guards surrounded him. “Your Majesty,” Paul, the Head Captain, bowed. “Apologies for our tardiness, we did not expect you so early.”

Jungkook was quick to dismiss the apology. “No need, I wasn’t supposed to be here anyways. I was just following instinct.”

He could see the confusion in the guards' faces before Paul said, “We will follow you, Your Majesty.”

Jungkook opened the large doors and demanded, “Where is she?”

All sounds seem to be sucked out of the room in an instant. The next breath, there was an obvious pathway to the scent he had found for the past fifteen minutes. The first thing he saw was your scent. You were cowering in fear - of him or of the attention you were currently receiving, he wasn’t too sure.

Next, he realised your clothes. Why would anybody allow you to wear those? Unless you were a maid in your pack. Even so, this was his royal ball and if his council was to be trusted, not one of the people came in housekeeping clothes. Unless -

The last thing he realised was your bruises. While you did a great job at concealing most of them with your hair, Jungkook could see those peeking under your clothes when you shift on your feet.

Wanting to confirm his suspicions, Jungkook walked towards you, caressing your cheek and tilting your head upwards. He saw your eyes before your bruises - what a beautiful shade they were.

But your bruises. Whoever your pack’s alpha was -

He saw the change in your eyes - from a split second of mesmerisation to hurt and pain and… tears?

Jungkook moved on instinct the moment he felt his hands getting wet. Bringing his other hand up, he wiped your tears off your cheeks. You had scrunched up your eyes and tensed your body as if - as if waiting for a hit, Jungkook realised.

He was pissed. Beyond pissed.

But for you, he would hold it in.

He was afraid of scaring you if he were to show his true colours now. His anger was one thing that the court feared as he was known to do anything that he put his mind to - and he was harder to handle when angry.

When he looked back at you, he saw your eyes slowly opening, revealing the soul that he had waited for forever.

Right then, he knew that he would break down mountains if it meant to keep you safe.

“Find her pack alpha and bring him to me.” Jungkook commanded the guards beside him. Gently tugging on your sleeve, he held out his palm. He saw your hesitancy to take it and decided to just bite the lead and do it. Sliding his hands to yours, he connected them and pulled you along.

Jungkook led you out of the ballroom, ensuring to keep an eye on you at all times to see how much more you can take. “Shall we walk to my quarters? I have a few guest rooms there that you can stay at if you like.”

You nodded your head and followed him. He wasn’t sure what prompted you to trust him so much but he sure wasn’t going to let this chance go to waste.

Leading you to the room one room down from him, Jungkook opened the door and led you in. Turning on the lights, he was about to give you a tour of the room when he spotted you standing still at the threshold. Your eyes were big as your mouth dropped open. Jungkook felt like he could just faint at that very moment. The way your eyes sparkled with mesmerisation, taking everything in was -

“You can stay for as long as you want. Nobody will hurt you here, I can promise you that.” Jungkook proposed. “I know my words won’t cut it but I truly hope you would stay. Even if it’s just for a little while, please?”

The room that the werewolf king had assigned you was beyond any of your imagination. It was extravagant but not too much and their colours flowed beautifully with each other. The werewolf king had begged you to stay and seeing it made you feel a little… bad. So you gave in, nodding. You saw the way his eyes light up and his steps held a little spring in them as he led you around the room.

Cute.

Your eyes widened at the thought. No, no, no. This is the werewolf king. You were not allowed - not worthy - of thinking like that.

“You are allowed to do as you wish here. Nobody will stop you. If you want anything, you can just order it.”

You nodded silently. You didn’t need much.

The clothes in the wardrobe provided you with everything you needed and more. It was more than necessary and you were extremely grateful. The underwear may or may not be your size but one quick look at it made you quite certain with a little adjustments, it would fit just well. As the king familiarised you with the room, he pointed out certain spaces and things that had comfy spaces.

Plushies, plushes, fluffy rugs, fluffy pillows… It felt like fluff heaven.

“My room is just a room down.” The king told you. His hands were in front of him, wringing them as if he were worried about your reactions to how he came off. “And erm… Please just call me Jungkook or Kook or Kookie works too! Or anything you want!”

His Majesty is spiralling.

You nodded but you weren’t going to talk much, you knew that. In case you were to say something wrong, at least you wouldn’t have that chance if you didn’t open your mouth. This way, you would be as safe as possible. You had not seen and experienced the punishments in the royal family. You did not want to push anybody’s buttons to know what goes down behind the doors.

As His Majesty left the room, you walked straight to the bed first, taking the throw and the neatly folded blankets, piling them onto the floor and curling up in the fluff. You did not want to sleep on the bed, lest that this was a trail.

To see how much of the king’s generosity you would take for granted.

You took none, of course. But you did not want others to think that you took it all. Folding the materials over your eyes and covering your body, you fell into an unfruitful sleep.

It had probably been a few hours since you fell asleep but you were woken up by the rumbling of thunder and flashes of lightning. Curling deeper into the warm depths of the blankets, you whimpered, trying to hide away from the sounds. The rumbling reminds you too much of that day when you dug in the mud.

You did not remember much of that day. All that came back was you ferociously digging in the mud of your father’s burial, hysterically begging for him to come back.

“Papa! Papa, please! Papa - Y/N’s sorry! I’m sorry! I promise I’ll be a good girl and do my homework. Papa - please come back - PLEASE-” Soil in your nails, mud water soaking up your skirt, and blood pouring out of your head from the hit you took when sliding down.

You couldn’t believe your ears. You didn’t want to believe.

You father wasn’t dead - your father couldn’t be -

He sent you to school this morning. He looked normal. Why did he leave now?

“PAPA PLEASE! Y/N’s sorry! PAPA PLEASE-”

You were sobbing in the rain, hurting but refusing to move. Only when you heard the head chef, Aunt Marion call for you, her warm hands coming to scoop up your small form and carried you back. That night, she tended to your wounds, the both of you letting the silence speak for itself.

Your grief and sorrow, she knew, will never heal.

Loosing a parent is tough, but you can’t let it squash you.

She cared for you, always giving you more portions for dinner, ensuring that you had more than enough to eat.

After that day, whenever it rained, you always ran to one of the maid’s rooms, hiding under the covers with the warmth of the aunts. They had always soothed you and sung you to sleep. As you grew up, you tried to lessen the times that you went to their room, only occasionally during the harsher seasons do you sleepover in their cots with them.

Now you were all by yourself, in a large room and full length windows, giving you the full view of the lighting and echoing sounds of thunder. Trying to make yourself as small as possible, you squeezed your eeys shut, hoping that you would go back to sleep. But minutes passed and by the time it was past thirty minutes, you were getting tired of trying.

Slowly getting up, you curled the blankets around yourself and let is trail behind you as you walked out of the room. Just as you were exiting the room, lighting struck and thunder boomed, making you flinch and squeak in fright.

You left the door to your room slightly open and stood outside for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do next. Deciding to follow your scents and instincts, you walked down to the room beside the spiral staircase, the largest door in the level.

You stood outside, hands formed in a fist as you contemplated knocking or not. Deciding to knock incase you interrupt something you shouldn’t, you winced a the sound echoing throughout the silent hallway.

When nobody opened the door, you bit the lead and opened it slightly, peaking in to see His Majesty staring at you with a bed hair sticking in all directions. His sleepy eyes squinted and roamed your form, making you feel self-conscious. It seem to take a while for him to relasie that you were standing there.

But by then, you were already squeaking out a “sorry” and closed the door.

Jungkook was having a good dream.

A brilliant dream - to be honest.

He was playing around in a field of flowers, prancing around like a kid again. Rolling about in the mud and making his fur dirty - oh, he couldn’t care less.

It felt nice to be free.

But he was woken up by the sudden rapping against his bedroom door.

Jungkook was known to be a heavy sleeper. He does not wake easily so when he woke up, distorted at the sound, Jungkook found himself wondering why he even woke up. It wasn’t until his sleep-muggled brain registered that you were standing at his door, wrapped up in layers of blankets. Your soft apology made it to his ears and he immediately left the warm confinements of his bed.

“Hey-” He winced at his own voice cracking, hoarse from the lack of use.

At least it stopped you from completely closing his door.

Your little eyes peaked through the small hole left between the door and Jungkook felt like he could melt right there and then. You looked adorable in the buddles of blankets. Walking to the door, he gently opened it, afraid that is he moves too fast it might frighten you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He carefully brought his hands up to you, not forgetting the way your instincts acted up at the ball a few hours ago. He did not want to trigger anything he doesn’t understand or know, much less give you a reason to fear him.

You shook your head at his question, your luscious locks waving with the direction.

Just then, lightning stuck, lighting up the whole room as the loud snap of the thunder followed. You jumped, whimpering as you hid in the thick blankets even more.

The storm.

You were afraid of the storm.

Running his hand through his sleep-mussed hair, he pushed the door open and slid his hands through yours, gently tugging you into his room. He felt a sense of pride when he realised that you had came to his room, seeking his comfort.

Leading you to the bed, he brought back the thick quilt and gestured for you to get in. You stood a the foot of his bed for a few seconds, hesitant to enter until Jungkook sat on the bed and gave your linked hands a little pull. Giving in, you entered his bed as he tucked you in. Heading to the other side of the bed, Jungkook crawled in and snuggled beside you.

Oh, how much he just wanted to wrap his arms around you but he did not want to frighten you.

He watched as you slowly fell asleep, curling into yourself while facing him, soft whispers coming out of your mouth. Smiling to himself, Jungkook tucked the quilt higher, making sure that you were warm before falling asleep himself.

He woke up the next morning before you did. The gloomy weather made it a comfortable weather to sleep in but he had things to complete - one of them being setting a suitable punishment for your old alpha. He had a hint who it was, seeing the old egoistic man glare at you when he lead you out of the ballroom.

Suitable punishment.

Jungkook scoffed. That old man should be hung for treating the queen that way.

Looking over, Jungkook found your sleeping form curled up against his. A soft smile grew on his lips as he brought a gentle hand up to your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ears. He didn’t know what were your boundaries to cross and not to cross so he did not -

Sighing, he carefully extracted himself off of your hold. He wanted to get the punishment over with before you woke up. Your brows furrowed as you mumbled in you sleep. Pushing his heavily scented pillow in your hold and pulling the quilt higher, you easily fell back asleep. Quietly, Jungkook got himself ready for the day and left the room.

Soft silky texture glided through your hands as you struggled to force yourself awake. You had to get up and do the chores. You were sure your alarm had -

Your alarm!

You shot out of bed, hands flinging in the direction of your clock only to collide with a vase of flowers instead. You did not manage to catch it in time and it crashed onto the floor. Jumping out of the bed, you forced your sudden disorientation to go away. Dizzy, you got to your knees as you started to frantically pick up the pieces.

You were going to get punished either way, it is better if you clean up before His Majesty comes back in. This way, you hoped to get a lighter punishment for destroying his properties.

Hurried footstep sounded your way and you sped up the process, trying to finish the impossible before -

You were brought out of your thoughts when blood started trickling onto the floor, staining the quilt of the red. By now, you were fricking out. The large doors banged open and large boots stopped in front of you and warm hands caught yours.

“Darling!”

You pried your hands out of his, trying to continue with your work.

Please, please, please - don’t punish me so harshly. Please, please, please -

But the warm hands did not move. They held yours firmly.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, look at me.” You shook your head. You needed to continue. You couldn’t speak, look, or hear. You were nothing.

The same set of hands pulled you to your feet and out of the area where the broken ceramic lie. You fought out of the hold but he was firm. “Look at me, look at me.”

His hands came to your cheeks, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Follow my breathing. Follow me.”

One, two, one, two, three.

This went on all while you could hear the maids cleaning up the broken pieces. As your breathing calmed down, the adrenaline started to wear off and you felt exhausted. Gentle pats to your back did not help the heaviness of your eyelids. In fact, it made them worse. You were just about to fall back asleep when a sudden clearing of throat on your left jolted you awake.

Remembering where you were and in what position you were at, you immediately scrambled off. Bowing, head to the ground and palms up, you begged for His Majesty’s forgiveness. But you did not dare to talk lest you say anymore things to trigger his anger. You could only hope His Majesty would understand your position.

You felt hands grab you around your armpits and you flinched, waiting for a blow. But when none came, you pried open your eyes to see your surroundings. His Majesty was sitting on the floor beside you, holding you up while caressing your cheek.

“Hey darling.”

You blinked. Were you not going to be punished for your incompetence?

“I told you that nobody would hurt you here.” His Majesty pointed to himself. “Not even me. If I hurt you, you have all the rights to do as you wish with me.”

You were confused. You were suppose to be the one who is at fault. Why is His Majesty the looking like a guilty puppy?

As the both of you sat together, you took the time to observe the room and soon realised that the both of you were the only ones inside. Suddenly feeling conscious, you ducked your head, letting your hair cover half of your face. As you looked down, you saw that your palms were tended to. The blood has stopped flowing and they were firmly bandaged.

The silence between you stretched long and thin that you decided to get up and clean up the rest of the mess. Walking over, you expected to see half changed sheets or leftover flowers and water on the floor. But all you see is clean, crisp sheets and a new vase with a different set of flowers sitting on the table.

Turning back around, you were about to get on your knees to apologise again when His Majesty stopped you. “That’s enough.” You faltered.

Uh-oh.

“No more bowing, no more apologies.” His Majesty put out his palms, facing them up. Why is he placating you? “Can you do that for me? No more saying sorry. Break what you want to, don’t apologise for it. Okay?”

You didn’t agree to it.

You couldn’t agree to it. There has to be a catch somewhere. Life is never so easy.

“In return,” There is it. “I would like you to go for fittings tomorrow and find out your hobbies. I want to know what you like and what you dislike. Is it a fitting enough trade?”

NO! NO IT WASN’T!

You were suppose to be told to do cleaning, top to bottom, ensure that the whole castle deos not have a single speck of dust or something! You were -

“You are my mate. You are the future Queen of the kingdom. You may do as you wish. I will not stop you and nobody will stop you. But I think we should go -”

“O-okay.” You croacked. You had not spoken for more than a day, voice cracking at the lack of use.

You saw His Majesty’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas and you swear your heart stumbled.

“Okay, okay… erm… What’s your name?”

The favour has started.

“Y/N. L/N Y/N, Your Majesty.” You whispered, seeing his brows furrow at the title.

“Jungkook is fine, darling.”

Darling -

(Ehm.)

You nodded.

“Say it.”

You were hesitant. I mean - who wouldn’t? The king of werewolves is asking you to say his given name, jumping up and down like a bunny, eyes sparkling when he looks at you. “Say it, say it.”

You blinked multiple times at him. Is he… for real? Is this a test?

“Please? You can’t call me by my title. I refuse.”

… You weren’t certain if you were in front of the king or a kid.

“Ju-Jungkook.”

The king shot up from the loveseat he was on and clapped his hands. “Now just call me that from now on and -”

The doors opened to reveal a man clad in an expensive suit and glasses sitting neatly on the bridge of his nose. He held a stack of books and papers in his arms. You instantly looked down, afraid to look the man lest he is someone you should never piss off.

“Well, I heard a commotion and decided to come up to take a peak. Guess it was cleaned up before I could come in.” The man said. God, it must have been a test. And you failed it.

“Namjoon Hyung!” His Majesty bounded over to the man and gave him a big hug.

“Hey Kook.” You envied their easy affection for each other. You were only mates to the king by bond but his heart is somewhere else. You didn’t want to stay and intrude any further. Ducking your head even further down to your chest, you mumbled out a soft apology and bolted to your room. You had overstayed your stay and it is time to go back.

To reality.

Jungkook felt the ache in his chest before you left.

And then he felt it grow that he winced at the pain, rubbing over the area, trying to ease it up. But he knew that there was nothing that could ease up the pain unless it you felt happier. He wanted to introduce you to his Hyung. Surely, he did not expect him to be out of the library, but he thought that it was a good way to slowly introduce you to his inner circle of the council. The very people who help him make the choices and keep the kingdom safe.

But the moment you saw Namjoon, he could see the light leave your eyes as you ducked your head lower. He was about to call out to you when you bolted off, and all Jungkook heard was hte soft thud of a room door closing.

Sighing, Jungkook pushed his hair back. Namjoon came into the room, putting down his books before saying, “That girl is scared. You can’t rush it.”

“I know. But it’s just… So hard.”

“Patience Kook, patience.”

So with nothing much to do, the both of them sat in the room and went through the piles of letters, policies, and numerous talks on philosophy. As the morning soon turned to afternoon, the servants came in to inform Jungkook that you had your lunch in the room. He was relieved to hear that you ate. Afternoon then turned to evening and when the servants entered the dining room where he was eating with the rest of his inner circle, they informed him that you weren’t eating.

More like refusing to eat.

You would tell the servants to leave the food there but when they went back an hour later, the food was untouched and you were bundled in a corner of the room - refusing to move. Jungkook sighed and looked at the food infront of him, appetite now long gone. Ordering for a bowl of porridge, he piled it up with meat, vegetables, and crispy rolls. He wasn’t sure what you liked and what you didn’t like so this wild guess was… truly a wild one.

Heading up to your room with the bowl and spoon in hand, he knocked on your door. Hearing no answer, he knocked again. This time he pushed open the door and entered. The first thing he saw were your neatly piled clothes on the bed and then your bundled form on the floor, covered in layers and layers of fluffy blankets.

Jungkook took a note that you liked anything plush and fluffy. Putting the bowl and spoon on the bedside table, he softly walked over to you, however purposefully creaking a few floorboards to inform you of his presence.

And it worked, of course. Your ears twitched and sleepy eyes travelled up to meet his. Kneeling on the ground to get to your eye level, Jungkook held out his hand to your snout. You sloppily sniffed him up before uncurling and dragging the blankets along with you by your bum. Jungkook chuckled at your attempt and slid himself closer, allowing you to rest your sleepy head on his thighs.

Stroking your silky grey ears, you let out a tummy rumble.

“I’m sorry for just now. I didn’t know Namjoon Hyung was coming. Things will go at your pace, I promise. Plus, Namjoon Hyung has a mate so don’t you worry your little furry head over the word ‘jealousy’, okay? They are happily mated.” Jungkook chuckled. He figured out why you left when he was reading a poetry on Achilles and Patroclus. “Namjoon Hyung is part of my inner circle in the council and I hope to be able to introduce you to them one day. We… We can be quite chaotic and I don’t want you to run away right now.”

Jungkook half-hugged the frame of your wolf. “I can’t let you go!” Jungkook sobbed hysterically.

Your wolf below him huffed as if knowing his little tricks.

The both of you sat in comfortable silence as Jungkook’s hand continued to stroke through your fur, providing you with a sense of comfort while his body heat warmed you. An alpha’s body heat is naturally higher than an omega’s and is able to better regulate itself compared to yours. It wasn’t until a particularly harsh wind forced the windows shut, the bang of it causing you to jum up in fright.

Bringing your head to his, Jungkook told you with stern eyes, “You have to eat dinner. It has turned cold. Even the wind agrees.”

Getting up, Jungkook left you whining and trailing after him. After ensuring that the windows are shut and locked, he picked up the bowl of food and sat on the bed, patting the side as a gesture for you to join him up. Leaping, you curled around him, seeking his warmth again.

“No, no, no. No going back to bed. Come on.” Jungkook lifted your head off the bed and pinched your tail, earning a yap and flick. “Come on. Shift back and have some food then you can go back to sleep.”

Your eyes slid to him before flattening to slits as if you were the one hunting him. That made a sense of fear and adrenaline course through him. But before he can say anything, you jumped off the bed and headed for the wardrobe, emerging later in comfortable pajamas.

Holding the bowl out to you, Jungkook wasn’t sure if you wanted to eat by yourself or -

You plopped down beside him and opened you mouth.

Well… Safe to say, he chose the wrong option.

You wanted to be fed. So Jungkook obliged his sleepy mate, ensuring that every bite goes down before he feeds you another. You did not make it through half the bowl before you started falling asleep on him again so Jungkook decided that it was a better option to just let you sleep rather than to force you food. Careful with your hair, Jungkook laid you on the bed before going to the washroom and coming back with a warm cloth to wipe your mouth.

Your hands seeked his warmth as he left the bed. Tucking you in, Jungkook turned off the lights - save for the washroom’s - and cracked open the windows, ensuring that it would not close in the middle of the night. Then he slid into bed with you immediately wrapping yourself around him.

It felt like just a few hours ago he woke up in a similar position. Now, he went to sleep with the both of you working to better understand the other.

You woke up to light snores and a curly head of hair in your face. Squinting at the sunlight that streamed through the curtains, you hid your face in the being next to you. Colliding with a warm chest, you tilted your head up to see His Majesty’s sleeping form beside you.

Turning the wheels back, you recalled what happened last night and decided that it was not a good idea to scream.

Namjoon Hyung has a mate.

Don’t worry your fluffy head over this.

I would like to introduce you to them one day.

Things will go at your pace, I promise.

Perhaps, you could try. If His Majesty is trying for you, why say you can’t do the same? It is a choice that you knew only you could make.

We can be a little chaotic.

You could try. There was nobody to say - significant - in your life to introduce to His Majesty but he does. So you would like to know his friends as well. You were good at cooking, Aunt Marion has taught you much.

I want to know your likes and dislikes.

Deciding that you would make something that you loved for him to try as breakfast, you tried to shimmy your way out of his hold. But all he did was groan and turn over, essentially caging you between in body and the bed. Trying to wiggle out of his hold, all you did was wake him instead.

“No…” His Majesty mumbled. “Noooo… Don’t goooo…”

“Let me out, please. I need the washroom, Your Majesty.”

His brows furrowed before groggily lifting his arm to let you escape. You left for the washroom to get ready and when you came back to the bedroom, His Majesty was already back in the dreamland. Lightly laughing, you toed out of the room and started exploring His Majesty’s lodging area. You had noted that it was the furthest from civilisation and had the well… best view, you suppose. Whenever you looked out, it was trees and forest. It made your wolf extremely happy. She was allowed to prance around without anybody scolding her.

Carefully, you walked down steps until there were none and stopped. Now you didn’t know where to go. Not that you left much - you weren’t even certain how many stories you had climbed down.

Eyes fluttering around, you start to grow nervous. You were in a completely new environment and you just… explored the place on your own?

Just as you were about to throw in the towel and head back up to probe His Majesty for directions, a chirpy “hello” broke you out of your trance. Whipping your head around, you stumbled backwards, barely catching your footing before you fell. In front of you stood a male with eyes like smiles and a lovely demeanour.

Hoping that he wouldn’t be nasty, you cautiously asked, “Hello, may I know where the kitchen is?”

The man looked at you in shock. You weren’t sure why until he replied to you in the common language did you realise… you slipped back. “Hi! I’m Jimin.”

“I’m Y/N.” You replied softly.

“Cool that you know the Old Language. Not many people know how to speak that anymore.” Jimin spoke with you with the comfort of the Old Language. His accent was much heavier, slurring the words at the end as they moulded around his lips.

“The older folks in my pack understood mainly the Old Language so I picked up along the way.”

The both of you struck up conversations as Jimin led you to the kitchen. It was more of Jimin talking and you giving him one or two-word answers. It wasn’t that you did not have your fair share of socialisation. No, you had your classes, you knew how to talk - you just didn’t want to. Circles and circles the both of you walked, turns and turns he led you through, until you stopped by a set of large doors, wide open as you smelt the aroma wafted out. Feeling the sudden hunger, your stomach grumbled.

“Are you… Hungry?” Jimin chuckled.

You shook your head.

Heading over to a chef, you slowly asked him, “May I know where the vegetables, seasoning, and dry ingredients are?”

The chef wiped the sweat off his forehead and pointed in their respective directions. Thanking him, you looked through each section and then headed for the refrigerator. You knew what you were going to make - one that Papa always made for you and a recipe that Aunt Marion learnt from you.

You always craved them on days when you missed your dad and rainy weather. You never liked loud, harsh sounds and the fear amplified on that rainy day. It was your comfort food, one that was a staple in your diet. Sometimes, you’ll catch Aunt Marion making them early in the morning. You wondered how His Majesty would react to a food like this. Would he like it as much as you do or would he dislike it and ban it from the castle? You weren’t sure how you were going to survive without it.

After collecting all the ingredients needed, you walked over to the prepping station. Mixing the flour, salt, sugar, and grated garlic in a bowl, half a cup of yougurt, butter and lukewarm milk were poured in. With extra milk and butter on the side, you started mixing the ingredients to form a dough. Kneading until the dough gave a soft, elastic, and pliable texture, you covered it in a damp cloth and let it sit in a warm place. While the dough is resting, you turn to another station, bringing with you seven cloves of garlic and coriander leaves.

Finely slicing the garlic cloves, you felt a sense of deja vu. Remembering when you used to help Papa make them for school time snacks so that you could share them with your friends. Shaking your head, you placed the garlic in a small dish before lightly washing the coriander leaves and finely chopping them.

“What are you making?” You heard Jimin question you.

“My comfort food.”

You turned around with the bowls in your hand, heading back to the prepping station when you saw Jimin pinching the cloth to lift it and peek under. Placing the bowls beside him, Jimin flinched, looking up at you with a sheepish expression.

“Oops?”

You walked back to the station and washed up the chopping board and knives. Heading back to where Jimin stood, you uncovered the dough. Lightly greasing your fingers, you divided the dough into eight parts. You preferred smaller pieces, one that can be eaten quicker. Rolling them into balls, you arranged them back into the bowl neatly, covering them with the cloth again. It is important to keep them covered so that the dough does not lose its moisture.

Sprinkling a little flour on the rolling board, you started rolling out the dough. Once you determine that it is a good size, sprinkle on some sliced garlic and coriander leaves. Slightly rolling them to stick, you set them aside, covering them with another damp cloth as you work on the rest of the dough.

With the help of another chef, you managed to locate a non-stick pan and heat it over medium heat. Once the pan is deemed hot enough, you place a little water at the bottom of the naan before putting it onto the pan. When bubbles start to form, flip it, cooking until the other side forms bubbles as well. Flaming it on the other side directly on the stove gives the naan a little charred spots.

Oh, those were your favourites.

Once the naan is fully cooked, it is transferred to a cooling rack and as the others are cooking, you smear some butter on top with an extra garnish of coriander leaves.

Constantly moving about, you usually wrap the naan in cloth, putting it in the small pocket under the apron you wore. So now looking at the cooling naan on the rack, you wondered what you could dip with it. Making it with ur favourite paneer butter masala is a no since you do not have enough time.

“Why think so much? Just give it to him like that.”

You would love to but you were afraid that he would be offended that this was all you give him. A king is supposed to have a spread, not just one item.

“Jungkook will like anything you make.” Jimin went over to the refrigerator and took out an unopened carton of banana milk. “Just give him with this. He raids the kitchen for this every morning either way.” Jimin placed the milk in your hands.

Turning the carton over, you contemplated. You were afraid to be punished for not providing your king with what he deserves but his sworn brother told you that it does not truly matter. On the other hand, siblings can prank each other and you do not want to get in the middle of it. Then again, you didn’t know who else to listen to other than either yourself or Jimin.

“If you’re thinking whether or not I am giving you the wrong information, trust me,” Jimin placed a hand on his chest and propped his right leg on a stool. “I would never give you the wrong sort of information. Plus, I haven’t given you anything to put me as a prankster and liar right?”

It was anything but right as Jimin’s eyes bore into yours with that mischievous smile. You were suspicious - for certain and with a good reason, no less - but you decided to try. Plating the naan and carrying the milk (it honestly made you raise your brows at it), you walked out of the kitchen. But just as you took a step out, you realised that… you didn’t know how to go back to His Majesty’s room.

You turned back to ask Jimin to bring you along but you already found him behind you. You walked a little behind Jimin as he led you back. It was only when Jimin led you to the lift lobby did you realise, you took the hard and long way down.

When you were outside His Majesty’s room, you could hear the soft snores through the doors. You had expected that His Majesty would have woken up by now considering that it was nine in the morning.

“This is where I leave you. It was nice knowing you, My Lady. I hope to see you around soon.” Jimin bowed to you before walking back into the lift.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and walked in. Lightly closing it behind you, you treaded on careful waters, placing the food on the bedside table before poking His Majesty’s arm in an attempt to wake him up.

“Hmmm…”

Poke.

“Hmmm…” His Majesty’s brows furrowed.

Poke. Poke. Poke. “Your Majesty.”

“Hmm…?”

“Your Majesty, I made something. Would you like to try?”

Jungkook was disoriented.

He thought you had come back to bed. When did you leave again?

Jungkook yawned as he sat up in the bed, staring at you. You were standing at the edge of his side of the bed, poking him awake.

“Your Majesty, I made something. Would you like to try?”

Sure. He would love to.

“Hmm…” He nodded but whined in retaliation when he didn’t manage to grab onto you in time as you left to walk around the bed.

His sleepy eyes followed you the entire time and you came back with a carton of his favourite banana milk - how did you know? - and a plate of… bread? Jungkook got more alert. Oh, how he loves bread! Anything that contains flour is his favourite. Reaching for the food on the plate in an instant, he tore into it with a content sigh. It was only halfway through that he realised that the bread was not the usual one the servants would bring him. It was softer and held more flavour.

“Hmmm!” Jungkook looked at you. “Hmm! What is this? It’s good!”

He saw the way you ducked your head as your cheeks turned a dusty shade of pink. Oh, how cute you were. Jungkook could abandon the bread in his hand to chew on your cheeks instead.

“It’s garlic butter naan. My dad used to always make it for me so that I could bring it to school and share it with my friends. It became my comfort food.” He observed that you were fighting the itch to cover yourself. “I’m glad you like it, Your Majesty.”

Jungkook was proud that you tried to open up to him. He was beyond happy.

“I like it. How long can they keep for?”

Your furrowed brows made him go into another mini heart attack. “For normal naan, I’d say to keep its freshness, a month in the freezer should be good and about five days at room temperature.”

Jungkook chewed on the naan as he nodded. “How much can you make?”

“It depends on how long I am permitted in the kitchen, Your Majesty.”

There’s that again. Jungkook was not disappointed - just a little sad that you still didn’t trust him enough.

“There is the main kitchen and the kitchen in this tower. You can use any for however long you like. There are no limitations. There are no limitations here, okay?”

You nodded at him.

The silence dragged on comfortably as Jungkook continued to munch on his breakfast and drink his daily calcium while playing with your fingers. Your slender hands have done too much work - but Jungkook wouldn’t say. If you decide to continue with reading and sword training, he would be more than happy to oblige you.

But not housekeeping.

He hoped you would no longer think that you must clean the castle. Some servants are in charge of cleaning up and he hoped that you would leave it to them to do most of the work.

“Your Majesty,” You turned to him. “I… I would like to learn how to properly fight and -”

“I have a friend who can help you! He commands the First Battalion!”

“You,” Your eyes looked like they shined a thousand stars. “You would allow me to fight, Your Majesty?”

You said it with such hope in your voice that it hurts Jungkook’s heart. Exactly what did they do to you that the simplest indulgent made you look like that? If you wanted to fight, you may; if you wanted to read and create new things, you may; hell, if you wanted to burn the whole world down, he’ll burn it down with you.

Perhaps with a few exceptions.

“Of course.”Jungkook brought his hand to your hair and hooked the strays behind your ear. “You don’t need anybody’s permission to do anything.”

You looked so happy a that moment, eyes shining as if they were a thousand stars in the galaxy.

“Come on. Let’s dress you in simple clothes today.”

“Oh! It’s you!” A head of brown locks dashed up to you and you were sure with his built, you would have tumbled onto the ground by now if it wasn’t for a bold hand grabbing him from the fabric of his waist and pulling him back.

“Tae! Don’t be so rash!” The tall man chided him.

“Aw, come on! I just wanted to give her a hug!” The man in his hold - Tae - thrashed and whined. But the man held firm.

“You don’t know what she’s been through, don’t be so rash. What if all of our waiting goes back to square one because you wanted to give her a hug?”

You understood where they are coming from. They were afraid to wait longer to see you and you suppose you shouldn’t let them wait any longer. Pushing down your fears, you sturdily (at least you hoped it appeared sturdy) curtsied to the group of men in front of you. “Good morning. I am L/N Y/N. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Frequent pratice allowed the common language to smoothly roll off your tongue.

“You’re quite educated, I see?” The same man that held back Sir Tae spoke, pushing up his glasses. His built - tall and muscular - made you feel like an ant next to him.

“The guards and scholars would teach me in the night.”

The man nodded, bowing at ninety degrees. “Scholar Namjoon, Your Majesty. I am pleased to be at your service.”

Oh, he certainly looks like a scholar. While you never interacted with anybody during the morning to avoid any form of suspicions and rumours to spread in the pack, you have came across scholars at all hours of the day. They were always dressed to their finest, topped with the exuberance of elegance surrounding them. Even as the scholars who teach you during the night, wearing nothing more than a turnic and pants, remain that grace.

Observing three of the similarly dressed men in the group, you deduced that they must all be scholars. Their clothing were prim, not a single wrinkle in sight. Even their ties were neatly tucked under their double-vested vests that are adorned with gold buttons. Their boots shine under their high waisted pants with silk gloves in the pockets of the coat. One of them took out a pocket watch before whispering in another shorter man’s ears. He stood tall himself as the man he looked over you.

His eyes were as sharp as a cat’s and you felt stripped under his gaze. Bowing, the man introduced himself. “Yoongi, Your Majesty.”

You curtsied back to him.

“Jungkook told us you had quite the… harsh upbringing.” Scholar Namjoon started. Wait - Jungkook? Not His Majesty? His Excellency? His.. something other than his name?! “But it seems that you had good teachers.”

You hastily looked over at His Majesty, eyes peeking from under your brows as they furrowed. You hoped that he wouldn’t be too angry that his people did not call him by his title. His Majesty looked over at you and smiled - and you felt like you’ve drifted.

Turning back to the waiting group, you answered. “The guards and scholars in my previous pack have taught me well.”

A head poked out from across the wall before bounding over to your side. “My Lady! What are you doing here? Lost again?” Jimin whipped his head to the group and glared at the males in front, eyes saying What are you guys up to?

“Do you know each other?”

Jimin’s ears seem to pique at that question. “Yep! I’ve been with them since young! The seven of us are an inseparable group you know? Of course, with Jungkook at the head of the table.”

“Ju-Jungkook?” Your face pales again as your heart hammered in your chest.

Please don’t be mad. Please don’t be mad.

“Plus, he’s the youngest out of all of us so we get to tease him forever.” A male slapped His Majesty’s butt. His Majesty whined.

Oh no… Oh no, they’ve done it now. Violating the king’s sense of -

“Hey Y/N darling,” Large hands encompassed your cheeks. “Don’t worry. They’re always like that and they practically raised me through my adolescent years. Their my brothers. It’s alright, it’s alright.”

Brothers?

Oh?

Oh.

Your cheeks dusted a shade of pink as you held in the urge to bury your burning face in his Majesty’s cloak. Instead, your grip tightened on the fabric as you tried to cool down the rising heat. Jungkook can see the way you were holding back on running so he cupped the back of your neck and gently tugged you to his chest. With your head buried, you tightened you grip even more, as if he would disappear the moment you let go.

“Darling?” Jungkook brushed your hair back, fingers threading thorough your loose locks. “Can I introduce you to them?”

You nodded, turning back to the group of boys waiting for your reply. His Majesty pointed to each one of them and started, “This is Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin, as you know. This is Soekjin, but you can just call him Jin.” He was the man who took out his pocket watch. “This is Hoseok or Hobi.” The cheerful guy who was clad in simple but expensive tunic and pants. “And lastly, this is Taehyung.” He was the one who wanted to give you a hug. You should return it sometime soon.

Curtsying to the group, you quickly went back to the hold of your mate. You could see the cooing faces and lips that they were making and it made you blush even more. His Majesty suddenly spoke, breaking the electricity between the group.

“Y/N wants to learn how to properly fight. Jimin, could you teach her?” Sir Jimin burst in front of you, hair flying all over his face as he grinned at you.

“Of course! I would never turn down time with My Lady!” Sir Jimin’s eyes roamed your body and you can see the calculations turning in his mind. The look was quickly removed, as he held out a hand to you. “Let’s start now. Shall we?”

Timidly, you placed your hand in his and let him drag you away.

“Wait- what?! I didn’t mean now!”

You turned your head to see the other boys holding His Majesty back. But you could see that there was not much struggles coming from his as well. Waving your hand at him, you continued to allow Sir Jimin to lead you around and through some turns. Sir Jimin was excitedly blabbing on about how much they have waited to meet you and you felt a little bad.

As the both of you stopped at the training ground, you saw the rings, an assortment of weapons, and so many different types of training elements. When in your old pack, you learned archery and swordmanship. The guards would teach you defense and ensure that you could fight but this -

Goodness… You have never seen anything like it!

“Shall we start?” You turned back to Sir Jimin. “I’ll have to evaluate your strengths and weaknesses before I start to teach you anything.”

Throwing you a wooden sword, you easily caught it as you prepped your stance. But Sir Jimin was fast. He was much faster and agile compared to the guards in your old pack - and no, he did not go easy on you. Bringing the sword up to block the unexpected blow, you willed strength in your arms as you fought, putting more distance between the both of you. The both of you fought and your breath started getting shorter and heavier. You had to finish this quick.

Summoning more energy into your movements, you kept light on your feet as you bounded over to Sir Jimin, feigning an attack to his right but tunring left at the last second. You hooked your foot over his and pulled, whirling to his back as you used his weight and temporary shock to pull him down and turned him onto his front. You layed the dull wood of the slab onto his neck.

You were panting for your breath and landed in a heap over Sir Jimin. He looked like he was still in shock so you leaned forward to poke his cheek, trying to find out if he was still alive. When he didn’t move, you frowned. Feeling the man’s head for any bumps of blood for any signs of concussion, you wee certian you didn’t hit his head too hard to cause him to pass.

Just as you were about to call for help, you heard footsteps coming closer towards hte both of you. Shoes scuffed on the rough terrain of the training ground and your fight has not left you. Turning on your heels, you prepped yourself for another fight. You weren’t sure who or what you were going to fight but you needed to ensure you adn Sir Jimin made it out alive.

Even if he might probably be… dead?

But when you looked up, you say His Majesty staring at the both of you together with Scholar Taehyung at his side. Only then did you realise the position you and Sir Jimin were in. Your body leaned over his as you sat on the curve of his back, Sir Jimin unmoving below you. The silence between the four of you stretched long.

“Damn.” You flinched at sudden movement below you.

Snapping out of your daze, you leaped off Sir Jimin. You held off jumping to His Majesty as feelings overcame you. You didn’t want him to be mad but you didn’t know his boundaries to his emotions. You were caught in a compromising position by your own mate and you did not want to trigger anything else you shouldn’t.

But His Majesty hopped over and around you, jumping around you like an excited bunny. “Finally! We have finally found the savious to shutting Jimin up! HAHA!”

You stood there, confused.

“Jimin has always prided himself in being the best swordsman amongst our group and he would not stop bragging about it everytime we ask him for a duel. But now that you have flopped him on his ass-”

“Yah! Stop it!” You turned your head to Sir Jimin. He was dusting himself off and stomping over towards the three of you. “Stop bringing down my hard-earned reputation!”

His Majesty and Scholar Taehyung rolled on the floor laughing. Then you heard a squeaky laugh from your side as well, one that sounded like when you cleaned the windows. The sound as the cloth passed the dry windows.

Flinching, you turned to your left, finding Scholar Seokjin bent over his knees, pointing to the trio as he tried to mouth something but the words couldn’t get out. His wheezing form coupled with his squeaky laugh made you chuckle. When you couldn’t hold in your laughter anymore, you followed along with the group, their contagious laughter enveloping your senses.

It was then that you realised - this is what home feels like. You still had a long way to recovery, perhaps never even a chance to return to how you were as a kid. But growth is needed if one wanted to live. But these people have taught you the true feeling of being at ease, feeling safe. And you were certaintly grateful for those you now call friends and mate.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you observed the clear sky with a few clouds looking like animals floating by. You hoped that your previous pack would be able to have a better leader soon. Nobody should live in fear and you wished that they would be able to see better days. Turning around, you followed the Scholars, Sir Jimin, and His Majesty. This time, as His Majesty slid his hand to yours, you didn’t hesitate to grab onto it, swinging your connected palms as the five of you walked into the future.

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alcestas-sloboda · 1 year

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Why Ukrainians didn’t produce a Tolstoy?

there are a lot of things that can piss me off, today it was this tweet:

and all i wanted to do was to ask this person, why the fuck do we need a racist misogynistic piece of shit as a standout author if we have Shevchenko as our prophet?

but you don’t know who he is? of course, you don’t. that is the thing with imperialism: you destroy other cultures while promoting yours as the only way to legitimise your rule. even if those territories are of higher cultural development. but there is always a way out of it: kill them all. kill anyone who poses an existential threat to your hegemony. throw them into jail. forbid them to write and paint. send them to gulag. kill them. torture them. execute them.

if you don’t know Ukrainian literature, it doesn’t mean that it‘s nonexistent. if you don’t know "a Ukrainian Tolstoy", it means there is a Ukrainian Bahrianyi, who was sent to the gulag but ran away and was the first person in the world to openly criticise USSR in his pamphlet Why I am not going back to the Soviet Union. "I don't want to go back to the USSR because a person there is worth less than an insect"

there is a Ukrainian Symonenko and a Ukrainian Stus. there is a Ukrainian Lesya Ukrainka and Olha Kobylyanska. a Ukrainian Kotsiubynskyi, Ukrainian Drach, Ukrainian Olena Pchilka and Ukrainian Lina Kostenko. and so many more of the bravest people who despite all wrote in the Ukrainian language about Ukrainian people and for Ukrainian people.

there are thousands of beautiful texts that weren’t translated because this would’ve harmed the empire. that is why you are reading Dostoevsky and not Khvyliovyi.

but there are also thousands of texts that were never written. just how many more poems would’ve Stus written if he wasn’t killed by the Soviet regime? how many more texts would have Pidmohylnyi, Semenko, Yalovyi, Yohansen, Zerov written if they weren’t shot at Sandarmokh?

just how many texts have the world missed out on because Khvyliovyi committed suicide as he couldn’t live in the world with Stalin’s repressions. "today is a beautiful sunny day. I love life - you can't even imagine how much", - he will write in his death note as he shot himself with his friends waiting for him in the next room.

or maybe there was a Ukrainian Nobel Prize in Literature waiting for Tychyna? maybe, but he submitted to Soviet authorities and started writing hails for the regime, suddenly forgetting his own literary style and living his entire life in fear. fear of what? fear of getting caught. of getting destroyed just as all of the previous Ukrainian intelligentsia.

I’m tired of my people being silenced. I’m tired of my poets being undermined by "great” russian literature. it’s not worth a single Symonenko’s poem. it’s not worth a single paragraph of Bahrianyi‘s prose.

the greatness of russian literature lies on the bones of Ukrainian writers. to be this high, they killed hundreds and they are still doing it today.

the body of Ukrainian children’s writer Volodymyr Vakulenko was found in the mass grave in Izium in September 2022.

there will be a Ukrainian Nobel Prize in Literature, and there will be more Ukrainian books. there will be Ukrainian Zhadan and Zabuzhko, Liubka and Izdryk, Deresh and Kidruk. there will be Ukrainian literature.

another funny thing is that this person is Indian and let me tell you: the fact that you stand up for one empire even when your own country has suffered from the doings of another is evidence of deep colonial trauma and I hope you will cure yourself soon

#x #ukrainian literature #leo tolstoy

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justleaveatnine · 1 day

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pink in the night - matty healy. part five.

you join the 1975 on tour as an actress starring in the narrative portion of at their very best alongside the lead singer, matty healy. he’s got big ideas and wants to redefine what a concert is, blurring the lines between fiction and reality. on stage together each night, it starts to feel less and less like acting. but is it the same for him?

masterlist

cw: drug use, smoking, panic attacks, a little more blood stuff (sorry)

wc: 5.4k

—

San Diego

“Please don’t kill me.”

“Huh?” You whip your head around to find Matty standing in front of you, somewhat anxiously for a reason you can't yet determine. You're lounging on the settee on the stage, watching the crew set up as you wait for your call time to begin prep. Matty comes to sit down beside you, and you sit back up from your supine position.

"Here," he says, practically shoving a paper in your hand. It's been ripped out of a notebook, jagged edges against your fingertips. You begin to read over the words scribbled on the page in dark black ink.

I glow pink in the night in my room I've been blossoming alone over you And I hear my heart breaking tonight I hear my heart breaking tonight Do you hear it too? It's like a summer shower With every drop of rain singing "I love you, I love you, I love you I love you, I love you, I love you I love you, I love you, I love you" I could stare at your back all day I could stare at your back all day And I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right Can I try again, try again, try again Try again, and again, and again And again, and again, and again

You touch your finger to the words, softly brushing against the page. You turn your head to him sat beside you.

"Is this my poem?" you ask, bewildered.

Now he looks even more nervous. This is odd. He scratches the back of his neck and takes a deep breath. You aren't sure what to say, but he fills the silence before you have the chance to.

"Erm, when I read it, I couldn't stop thinking about how it basically perfectly connected to the fragments of this song I had started writing. That's why I took a picture of it," he gestures towards it with his hand, "so I could see if it fit."

He takes another deep breath, somewhat strained. "If I overstepped, or if you hate it-"

The words come out a hundred miles a minute. "Matty, this is amazing. I can't believe you did this. I-I-do you have any of it written to music yet? Or just this? Not just this, god, I mean-

He thankfully cuts of your overwhelmed rambling. He fishes out his phone from his pocket, opening up his voice memos. "Here, uh, I recorded the first bit with a guitar earlier."

He presses play. The sound of him singing over a simple guitar part rings through the empty stage. It's stunning. His voice singing your words conjures a feeling within you that is nearly indescribable, an electrifying somatic response. He's given the song an eerie but almost comforting feeling. One that almost compliments the show, you think to yourself. His fingers pluck the simple but beautiful backing on the guitar, and as he repeats the words of the chorus that you dream of him saying to you, you look into his eyes. His voice drones on, repeating the phrase over and over until it feels as if he invented the words himself. The whole thing, really. Not just those fatal three words that ring in your ears. It feels like what you wrote was simply words on a page, but the feelings running through your body and mind are all because of him. He took your haphazard notes on a score and turned them into a symphony.

You hold his gaze until the voice memo finishes with his voice clearing, the noise of him fumbling with the phone filtering through the speaker.

You let out a small laugh in shock. "That's so beautiful, Matty. I don't even know what to say, I'm a little overwhelmed."

"In a good way?" he asks, nerves seemingly returning.

You touch your hand to his, warmth tangling with electricity. "The best way. I never thought my poems would be anything more than just words on my pages, I didn't even plan on ever showing people."

"Well, that would be a damn shame, love. That poem is amazing, this was just as much you as it was me, don't get it twisted." His smile brings you so much comfort it almost makes you nauseous. You'd write a million books, hundreds of thousands of pages until your fingers bleed if it meant you had that smile directed to you forever.

You look back down at the phone. "I've never written a song before, this is kind of exciting," you let out a soft laugh.

"And it sure has hell won't be the last. You're letting me see more of that work of yours, darling. I'd love to try and write with you and not just parallel to you next time," he says assuredly.

How do you tell him that he's the subject of all of your prose, all the of lines filing up the pages of your notebook tucked safely under your pillow?

Inglewood

"Do you ever worry about more casual fans' reactions to the show?" You're sat in the booth of the bus as it sits through the inevitable evil that is Los Angeles traffic. You've got your knees pulled up to your chest as you read a novel, and he's flipping through a magazine across from you.

He exhales out his nose, and flips a page of the magazine "Nah, I usually am just thinking about the people who care the most about the band in everything we do. I think as an artist, you kind of have to, you know? Otherwise it feels like they are taking your devotion for granted. What brings this on?"

"Nothing, I just, uh, I saw a video on TikTok of someone asking if you were really as drunk as you appear up there and it just got me thinking."

He takes a moment to think. "It's hard, I won't lie. Seeing the opinions of people who don't know a thing about me, or the band, or what I'm trying to say, and go on and say that kind of stuff. But I've been exposed to it for years, and the concept of being famous far longer."

"Is there any part of you that worries about alienating people? I don't think you will, I mean, I'm just curious as to what you think."

He runs a hand through his hair before speaking. "Yeah, I do sometimes. But that is usually far removed from when I actually am performing, where I usually am so in my own head I don't give a fuck about what some random person who only knows one song thinks. And I don't mean that as an insult to them, not at all. I just mean in regards to performing, I'm only ever thinking of the message I want to say, and what the people who care most about us will think."

"I don't think there's many other artists who care about and think so highly of their fans as you do," you smile at him. He meets it before turning back to the magazine, and you return to the book leant up against your legs.

San Francisco

Your bare feet pad along the tour bus floor as you slip out of bed. The digital clock fixed to the wall near the front reads 3:24, and you rub your eye with your fist as you approach the kitchenette.

You open the fridge, the fluorescent light illuminating the empty living area. You take out what you need to make a sandwich, a late snack that will hopefully cure the hunger preventing you from sleeping.

As you make the sandwich, you find yourself humming In My Life, the song somewhat of an earworm to you in the past few days. You mumble the melody peacefully, enjoying the quiet moment in this newfound life of yours that never seems to rest. A noise from the sleeping area startles you, and you turn your head to see a squinting Matty walking towards you.

"Shit, I'm sorry if I woke you," you tell him sheepishly, setting the knife down with a small clatter.

"Nah, don't worry. I haven't been able to sleep all night." He yawns and goes to lie on the couch, phone illuminating his face. You turn your back to him to continue making the sandwich, resuming humming quietly to yourself. You return the ingredients to the fridge, almost forgetting he is sat behind you as you work your way through the song.

Suddenly, Matty begins to impersonate the sped-up piano in a high-pitched voice. The shock of it all and the silly voice he is putting on causes you to laugh, pausing slicing the sandwich. You turn your head to look at him behind you, and he's chuckling to himself while scrolling. You shake your head with far too fond exasperation and return to assembling the sandwich.

Portland

It's about to be Robbers, so that means you're knelt in front of Matty as he stands on the side table, leant down towards you.

His eyes catch something on your forehead and he drags his thumb across it, slightly scraping. There’s blood on his finger now, some your makeup artist must have missed in the hasty clean up you endure each night after Inside Your Mind.

He raises his thumb and takes it in his mouth, a cocky grin on his face as he sucks it clean. You’re stomach churns as you watch him, entranced. Does he know exactly how much power he has over you? The reaction each of these intrepid moves causes within you?

Your choreography is about to start, usually punctuated with Matty taking a drag from the cigarette before placing it in your mouth to stub out afterwards. He takes a drag slowly and begins to leans in towards you, startling you slightly out of the rhythm you usually fall into. The brazen grin on his face tells you what he wants. You were surprised it took him this long after finding out you actually smoke, really. You meet him half-way, and inhale as he breathes out the smoke into your mouth, covetous and desperate.

The audience is cheering, as they always seem to be whenever the two of you are doing something that you know will make the rounds on Twitter later. He hands you the cigarette, presumably to stub out as you do. Instead, you breathe in, reach your hand up to grab his hair, and shotgun him right back. His eyes are sparkling as the smoke tangles between the two of you, mouths grinning and lips touching.

You stub the cigarette out on the table leg, and the choreography begins.

Seattle

You’ve been writing more poems than ever, your book overflowing with ideas and lyrics. No matter what you try to write about, it always ends up being about him.

It’s even worse when he takes them and completes them. He takes your words about him and gives them far more grace, more talent than you ever could, and turns them into things of beauty. Will he ever realize all that beauty is just silhouettes of him?

He's sat across from you in the green room, plucking a melody on the guitar. You're rifling through your journal, trying to find another half-finished poem that isn't completely glaringly obvious about its subject matter.

"Here, uh, how's this one?" He looks up at you, and takes the book out of your hands.

Last night I broke from old and told a friend the truth that I've got one foot out I've called it bad and I colored it blue

But it's a beautiful life to be in your hands one step out of the light under your command

I'm in my modern world tribute living man I've got my one foot out when I do my modern dance I am in your hands I am in your hands I am in your hands

He smiles down at the page, laughing softly to himself.

"What?" you ask, slightly alarmed.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. "This is fuckin' amazing. And I've already got a few ideas and stuff that might work saved, come here."

He pulls out his phone and opens voice memos, playing one called lead vocal idea 3.

"Gonna have to change this for the syllables and phrases, obviously. But how does something like this sound for the first bit?"

It's a simple, repetitive melody. When you imagine it lined up to each of the lines, it's perfect. You tell him so, and his face lights up. "Let's try and figure it out then, yeah?"

Fort Lauderdale

You never talk about what you do during the shows.

No one in the band had questioned why Matty always buys your drinks, but you’ve caught Polly giving you an odd look once or twice. You don't pay it too much mind.

Matty gets bolder, and you get just as bold in return.

He moans into your mouth when he kisses you. You run your hands up his sides when he leaves his shirt untucked, which he has done every single show since you first did it. He lets your head loll limply before pulling your hair harder, puppeteering you how he wants to. Like you're a doll for him to play with.

You scatter kisses along his jawline after All I Need to Hear. His stubble itches against your skin. When you're feeling particularly bold, you nip gently at his skin, eagerly welcoming his groans. When he kisses your hand, he places kisses on each of the knuckles before placing it on his cheek for you to hold. You touch your finger to his nose as he does this, and it makes him smile, brown eyes crinkling. He drags his thumb across your lips when you're knelt in front of him, and a cheshire cat smile dawns his face when you swipe your tongue across it.

After the show, you'll talk about the crowd, about something funny that George said in the in-ears that made you almost break. But you never talk about the rest. It goes unsaid, unacknowledged. The blatantly obvious escalating passion that you pray is reciprocated due to a feeling similar to yours.

You fear the bubble you've built for yourselves will break if you prod it. So you don't say a word, and you take what he gives you.

Denver "Do you wanna know the original reason I came up with the show?"

You're lying on Matty's hotel room bed with your feet to the pillows, head dangling off the edge. He's lying on the floor beneath you, out of your sight. You see his hand reach up to pass you the joint, and you accept it gratefully, movements languid.

"Hmm?" you ask, not hearing him completely.

"The uh, the original reason. Of the show, why I made the show."

"What, you wanted to make a meta reinvention of the stage show, filled with meta ideas and subvert the audiences ideas of meta-" you say in a voice, mocking his northern accent.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Matty loves saying meta, real creative." He hiccups before continuing.

"It was because, uh, George and I, uh..." he starts laughing, unable to finish the sentence.

You turn to face him, stealing the spliff out of his hands to take another hit. "You and George..." you gesture for him to finish with it in your hands.

He's laughing through the sentence, rubbing his forehead. "Venues only let you smoke if its part of a theatrical performance."

"Huh?" Your hazy mind doesn't put it together.

"They wouldn't let us smoke on stage unless it was a part of a theatrical performance. So voila, theatrical performance." He grins, proud, as he points at the two of you.

"You knob! You wrote this entire show solely because you couldn't go two hours without a smoke?" You reach with your free hand, hitting him as your roll over to face him on the floor.

"Well not solely that, Jesus! That was just what inspired me to write a show. And I think that worked out pretty well, did it not?" He's cheeky, smiling proud as he takes another hit.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh as you move your head up and nestle into the bed, ready to fall asleep as your intoxicated mind clouds your best judgement.

"I do try."

The smoke alarm starts buzzing. "Oh, shit!"

You can't help but laugh at him as he tries to fan smoke away from the small detector, beeping incessantly. "Fuck!" he yells, but you just laugh louder into the bed.

Independence

"So you'll be on the settee now, not the lounger. And Robbers is in At Their Very Best, not Being Funny. And when All I Need to Hear finishes, you'll freeze there instead."

"Every iteration of this show is just a test of my ability to stay still while you prance around the stage, then?"

"Prance?!"

You should have known based on everything about Matty that he wouldn't be satisfied keeping the show the same for long. He briefed you earlier in the day about the changes he wanted to try, and you did a quick run through with the crew to ensure they were prepared. Matty told you he was writing a follow-up show to the current one, and wanted to try incorporating some of the ideas into the current set-up.

You're sat comfortably on the settee, knees pulled up and feet tucked up to the side. You're still with a demure smile cast on your face, finishing your act in this position rather than looking up at him knelt in front of the table. There is a new classical piece playing over the sound system, one you don't recognize.

He goes through the panicked motions he usually does, attempting to wake you by shaking your shoulders and lightly hitting your cheek repeatedly. It's harder to stay still when directly focusing the audience as you are now, their motions and screams adding an extra challenge to keeping your gaze fixed at an invisible point.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Matty near the mic stand lighting a cigarette. He begins to anxiously stumble across the stage, frequently turning to you. He's concerningly good at acting drunk, and you're reminded of the post wondering if he truly is that drunk. He takes a sip out of a bottle that is placed on the piano, and walks to sit on the couch beside you.

He takes a few drags, and begins to cry with his head in his hands. You can't help but think of the fact that there are definitely several confused parents in the audience as a result of this scene: classical music overturing Matty as he sobs into his hand and chainsmokes while a woman they have never seen before sits frozen smiling beside him. At least after the first show, the parents might have been briefed on the oddities of this performance the two of you put on. Matty changing elements removes all that. The thought of these traumatized and perplexed parents so nearly makes you laugh that you have to take a deep breath to prevent it from escaping, forcing the smile down your throat.

Matty keeps turning his head to look at you, crying even further. He then proceeds to sit on the ground in front of you and embrace your legs, weeping into the hug. You can feel his warm breath against your shins, shaking with put-on sobs. He stays this way for a moment before calming his cries and looking up at you, taking a drag of the cigarette in the process. He then sits back up on the settee beside you, watching you all the while. He reaches out and plays with your hair, twirling locks and running his fingers through it. It's more comforting than the pulls earlier in the show, the ones that send warmth through your body and shivers down your spine. His hand travels to your neck and begins to prod it rather aggressively with his fingers, making weird movements as they travel up to your chin.

He rubs his face one final time, and abandons you on the couch to sit in front of the television stack. Only a few more minutes of being still. You're able to blink, but your eyes hurt from the focus. In the corner of your eye, you see Matty begin to do twenty press-ups, all-the-while watching the news footage interspersed with videos of the two of you from previous shows. He finally crawls into the television, and the lights go out. You exit quickly as regularly, steps echoing in the momentary silence.

Chicago

"I feel like Ferris Bueller."

You turn your head to see Matty beside you. He's staring at the painting, the museum map folded in his hands.

"It's Cameron in front of this one, actually," you remark, cheeky.

"Oh, piss off." You chuckle.

You're stood in front of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, as you have been for nearly ten minutes. You've analyzed every speck of the painting, but you can't bring yourself to leave it just yet.

"You know, Nighthawks is just around the corner," his head turns in the direction as he speaks, "if you want to go see it."

"I'm alright here, but thank you," you smile warmly at him before continuing. "I saw Sunday in the Park with George on the West End as kid, and I've been wanting to this ever since. It feels so much larger in person, even having seen it in Ferris Bueller and all."

"Art always manages to surprise you."

"That's very wise."

"Indeed." You can hear the smile in his voice.

"I usually squeeze a few group museums trips on each tour, actually," he continues. "Nice peaceful day off with everyone."

"This one been good so far?" you ask him.

"Oh, the best." You hold his gaze for a moment before returning to the painting, the butterflies he always conjures in your stomach unable to bear it any longer. You stand in silence with him, staring at the painting. You sneak glances at him when he's not looking as if he’s another one of the works of art strung along the galleries walls.

Milwaukee

You walk towards the green room, ready to tell Matty and George they are needed on stage before the sounds of an argument stops you in your tracks.

"I just don't want anyone to get hurt, mate!"

"No one will be, I swear. I know what I'm doing, I promise."

"Well, good, then. You need to be careful about not hurting her-"

"George. It'll be alright. Okay? I'll figure it out."

There's a slight lull, and you take the time to knock and push the door open. Their heads turn to you, Matty's eyes wide before washing over with a still expression

"Hey, uh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything, we're needed on stage."

"Not interrupting anything, love. C'mon." He walks assuredly past you into the hallway and towards the stage. George flashes you a soft smile, but you can see there's something behind it.

You look at them nervously as they walk ahead of you, mind racing as you try to put an explanation to the conversation you walked into that clearly they did not want you to hear. You forget about it by the time the show is over, the moment washing away with the day.

Toronto

"I won't lie, I'm not a huge fan of this."

You're standing on the glass floor of the CN Tower. You haven't been up here since you visited your uni friend over the holidays a few years back, and when you realize the whole band had never visited you promptly commandeered the day off planning.

You remove your eyes from gazing at the aquarium below to see Matty, standing at the edge of the glass. His toes barely touch it, refusing to step onto the clear portion of ground you are traversing.

"Somebody's scared," you childishly tease him, overjoyed at this exposed weakness.

"I'm not scared, I just don't particularly enjoy being reminded that if there are any structural disintegrities in this massive pole that this is my route out."

"Nah, he's bloody terrified of heights," Ross tosses from nearby, staring out at Lake Ontario.

"It seems I have lost all of my kind, loving, friends, whatever has happened to them?" Matty asks theatrically, turning around as if to search. He's caught up enough by what he's saying that he doesn't see George approach from the side, who quickly grabs him and pulls him onto the glass floor.

"You fuckwit! What is your problem!" Matty yells to George as he hastily runs back to the covered floor. You and George are practically dying of laughter, and it's only egged on by Matty's unimpressed expression.

Minneapolis

The text notification from Matty drops down from the top of your screen, pulling you away from mindlessly scrolling on Instagram. You roll over to your side in your bunk and open the message.

Last night I finally slept Next to somebody true She's worthy of your faith I felt you in her hands I saw you when she moved

God, it's a beautiful life To live for somebody gone One step out of the fight One dream into the storm

Your eyes scan over the words, and you type out a quick ? in response. He messages back instantaneously, rapid-fire.

A second verse

For I am in your hands.

And then I think it could lead back into the chorus

What do you think

You pull the curtain back from your bunk to find his curtain already open, staring at you. You go back to typing, looking up at him when you finish.

It's perfect

I love how you modified some of the lines slightly in the second part

You look back up and he's got a grin on his face, clearly pleased with your approval. You look back down to type some more, thumbs flying across the screen.

I was also thinking maybe after each line in the chrous it's followed by a bv of I am in your hands

But I'm in my modern world (I am in your hands)

And so on

You look back up at him and he's nodding his head to an inaudible tune, clearly singing out your suggestions in his head. He returns to the screen to write you another message.

I love that

You're a proper songwriter now love

You look back up at him with a small smile, lips pursed. You hope the light of your phone doesn't illuminate the blush on your cheeks, always appearing so easily when it comes to him.

Newport

The rush of cold air stings your skin. You need to get away from the dance floor, the far-too-bright flashes of the club lights, the music pounding so loud it hurts to hear. Everything is too much.

You're losing control of your breathing, gasping for air. The back door finally slams closed, the sound scaring you. You lean against the brick wall and it itches against your skin.

Your legs can't hold you up anymore, and you slid down to the asphalt, burning your exposed shoulders along the way. Tears spring from your eyes, and you loose further control of your breathing.

The alcohol is making you feel completely out of control of the situation, floating above your body as the streetlights smear together into a blur. You're losing grip on what's happening, and it only furthers the panic attack you've finally recognized is happening..

You throw your head against your knees that are tucked up to your face, crying and trying to breathe. You were worried this would happen eventually at one of these nights out. You're no stranger to having to tuck yourself into a corner while you name five things you can see, four things you can touch. The alcohol always makes them worse.

You only feel more overwhelmed and scared as your intoxicated mind continues to spin, unable to function the way you need it to in order to calm down. Your breaths are ragged, heaving sobs echoing through the back area outside of the club that you've found yourself in.

The pounding slam of the door swinging open hardly registers in your mind, and you only realize someone else is out there with you when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, come here, look at me." It's Matty.

You slowly look up, raising your head a herculean feat. He's crouched in front of you, eyes alight with concern. His mouth is parted, and both his hands are now gripped on your shoulders. Your breaths begin to increase rapidly, so far out of your control.

"Matty, I-I-I can't, I-" you're gasping for air, unable to get any sentence out. You're so overwhelmed you can't help but cry more, heaving and shaking. Worry stains across his face.

"Shh, shh, don't worry about talking, just sit with me. Here." he maneuvers to be sat beside you, and pulls your head against his shoulder. He takes your hand from the pavement and weaves his hand into it. You immediately begin to squeeze his hand, and he hums in encouragement.

You don't know how long you sit there, squeezing his hand and matching his breaths until yours calm, your grip on the world returns. The booming of the club music is audible against your back, but all you can hear is Matty's breaths, deep and steady.

Pittsburgh

You're knelt on the ground, sat back and knees digging against the carpet. He's above you, painstakingly recreating the Robbers video as you do each night. Matty doesn't stray from the script in this song, so you're careful to follow his lead.

He sticks his hands out sideways in the air, and leans down as scripted to kiss you. But this time, he weaves his hand into your hair just as he does earlier in the show. His deviation spurs you on, and you reach up to place one hand against his cheek.

He smashes his lips against yours, violent and wanting. The passion is practically tangible, dancing through your body, sparkling from your fingertips until the carpet lights aflame. It's never like this in this song. It's never like this with anyone else.

His hand is still in your hair, a feeling nowhere near foreign this far into the tour. When he begins to tug, you're not exactly unused to the sensation. But he's never done it now. Not in the song he's so stringent with, timing each action to the video by the syllable. The surprise mixing with the pleasure racing through you concentrates itself into a moan, gasping into his mouth uncontrollably.

You can't help yourself. You've never been more glad to not be mic'd up, the sound a secret between only you and him. You've never done that, lost control to the extent you are now. He pulls back from the kiss, slightly late for his cue. His mouth is slightly open, eyes predatorily down on you. His lips curl into an open-mouthed smile, tongue pressed against his teeth.

He sings the rest of the verse with the hand still in your hair, unscripted and unfathomable. It occasionally pulls, moving your head slightly. He's never been this brazen. Maybe the audience, unfamiliar with the show, is wondering why the choreography looks the same as one of the last songs. You can't begin to care about their possible confusion. All you want is him, breaking the last piece of the show that remained untouched by the desire coursing through the two of you. You have to assume it's in him as well as yourself. Any other explanation would break you. So you connect the dots, create the picture in your mind, matching the enormity of his desire to yours. You pray you aren't imagining any of it, creating a full painting out of just a few pigments of colour. All you can do is paint and paint, a blood-stained, half-finished image of passion.

—

a/n: new song is i am in your hands by bleachers! let me know what yall thinkkkkk

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 #matty healy writing #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy fic #pitn

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