#as we look upon the SECOND awkward family dinner in this room with yet another girlfriend who isn't wanted | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toasterwords · 3 years

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Irena was chosen by lot to be the lindwurm's wife, after it devoured the third and last of the princesses. Prince Viktoras came himself to inform her.

Convenient, she thought, that the lottery had drawn Irena, from the lower city, poor and almost kinless. An only child, her mother dead, her father old and feeble.

And the bride-price that the crown prince brought with him was enough to support her father in comfort for the rest of his days. Irena could take it and be free of this house, of the burden of his care, of watching him slip away as he forgot her face more and more often. Or she could be carried away by the guards the prince had brought, and leave nothing behind to help him.

She had no power here, and she was wise enough to know it.

Her father, sitting at the kitchen table, stared mutely as the prince set the money on the table in front of him. Irena had to pick the box of coin up herself.

"I need time to make arrangements for my father," she said to the prince.

"Of course," he said. "You have half an hour to prepare yourself before we depart for the palace. Be sure you do not go more than a house or two away."

"I won't make trouble for you," Irena said. "It would only upset him more."

She looked Prince Viktoras in the eye until he looked away, and it satisfied her, just a little, to know that he was ashamed. Then she took the fine enameled box that held her bride-price, her blood-price, and walked next door with it. Widow Simoniene made the evil eye in the guards' direction, but took the money and the key to the little house and agreed to look after Irena's father.

Irena went back home with a heavy step to say goodbye.

"She thinks she'll move in, and rent out the big house," Irena told her father. "She doesn't need all that space, now that her sons have moved away. You won't be alone without me."

Her father wasn't speaking today, and Irena wasn't sure how much he understood. But he held Irena's hand tightly, looking over Irena's shoulder at the guards in the doorway. Irena clutched it back for a moment, then pried her father's fingers off and turned away.

She didn't look back as she left him. Her father had taught her pride, and she hoped that he still recognized it.

***

The walls of the castle loomed around her like the bars of a cage. She was received in state, like she was yet another princess. The king and queen and courtiers seemed embarrassed by her dress, work-worn, and her braid, falling down her back for lack of pins. But if they had wanted her to be more presentable, she thought, they should have given her more than half an hour to put her affairs in order.

After a hasty formal greeting, she was ushered away from the royal family and put into the hands of a half-dozen maidservants. They spread out the three dresses and two petticoats that she'd brought from home, and began discussing how to refine them by the morrow. Irena was deposited into a steaming bath, with one junior maidservant to help her.

A knock came on the door while Irena was still bathing. The maidservant rose to answer it, and returned with a bundle of fabric in her arms.

"The Lady Astrauskaite has sent you some of her dresses," she said. "And says that you may have them altered if they suit you, or do what you like with them if they don't."

Irena knew the name. Duke Astrauskis' daughter. Betrothed to the prince who had come to collect Irena. The betrothal that had sparked all of the princess-eating in the first place.

Was it sympathy, that had prompted the gift, or pity, or condescension? No doubt she had been at the blighted reception. But without knowing who in the crowd the lady had been, Irena did not know if the fuss had led her to flinch or to sneer.

She did not know, either, if Lady Astrauskaite had wanted to be betrothed to Prince Viktoras. If it pained her to see other women eaten because the king wanted his heir wedded to her, and the lindwurm demanded to be given its bride first.

"Is there a way for me to speak to the lady?" she asked the maidservant. "To thank her?"

The maidservant hesitated. "A note would be most appropriate."

"I cannot write," Irena said. "Is there no way to speak to her in person?"

She wanted to know if this was meant as a kindness. It might be easier to have someone write a note for her, and go to her death pretending that it was. But she would wonder, and it would niggle at her, and she did not want to go to her wedding and her funeral wearing a dress given to her out of condescension. She might be poor, and she might be trapped, but she had too much pride for that.

"Not that is proper, just to give thanks. But-" The maidservant's eyes were sad. "You are not scheduled to dine with the royal family tonight, and Lady Astrauskaite is not either. There would be nothing wrong with one woman extending an invitation to another, especially if they were soon to be sisters-in-law."

"Then I would like to do so," Irena said.

***

Lady Astrauskaite was taller than Irena, and much plumper, which meant that the borrowed dress Irena chose to dine in had to be discreetly brought in with pins. The lady's hair was bleached yellow, and her complexion hidden with white powder. She looked as uncomfortable as Irena felt.

"Thank you for joining me, my lady," Irena said, with a very cautious curtsey. The pins in the dress pricked her if she did not move rigidly and with care.

"Please, don't," Lady Astrauskaite said, which made the face of the steward following behind her pinch unpleasantly. "We are future sisters. After tomorrow. And after my wedding, of course. So you can call me Rugile, as a sister would."

"Yes, my lady," Irena said, unable not to look at the steward's sour face. "Thank you. You may call me Irena."

The table was small, for intimate conversation, which only made the dinner more awkward. The food was splendid, soft white bread and creamy cheese and rich meat-packed soup. It sank to the bottom of Irena's stomach like stones.

Within two courses, Irena felt sure the dresses had been a kindness, because everything that Lady Astrauskaite said was kind, and without sneer. She asked after Irena's health, and after that of her family, and she seemed genuinely distressed to hear about Irena's father. She diverted them after that to light anecdotes, tales of tutors and horses and amusing court mishaps, and winced anew with guilt whenever Irena lacked the grounding to laugh at a tale.

After two whole courses, Irena cleared her throat. "My lady, what can you tell me of the lindwurm?"

Lady Astrauskaite went still, then set her spoon down, looking Irena in the eye. "What do you already know?"

"That the queen was barren for ten years, and she went to a witch to open her womb. And that because the conceiving was unnatural, so was the birth, and while one child came out healthy and whole, the other came out as a lindwurm. And that it is confined to the palace, and horrible to look upon. That's all that we in the lower city know."

"It's not so terrible, once you get to know it."

"Except for the eating its brides."

"Yes." Lady Astrauskaite picked up her napkin, and began to twist it in her fingers. "It wasn't the witch's fault, you know. She told the queen to eat one of two flowers, and only one. Red for a boy, or white for a girl. And she ate the white first, but then she thought of her husband, and how he needed a son, and ate the red as well."

"And the queen told you this, my lady?"

"Yes. In confidence. The king would be furious if he knew."

There was a silent question in her gaze, asking if Irena would keep that confidence, and Irena nodded back. She knew of angry husbands and angry fathers, though her father had blessedly never been one. You never told them what you knew.

"She went back to the witch, she told me. After the lindwurm was born, and again, in desperation, after the second princess was wed and eaten."

"And what did the witch tell her?"

"The first time, that the lindwurm could only be made human if someone was found to trade their one skin for the ten it wore. And that of course was impossible, because who wished to be a lindwurm? The second time, she gave up another way, but it would require great courage from the bride."

She looked Irena in the eye. Another silent question, and again, Irena nodded.

"Tell it to me."

"As the queen told me that the witch told her, when you retire for the wedding night, you must have ready a tub of lye, and a tub of milk, and a stack of ten birch rods. And you must be dressed in ten layers of dresses. Then, when the time comes to undress, you must take off one layer at a time, and tell the lindwurm to shed a skin in exchange for each one. By the time you are both finished, the innermost part of the lindwurm will be exposed. Then dip the birch rods in lye, to beat it into the right shape, and bath it in milk, to give it a new skin. And last and most importantly, you must lie and embrace it the whole night through, as a woman embraces a lover."

"But there was the third princess before me," Irena said. "Did she not try this?"

"No," Lady Astrauskaite said, her gaze downcast. "I told her what the queen told me, and I had the tubs and the birch rods ready. But she had told me twice that she was not sure that she could embrace the lindwurm, that the last piece seemed the hardest. And at the wedding she tried to flee. The lindwurm gave chase, and she- she was caught and devoured."

Where had she thought to run, in this crumbling old castle? Maybe it had seemed less of a cage to a princess. But she'd been caught in it nonetheless.

"I will not run," Irena said. Clearly she could not. "And if the other choice is to be eaten, of course I will try the witch's spell."

Lady Astrauskaite smiled, worn and relieved. "The dresses I sent to your rooms should be enough to bring you to ten layers. I will bid the servants have the tubs ready in the marriage chamber, and the birch rods with them. They gave me no argument before, and will not now, though they might have looked askance at you."

Of course they would obey her. They hovered nearby even now; surely they'd heard everything. And surely they would snatch just as eagerly at a chance to be rid of the lindwurm.

***

Despite the hope that Lady Astrauskaite had offered, Irena could not sleep the whole night through. It was difficult to think about herself being eaten. But it was easy to think about her father waking without her, confused and distressed by her absence. Any explanation the Widow Simoniene made would confuse him more, or upset him if he could understand it.

Irena dressed herself in her ten layers, her own well-fitting dresses on the bottom, Lady Astraukaite's larger, more splendid dresses on the top. By the time she had put the tenth and last one on, the ones below padded it thoroughly, so that she seemed to fill it out the same way that a rich woman would.

The wedding was a thoroughly dismal affair. First there was a feast, tediously long, interrupted by faltering speeches between every course. Every speaker proposed a toast to the happy couple, and Irena, who had never had more than a single glass of watered wine in a night, had to struggle to keep her head from spinning.

She wasn't even seated close to her intended spouse, for the lindwurm had a table of its own, away from the grand one where Irena sat amid the royal cousins. Food enough for ten men went down the great creature's gullet. It was scaled like a snake in mold-colored grey, with stiff ridges along its spine. There were legs near the front end, powerful and clawed, and above that the head of a dragon.

Though the servants kept its table laden with steaming roasts and sweetmeats, it kept its eye on her, staring with unabashed hunger. Only when Irena met its gaze directly did it look away. No one else at the table seemed to acknowledge its presence. Nor hers, for that matter. Only Lady Astrauskaite tried to speak to her, and quickly was diverted.

If the feast was dismal, the wedding ceremony was more so. Prince Viktoras escorted Irena to the dais from one side of the hall, and the queen, pale-faced and stiff-backed, walked with the lindwurm from the other. The priest's hands trembled as he turned the pages of the holy book.

"Irena Kazlauskaite, do you take this-" He had to pause there, take a deep breath, and then continue. "-This lindwurm, to be your wedded spouse, your protector, to love and to obey?"

"I do," she said, and was proud that her voice sounded clearer and stronger than his.

"Lindwurm, do you take this woman to be your wedded wife, your helpmeet, to love and to protect?"

"I do," said the lindwurm. Its voice grated like stones rubbing across each other, and it still stared at Irena with nakedly hungry eyes.

She stared back, watching the restless twitching of its mighty coils, which could each trap a man within them, and the flex of its forelimbs, which had dragged its length effortlessly down the narrow aisle. It could tear the castle walls to pieces if it wanted to.

And why hadn't it? Trapped within these hallways, confined in rooms that must be entirely too small for it? For a creature so strong, the castle was no cage at all. Irena would have torn her way free and fled to the countryside long ago. She looked at the hunger in its eyes and felt an echo of it in her own heart, imagining how easily it, unlike her, could break loose from its prison.

Yet it stayed, pretending to princedom, dragging her into its farce of a royal wedding. She wished she could know why.

The priest finished giving his blessing. The young prince and the queen retreated, along with the trembling priest, from the dais. A forced, ragged cheer rang out from the assembled witnesses. She tore her eyes away from the lindworm's body, and saw it tear its eyes away from hers.

There was no glad chivaree for the newly-wedded couple, only a solemn procession to the top of an elegantly-appointed tower. It was well-furnished, Irena saw as they wound their way upwards, but the furnishings were all damaged, fabrics torn by claw and tooth, wood cracked and splintered by the lindwurm's terrible tail. The enormous bed was new-made, with fresh sheets, but she could see where it, too, had scuffs and scars on the bedposts.

By the fire, two tubs sat waiting. One was filled with yellowish lye, the other with fresh white milk. Ten birch rods lay in a neat stack between them. Irena glanced back at her grim escort, and caught sight of Lady Astrauskaite, who nodded to her from the rear.

Then they all left, and the door slammed shut, and Irena was alone with her new spouse.

"My wife," the lindwurm said, in its stone-on-stone voice, coiling up very near to her.

"My name is Irena," she said, looking up to meet the lindwurm's eyes. "As we are married, you may call me by it. And what am I to call you by?"

The lindwurm reeled back from her. "I have been given no name. I should have the mirror to my twin's, but they will not grant it to me, for the priests say a monster cannot be baptized."

Irena was trying too hard not to show her trembling to spare time for pity. But at that phrasing, she looked at the lindwurm anew.

"The white flower was to be for a girl," she said, remembering the tale Lady Astrauskaite had shared with her. "And the queen ate that one before the other. Your name should be Viktorija."

"Yes," the lindwurm said, drawing closer. "You know the tale. The misborn child of greed and folly, trapped in a shape that no soul desires."

Irena looked up to meet those hungry eyes, now closer to starving. "If you feel so trapped inside that skin, why do you not exercise what freedom you do have? If you do not want to seem so monstrous, you should not eat the women you marry."

The lindwurm turned her head away. "It is this form. In it, there are urges that I cannot resist. When I desire something badly enough, I am driven to devour it. I desired flowers, as a child, and I devoured the garden my mother planted for me. I desired books, when I learned they held knowledge, and I devoured the library when Viktoras took me to it. And I desire humanity, and the love that humans feel for each other, and so-"

"And so," Irena echoed. "I will tell you now, I may know a way to free you from that skin. But you must do as I ask, and it may hurt, very badly."

The way Lady Astrauskaite had spoken of it, Irena had thought that the key would be trickery. But she had not thought then of speaking civilly with the lindwurm. It was one thing to lie to a monstrous creature, one who would be a man and a prince at the end of it. It was a very different thing to deceive another woman.

"You do?" The lindwurm turned towards her with amazing speed, eyes wide, claws gripping the floor so hard they left grooves in the wood. "No matter how it may hurt, I will do everything that you ask."

"Then first, you must shed a skin."

The lindwurm sagged a gainst the floor, the joy going out of her. "It is not time for me to shed, and I cannot force it to begin. Even my own claws cannot tear this terrible hide."

Irena thought back to Lady Astrauskaite's phrasing. She would have to act as closely to the witch's words as possible, if she was not going to fall into the same trap as the queen.

"I will show you," she said, turning her back to the lindwurm and reaching for the buttons of the topmost dress. "I will remove this dress, and you will remove a skin in exchange for it."

The air prickled around her like there were invisible eyes in every corner. As she stepped out of the dress and turned back around, she saw the lindwurm shaking herself out of her skin. Only the uppermost of its layers, for it must have grown many to be so impenetrable; but the skin beneath it was less scuffed, and the ridges softer-looking.

"This changes nothing," the lindwurm said, and then she fixed her hungry eyes on Irena again. "But you wear another dress beneath it."

"And I will take that one off, too."

She watched, this time, as the lindwurm reached behind her head and fumbled with the ridge down the back of her neck, the same way Irena's fingers fumbled on her buttons. The skin fell away in one layer, head and forelegs and tail peeling off together. Irena could feel the magic, watching and listening all around.

And so it went, dress and skin, over and over another eight times, until at last Irena was standing naked in the center of the room. The lindwurm's skins, softer and more tender with each layer, were piled behind her. And she stood in front of that pile, a raw, skinless thing, pitiful and helpless. She was only vaguely human in shape, yet, with her face as long as a horse's and her lower limbs bound together by ropes of muscle and sinew.

She trembled and whimpered with pain at the wood of the floor and the heat of the fire, agony against bare and oozing flesh. But her eyes were still hungry, fixed fast to Irena. Hungry and full of hope.

Irena swallowed her disgust and picked up the birch rods, to dip in the lye. It seemed cruel, when just the air and the floor pained the lindwurm so terribly, but there was no other choice, unless-

Unless one was found to trade their one skin for the ten it carried.

She had not dwelled upon the witch's first answer, any more than the Lady Astrauskaite had, or the queen. For those who had power in their own right, only one of the ways the witch had offered seemed worth the dwelling. The way that let the lindwurm's shape, even now, be chosen and defined by another.

She could feel the magic even more strongly now. It prickled against her skin, nearly burning between her shoulderblades. If was as if there were buttons there, too, waiting to be opened.

Irena's own obligations were discharged. Her father was in safe hands, his dotage well-funded. All that held her in place now was the threat of force, the cage of the castle looming over her.

Behind the lindwurm, her skins lay on the floor in a thick and fetid pile. If Irena could step out of her own skin, and don those, no bond or obligation would ever tie her down again. For what walls, what force of arms, could hold the lindwurm?

Her heart full of hunger, Irena dropped the rods pressed her fingers against the back of her neck, to the place where the magic burned. But no seam or button came clear. The magic seemed to lean in closer, listening intently. It had waited, she remembered, for them to voice the exchange, each of the ten times before.

"Viktorija," she said, "will you make a trade with me? My one skin, for the ten of yours?"

"Yes," Viktorija answered, and her voice was small, and cracking, but full of joy. "I will make that trade with you."

Irena reached to the back of her neck again. Her skin came apart cleanly at her touch, without pain. She stepped out of it, as she had stepped out of the dresses, and cried out immediately at the feel of splintered wood on her skinless feet, and the draft from the fire against her skinless flesh. Viktorija was much stronger than she was, to endure them with only whimpers.

Walking towards her, Irena held her skin out, open all down the back. Viktorija reached out and took it, and it wrapped itself around her, splitting her lower limbs into two legs, remolding her face and her arms, imposing a woman's shape upon her formless flesh.

She stood, still trembling, and lifted up the first of her own scaled skins for Irena to step into. Irena felt her legs fuse together as they entered the tail, her flesh painlessly elongating to fill the space as the much-larger skin closed over her. Then the next skin, and the next, each layer of scales less tender, until the last one went on, and she was so encased in the lindwurm's armor that nothing in the king's whole armory could have broken through.

The skin closed, but the magic was still there, hanging in the air like a persistent damp. Irena felt her forelegs shaking, and her head was heavy; she looked at Viktorija, who was shaking too.

Stretching out her heavy coils, she fought exhaustion to wrap them around Viktorija. Then she crawled up onto the bed, pulling Viktorija up with her. Curled around her, on the soft, claw-shredded mattress, Irena fell swiftly and soundly asleep, embracing Viktorija like a lover.

***

They were roused in the morning by the creak of the door. The king and queen entered, fearful, and Prince Viktoras and Lady Astrauskaite walked in after, both downcast with concern. But they all looked in amazement at the bed, and who was in it.

Irena looked down at herself and Viktorija. Her own scales gleamed black, sleek and shining, instead of the mold-colored mottling that Viktorija had sported. And while Irena's own hair had been straight and dusty-colored, her skin weathered and her face thin, Viktorija was plump and noble-pale between Irena's coils, with a snub nose and a round face and chestnut hair falling in long curls.

"But," Lady Astrauskaite said, her eyes filling with tears. "The birch rods, and the lye, and the milk-"

"The witch's words were true. Here is your sister, my lady, Your Highness, and here is your daughter, your majesties. Last night she traded me her ten skins for my one, and we are both more comfortable in our new attire."

The king's hands worked at his sides, tightening into fists, then loosening when he looked again at Irena's coiling black bulk. "I would rather a daughter and her wife than a daughter and another lindwurm. I had been told you meant to save my child, but you have only traded for her troubles."

Viktorija was stirring now in Irena's coils, her eyes blinking open. She smiled at her family, and three of the four smiled back. Even the king's hard face softened.

"My father-to-be, be glad," Lady Astrauskaite said, sweet and coaxing. "You have a daughter, to please your wife with, and your son has a sister for the two of you to spoil. Irena has done this for us, as a loyal servant of the crown."

"Yes," the king said, drawing back his ire. He raised his gaze to meet Irena's eyes. "What do you want from me for this service?"

Irena unwound herself, gently, from Viktorija, then slithered off the bed. She dug her claws into the much-abused wood of the floor and gloried at her strength when it splintered and broke.

Her bride-price would keep her father fed for life, and she trusted the Widow Simoniene. There was not a feather's worth of weight upon her. "I want nothing but my freedom, Sire. And for you to treat your daughter well."

"I will make sure she is cared for," said Lady Astrauskaite, looking at Irena fondly, without fear. "For she will be my sister, just as I will still consider you."

Irena looked at her closely, trying to tell if there was any longing in her eyes. But there was only only relief and gladness in her, no appetite for claws and scales. And her hand was so firmly wrapped around the prince's that he was very clearly where her paltry human hunger lay.

"Yes," Irena said, to her and her alone. "Care well for her. She would have endured terrible pain to take this shape, and it would be wrong to let her suffer more now that she has it. As for myself, I will go into the countryside, and I will be free."

The king and queen stepped one way, the prince and his lady another, and Irena surged past them and through the open door. Winding her way down the staircase, she felt her tail bash against the walls, and delighted in the way they cracked with each blow. Half-walking, half-crawling, she emerged into the ruined garden at the foot of the tower and made for a gate in the wall.

It wasn't big enough for her full bulk, but that didn't matter. She pushed her head through, and thrust with her shoulders, and the masonry broke around her without even a strain of effort. Heart pounding more and more joyously, Irena slithered out through the hole she'd made.

The sky was blue above her, bright with morning sunlight, filled with the scents of earth and beasts and flowers. Irena paused for a moment to take it in, raising her head and twisting up and up on her own coils until she could see the rippling fields stretching away from the walls. As she lowered herself again, she saw a flock of birds in flight, winging their way over those fields towards a forest beyond.

Irena started after them. She would see what freedom tasted like, and savor it.

#writing #original #fairytales #lindworm #lindwurm #fantasy

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dany-is-my-queen · 3 years

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Born To Be Yours | Part Xl

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 1,375

Note: Hey guys!! It’s been a year since I started this series and I was really excited to continue, I really was. But months flew by and my life began to take a different course, now, I can’t make promises that I’ll be uploading soon again, though I will try if I have time to spare and my imagination cooperates :) Hope you enjoy this chapter! And thank you all for your patience, it’ll be rewarded!

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.10

Months have flew by way too fast. And now you were feeling more confident around the northern lady and your family. You’d keep her from any harm they would try to inflict on her no matter the consequences, yet you were cautions cause Joffrey was still so damn annoying. Though since Margaery arrived to the capital she has been keeping him rather distracted.

“Because the truth is always either terrible or boring.”

“Am I boring?” You approached Sansa from behind, daintily kissing her cheek.

“Not at all.” She answered with a broad simper.

“You shouldn’t be too obvious in plain sight.” Shae subtly advised.

“You are right. We should be more careful.” You peered up to see if the guards were staring your way, when you confirmed they were not you stole a kiss on her silky lips. She giggled.

“Have a lovely day. I’ll meet you later. My grandfather requested my presence.” It was true... Tywin wanted to speak privately with you, and you sort of imagined why.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

“My ladies.” You winked playfully at Sansa before walking away.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Shae asked Sansa well knowing the answer to her own question.

“She is perfect.” She let out a love sigh.

“You trust her?”

“The princess has always treated me with respect. I always dreamed with a handsome knight or a sweet prince, then I met her and she is far more better than any of that.” Sansa confessed.

“She seems to be a good girl.” Lord Baelish approached the two women.

“Lovely day for it. May I speak with lady Sansa alone for a moment?” Shae stood up and walked back to Ros.

“I saw your mother not long ago. She’s very eager to see you. And your sister.” He commented.

“Arya’s alive?”

“Oh yes. Indeed she is. But... I’ve noticed you’ve grown quite attached to princess Y/N.” He chose carefully his words.

“I have. She is and extraordinary friend.” Sansa added. “I’m very lucky to be her friend.”

“You are. I’m waiting for word on an assignment that will take me far away from the capital. When I set sail, I might be able to bring you with me. But you’d need to be ready to leave on a moment’s notice.” Sansa widen her eyes. She didn’t really want to leave now... did she? After all she knew she’ll never be truly free here.

“I... I’m not sure if that’s a wise idea, Lord Baelish.” She conflicted admitted.

“And why’s that? Other than the risks it involves of course.”

“Well, as I said before, King’s Landing is my home now. It has good things despite the corruption.” Only Y/N, she thought.

“All right then. The offer stands, my lady. Keep it in mind.” He turned around to leave Sansa wondering if she’d abandon you to return home or staying here by your side.

“You are glowing, granddaughter of mine.”

Tywin was jotting down something with a quill. “Is there a boy already?” It sounded more like a statement rather than a question. You tried not blush as Sansa’s picture coming to your mind.

“Mmm... no. There is not a... boy.” You concluded kinda nervous.

“If there is not then you should be looking for a suitable swain. I reckon you have many admirers waiting to receive your attention.” He said with a serious tone. Does he really mind? Of course he does. He wants to get a hold of another loyalty for House Lannister. “Many lords would give their whole lands to marry you. And we might need that.”

“But that’s not what I need.” You responded nonchalantly. It was true. All you truly needed and longed for was the love of someone who valued you. And you already found that in a northern lass. You knew he disapprove entirely your “reckless” choices, same as your mother. You’d fight back and won’t allow them to throw you into some random man’s arms.

You stepped inside Joffrey’s dining table. You always enjoyed to hang with the Tyrell siblings, but now that she’s engaged to your brother... you wonder how she’s been managing to handle him. After all, she’s one of the cleverest persons you know.

“Margaery does a great deal of work with the poor back in Hightgarden. I’ve heard Y/N do charity for the poor here as well.” Loras commented. You nodded. The soon to be queen smiled softly your way.

“The lowest among us are no different from the highest if you give them a chance and approach them with an open heart.” You mirrored her act.

“An open heart is what you’ll get in Flee Bottom if you’re not careful, my dear. Not long ago, we were attached by a mob there. We had a full complement of guards that didn’t stop them. The king barely escaped his life.” You hid your smirk.

“My mother’s always had a penchant for drama. Facts become less and less important to her as she grows older. Our lives were never truly in danger.” You rolled your eyes at his lies.

“Oh but they were. You didn’t even care about sending the guards to get lady Sansa back to the Keep. A king is supposed to ensure the safety of all the ones that are in need. You seem to keep failing on that, big brother.” You sensed his furious glare upon you.

“Who cares about her anyway.” You clenched your jaw tightly. Loras and Margaery keep their eyes on their dinner.

There was an awkward pause as the main course was brought to the table. The rest of the evening was all about the same. Joffrey flaunting about his “bravery” and Cersei flattering him all along. Margaery showing off a wide smile at his non sense.

~~~~~~

You strolled to your room exhausted after training with the bow and horse-riding with little Tommen. Before that you decided to pay a visit to Sansa’s chambers. You knocked the door twice and she beamed with delight.

“I hope it isn’t too late to stop by.”

“No, I was about to get under the sheets. Perhaps you can join me?” She suggested with a gaily grin. You chuckled. Seeing Sansa being so... awfully bold was so nice and pure. Being around you made her forget about the fact she’s a prisoner. It didn’t matter as much when you were together.

“I’d love that.” You entered the room, holding her by the waist and leading both of you to the bed.

“How was your day then?” You smoothly asked. She tossed to be face to face with you.

“Actually, it was wonderful! Ser Loras escorted me to the gardens with Lady Margaery and Lady Olenna. They were very kind to me. We had lunch together and chatted for a while.”

“That sounds lovely, my lady. I’ve always consider Lady Olenna as the grandmother I never had. She knows me since I was a baby. Now that they are here I’ve been reminiscing about the good old days when we wouldn’t stop joshing Loras about me beating him on a single duel. We were so young back then... I’ll always hold dear those moments. He may be moody and brash at times, still, he is complete gentleman. Water’s sometimes thicker than blood. That’s for sure.” The Tyrells were your second family, they welcomed you with open arms and never once judge you. Unlike your own blood, with exceptions of course.

“Back in Winterfell I was so focused on learning how to properly be a lady and all that, that I missed many things... I should’ve been closer to Robb, Arya, even Jon. I was mean.” Sansa’s voice cracked.

“Don’t lose faith, Sansa. I know it’s too much to ask for but life takes unexpected turns.” You brushed one of her ginger locks with your right hand.

“I found a new home.” She whispered lightly. “Not Kings Landing. Not this castle. You.” She unhurriedly closed her crystal eyes. Your heart was at her mercy, that was a fact. You caressed gently her cheek and sealed the night with the most tender kiss anyone could dream of.

“You are my home too, my love.” You breathed against her lips.

#game of thrones fic #got #sansa stark x reader #sansa x reader #sansa x fem baratheon reader #sansa stark imagine #dany x reader #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen x reader #game of thrones

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softomi · 3 years

Text

happier

lyric prompt: then only for a minute, I want to change my mind, cause this just don’t feel right to me.

song: Happier (Stripped) by Marshmello and Bastille

pairings: oikawa x reader, osamu x reader

general taglist: @graykageyama

special mentions: @peachysatoru

Thank you for calling Engineering The Mind, please listen to the following options and select the option that applies to you. press one if you are inquiring our Love services, press two if you are inquiring our Mental Health services, press three if you are inquiring our Synaptic Pruning services, please stay on the line for a representative to assist you.

You’ve pressed three, please stay on the line and one of our representatives will be with you shortly.

“Good morning and thank you for choosing our Synaptic Pruning service, could I get your name and date of birth?”

“Actually, I have a question?”

“Yes?”

“If I wanted to erase someone from my memory, am I able to do that?”

“Yes! As long as there is consent from both parties.”

“But can I do it myself?”

“Unfortunately, the procedure requires both parties to consent and participate, the new law states it is considered illegal to synaptically prune another person from your memory without the other party’s consent.”

“Is there a way I can notify the person without personally contacting them?”

“Of course, as long as you know their name, date of birth, and social, then we can reach out to the other party to inform them that you have started the forms for a synaptic pruning procedure and they will have 30 days from the day of their notification to begin their forms.”

“What happens if they reject?”

“If the other party rejects, then unfortunately we cannot move forward with the procedure.”

“Okay. I’d like to start a form and have them be notified.”

“Perfect, let me just quickly get the information of the other party. What is their relationship to you?”

“Ex-husband.”

“Name of the other party?”

“Oikawa Tooru.”

His luggage drags against the airport’s floor, the sunglasses on his face protects against the amount of camera flashes. Oikawa waves to the cameras, waving to fans, momentarily stopping to take in the bustling Japan airport. Home felt so distant for him.

“Is it true you’re here for a procedure?” A reporter is walking alongside him.

Oikawa merely smiles, “No. I’m just here on vacation, I missed Japan so much, the last time I was here I wasn’t able to do many of the things I wanted to. I’d appreciate it if I am treated as any other citizen.”

“There’s rumors that you’re in Japan to possibly be scouted for one of the Japanese teams, care to explain?”

Oikawa stops, staring directly at the camera, “Like I said, I’m here on vacation and on my own dime. I’m here to attend a wedding of a very close friend and have no plans on looking into other teams, but I can assure you, I plan on playing for the Argentinian team for as long as I can.”

“Do you think your previous injury will affect your current position on the Argentinian national team?”

Another reporter manages to squeeze in, “It’s been almost a year since your injury, are you considering retiring your number if your injury doesn’t improve?”

Oikawa laughs. The television screen cuts off. He’s been in Japan for almost a week now, at least that’s all you know of since he had texted you once he had arrived. From what you can gather through social media, he wasn’t in town. He was frolicking through his childhood neighborhood, meeting friends and family who haven’t seen him since the Olympics.

It’s early morning in your home, the sheets hug you with warmth, you’ve been awake for some time and if you were honest, you didn’t think you slept at all. Ever since he’s stepped foot back into the country, you haven’t been able to sleep properly.

The head on your chest stirs and the male’s breathing falls steady back into slumber. His body is entangled with yours, body weight practically all on top of you, and his breathing brings a sense of dread in you for a moment. It feels similar to him.

You lift your arms, holding out your hands in front of you to gaze at the small diamond. It’s tucked between your pinkie and middle finger, it’s bright and beautiful just like he was promising your future with him would be.

He, your current lover; the man you absolutely loved and adored. The man who spent the last five years keeping you sane.

“Osamu.” Your fingers tugged his hair lightly, “It’s time to wake up.”

“Five more minutes.” He tightens his grip around your waist, “I just want five more minutes with you.”

Your finger drags along his spine, “You say that every morning.” You slap your palm on his back and he groans, “You have to open the restaurant soon.”

He hums, eyes blinking, trying to adjust to the darkness. It’s too early in the morning, “You’re going in for a check up today?”

Your fingers that play with his hair stops, “Yes.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

It was your decision, something Osamu had reminded you a hundred times. The decision to try and erase someone from your memory; he always found it to be a hard pill to swallow. But it was something you thought about a million times, it kept you awake at night, and even when you called a few weeks ago to start the process, it felt surreal.

Osamu lifts himself, leaning on his forearm to peer down at you, his beautiful bride to be, “I can still close the shop and come with you.”

He was an absolute sweetheart, “I told you I’ll be fine. And you can’t close the restaurant every time I go to the hospital?”

He brings his lips to meet yours, “Is that a challenge?”

You laugh against his kiss, “Go get ready or else.”

“Or else what?” He straddles your legs, pressing kisses on your neck to your chest. His fingers ride up his shirt you’ve declared yours, pressing his lips along your abdomen, “Good morning.”

“Call me if anything happens.” Osamu presses a chaste kiss to your lips at the doorway, “I like you.”

Your lips are in a grin, “and I like you too.”

The door shuts behind him and you’re left alone with your thoughts. If you were correct, you’d be seeing him again. Oikawa should be meeting you at the hospital. You’ve texted him a reminder. It’s marked as read; he doesn’t bother to respond.

The sound of a buzzer makes you jump, it draws you to the look at the video cam that views the front gates. You’re grinning thinking Osamu has forgotten something, but the smile gets wiped off when it’s him. Oikawa Tooru is standing at the gates of your home.

“What are you doing here?” You speak into the microphone.

Oikawa seems to have discovered the camera, “Can’t visit anymore? I thought we could catch up.”

What reason would there be to catch up? If everything goes smoothly, you’ll be without a thought of him in the next few days. You’re reluctant to let him in, you want to tell him to go away, but you’d have to meet him later any way. The gates buzz open and Oikawa enters the front yard of the home.

It’s exactly the same to him, after all, this was his and your home first. The Oikawa residence. He bought the house without your knowledge, saved up as much of his paychecks could get him.

“May I come in?” Oikawa smiles upon seeing you.

You’re holding the front door, still small as ever, like you were guarding the home with your life, “Yes.” Your voice is tiny, giving him room to enter the house.

Oikawa takes in the smell of the place, still the same, still has your scent and he concludes you’re probably still lighting the same scented candles he liked. He wonders if he should be flattered by the information.

“Do you want something to drink?” You inquire, pulling out a mug to pour yourself water and another mug for whatever Oikawa wanted, “Peach tea?”

It was his favorite; you can remember it as clear as day. He’d drink it breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He said it paired nicely with the milk bread and he called it sweet; just like you. You shake the memory as you pour the hot water.

There was nothing but awkwardness between the both of you. You’ve distracted yourself with your morning routine and Oikawa silently sits. If he’s going to fantasize for a second, he’s pretending you’re still his wife. Shamelessly daydreaming like you were his.

“We have to be at the hospital by noon.” You say without looking at him, your head dipping back as you slip the pills into your mouth.

“Sounds good to me.” Oikawa taps his fingers against the dining table.

It brings back memories of dinner with you, on days when he would be able to find a week off practice to see you. You’d eat with him until two in the morning, trying to squeeze in as much time with him as possible before he hopped on a plane back to Argentina, and he would pretend as if he didn’t hear you crying while washing the dishes.

“So how have you been?” Oikawa asks innocently.

You drink the rest of your water, a simple nod of your head, “Fine.” Your gaze falls briefly on his knee, “And you?”

Oikawa instinctively puts a hand over his knee as if that could hide the ache, “Fine too.”

Yet Oikawa and you know, everything was far from fine. It was the same way towards the end of the marriage, communication was blurred, there was too many missed connections, and the only news you’d get of Oikawa was from the sports channels.

“Do you still work at the public library?”

You tilt your head at him, “You mean the university library? When I was doing work study?”

“Oh.” Oikawa rubs the back of his neck, “Guess you’re not”. He’s trying to think why it feels so hard to talk to you again, “How are your parents?”

You freeze and he realizes his mistake. He remembers the arguments, the sadness of the conversations, the way your parents loathed him for proposing so early. Oikawa married you fresh out of high school, he promised you happiness and yet towards the end of the marriage, he shattered your heart.

“They’re great!” You smile, “They really love my fiancé.”

You were purposely trying to hurt him.

“What’s he like?” Oikawa was curious or was he jealous?

“What do you want Tooru?” Your voice is sharp as you set down your mug, “Why are you here?” You know him too well, he doesn’t do things just because; he always has a motive, “Are you here to try and stop me? I want to move on.”

“Then why can’t you do it yourself? Why do you feel like you need to erase me?” Oikawa, he was sad. He had never felt more crushed than when he had received the phone call; you were requesting to remove him from your mind and he’d only accepted to see you again. He wanted you to look him in the face, feel the hurt that he had, “Did you not think of my feelings?”

“No, you didn’t think of mine when you naturalized as an Argentinian citizen.”

It was always the same argument, Oikawa stares at you, it wasn’t that different from years ago. When he blinks, he’s transported to seven years ago. Your eyes red as you looked at him, the fighting was reaching two hours and the bags in Oikawa’s hands signals he’d be leaving for another few month. But this day was different, the fight was wearing you down, especially when you read news of Oikawa becoming a naturalized citizen. Oikawa blinks and he’s back to the sun lit room.

“This isn’t how you move on from a relationship?” Oikawa says, “It takes time.” Time was seven years, since the divorce seven years of broken hearts have passed. Oikawa knows deep down that you still loved him and he knows in his heart that he wants to ask you to run away with him, “You know that this is wrong.”

“But it’s my choice.”

Oikawa’s eyes begin to water, “And you’re making me choose too?” Tears fall from his cheek, “It’s your choice but you’re forcing me to choose also.” His chest becomes heavy, “Please don’t do this.” He openly sobbing in front of you, “I don’t want to stop.” His wail makes your heart clench, “I don’t want to forget what it was like to love you.”

“Tooru.”

“I don’t care.” Oikawa blubbers, “I’m not going to do it.” A pit grows in your stomach, “All I ever did was love you.”

Your eyes glossy, it was like you were going back to the worst nights of your life, “You stopped caring about me.”

“No, I didn’t!” Oikawa stands, “I never stopped. I was doing everything for you!” He was a tearful mess in front of you, “You left me! You abandoned me!”

“You can’t say that when you were halfway across the world!”

“For you!” Oikawa screams, “If you had waited one more year, I could have brought you over.”

You wipe the tears from your face, a sigh on your lips, “Why didn’t you just ask me to go with you in the first place?”

It was always the question that nipped at you. When he was confronted with the opportunity of staying in Japan or joining an Argentinian team, he never hesitated and you waited for him to ask you to go with him; but he left you behind with the house, sending money every two weeks like you were an afterthought.

“It was complicated.” Oikawa’s eyes soften, “I just, I didn’t want you to leave behind your life here. Your friends, your family. You would have had to quit school to come with me, to a place where you didn’t know the language or the place, and with me practicing, you would have no one.”

You shake your head, “No. You were worried about yourself. You made the decision to leave me behind without a second thought because you wanted to focus on volleyball and where has that gotten you; injured.”

Maybe that was why you wanted so badly to erase him from your memories, you still clung to the thoughts of him. Still stayed updated on his life, still worried about his health, still wondering on the what ifs with him. What if you had just left with him? What if you hadn’t gotten married to him? What if you weren’t so hopelessly still in love with him?

“Just let me be happy.” You whisper, “Just let me forget I was ever in love with you.”

The ride to the hospital ached. The cab silent and melancholy. It was only a consultation and yet it already felt like the end of everything. The waiting area didn’t make it any better, the air was thick with tension from other couples. Oikawa’s status had the two of you placed priority and it didn’t take long for a doctor to come into the room.

“I would like to inform you that we use the term ‘erasing memory’ loosely. Our procedure merely detaches you from the other party. You’ll still have the memories, but you won’t feel anything, and you won’t remember them as much as you might today.” The doctor hands you and Oikawa separate forms, “If you both sign the consent forms, we can schedule the procedure as soon as possible.”

The pen in Oikawa’s hands hover over the signature line, he can hear you scribbling against the paper and his heart is shattering. Sloppily, he signs his name on the line.

“Sorry, I forgot to ask.” You look at the doctor, “Is the procedure safe for pregnant women?”

Oikawa’s world crumbles.

“The procedure is set for tomorrow morning.” The receptionist is talking.

You smile, “Perfect, thank you.”

She prints out two different instructions for you and Oikawa to prepare for the procedure. You overlook the instructions, no longer sparing a glance to Oikawa as you walk away.

“Hey.” The voice makes your head snap up. Your fiancé walking towards you.

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck, “What are you doing here?”

Osamu presses a kiss to your temple, “I came to pick you up.” He looks over your shoulder, spotting the man he knows too well from various photos, “Hi.” He reaches out to Oikawa, “I’m Miya Osamu.”

Oikawa grips Osamu’s hand, “ Oikawa Tooru. It’s nice to meet you.” Oikawa says bitterly.

Osamu’s hand rests on your hip, in a matter of seconds, he’s leading you away and Oikawa is left to stand all alone.

The night is restless. It’s instructed that you and Oikawa get a good night’s rest, but who can rest soundly the night before a procedure. You sitt on the edge of your bed, your fiancé sleeping soundly, and you stare at the moon. You play with the ring on your finger and a tear lands on the back of your hand. You suck in a heavy breath, trying to quell the sound of sobs.

Oikawa sits knees to his chest on the couch of Iwaizumi’s who was gracious enough to let him stay at his place. The moon is bright, and it shines a spotlight on Oikawa. His eyes are tired, but he stares at the screen of his cell phone, finger swiping continuously through the photo album. Your smiles reflect in his eyes and even when Iwaizumi snags the cell phone from him; Oikawa looks up at him bawling.

Six in the morning, you’re sitting on a hospital bed, Oikawa laid next to you. The silence is deafening.

“I hope you know.” Oikawa whispers, “I’m very happy for you.”

You look at him, taking in what might be the last time you feel love for him, “I love you.”

Oikawa smiles, “No you don’t,” He’s tricking himself, believing that you loathed him, that this was the better option for you, “but I love you too.”

They say, the longer the relationship, the longer the procedure takes. Similarly, the more you loved, the harder it was to subdue the memories. It required patients to stay awake, to go through every little detail, to talk about everything from the beginning to the end.

Your fingers were initially interlocked with his, something to help the anxiousness, or was it to cling to him for a moment.

“I met you when you came to cheer on the volleyball team in high school.” Oikawa stares at the white ceiling, he hears the machinery, the typing of a computer, “You looked so pretty.” The memory becomes hazy.

“He kissed me on the school’s rooftop.” Your lips curved in a smile, “He kept asking me if it was alright.” Your smile slowly falls to a thin line, “I suddenly can’t remember what I said back.”

“It took me a week to find the perfect ring.”

You laugh, “You got impatient, proposed with a paper ring on the school’s rooftop after we snuck into the school after dark.”

It feels empty, your heart feels a weight lifted. Your fingers slowly let go of Oikawa’s. He begins to weep.

“Why are you crying?” You ask.

He sniffles, “Was that the last time you felt happy with me?”

“No.” Your voice soft, “I was always happy when you came home.” There’s another weight off your heart, “You always came in running, always excited to see me. Sometimes, when the front door opens, I think it’s going to be you.” You’re hit with relief.

Four weeks pass in a blur. You honestly don’t remember much of the week after the procedure, but you stare at your loving fiancé. A hearty giggle on your lips as you move to straddle him on the bed. Your palms are squishing his cheeks and Osamu is chuckling. His hand resting on your small baby bump.

“We’re getting married!” You’re kissing him, excitedly jumping on him as though you weren’t knocking the wind out of him.

“Alright.” Osamu sits up, lips stealing your breath away, “by the end of the day, you’ll be Mrs. Miya.”

You laugh into the kiss, “I can’t wait.”

The wedding venue is bustling, everyone is itching to take a picture with the bride and groom. You’re grinning widely at the way Osamu bickers with his brother, the photographer taking photos despite the twins poking at each other.

“May we take a picture with the bride?”

Your smile grows; four men dressed in their best suits approach, “Is this a high school reunion?”

One man lingers briefly behind, your husband presses a hand to the small of your back before leaving. Oikawa takes over the place of your spouse.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Oikawa tilts his head with a beam.

You roll your eyes, “At my own wedding.”

His voice falls to a whisper, “Are you happy?”

Your eyes stare in the direction of your husband and you nod, “Yes.” When you look at Oikawa, there’s a small tug in your heart, it’s tiny enough that it disappears within moments, “Thank you.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #oikawa #oikawa scenarios #oikawa tooru #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu angst #hq #hq scenarios #hq oikawa

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

nice guys finish last | m

synopsis. you thought you were over yoongi’s dick move of ending your engagement through his parents - not even a text when he disappeared out of your life. that’s why you agreed to the newly arranged marriage with his brother, namjoon, but on the brink of your wedding day, it becomes apparent that you haven’t really let go of the past as you tear up in front of your soon-to-be husband at the back room of the church.

◟alternatively, “we entered into this marriage for a mutual reason. not dreading to come home is more than i can ask for. so it’s okay if you want to see yoongi just... keep out of the spotlight like many in our shoes who found love outside of it have.”

pairings. husband!ceo!namjoon x doctor!reader x ex-fiance!producer!yoongi

genre. arraged marriage au. angst. fluff. smut.

word. 16.2k

content: age gap factor (namjoon is 5 years older than oc and yoongi is 7 years older than oc). pining. teasing. hoseok cockblocking.

warning(s): heavy adult content. mentions of cheating. hospital scenes.

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

“i don’t want to marry you at all. the person i love is someone else.” there are tears brimming in your eyes but if there’s anything the years of etiquette class namjoon’s parents forced on him taught him - he’d say he turned out okay - it’s to not mention to the crying lady that she’s crying. but he can’t help stare a little longer. admire a little too much.

the rays flooding through the window paired with the prettiest ivory dress he’s seen you in gives you an iridescent halo. you look like an angel descended from the top most heavens.

but not for him.

“i know,” he lets out a drawn out sigh, hand on his neck. he’s always been the awkward one between the two. if it was him - if it was his brother, he would say it without any ounce of self-reproach. but then again what does namjoon have to be sorry for? for being born? for being the second choice son to step into his brother’s shoes when the aforementioned man threatened to disown the family name if their parents refused to let him marry a girl of his choice who, according to the workers’ gossip, ‘he suddenly woke up one day and decided he was in love with’?

“it’s yoongi, isn’t it? you love yoongi.”

your eyes are prettier when you’re looking directly at him. the tears give them a kind of glow that makes him want to gather you into his arms and keep you there. the flushed cheeks affirms - despite saying it with full confidence, it was just - his hunch.

oh.

the ceremony proceeds rather smoothly. you’re still sniffling when your father passes your hand to him at the end of the aisle. the older man himself looks distraught. either he knows you’re against this marriage and hates himself for failing to put his daughter’s happiness before the guaranteed wealth that comes from marrying you off to the kim family or you’d gotten into a fight with him in a last ditch attempt to convince him to call off the marriage.

either way, you’re here now. the pastor’s words are muddled in your ears but it’s enough to take note of the end tone and the steely silence that ensues which could only mean it’s your turn to say those words.

“i do.” they’re the easiest to get over with.

after endless fights with your parents, going on two hunger strikes and running away to paris for a year - you know you’re in the endgame. and you’ve painstakingly and sorely lost.

he lifts the veil off your face, taking his time with setting it over your head. it’s no secret that kim namjoon is handsome. the kind of thick, textured-fabric-suit-wearing and sleek-back hair kind of handsome. yoongi was more of the hoodie-and-jeans and messy-in-need-of-a-trim hair kind of handsome. but he isn’t yoongi.

you screw your eyes shut, refusing to let the memories of your own wedding vows embed in your head. those beautiful pink full lips are as soft as they look. but they’re not kissing you on your pressed-into-a-straight-line lips. betrayed by your curiosity, your eyes flutter open only to gaze upon the smooth cream skin that wraps around his neck and just the gentle protrusion of his adam’s apple as he pulls way.

your newly-wed husband has just kissed you on the forehead.

adjusting to married life is as easy as slipping on your favorite shoes. it’s perfect. almost unsettling even. the beach house off the coast of the private island namjoon’s family owns is breathtaking. the sound of waves crashing against the shores is your constant companion as you work on your research. it’s a project you had to put aside when you graduated. the first year at the hospital is the busiest, or so your senior colleagues say.

namjoon strides into the kitchen sometime past noon, all fresh and showered with a fitting long sleeved shirt and trousers. it’s the most dressed down you’ve ever seen and yet for some people you know, it’s the fanciest they can get. sometimes you wonder if the standards have hit the ground or if namjoon’s so well-adapted into the routine of dressing up presentable enough to go to his office on an off day in case something calls for it.

“good morning.” you greet first, traces of the embarrassing tear-jerking wedding ceremony still lingers in the back of your mind - you’d tried to explain yourself on the way here in the boat but namjoon had easily blew your worries away with a light chuckle and a “i’d do the same too if i loved someone and had to marry another person.”

it’s not unusual for you to already be perched on the elegant gold sofa adjacent to the sliding doors that has the best view of the sea. the master bedroom is the other part of the beach house with spectacular view - you’d been entranced when you stepped into the room on your first day. but namjoon suggested you stay in the guest room, knowing there’s no way you would share a bed with him -

“or you can take this room and i take the guest room,” he added a moment later, probably because he saw you staring out the balcony, bewitched by the sea. that had broke you from your trance and you’d shook your head so much in protest, you were surprised it didn’t fall right off your neck. “n-no! i mean - i’ll take the guestroom.”

his parents had been nice enough to lend their private beach house for you honeymoon. you weren’t going to step over their son and conquer the master bedroom - even if technically, you’re now part of the family.

“morning.” he fixes you with that half-smile. the kind of smile you give to someone you’re in an complacent relationship with but nothing more.

at least you’ve got that going for you. and that’s a rarity coming from the gossips you’ve heard here and there about marriages found on the ground of convenience.

his eyes swipe over the ipad in your shorts-donned lap from his spot, leaned against the counter in the kitchen, pitch black mug of coffee with wafts of smoke coming out of it, “how’s your research going?”

“well,” you set the ipad down on the glass surface of the coffee table, it’s bare of anything besides your phone that’s been lighting up from the notifications. one from your mother, another from the group of friends you found in college, and the rest is from your strictly-women group from the hospital, “the world wide web is resourceful and all but it can’t beat the information in actual books - papers, you know?”

“ah, the traditional way of researching.” he chuckles, dimples digging into his cheek, enhancing his handsome features. you never knew he had dimples. not that you knew much about him - you’d only properly talked on the day of your wedding, in the back room and the first thing you said was -

you suppress the memories further down your thoughts. it works for the most part, but you can’t help the flush that spreads across your face. so the laugh you let out is a little strained and if he notices, he doesn’t show - like he pretends not to notice a plenty many things.

but alas, he knew your secret crush - was it still just a crush you had for yoongi? you’re not sure.

“what can i say? i’m raised traditional.”

that was two weeks ago. now, you’re back to working your ass off at the hospital, being grilled to the bones by your supervisor, getting reprimanded over being one minute late and then being told to run to the cafe five minutes from the hospital to buy your supervisors their favorite strawberry smoothie topped with sprinkles.

“kim seokjin, that dickwad.” jennie huffs, her cat-like eyes making it appear as though she’s plotting the man’s death. “he’s working you to the bones as soon as you get back.”

“he probably thinks i’m not that serious about my residency since my family has enough fortune to sustain me for my whole lifetime,” you can only laugh at that, her anger has sucked all the tiredness and annoyance you have for your supervisor right out of you. it feels refreshing, “all the more reason to prove him wrong.”

“enough about that asshole,” jisoo waves a dismissive hand off and you know what’s coming is far more terrifying: she blinks, eyes filled with stars and cherry red lips curling into the kind of smile that can only mean one thing, “how was it? the second son of kimcorp. were there rose petals on bed? candles lit around the house? a romantic, sizzling-”

“sorry, jisoo, i gotta go get ready for the dinner. i’ll buy you lunch tomorrow, okay?” you clasp your hands together apologetically when your phone buzzes with the reminder you set a week prior: 8am annual kimcorp dinner.

you breathe a sigh of relief as you shake off your white coat, draping it over your recliner before escaping to the washroom with a bag of makeup and the dust-proof cover bag of the outfit you’re wearing for tonight. by the time you’re touching up on your nude lipstick, your phone buzzes again but this time, the screen lights up with namjoon’s name on it.

“hey,” his voice is deeper through the phone - it’s the first time he calls you. there was never any reason for you to call each other but you suppose, he’s calling to make sure you’re not forgetting the dinner -

“i’m in front of the hospital.”

or maybe not.

“wh-what do you mean?” your cheeks heat up from the thought of namjoon waiting for you in his audi. the image, too domestic for your liking.

“well, you can’t drive so i thought i’d pick you up.” he says it like its the simplest equation to understand.

“namjoon,” the name feels foreign on your tongue regardless of how many times you taste it when you need to tell him something - to set the line straight, “i didn’t know you were gonna pick me up so i already told kyungsoo to pick me up. he’s probably already here. sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.”

“i know,” he says simply.

“e-excuse me?” while you’re beyond confused.

“i told your parents i’d pick you up so kyungsoo’s driving them to the dinner.”

“oh.”

wait. what?!

namjoon is confident in his driving skills - as he is with everything he does. he’s almost perfect. the line of his shoulders seem at ease as he stirs the wheel with one hand and the other rests on the gear, inches away from your scarlet clad thighs.

“why isn’t hoseok driving you?” the aforementioned man sticks to him like glue. everywhere namjoon goes, he goes. it’s a given since he’s the head secretary but anyone who’s seen them interact could tell there’s more than boss-employee relationship between them. they seem like close friends which is unlikely be given namjoon’s too-serious nature and hoseok’s joke-cracking every five minutes - but not impossible.

his face remains the same as he keeps his eyes on the road, humming briefly, “he had a thing.”

“can secretaries have a thing and leave their boss to drive for himself like that?” that doesn’t sound right. you may not be actively involved in fecam industries’ affairs but mr. jung, your dad’s secretary, spends more time with your dad than the two men do with their wives - that’s how demanding the business world is. but could hoseok get a free pass because of his and namjoon’s friendship?

namjoon chuckles, dimples and all and you can’t help but blush at the side profile. if anything, he has a sharp jawline and beautiful neck-

you push the thought as soon as it comes. neck? who finds necks beautiful?

“he had a date but it’s not until a couple hours,” the tone he uses is light and playful but underlined with a sort of bashfulness that you don’t know kim namjoon was capable of, “i told him to go home because i wanted to pick you up myself.”

your cheeks heat up all over again as you stare at him a little too long. so much so, the hand that’s been comfortably perched on the gear goes to the back of his neck in an unsure manner.

“i just needed to talk to you about something.” he explains, just as awkward as he was in the back room at the church.

“okay.” eyes turned to the road too, you can see namjoon breathing a sigh of relief from your periphery. that couldn’t have been because of you could it? was he nervous because you were watching him? “what did you want to talk about?”

he clears his throat, that natural ease in his tone returning, “if it gets uncomfortable - if anyone asks, we met because you were yoongi’s fiancee and we couldn’t help but fall in love. but you wanted to intern at a hospital in paris so that’s why we’ve only gotten married now.”

you take awhile to digest the information until something in your stomach doesn’t sit right with you, “you want me to... lie?”

his bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth just for the briefest moment as he thinks about it. he probably didn’t expect you to disagree but he admits his mistake faster than half the people you know your whole life would, “i’m sorry, i didn’t think it would weight on your conscience. i was thought it’d be hard on you if some ass- someone’s going to start a rumor about you but i didn’t ask how you’d feel about it.”

“i see.” you simply nod. it’s true that you’re the pass-up fiancee who got between two people who fell in love in college but the other is the son of a renown family and engaged while the other is an arts major from a normal working family. unable to let bygones be bygones, you decide to marry the younger brother to your fiance - or so the story goes. “but they already know i was yoongi’s fiancee and i ended up marrying you. i don’t need - no, i don’t want to explain myself to anyone.”

despite that big talk, your can feel the prickle of tears in your eyes. namjoon steals a glance at you and he never mentions the glassiness of your gaze - if anything, he smiles. it’s different than the usual smiles. this one, though wordless, says he’s following your flow. do what you like and if and when things get though, you can count on me.

dinner has yet started when you arrived. guests are still arriving and waiters and waitresses are carrying trays of champagne glasses around. in a distance, your friends wave at you to come over. you smile, hand falling away from namjoon’s since you needed to at least do that in front of the paparazzo that were waiting outside. eager, hungry for gossip about the wedding that shook south korea’s business world.

“girl, you are glowing.” yerin literally screams. it’s a secret to no one that she’s hinting on your recent marriage and private island getaway. but nothing happened.

“how are you girls? it’s been so long.” you side hug eunha, letting her arms wrap around your waist as you stand huddled together.

you haven’t seen them since you got back from paris. the wedding was attended by thousands of people - all of whom, your and namjoon’s family’s associates. but you had your hands full shaking hands and smiling next to your husband because these people matter to namjoon. or at least he has an interest over them. business deals. merges. trades. kimcorps carries out every kinds of business they can get their hands on. namjoon passingly mentioned about the work-in-progress for a private hospital.

you dread the likelihood of having to leave the hospital you’re working in right now for family-run one but you know it’s quite impossible to not get involved when you, yourself is a doctor.

“we weren’t the ones who went under the radar and came back and got married to the second son of kimcorp.” yuju huffs sulkily, cheeks pinked from the champagne she’s had but she isn’t that far gone when she clamps her mouth shut a second later, eyebrows furrowing in guilt.

sowon nudges her side anyway, mouthing her something as your gaze falls on the light caught in your black gucci heels.

“i-i’m sorry, ___ that didn’t come out right.” comes a heartbeat later, she sounds just as sorry as her words as you offer her a small smile.

“it’s okay, it’s the truth anyway.”

“stop that,” eunha suddenly gripes, her gaze boring into you and rips apart the barrier you’ve tried so hard to maintain, “we’ve been friends since elementary school, we know how whipped you are for that asshole so-” she sniffles while you’re left wondering if it’s her who had an ex-fiance break if off and had his parents relay the news on a bi-weekly dinner.

“she’s trying to say you can cry or get mad or curse that dipshit around us. don’t hold back.” sowon finishes, lips twitching as she enjoys watching the vulnerable state of the otherwise fiercest one among you.

something in your chest feels light. like a weight being lifted off your shoulders as you study the girl’s face one by one. sowon’s and yerin’s smirk, yuju’s nodding and eunha’s teary eyes.

“yoongi, he’s-” you take a deep breath and it feels almost dramatic as the second stretches on while you build up the hurt, the anxiousness, the disbelief that the man put you through, “-a fucking idiot.”

“you bet he is,” yerin’s basically screams, swiping a glass for you and holding hers up, “that fucking idiot.”

you tighten your side hug on eunha in an ‘i’m okay’ gesture as you clink your glasses together.

it’s a few moments later that murmurs start to spread around. the tension that comes with the latest arrived guest thick enough to command every attention in the room.

“she’s ballsy. coming here.” sowon offhandedly comments, eyes trained on the girl who has her hand on yoongi’s arm like an iron clamp. “right into the lion’s den.”

she may not have her parents’ money to groom her into the women you and the girls are. but maybe that’s why she has her own air. her poised steps, coupled with a cocktail creme laced dress and relaxed smile easily gives her an innocent cloak. someone friendly and good-tempered and can adjust well to her suddenly-plunged-into-money circumstance when she married yoongi. that must have been why you never heard any bad rumors about her even though there’s almost always at least one gossip enthusiast in these socials.

“ugh, i hate her!” yuju hisses, eyes more focused as she places her glass onto one of the waiter’s trays.

“i-i think i’m going to get myself some snacks.” with that, you slip past the guests until you’re at the end of the room, standing in front of the everything-you-can-eat table lined up with pastries only from the best bakes.

that moment, when you looked from her to yoongi, your eyes met. his hair is a little longer than you remember it, flowing in light blue tresses until just a few centimeters above his eyebrows. the first two buttons of his shirt is undone. her doesn’t wear a necktie - he despises how suffocating they feel. but he’s managed to keep on his blazer - he used to say they were hot and took them off and left them in the back seat of the car when you arrived at an event. he used to attend these events with you. just the two of you. for four years. you thought you’d keep doing so for longer after you got married.

“you know, they’re not plastic and made for display.” a voice breaks you from your train of thoughts.

“p-pardon?” you blink once. confused.

“the pastries,” namjoon lulls his head to the side where towers of tarts, macaroons, pavlova and sliced cakes stand tall and proud, “they’re edible.”

it takes a moment for you to register that he was joking - kim namjoon? cracking jokes?

his smile tilts higher when you chuckle. it’s brief but the look of relief oh his face lingers. he must have seen you escape from your group of friends. and this is his own way of checking up on you.

“thank you, namjoon.” you murmur low enough for only you and him to hear, lips tugging in the corners. “but i’m fine - i just - seeing him for the first time like this - it’s just unexpected. even though this is an annual dinner held by his family and he has every right to be here.”

“that’s her? the ex-fiancee?” a guest asks in a hushed tone somewhere a few feet away. but she’s not very discreet as she thinks she is.

“yeah, she couldn’t get the older brother so she went for the younger one.”

apparently, her company needs to attend classes on how-to-whisper-101 too.

“how mortifying. and the brother just goes with it?”

“he must have felt compelled to save her face. you know how nice and well-mannered he is-”

the low noise namjoon makes under his breath catches your attention. the muscles on his face is strained and twisted. it barely shows. just a crease between his eyebrows and the lack of smile. he hardly ever smiles from the tabloids and interviews you’ve seen of him so people might not notice the displeasure. but after a whole month of knowing namjoon, if there’s anything you can say for certain about the man, it’s the stockpile of smiles he has to offer.

“namjoon, it’s okay. i don’t care.” you smile, it’s forced and you know he notices it right off the bat but sighs anyway, shoulder line falling just slightly as he runs a hand over his sleek styled hair.

his lips move and you hear the words he uttered but somehow your mind couldn’t comprehend the information without going blank. “s-sorry?”

“it agitates me that they’re freely spewing bullshit like this,” he huffs, cheeks tinted pink at having to repeat his words. “it’s taking everything in me not to go over there and tell them their husbands have at least one business deal with kimcorp. and i can end it and it’d plunge their family into bankruptcy.”

“wh-why would you do such a thing?” the question comes out almost dumbly but if it did, he doesn’t say. he just... keeps looking at you.

you’re barely able hold yourself from squirming under his scrutiny, the smile now awkward in all places.

“if you don’t mind, can i kiss you?” his eyes widen just the slightest bit as he corrects himself, “on the forehead i mean.”

he clears his throat, eyes straying away from you as if he couldn’t bear to look at your face after that mistake. “just so i can prove to them i wasn’t forced to marry you.”

the light pinkish blush spreads to the tip of his ears and neck as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. you’re not sure why, but the sight in front of you is endearing and you find yourself saying-

“okay, kiss me.”

you didn’t specify where. and maybe, as the heat flares across your own cheeks when his arm band around your waist and a warm hand presses up against you cheekbone - maybe you want him to kiss you somewhere else.

the chatter stops and so does time. but it’s only for as long as namjoon’s full lips are on your forehead, kissing you for the second time. then, time resumes and murmurs begin to spread louder than when yoongi made his arrival. when the gravelly voice speaks from somewhere behind namjoon, you know why.

“get a room, will you?” yoongi’s tone is light - you’d taken a whole year getting used to it to know he’s being playful and not condescending.

“yoongi.” namjoon greets, unlike the elder man, his sounds better natured but there’s a sort of underlying detachment. his arm is still on your lower back almost as if he needs to feel that you’re here or he’d be completely detached. “i didn’t think you’d show up. you hate these events.”

the aforementioned man draws out a long sigh as though he’s been found out over a poorly told lie. “i don’t but naeun wanted to go - you know how things are with mom and dad. she thinks it’s gonna make them open up.”

it’s no secret your father and mother-in-law doesn’t talk about yoongi’s marriage - they never do around you but you thought they were being considerate. but what yoongi’s saying right now could mean his relationship with his parents are far more strained than you thought it’d be. especially since they had let him marry the girl of his dreams who’s clearly below their standards.

she - naeun - is standing somewhere near the exit, conversing with the notorious older generation that yerin duped ‘the wickeds’. for their ways of gaining wealth, for their poor treatment towards their employees, for socially shunning a young man - new money, for addressing one of them casually. she is ballsy.

“it’s been awhile,” yoongi’s directly addressing you now. the tug on his lips as playful as an old friend’s greeting. you don’t know how he can look at you like nothing happened. “you’re finally a resident now, huh?”

“yeah, finally.” you smile, the kind of smile that celebrates her triumph. the celebration part is true but the smile is every bit unnatural. but it seems to fool yoongi as he nods, proud.

somewhere in your chest, the strings on your heart clenches at the unchanging personality of this man. no wonder you like him.

before the conversation can tread further down memory lane, there’s an announcement to have the guests move to another room where dinner is being served.

“we’ll get going first then.” namjoon announces, guiding you by the waist as yoongi nods, waiting for naeun to come to his side before going in himself.

dinner went smoother than expected. yoongi and naeun showed up uninvited and were placed in the back seats where the people socially displaced guests are. you felt bad when you saw naeun’s distorted expression as waiters bring in chairs to the table for the both of them. but there’s nothing you could have done.

“you have an 8am shift tomorrow, right?” namjoon asks as you slip your heels off, wincing at when one of them brushes against the blisters. they’re gonna be a bitch to deal with tomorrow.

stretching your arms out as you walk up the stairs, you hum in confirmation. “mhm, and you have dinner with ms. yoo, right?”

it’s ironic how you know each other’s schedule despite not being anything more than two people sharing one house and happens to be married. guess you’ll chalk it up with the fact that you both respect each other enough to be aware of each other’s whereabouts - not the creepy kind of way but the share-me-your-live-location-so-i-know-you’re-safe kind of way.

namjoon was quiet until you take a left to where the guest bedroom-turned-permanent-bedroom is, “it got rescheduled.”

your hand hovers over the door handle as you crane your neck to look at the man on the top of the stairs. his bow tie is loosened, the button to his color undone and his blazer is draped over one arm - a telltale sign of a final end to the night. “i was hoping we could have dinner to together. after work.”

yes but you don’t usually go straight home after work. you usually spend time at the library either at your previous college or at the hospital. you’ve decided to continue your research no matter how taxing it may be since you came back from the honeymoon. namjoon knows and the fact he asks you to dinner anyway - it’s unlike him.

he’s the kind of person that would ask if you had free time and match his schedule to yours. not ask for your time.

“yeah, sure.” you say and you think you see his shoulder line sagging as if he’s just let out a long-held breath, “pick me up at 8?”

“yeah.” he nods, dimples showing as his lips curl at your answer, “at 8.”

only when the door closes behind you, do you let yourself slide down to the ground. heels lying next to your thighs and dress in need of being sent for washing. your cheeks are and neck and ears are hot. dinner? just you and namjoon? like... a date?

jisoo isn’t around when lunch rolls by.

“a patient got rolled into er this morning - couldn’t contact any of his family members. suho decided to go ahead with surgery but he reacted badly to the anesthesia so she had to make up for her suho’s mistake and monitor his patient.” jennie’s face scrunches at the other woman’s supervisor pushing the task on her. shoving a forkful of the cheese cake, she sighs as the medical professional side take over, “thank god the surgery went smoothly though despite all that.”

you hum in contemplation, comparing the well-established crazy bitch seokjin who pushes those under his supervision to their limits and suho’s less-than-extreme approach. you used to envy jisoo and jennie for getting suho as their supervisor but at the end of the day, with every push from seokjin, you get out of it stronger and wiser. “i hope she doesn’t forget to have her meals.”

the day ends faster than usual. of course with rounds and surgeries you have to assist with, you’ve always find yourself barely realizing the setting sun - the sign of that your shift has ended.

but you could have sworn it was 5pm when you last checked the time. an car crash patient had arrived at the er and you forgot you’d left your phone on your desk, running out to assist the critical patient. it’s only when you’ve plopped into your recliner, head thrown back in fatigue, do you notice the vibration of your phone.

namjoon’s name flashes across your screen. your eyes almost bulges out of their sockets as you swipe to the right.

the deep voice from the other end is as calm as ever, “hey, ___-”

“namjoon!” you almost scream with guilt, phone pressed between your cheek and your shoulder as you shrug the coat off one shoulder before using the free now free hand to hold the phone and shrug off the other shoulder, “where are you?”

“i’m at the parking lot. i couldn’t wait at the lobby because i was obstructing the other cars - i called you a few times.” he sounds almost concerned and your heart clenches tightly in you chest at the thought of him waiting for you for over an hour.

you burst onto the parking lot - searching for the sleek black audi until a red bugatti rolls over. you’re about to take a step back seeing as you’re almost standing in the middle of the road - when the driver on the other side of the car steps out. his usually gelled hair is mussed from the amount of times he ran his hand over it, cuffs rolled to just below his elbow, revealing the dark veins that run just below the skin on his arm.

namjoon fixes you with that eased smile, going around the gently purring vehicle and opening the door to the passenger seat for you. the arm which hand he uses to hold the door open pulls on the thin fabric of his button down in all the right places. so this is a the normal end-of-the-day look.

you always get back a bit later than him and by the time he looks up from his work that’s laid out over the coffee table, he would usually already have bathed and changed into one of those long-sleeved shirts.

the restaurant he initially booked for dinner had cancelled. naturally. so you end up in a barbecue place five minutes away from the hospital. this is where you and your colleagues go when to celebrate a birthday, promotion or finally-having-a-boyfriend/girlfriend.

the slices of meat sizzles on the grill, its marinated aroma wafting in the air. but your stomach churns with a different kind of sensation - guilt. “i-i’m sorry. because of me you had to wait an hour and got cancelled by the restaurant.”

then, he chuckles. it’s the same kind of good natured chuckle that reverberates every time you say something amusing - but you can’t see how any of this is.

his says your name. the syllabus rolls out of his tongue in waves but you chalk up the blush spreading on your face with the heat of the grill so close to you. he leans back against the backrest, sleeves filled out to the brim as he crosses his arms over his chest. “you were the one saving a life. all i did was wait.”

“y-yeah but still.” no emergency is foreseeable, otherwise you could have saved more lives than you do now. and it’s still not enough. “i forgot about you.”

namjoon nods, taking your words into consideration - as if he never thought about it that way. as if he truly doesn’t mind wasting his time over some woman he has to tolerate because he’s married to her. “cook me dinner then.”

“wh-what?”

“i don’t want you to beat yourself up and i know whatever i say is going to come off as me being nice.” the corners in his lips tugs upwards, “so make it to me by cooking dinner.”

once your brain is done registering what he said, you clutch your hands in your lap as though you’re clinging onto this one time chance to make up for your fault, “yes! i-i mean yeah, sounds fair.”

the smooth sound of his chuckle isn’t lost to the sizzle of the meat. to him, it must be a small matter but to you, it’s a matter of pride.

“this saturday then?” you offer, a bit too eager.

almost as if remembering something, he releases a long drawn out sigh, “business trip to tokyo.”

“next weekend?”

“mom’s home sweeter home fundraiser for the orphans on saturday. sunday?”

“night shift. how bout breakfast?”

“golf with seollyu’s director.”

a heavy pause lapses in the room. after a moment, namjoon reaches for the chopsticks, flipping the slices of meat over.

your shoulders sag, lips pursed in a pout. this isn’t an unusual occurrence in your years of being the daughter of your family. your father is devoutly involved in the family business and your mother is busy with her charity work. you’ve celebrated birthdays with the staff more than you do with them.

the glint of the chopstick that’s placing a piece of meat on your plate catches your eyes. you study the long nimble fingers to the vein that runs from the back of its hand and disappear somewhere below his arm before you gulp, meeting his eyes - did he notice you checking out his arm?

“we’ll figure something out.” if he did, he doesn’t say as he fixes you with an assuring smile, “but right now you need to get some food in you. eat up dr. ___. you did great today at work.”

this time, you really can’t blame the grill for the blush.

“you could’ve told mom you couldn’t do brunch.” namjoon tells you in the elevator to the 15th floor of your in-laws’ house. it’s been three days since that night. he’s left for work but prior to this morning, he’d already made it clear that it was no problem at all picking you up from home.

he’s probably saying this because of the lack of makeup you’d put on. some pats of compact powder and bright red lipstick can’t hide the bags underneath those tired eyes. you’d spend extra hours reading about the defective genes and the fix to remodel them so every child born from parents from a history of relatives with inheritable diseases could live a life without the risk of said disease.

“i’m fine.” you wave a dismissive hand before stretching in the compact space in a last ditch attempt to wake yourself up and hopefully look fresher by the time you reach the floor. “’sides, i’ve been so focused on work, it’s nice to see mom and dad every once in awhile.”

you’ve gotten used to referring to mr. and mrs. kim as if they’re your own parents - in a way, they are. you’ve known them for as long as you can remember.

“you have to be at the hospital by noon, right?”

you hum in confirmation. though you insisted on grabbing a cab to the hospital since it’s on the opposite side of the office, namjoon had insisted better. “mhm, oh we’re here.”

a ding! echoes throughout the elevator when it stops, doors opening to a hallway with black and yellow walls and ceiling, paired with honey marble flooring. it takes a few seconds before the black door at the end of the hallway to swing open but instead of the warm smile of the elderly lady, a bring and vibrant naeun beams at the both of you.

“you’re here. come in.” she steps aside, the hem of her sundress fluttering as she moves.

your body tenses at the proximity of the woman who you thought you could avoid until a much later time. and from the barely noticeable lifted brows that namjoon does, you know he wasn’t expecting his sister-in-law too. if she’s here, so is yoongi.

“we picked these up on the way.” you hand her the paris baguette paper bag. you’d ordered a mix of fruit tarts, cinnamon rolls and macaroon. all of which you remember mrs. kim mentioning to be her favorites.

“oh! you shouldn’t have but thank you.” up close, naeun is much more prettier with a natural pinkish tint across her cheeks that makes her seem dreamy and glossed cheery lips that complements the gentle air she carries around. she passes the bag to one of the staff that’ll probably unbox them and plate them.

you offer her a smile - though a bit strained. and she must have noticed when she sighs softly, eyes darting to her fuchsia flats before looking back up at you with a furrowed brows. but even when she’s frowning, she’s pretty.

“i’ve been wanting to meet you and properly apologize for not being able to attend the wedding - i had an exhibition that day in prague and yoongi wouldn’t let me go by myself even though i thought at least one of us should go to his brother’s wedding.” she chuckles at the last part as if replaying the heartwarming scene of her protective husband choosing his wife over his family. you can feel every fiber of your body coiling and writhing - it takes everything for you not to leave through the door. would yoongi have done the same for you?

“this must be awkward for you, isn’t it?” her lips tug into a half-smile - a telltale that she’s equally uncomfortable to talk about this topic. “with you and yoongi being engaged before but now i’m the one married to him. but i hope we can put everything past us and be a family.”

but something in the way she talks - it’s as if she sympathizes. as if she’s saying it’s okay, you shouldn’t feel ashamed. but what are you supposed to be shameful of? of being engaged to yoongi before? of marrying his brother when said engagement fell through? perhaps you should have gave mrs. kim a hard ‘no’ when she pleaded with teary eyes for you and your parents’ forgiveness when she and mr. kim had to break the news over dinner two years ago. so you wouldn’t have to develop a hard skin and pretend you didn’t care about the ruthless rumors that have spread far and wide after your marriage to namjoon.

“oh? yeah, it was a long time ago.” you offhandedly say - it’s that moment, when her eyes twitches just the slightest bit that you realize it wasn’t all just in your head. she did mean to make you feel embarrassed when she started mentioning the engagement.

you join namjoon and mrs. kim at the garden while naeun follows suit a second later, taking the middle among the three seats. the elder woman’s eyes light up at the sight of you, her heels clacking against the wooden flooring as she crosses the distance and engulfs you in a hug. you hug back, smiling at the woman’s motherly warmth.

“___, my favorite daughter, what happened to you?” she cups your cheeks, brows furrowing as she seem to examine your complexion.

you should’ve used concealer.

“the hospital is working you to the bone isn’t it? why, it’s been awhile since i had lunch with chairman lee, maybe i should give his wife a call.”

that’s how it works when you have connections. if someone’s daughter or son fails to get into college or a job through regular exams or interviews, a dinner or lunch with the director of the institution will get the child admitted overnight. that’s probably why seokjin was harder on you than usual when you got back from your honeymoon - he must think you’re not serious about being a doctor. it’s not a secret he came from old money but he’d cut off all ties with his family when he started working. he has more ethics than half of the people you know.

“___ doesn’t like it when you do these things, mom.” yoongi grumbles - always the painfully honest one. the chair screeches as he pulls it and plops between naeun and namjoon while their father occupies the seat next to mrs. kim. it looks like they just came from mr. kim’s home office. and judging from the stiffness of their posture, the talk must have been a serious one.

namjoon’s shoulder line tightens just the slightest bit - you almost thought it was just a figment of your imagination but when you steal a glance at his face, you know he’s not too keen in having yoongi sit next to him. so you weren’t imagining it when he seemed like he was escaping yoongi by not waiting for naeun to come and walk with you to into the dining hall.

you’re not lost to yoongi’s familiar tone when he spoke on your behalf. but you’re not happy either. forcing a laugh, you push a strand to the back of your ear for the sake of doing something, “i-it’s not the hospital. i’ve been staying up late to work a bit on my research.”

a worker comes with the baked goods you brought. they’re plated on perfectly polished ceramic - you can easily see your forced smile in its reflection when the woman sets them down the table in front of you.

“research?” yoongi lifts one eyebrow at you. too casually. and it takes you back to those times when you used to visit him at his college’s library and you’d bring your homework with you whilst you slip in a few ‘what i did’s as he typed away on his mac but still managed to keep up with you and asked questions here and there. a sign that he’d been present and listening.

“___’s been working on researching how segregate defective genes during the fetal stage so the fetus won’t take on their parents’ inherent diseases when they’re born.” namjoon explains the simplified version almost as though it’s part of his day-to-day line of work. he grins at you, the corners of his lips tugging with pride - a gratification of being able to show you off.

“that’s good. you’re making a difference in this world.” mr. kim is the first to break the silence. and in the years you’ve known him, it means the highest level of flattery you’ll ever get from the man.

your cheeks are flushed red and you know well enough it’s not because of mr. kim’s compliment than it is his son’s. “it’s still just a research draft but th-thank you. mister-” the elder man raises his brow and you quickly correct yourself, “i mean, dad.”

he nods at the word, the slightest hint of smile disappearing under the cup of tea he brings to his mouth.

“but still, don’t push yourself too hard. working as a doctor takes up a lot of time already.” naeun fixes you with a worried gaze but something about her tone makes your stomach churn - it’s as if she’s playing down the time and effort you’d invested in your research and reminding you to focus on your paying job. even if you did downplay yourself when you were responding to mr. kim. before you can sort out the wave of emotions clashing inside you, namjoon seems to beat you to it.

“not everyone can do what ___’s doing. it’s okay if she wants to do more,” a hand slips under yours in your lap, reverting your gaze from the beautiful woman to the apparent difference in the size of yours and namjoon before you turn your cheek to him. it was a mistake because now you’re holding your breath as you come face to face. his body is leaned into you as he speaks, “i’ll just take care of ___ better.”

he turns to naeun, lips twitching upwards in a brief smile as if to enforce it more and putting a finality to the topic. but you’re left staring at namjoon’s sharp jawline until mrs. kim makes a squealing sound as she clamps her mouth shut in an attempt to tease you.

“gosh, is my baby all grown up now? he’s saying he’ll take care of his wife!”

the chuckle you let out is nowhere near natural or entertained. not when your insides are burning and you think your heart is going into overdrive from how fast it’s beating. and it doesn’t help that namjoon’s too casually playing along “of course, i only have one wife.”

“namjoon,” you take a second to gather yourself, hands fiddling in your lap as the car rolls to a stop in front of the lobby. the man fixes you with an inquisitive gaze. of course, who wouldn’t be wondering what’s up if their name was spoken with so much weight in them like you did with namjoon’s? “what was that? the wife thing?”

he stares into the street as he sifts through his memory before he fixes you with a gaze clouded with guilt, “i’m sorry. i got carried away - it won’t happen again.”

and that’s the thing. namjoon is too fast in admitting his fault. but you didn’t bring it up because you wanted an apology-

“no, i don’t mind.” you shake your head almost too eagerly before back tracking and clearing your throat, “i mean, it’s true. we’re married - i am your wife.”

the corners of his lips upturns at your last words and he doesn’t bother to hide it as he waits for you to finish - but how can you when he’s looking at you so tenderly like that?

“it’s just - too soon?” you curse yourself for sounding so meek but any louder, your heart might just jump out of your throat.

namjoon nods, that contemplative look settling on his face and takes away that smile only to return it with a dimpled grin. one hand slides in between yours and guiding the back of your hand to his lips.

“we’ll take it slow then.”

you can only nod, afraid that if you tried to speak, you would forget how to. the light rap on your side of the window catches both your attention. it’s the parking management. stealing a glance at the cars that are beginning to queue up behind you, you hurriedly gather your bag and hop out of the car.

cheeks flushed, you barely register waving back at namjoon when he leans over the passenger seat just to shoot you that dimpled smile and a ‘see you at home’.

you turn on your heels. the sharp click bounces against the white walls. a small smile spreads across your lips as you think about namjoon’s words.

yeah, the penthouse does feel like home.

this isn’t slow at all. you’re barely progressing.

it feels like everyday is passing by too fast what with the abundance of functions you’ve told namjoon you wanted to go with when you’re not working, to cramming some time for research and trying to find the time to at least make breakfast when you’re not on morning shift. though on some mornings, he’d beat you to breakfast and you’d wake up to the delectable smell of omelette or bacon.

“you must be thrilled about the new hospital, mrs. kim,” mrs. hwan is generally an agreeable woman along with her husband, the president of a small startup firm. they’re the first couple to approach you and namjoon since you arrived at the party. but that’s just it - the smiling, the talking, the eagerness doesn’t show in their eyes. it’s all about building connections while maintaining a good enough acquaintanceship. “are you going to be managing it directly since you’re a doctor yourself?”

“naturally,” the tug on your lips and the smoothness of your response is almost effortless. you’re no stranger to this scene - except back then, you would be standing next to yoongi. though your hand wouldn’t be tucked in his arm like yours is with namjoon. “though i still have a lot to learn, i hope the next two years will help me prepare to for eden.”

two years is the estimated time that eden hospital will be able to run. you’d finish your residency by then. all that’s left is to take the next step. just like your parents had planned for you as they’d planned many things. you never had the power to object.

mrs. hwan goes on to sprinkling empty praises while her husband laughs in deflated humor. they say the way to a successful business deal is through the wife.

once namjoon gets swamped by more people, you gently pull your hand away from his arm. you don’t miss the pleading look he fixes you when he notices your intention but you can only return a ‘you can do it!’ smile and slip away from the limelight.

the balcony area is dark, illuminated only by the fading light the pours over the floor past the door frame. you don’t expect the air to be this chilly at the beginning of summer but then again, namjoon did suggest bringing a coat - you were just too stubborn to because it would ruin the off shoulder look of your dress.

a sneeze escapes you a moment later as you hug yourself in an attempt to retain your body heat. but the warmth that engulfs you seems impossible to have come from just your puny palms - heck, your fingers were starting to feel prickly cold. there’s a sort of weight on your shoulders that wasn’t there before-

“idiot, you’re gonna catch a cold.” yoongi tuts from next to you - he has his hands in his pockets, all donned in crisp white shirt and checkered grey trousers and vest. all that’s missing is a matching blazer - the one that he placed around you just now.

somewhere in the recesses of your memories, you remember him taking off the muffler he had on and wrapping it around your neck when you showed up for your ‘christmas date’ with a pink nose and pinker ears - you could barely feel them. yoongi was that kind of person - the kind that acted like everything is a whole load of inconvenience and yet went to greater length to inconvenient himself for you.

“thanks. i thought i was going to freeze to death if i have to hide out here for another hour.” you tug the thick material of the blazer closer - the warmth of his heat feels just right.

“then you shouldn’t have come in the first place.” he must have noticed the higher-than-an-octave tone he uses before ruffling his hair - it’s the first you’ve ever seen him so unsure. is it really because of you?

“it’s fine. besides, what kind of wife would i be if i let namjoon get eaten by the pack of wolves by himself?” you chuckle at the fact that you’d done just that when you escaped the growing crowd of businessmen.

but when you notice the lack of humor on yoongi’s face, your own dies down. he’s staring at you with an indecipherable look. it’s not the bored expression he usually sports - not also the anger from the outburst just now. before you can say anything, namjoon’s lean silhouette appears in the doorway. you can’t see his face but his tone is strained. “we’re leaving, if you’re both done catching up.”

“so soon?” you know for a fact it probably hasn’t even been fifteen minutes - and you’re supposed to linger for at least two hours before leaving. that’d be enough time for namjoon to scout any potential business associate - the worthy ones at least.

“hey little bro.” yoongi waves, the disinterested look now returning but the way he phrases his next words oozes with revulsion. it’s no surprise. while yoongi hates these events - he’s probably here because of naeun, you heard the director of seoul’s annual art exhibition is here - namjoon strives off it. garnering attention and making the best of it by bringing in stockholders. “had enough of ass licking?”

you never understand the tangibility of the tension that feels the air when these two brothers are in the same room together - they’re barely able to remain civil in the presence of mr. and mrs. kim. anywhere without their parents’ watchful eyes, a fight would always be at risk of breaking out. whenever you were around, you’d be the one to interfere, whether it’s to tug on yoongi’s sleeve and tell him you’re hungry, or step in front of him just so he’d remember you’re here or right now-

“thank you, yoongi.” folding the blazer in half, you hand it back to the man - only that he’s not taking it back. momentarily, you wonder if you’d stained it with your lipstick or foundation but the lapels never touched anywhere above your neck. but deep in the crook of your conscience, you know it’s when his mind retracts back to you, to the present.

the sigh that escapes yoongi is a telltale of fatigue - you wonder if this is the first time of the day he came out of his studio. taking the blazer from your outstretched hand, he slings it over his shoulder, “don’t get too caught up with these functions. focus on your goal.”

your goal meaning what comes next in your career: the fellowship. you thought that information was lost on him, buried among the many things you told him just because you were comfortable telling him everything.

and as you watch him walk back into the lion’s den, you wonder, how didn’t you realize he was in love with someone else during the visits you paid while he was doing his masters and phd?

namjoon doesn’t say anything about yoongi in the car. but both his hands are on the wheel. knuckles a little paler from holding onto the wheel.

“you don’t have to be part of eden’s board of directors.” he huffs, as though annoyed but from the way he continues, you know he’s not annoyed at you. he’s annoyed at himself. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to - i don’t want to force anything on you.”

and you know - you know more than anyone how conscious namjoon is of things. from the change in your mood to the people that tries to get close to him because of his status - that’s also why he didn’t kiss you on your lips that day. but a kiss was the prerequisite of a vow so he kissed you on the forehead. the area where his lips landed burns your skin as your cheeks flush from the memory.

“i know.” you hesitate for a heartbeat but reach out to cover one of his hands on the wheel still. to let him know that you’re not just saying that to ease the guilt.

when you pull away from the thought of how risky and distracting what you did was, the hand that you were lightly caressing pulls at yours, intertwining your fingers as he keeps them on his thigh. your entire body burns from the contact yet you’re sitting frozen in your spot. it’s the gentle squeeze on your hand that brings you out of your shell-shock state. a smile tugs on your lips subconsciously as you squeeze back.

the following week, you almost got into a fight with namjoon when he caught you dressing up prettily. he told you it was okay not to attend these functions anymore - the ones your tight schedule barely allow you to. fight was an overstatement. your feelings were hurt when he’d kissed your temple and said, “it’s okay, you don’t have to push yourself.”

well, you were but he wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. “can’t you see? i wanna spend more time with you and the only way i can is if we attend these functions together.”

in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have thrown your strapless black diamond purse at him out of frustration.

but the following functions, you did spend more time together. he’d declined the usual advancement of business people the way only kim namjoon could pull off - with a dimpled smile and a hand around your waist as if to indicate that they were interrupting - and they were. they’d come up to the both of you while you were telling namjoon about a new skillet spaghetti recipe you’d wanted to try making for the long overdue dinner you owe him. and you’d expected someone to approach namjoon and take his attention away but you didn’t think he’d decline them.

“hm? i don’t think we have tomatoes or beef. should we go grocery shopping?” he suggests calmly as though he didn’t just turn down the chairman of tvn broadcast. the man had to do a double take in case he had mistaken namjoon’s smooth rejection.

you place a hand on his chest, restraining the urge to pull your hand away as if you’ve touched fire. you knew he goes to the gym for an hour after work and his shirts always seem a size too small around his arms but you didn’t expect anything beyond that underneath that shirt of his. you clear your throat when you realize his neck is craned so he could look at you - give you all the attention in the world, “you know, we can discuss dinner some other time - when you’re free.”

but neither of you are free. you barely see each other at home because of your unpredictable schedule and his that’s set in stone.

“then what would you rather us talk about right now?” a corner of his lips tugs upwards. if you first met him, you wouldn’t easily dismiss the smile as nothing more than because of his amiable nature. but you’ve been married for almost five months now and you clearly pick up on the playfulness that lights up his eyes.

“the desserts.” you announce too quickly in an attempt to avert his attention from what he’s thinking - one thing you’ve realized is that namjoon is painfully aware of your blushing fits and your avoidance to look him in the eyes. “they’re nice, aren’t they?”

all of a sudden, he’s scooping a forkful of the chocolate souffle he’d picked up from the desserts section while you’d opted for the luscious almond torte. a small smirk tugs on his lips as he holds the fork to your mouth the way he does during breakfast. he knows you have no objections of being fed like a child but he also knows where you stand with public display of affection.

“say ‘aaaaa’ and i’ll give you a treat, doctor ___.” and he loves to tease you. he’s taken to calling you that because of that one incident where he’d seen you discuss about a patient with one of the nurses while you were on your way to meet him. in his own words, he’d ‘never seen you this scary before.’

in your defense, it was five minutes till lunch break so it was still working hours and you were acting the way you usually did at work - but you’d understand. the person you are with friends and the person you are at work are two separate entities. suppose you’ve mastered separating personal business and work. namjoon seems to take pleasure in making that steadfast side of you squirm and blush like a tomato.

your fingerpads gently grazes the back of his hand as you hold the fork in place before taking it in your mouth. your eyes flit over namjoon’s for the briefest moment before taking a step back, licking the residue of souffle off your lips.

“they really are nice.” you murmur as you throw your gaze at the stage where a man sits at the piano before flickering back to namjoon.

you wonder why he’s so quiet all of a sudden -

the man in question still has the empty fork in the air, eyes wide and staring at you, you would’ve thought he’d seen a ghost. until you notice the dust of pink across his cheek and spread to the tip of his ears.

oh?

mrs. kim’s fundraiser is held at the school where the children attended. about four canopies were set up on the field. one for the children’s activities - you remember reading something about coloring, origami-making and storybook reading. the volunteers - possibly college students hoping to earn the graces of kimcorp’s president’s wife for an internship - already have the children huddled up in groups of three or four.

one canopy is specifically set up for a table of wide range of food - if there’s anything you like about these functions, it’s the abundance of food they never fail to prepare. as if spending a lot of money on a fundraising event is something to flex about.

the other two canopies are for the people of interest - acquaintances of mrs. kim and those who come with an ulterior motive be it to get sponsors for their own project, a business deal or simply to regain a higher social hierarchy by falling into your mother-in-law’s graces.

you press a light kiss on namjoon’s cheek before he’s whisked away by the second category. business men who jump at the sight of your ceo husband who got a fair warning from mrs. kim to “play nice. what’s gotten into you all of a sudden? these days i keep hearing things about you turning chairmen down! your father didn’t work this hard just to raise a stuck up son that could ruin his business in a matter of days.”

once you’ve had a slice of red velvet and tiny macaroons, you decide to hide yourself from the few people who try to do the same to you when namjoon is too preoccupied by the ones who claimed his attention first. just like preys on the top of the pyramid sinking its claws, the lower level preys couldn’t come close.

but one manages to follow you into one of the classrooms.

“nothing’s changed has it?’ yoongi stands in the doorway, tuxedo and brown loafers and all. hands tucked into both his pockets, he strides across the room and stops in front of the window that overlooks the light pink canopies and the people underneath them. “same old assholes using a charitable cause to proliferate their influence.”

the muscles on your face pulls your lips into a disapproving frown, “that’s how our parents manage to give us an education. a good life.” you don’t agree to the way they go about it but you give credit where it’s due.

yoongi scoffs, his shoulders jolting slightly. you can’t see his face as he stands with his back on you but you know he’s smirking that condescending smirk. the first time you saw it was when you were in your senior year of high school and yoongi was doing his masters in business and accounting. he’d looked down on the man who approached the two of you like he was scum just because everyone knew his company was wallowing in debt and he’s desperate enough to ask the lion who hates the jungle for help.

“always finding a middle ground. if you like what they do so much, why did you become a doctor? why didn’t you follow their footsteps, huh?”

you can’t help but let out a tired sigh. you’ve been here before. you’ve seen this. yoongi hates the world he’s born in and you understand why but you can never feel what he feels. “why are you here, yoongi? shouldn’t you be with naeun?” there’s a pause. a heartbeat before you decide to let yourself free. say what you want to say. “before the wolves get to her.”

“she’s fine.” it's almost offensive how haughty he sounds. he must either be aware of nauen’s innocence that makes the wolves eliminate the possibility of her being a threat or he just doesn’t care. the latter presumption makes your stomach churn.

did he also not care about you when you were together? when you went to these events as a couple?

“we should head back. it would be bad if anyone saw us alone like this even though we’re just talking.” and that’s that. you turn on your heels, making way to the door but before you can even take another step forward, lithe fingers wrap around your wrist.

“what?” it comes out harsher than you intend it. funny how you put on a face of a woman made out of steel when your knees can barely hold your weight the moment you feel his warm hand on your skin.

“i knew - i knew but i didn’t want to tie you down.” with his head lowered and his long hair, you can’t see his eyes for an idea of what he’s saying.

“yoongi, what-”

“i knew how you felt.” at that moment, his grip on you loosens. it’s almost as though it’s an overdue confession and the weight on his shoulders has finally lifted, “you only knew me - you turned down every boy that tried to ask you out in high school and college. you -you were only looking at me and i didn’t want that on my shoulders - i didn’t want you to turn down every opportunity to life - to dating, to heart break to - to sex with someone - several someone’s just because we were engaged.”

his fingers traces down your index finger before falling away. but you won’t tell him - you can never do it to namjoon - that it took all of you not to twine your fingers with his just because it felt like he was letting go.

your breath hitches in your throat when you turn your cheek towards him. the sight before you is something you’d never thought you’d see in your entire life. yoongi’s pink dusts his otherwise snowflake skin. the bored expression he usually wears is gone - almost as if he’s never worn it his entire life as something akin to desperation pools in those dark eyes. his soft pink lips are agape as though he wants to say something. and you wait, wait, wait but he never does.

so you turn your back on him, heels clicking against the ground as you slip past the door without a word. only when you’re at the end of the hallway, do you turn the corner, back pressed against the wall because your buckling legs might not be able to handle your weight.

those unsaid words - you can hear them clearly: i fucking regret letting you go.

the following week, you spend by drowning yourself in work and later working on your research until the library closes. by the time you’re pressing the 20th floor to the penthouse you both shared, you know for certain namjoon’s gone to bed. he values his sleep time. says it’s essential to keep himself in a good mood so others who work with him would be at ease. sometimes you want to tell him it’s okay not to think about others for once but the words lay buried the depth of your heart because you’re exactly like him. suppressing your feelings, smiling and saying you’re okay even though you’re not. the only difference is there’s a side of you that wants to lash out, do something worse to those who hurt you while namjoon does it from the good of his heart.

“it’s hard, being nice.” he says in between the clink of the stirring of the spoon in his coffee mug.

you look up from the peanut butter you’re spreading over your toast. “hm?”

he shakes his head, as if to say it’s nothing, i’m just thinking out loud. but the words he says next is enough to make your heart drop right to the ground. “yoongi told me.”

“wh-what?” it’s denial in your tone - the combination of those three words are simple enough to take you back to the school nine days ago. in side that little classroom.

“yesterday. he came over to the office.” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal but the tensed line of his shoulders is apparent no matter how casually he brings the mug to his smiling lips - that too. his lips are smiling but his eyes are not.

you don’t know when or how you started noticing the little things. sensing namjoon’s moods - his reactions and his retractions. you never realized you were so in tune with the things he does. all you realize is you’re already able to read him like a book - thick, best-leather book that was safeguarded by a lock.

“namjoon,” the clink of the butter knife being set on your plate resonates like a pin drop in a vacuum room, “nothing happened. i promise.”

“i know - i know you’d never do anything like that so that’s why i’m telling you it’s okay.” something in the way he looks at you make you bite your tongue - as if he’s asking you to listen even though you’re bursting at the seams. you’d do anything to prove that nothing happened even though you knew he knew. “we entered into this marriage for a mutual reason. not dreading to come home is more than i can ask for. so it’s okay if you want to see yoongi just... keep out of the spotlight like many in our shoes who found love outside of it have.”

he chuckles but it’s strained and tense, dumping the coffee into the sink because he couldn’t bear to stay in the kitchen any longer. you slip out of the high stool, feet padding around the counter and before you know it, your arms around his body. you feel him freeze under your touch and this is wrong - wrong on so many levels because he would have asked if he could touch you and you’re not reflecting the same amount of respect he had for you.

but for some reason, you can’t let go - you’re afraid if you let him walk out of the door, you’d never be able to grasp even a shadow of his existence.

“i don’t want to.” the words are muffled from your cheek pressing against his back.

a pause lapses between you when you don’t say anything else. no explanation. no reason. because you don’t know it yourself. you don’t know why your heart clenches in your chest at the sight of namjoon’s dismal smile. you don’t know why you acted on your instincts and hugged the man.

you don’t know.

“okay.” he sighs softly as a warm palm rests above your fisted hand. you wish you can see him - wish you can see what kind of expression he’s making because it’s killing you to not know what he’s thinking. “you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

that’s when the sniffle escapes you. internally, you curse yourself for being so emotion-driven. it’s not a good trait for a doctor to have.

namjoon calls your name. the syllabus rolling off his tongue makes your stomach churn with butterflies. “are you crying?”

you don’t expect him to say that. don’t expect the teasing undertone either. naturally, your respond comes a heartbeat later, “n-no.”

the body under your touch shifts. all of a sudden, you’re eye-to-eye with him. there’s a sparkle in them that almost makes you forget how to breathe. his dimples dig into his cheek as his lips curl into a smile whilst his large hands frames you face.

“wh-what?” you feel your brows furrowing, lips pursed.

“you’re too cute.” his thumb grazes your burning cheekbone feather light, “i want to kiss you.”

“then do it.” you don’t know the reason behind that angry, pressed tone but namjoon doesn’t seem to mind - or he knows something you don’t.

you don’t have the time to ponder on that when a pair of lush lips meshes with yours. the scent of the coffee he had engulfs your senses as one hand finds its way to the back of his neck and the other rests on his accelerating heartbeat. time seems to stop when namjoon’s kissing you. somewhere in the back of your mind, you distinctly remember something perpetually important but you couldn’t be bothered as his hands fall away from your face and finds the dip of your lower back and pull you closer until your bodies are pressed together.

somewhere in a distant, you hear the beep of the front door. hoseok’s voice booming across the hallway that leads to the living room and the kitchen where you’re at now.

“namjoon? you here? did you oversleep? man, i never thought i’d see the day our ceo is late to work.” hoseok’s footsteps stops at the end of the hallway, “oh great, you’re all dressed.”

he blinks, surprised at the sight of his boss who’s leaning against the edge of the sink - hands pressed on either side of the edge, doing absolutely nothing while you dip a butter knife into a jar of peanut butter and jelly but equally as out-of-it as his boss appear to be.

“y-yeah, let me grab my blazer.” namjoon pushes himself off, going around the counter and heading towards the stairs where his bedroom is until -

“it’s here.” hoseok points out.

“what?”

“your blazer. it’s this one, right?” the secretary loyally scoops up the thick maroon blazer off the couch and hands it to his boss who’s just barely recovered from what seems to be a trance.

he’d went down and tossed the blazer on the couch before making his coffee - before the kiss.

namjoon clears his throat, refusing to look at the man’s scrutinizing eyes as he thanks him and slips the blazer on. but he loses those eyes when he peeks over the man’s shoulder, mini-waving at you, “hey, morning, doc.”

you return the greeting, refraining a blush as you feel the ghost of namjoon’s lips when you fix his secretary a smile, “hey, hoseok. care to join us for breakfast?”

the man shrugs, eyes flitting over his boss who now seems ready to go, “thanks doc but i had some cereal and cold milk.”

he bids his farewell and escapes out of where he came from, letting the two of do what newly weds do before the other goes to work. it’s in that moment that he realizes with a chill running down his spine as he sat in the driver seat - that namjoon isn’t a bachelor anymore and he couldn’t come and go as he pleases and that he might have interrupted something. come to think of it, both you and namjoon’s cheeks were flushed...

“h-hey boss,” hoseok steals a glance of the man at the backseat through the rear view mirror. he almost chokes on his next words when the man’s eyes meet him but he persists like a man on a mission to not get fired , “y-you know, i’ve been with kimcorp. f-for a long time. i-it’s like my family a-and i’ll work harder from now on.”

confusion flashes across namjoon’s features for the briefest moment. he doesn’t know what makes hoseok say something so out of his character and shakily at that but it’s not the first time that his employee’s said something like this to him - of course, minus the stutter and all.

“that’s good to know, hoseok.” he says simply.

it’s been a week since you told namjoon you didn’t - wouldn’t see anyone. yoongi or not. when you told him you were going to meet yoongi at a cafe near his studio to give the man an answer - a hard no, there’s still some needling doubt in namjoon’s gaze as he reverts his eyes away from you. as though he was afraid that the illusion would fade away and he’d end up catching the smolder of passion he’d always seen you look at the man with.

he’s not lost to your feelings - in hindsight, it was pathetically obvious how smitten you were for the elder man. even your and his parents could see. and they’d foreseen many things but not having to plead and then beg and then finally, force you into a marriage you didn’t want with the brother of the man you loved.

your only regret was leaving without kissing namjoon goodbye - but it also felt like anything you said, any sort of assurance you offered would just be an act. until you tell his brother to stop.

“come to think of it,” you set the warm cup of latte down. it would have tasted better if the circumstances were different, “we never properly ended things. the only way i knew the engagement was over was through mom and dad.” his parents you meant.

he tilts his head to the side as a response - an indication that he’s listening. he’s dressed in plain white shirt and the darkest jeans. the bags under his eyes is an indication that he hasn’t slept in days - either it’s because of working late nights trying to make music or because of what he’d said to you.

you know he’d do this - detach himself from reality when things gets tough or when he’s stuck in a situation he doesn’t have control over. but you still had hope. still held onto the past seven years you’d spent together for him to regard you with enough respect to offer closure.

“do you love naeun that much?” and yet you still ask.

you meet his hollow gaze, not knowing the intensity yours hold until your fingerpads wrapped around aches and he lets out a heavy breath.

“she was different.” he says simply - almost tiredly, “she caught my eyes. we started talking and we found out we had some things in common. i thought she’s what i needed to get over you.”

“don’t.” the churning starts from your stomach and spreads across your body like a poisonous fog. “don’t use me as an excuse for leaving. you loved me as much as i loved you and you got scared.”

a lump forms in your throat as the memories, the inside jokes that built up over time, the comfortable silents spent - everything comes crashing in like tidal wave. you knew he loved you deep down. that was why the news of him getting married took a toll on you - so much so, you decided to leave everything behind and fly to paris.

“you could’ve pushed me away if you truly had no feelings for me but you kept me around and let me think we were going to have a happy future together.” his image is distorted from the prickles of tears in your eyes but you blink them away, “but you didn’t really know you were in love with me back then, huh? that’s why you got scared shitless and decided to leave.” you’re not sure if you’re choking on your words or if you’re actually scoffing. maybe both.

in that moment, you watch as yoongi’s expression switches from that signature boredom to realization and finally unbridled sorrow. he must feel suffocated - like he’s drowning in emotions the way you did in that suite you spent for two weeks in paris before you decided to buy an apartment and stay for good. and you would have if your parents didn’t call you back - recounted all their sacrifices for you to make you guilty enough to agree to the marriage with his younger brother. he’ll spend the same amount of time sleeping and waking up in his room and realizing he can’t turn back time.

“i fucked up big time, didn’t i?” he laughs dryly as he presses his palm to his face, hunched over the minute round table.

the latte is still half-full when you swipe your phone off the table and stand up. he doesn’t spare you a glance - he probably couldn’t bring himself to face you now.

‘you’re a fucking coward min yoongi.’ is what you want to say but for some reason, you leave the words to die on the tip of your tongue. you won’t - can’t wish him a happy life and propose to put everything past you. it’s not that simple and you’re not that forgiving. but namjoon’s easy smile flashes at the back of your head at this moment of all time and makes your heart clench painfully in your chest. their relationship is already strained and if you insist on prolonging this, it’s only going to end up hurting namjoon one way or another and the cycle will just keep going on with naeun getting hurt if she found out.

“you did.” your hand is trembling around the strap of your bag, “but it’s all in the past and i don’t blame you. things wouldn’t turn out the way they do otherwise. so just... live for the present, yoongi.”

his shoulders rise and fall a little faster than normal but there’s nothing you can do - and it’s better if you leave him to collect his thoughts. the censor at the door beeps as you pass through. it takes a moment for you to feel the morning air brush your cheeks and sunlight to seep into you. your chest still feels tight but in due time, you know it’ll lighten.

“hey, boss. you have a special guest.” hoseok peeks into namjoon’s office like the slyboots he is. the wiggle of the man’s brows before he disappears gives namjoon all the more reason to prepare for the worse.

“send them in.” he sighs, not bothering to hide his feelings in front of hoseok. they’ve been working side by side for a long time and friends for longer he knows his friend is aware of the contrasting definition of ‘special’ but this once, as he sees you walk through the door - he admits that him and hoseok may finally be of the same mind.

namjoon shoots up from his seat, clearing his throat and buttoning his blazer together the way he’s so used to doing it when he receives an unannounced visit from his father. “what brings you here?”

instead of shooting him one of your brilliant smiles, you drop your bag on the crisp white leather couch and run right into him. arms wrapped around his torso, he can smell your favorite floral shampoo from your hair but he can’t bring himself to hug you back. his heart is palpitating inside his chest and he can only pray for some miracle that you can’t hear it. which is most unlikely what with your head coming up just a few centimeters above his shoulder line and your ears being the same height as the beating organ in his chest.

if you notice, you're not saying anything about it.

“i met yoongi just now.”

namjoon doesn’t say a word for the longest time - it’s so namjoon of him not to. but it’s also not where you stand now. that day, when you partially admitted to liking namjoon and you’re pretty sure he felt the same - you’d seen a side of namjoon you never thought you’d saw. vulnerable. fearful. all because he thought he was going to lose you - and it felt like he’s always been prepared for it. it was just a matter of time.

the muscles in your arms contracts at the thought of namjoon being so ready to let you go - is it like that too, right now? is he expecting you to go back on your words and tell him you’re going to have an affair with his brother? you don’t know and that’s driving you insane.

and just when the muscles in your arm contract, just when you’re about to pull away, namjoon’s arms band around your body and a kiss lands on top of your head.

“did you tell him what you wanted to tell him all this time?” his voice is velvet and smooth and you can hear that easy smile as he speaks.

you nod against his chest. “it’s over. i told him to get lost.”

the chest vibrates against your cheek as rings of chuckles tumble out of namjoon’s mouth. it makes your body light up with a sort of fire. and for once, you welcome the heat spreading across your cheeks like an old friend.

he knows the last part is a bluff - it’s comforting that he knows without having you say it.

does he also know...

“after that i came here because i wanted to see you.” you crane your neck to look up at him.

true enough there’s that smile and gets wider when he meets your gaze. a hand comes to rest on your neck while his thumb grazes your chin as he presses his lips to yours. you think your heart might explode at any moment now as you kiss him back, your hand snaking to his shoulder but he stops your right hand, holding it on his chest. his heart beats the same rhythm as yours. his shoulder line heaving the same way yours do when the back of your thighs hit the couch and you finally break apart. but before you have the chance to gather your thoughts, his lips are on you again. the hand on your lower back pulling you closer until your thighs press on either side of his legs.

“let’s go home now.” he murmurs between breaths, “i might really go crazy if i touch another part of your body that’s covered in clothing.”

it’s in that moment that the door swings open.

hoseok bursts through the door with the photostatted files in his hand. there’s a skip in his step.

“hey boss! here’s the files you asked for.”

he looks between you - well your back - and namjoon. the ceo is fixing his tie with a hard expression while you’re standing facing the ceiling-to-floor window that overlooks the streets and several stores in the area.

d-did he just walk into you two fighting?

“thanks, hoseok.” namjoon swipes the files from his hand, walking back to his seat around the desk and dropping the files with a sharp pap!

“n-no problem boss.” he takes one frightened step backwards before turning around but before he manages to escape the lion’s den, you stop him.

“hoseok wait.” it comes out a bit rushed. granted, you’re not in any position to waste time. you dropped by even though you know you can’t afford being late to work but somehow you ended up at namjoon’s office anyway. the secretary seems to physically turn into a rock before shakily turn his cheek to you with a smile.

“uh, yeah doc?”

“namjoon, do you mind me borrowing hoseok for a bit?” the heat comes on full force as you turn to namjoon. he’s burning a hole through the files he’s flipping through but you don’t miss the pinked tips of his ears and the way his adam’s apple bobs at the sound of his name on your tongue, “my shift is starting at noon so i need to be there by,” you check the watch on your wrist, “now.”

the way namjoon doesn’t even look up from flipping the papers is how hoseok know for sure you’re fighting. “sure thing. oh and hoseok, no detours. come straight back once you drop ___ off.”

but to you, it’s because he’s flustered beyond imagination - you know, like you know how he’ll condemn himself for not being able to control himself like that. your whole body heats up as you slip into the back seat when the image of namjoon’s hooded eyes, reddened cheeks and half agape lips flash at the back of his mind. a part of you - the reasonable one - chides yourself for even thinking about ditching work and actually going home with him but another part wishes to indulge in the endless possibilities of what will happen if you did.

“____,” your name tumbles out of namjoon’s mouth in a breathy huff. naturally so. he hasn’t even caught his breath from when he finds you crawling over him like a woman in on a mission. now, the same exact woman his cuffing his wrists and holding them over his head with one hand while the other is undoing the buttons of his shirt while she kisses him in all the right places.

“wh-where did you even get cuffs?” his headboard is one of those pristine white cushioned ones meaning there isn’t any rails for you to hook him on and keep him in place. but you don’t need that because namjoon can barely move - all that time he spends at the gym has gone down the drain as invisible threads tie him down.

“oh these?” you let one corner of your lips tug deviously. it’s been six months since you got married and you and namjoon has never gone past the occasional cuddles and light kisses. the morning after that day when you dropped by his office after meeting yoongi, namjoon had declared his intentions to ‘do it right’ - like dates and getting to know each other better before anything else.

it was sweet of him. until you realized you barely had time for dates - only late night conversations that ended up with you on top of him but before things could progress, he’d do everything he could to avoid bedroom affairs. but over time, it gets a bit discouraging. so this is the last straw - there’s no wine or champagne for him to use as an excuse to carry you to your room. you’re both sober, and if he doesn’t want you -

“never mind where i got these.” the low sound emitting from his throat makes your heart skip a beat as your lips brush against the shell of his ear, “don’t you want me, namjoon?”

trailing hisses down his smooth jawline, you let your lips hover over his - it only lasts for a heartbeat before he closes the distance and starts kisses you like a famine beast.

“i want you,” he confesses when you pull away just to reinforce your control. he may be the one lying down with his hands bound but it almost felt like you’re the hopeless one here - almost. the a feral glint in his eyes sends hot waves down your core - you have to tell yourself to breathe. “of course i fucking want you ___.”

you hum in contemplation - taking just enough time to sit straighter and let your fingers undo the rest of the buttons and stopping just above his belt. the few times you laid together and he lets you lie on top of him - you knew he was brains and brawn. but you didn’t expect a perfectly sculpted body of adonis himself to be lying beneath you. the ridges of his abs heaves helplessly as he drawn in deep breaths.

somewhere on the edge of the bed where you’d tossed it, your phone vibrates - someone’s calling but that can wait.

you lean down, soft tresses brushing his skin as you kiss that spot that illicit a delicious sound from him the first time you discovered it. somewhere in the junction between his shoulder and neck.

“fuck.” his voice is raw and desperate and carnal as his body yearns for you. his legs bent at the knees, feet ground into the bed as he grinds his hip into you - the signs of his arousal painfully obvious.

you can’t help but giggle at the way he so vehemently yearn for you. somewhere on the bed, your phone starts vibrating again.

“y-your phone.” he manages to stammer out. it’s the third time it’s vibrating.

“don’t worry about it. the only people who would call me at this time is jisoo’s drunken butt dial or the hospital-” you sit back up, heat still pooling in your stomach when your hips grind against namjoon’s arousal in the process but the urgency in the way you swipe your phone off the sheets has stolen your attention.

clear as day, it is one of the two possibilities you’ve mentioned and it isn’t your quirky colleague.

when you first started working, you were of the ripe age and eager to help those in need. you loved your job despite the long arduous hours, missed meals and ungodly hour roll calls because at the end of the day, it was what you wanted to do - it was the one thing you wouldn’t let your parents take away from you. you fought blood sweat and tears to get where you are now.

and doctors don’t usually start a family until they’ve at least finished their residency - but you had to get married early to keep your end of the bargain. of course, you didn’t expect to commit to said marriage. you didn’t also expect to fall for namjoon either. and you certainly didn’t expect for him to still be here in the waiting area when you walked out of the emergency operating room, head lulling to the side as sleep begins to take him, arms crossed over his chest. he didn’t even get the chance to change when you hurriedly uncoffed him, informing him about an emergency at the er. he’d offered to drive you since you couldn’t drive and waiting for an uber driver to accept your request this late at night would take more time. you’d rushed out of the car with a ‘thanks, namjoon. i owe you one!’ thinking he’d go home and get some rest - there’s no telling how long these surgeries take after all.

when he leans too far to the side, his eyes flutter open softly before noticing the turquoise-clad body in his periphery.

“___, you’re done? did the surgery go alright?” he’s always had a way of saying your name. it makes your heart warm and your chest full as he stands up to close the distance between you - to cup one side of your cheek with his hand. though your delayed response may have been the reason for that.

“the surgery was a success.” you finally say, your smaller hand covering his, lips curving softly. guilt creeps up the creeks of your chest but gratitude washes it away. it wouldn’t have been very namjoon of him if he didn’t consider everything: how you’d go home once you’re done. if there’s even any uber working this late of an hour. your heart is swelling - you don’t think you can ever love him more than you do now but namjoon being namjoon, he’ll make you fall in love with him more and more until your heart is filled to the brim, “thank you, namjoon.”

and he gets it. just like that. the words that you’re saying without putting them into words because there are many ways to say it and a plethora of intrepreting it but namjoon gets it because his heart beats the same rhythm as you: i love you.

a dimpled smile curls over his lips as he places a kiss over your forehead, “should we go home?” he leans down to whisper into your ears, his tone changing dangerously, “and pick up where we left off, yeah doc?”

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venusdeus · 3 years

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Court of Kings - Chapter 1

Summary: Sent to a neighboring kingdom to secure an alliance, forced to give up your dreams and ambitions, disregarded as a means to an end. You however have no desire to fulfil their wishes. And neither does Oikawa.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x female reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au (more like enemies to allies to friends to lovers), eventual smut?

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: All the characters are adults unless specified. This chapter is sfw. Minors do not interact.

Notes: Part 1 of a long series I’m planning to write. This is my first fic in this blog so I would greatly appreciate comments, follows and feedback!

Read Prologue first <...> Chapter 2

August 5th

The first messengers arrived when you were having afternoon tea with your literature instructor in the gardens of your summer residence, as your brother was practicing his sword skills not too far. A maid sent by your mother brought you the news of their negotiation a few hours later, accompanied by some of the strawberry macarons you loved so much.

If it were up to you, you would refuse such a ridiculous offer even before it was brought to your attention. Now that they had a male heir to the throne however, there was no use of a girl that had no claim to become the future ruler, other than being sent to create diplomatic relations now that you were over twenty summers.

“Where do you think they are from?” your brother asked as he tried to dust off his clothes, quite tired from following the orders of his practice partner all day long.

“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t see any flags with them.” you continued as he looked disappointed “But they were wearing blue, so at least we know it's not from the south.”

He nodded; his eyes wide with worry “I am glad they are not sending you there.”

“No one is sending me anywhere yet Hiro.” you answered quite annoyed, turning your head sharply to glare at the boy.

It was not his fault per see but him being recognized as the heir has left you in an awkward situation for the past twelve years. You loved your brother dearly, unlike the distant relationship you had with your parents. It was not because you had the ambition to rule the kingdom either. Of course, it was unfair as you were the firstborn, and if not for what was between your legs, you would also have been the one to inherit the crown.

Even if that was so, you simply did not find it in yourself to become a leader. You, however, did wish to be able to shape your own future. One that did not involve fulfilling the selfish wishes of others.

“It would be awfully lonely without you.” he sighed, instantly making you feel guilty for sounding a little bit too harsh.

Hiro looked incredibly small for his age, standing there with his shoulders slouched, fingers flicking, a skinny and sickly kid since the day he was born. He took after your father with his dark hair and almost pitch-black eyes, but with your mother's facial features, a contrast to your own looks that bore no resemblance to any of them, another reason for your alienation from the rest of the family.

“And it would be awfully quiet without you.” you teased “Maybe then I would be able to read in peace.”

Several footsteps coming behind you silenced you both before Hiro could retort, cutting the joyful air and replacing it with a heavy feeling.

Your mother was a beautiful woman that much was true, but in a different way to that of her kids. The Queen had extremely sharp features and her painted lips always supported a displeased frown. She acted as her title suggested, prim and proper, she fit her role perfectly.

Renowned for her charm when she was younger, she did not lose much to the ages if not for the wrinkles next to her keen eyes and the white threads on her hair. Likewise, she was as smart as she was alluring. Coming from a family that lost their wealth a long time ago even though they still supported titles, no one would even dream of her being second to the sole ruler of their beloved country. She was a success-driven woman, which made her a threat in the eyes of many in the court, thus she was not given the right to make a decision when it came to the education of the heirs she produced. Although affectionate towards her kids first, she had no say on the time she had with them, causing their family ties to weaken, and mostly spent her time with foreign ambassadors. A responsibility entrusted upon her by her husband.

“I see you received my message.” she declared not looking at you directly “We will talk more about this after our guests leave. For now, I want both of you to go to your rooms and stay there until dinner.”

You could sense the irritation in her voice. It was not for her kids, however, as you could see the dark circles under her eyes, a sign of her losing sleep for the past few days.

“Won’t we meet our guests?” Hiro questioned before you could.

“It is not needed as they are only messengers.” the Queen answered shortly before continuing her walk towards the main hall, her maids trailing behind. “I will see you two in an hour.”

Leaving your brother behind, you decided to head down towards the observatory. You knew that you would get an earful from your maids later for not changing your garments for the dinner, but your head was filled with too many questions and negative possibilities to care about dresses. It was not as if you did not know that this day would come. It even took longer than expected if all things considered. Most in your position would be engaged before they even stopped using diapers. It was a more political alliance than anything else, decided by the respective kingdoms and the advisors.

You even saw the letters that were exchanged since last year with multiple seals supporting different coat of arms. The council of your father must have declined the offers before this. Not for your sake, at least you didn’t think it was, but for not suiting their taste. It was a big deal for the princess of a country, whether being the heir or not, to marry someone as it reassured the ties you would create.

The only positive thing that happened so far was the fact that you would not be sent to the south. The Southern Kingdom was placed across the sea and was an important trade partner to your own.

It was a wealthy country for sure, but also too grim and the people too wild. Other than the traded goods it wasn’t a traveller-friendly country. They kept to themselves and even though the only thing that separated the two port kingdoms was a narrow sea, they had a vastly different culture. These differences resulted in legends and the rumors about the country becoming more and more outrageous over time.

They called their men barbaric, only interested in hunt and the art of war. Their women proclaimed witches, quite beautiful unlike the stereotype, but worshippers of a different God. All just foolish rumors said your history instructor. He was a wise man that travelled a lot when he was younger and according to him these tales were nonsense. Their folk did not originate there but immigrated over a few centuries ago. He taught you that the people of the Southern Kingdom were that of culture and arts. They just did not like intruders. His words didn’t ease your or Hiro’s heart however as you were fed these tales since you were younger.

If you could find a way to escape from this responsibility you would. Yet, since the first time you sensed what was going on you were looking for an answer, just to be disappointed every time.

The dinner was cold and tasteless even though it was made from the best ingredients one could manage to find. “The lady that makes them must hate her occupation with a passion” claimed your brother when you were dismissed “I can’t understand how mother likes it.”

Once again, the King did not join you at the table. It was always the same excuse, politics, responsibilities. But you knew better. You knew why your parents did not share a bed anymore and you could see the looks women of the court gave to your father. It was not because the King was a good-looking man, quite the opposite in fact, but power attracted people.

You were fully grown now and even when you were younger, you knew what these actions indicated. You even had the most unfortunate memory of seeing one of them, who was not much older than you, leaving your father's chamber looking quite flushed. You would have not cared if only the woman did not give you a curtsy while supporting a smirk.

Lady Winna was her real name, daughter of a lord that was close to the King, nicknamed Lady Whore by you. And most of the time, she was the reason your father would skip the meals altogether only to receive a feast in his room later that night. Which was why you knew that you should never hope for a love match. If lucky you could maybe be friends with your future partner.

“She does not hate her job, she hates her life” you replied “Not that it would matter, she will leave soon. I heard she was pregnant with a lord’s child. A married one on top of that.”

Hiro gasped “What if someone were to hear you talking about these rumors” he exclaimed hitting your arm quite forcefully “you could be punished.”

“Don’t act as if you never say such stuff you little bridge troll. I know how you talk behind your instructors.” you mused rubbing the pain off. “And who will punish a princess I ask you? If not for mother or father?”

“Do I need to know what I should punish you for?”

Both you and Hiro jumped at the unexpected voice of the Queen, a gasp leaving your mouths. She was holding a box in her hand and her face was supporting a rare, serene expression.

“Nothing of importance.” replied Hiro quickly “We were just afraid of falling behind our studies.”

The Queen did not seem convinced as her eyes narrowed, but she had a small genuine smile on. “I see. Why don’t you go on ahead and start your nightly studies then? I need to talk to your sister privately in the meantime.”

Hiro let out a snort that he tried to cover with a cough. You are in trouble he mouthed before bowing to your mother and disappearing through the corridor.

“I would like you to know I was just repeating what the ladies in the court were saying. Not that I believe the rumors of course, it is quite indecent.” you tried to explain quickly but the Queen cut you with a shake of her head.

“That is not why I wanted to talk to you dear. It is however quite incident for a lady to talk that way you are right.” she sighed “Why don’t we talk in my study?”

You knew what was coming now, after all you could not remember the last time you had a conversation with your mother alone, the relaxed expression on her face, however, gave you hope. Maybe, you thought, they decided it was not time yet. Or maybe they did not like the offers that came through.

“Close the door, will you?” she asked walking towards the desk that stood before the bookshelves that covered the walls.

“Where are your attendants?” you questioned as you followed her inside “Is there something wrong?”

“I thought you would be more comfortable if it were just the two of us that’s all. I need to show you something.” She answered motioning towards the box she was holding. “It came this morning. For you of course. Go on, open it.”

The box itself was made from heavy oak, painted black with a family crest carved on top of it. The symbol looked familiar enough, but you could not concentrate enough to remember where you knew it from over the heavy beating of your heart. Opening it cautiously you took a sharp breath between your teeth, observing the contents.

Inside stood a tiara that was made from white gems shaped in intricate designs that you have not encountered before and in the middle stood an icy blue diamond so big that you could have sworn it must have cost the yearly earnings of a whole country.

“Not a ring.” You stated matter of factly “A very bold choice for a gift.”

“Indeed. But you cannot expect less from Seijoh.” Your mother replied with a cautious voice, almost as if she was calculating your reaction.

“Seijoh…” the box cluttered on the table as you let go of it abruptly “You are sending me up north? We waged war against them for years! Even before my grandfather! And now you are sending me there?”

You knew the country itself was wealthy enough and that it had a strong military presence. They had many allies within the countries that bordered yours as well. But they also claimed right on your countries throne by sighting territorial dispute as well as a marriage between the two countries that produced no heir.

Now they were sending you there as a scapegoat. To secure his claim to the throne. And maybe even to theirs. An eye for an eye.

It took another week for your father to send a response and invite the Crown Prince and the King of Seijoh for a short visit before the decision was finalized and another two for them to arrive on the outskirts of your kingdom with their entourage behind.

As you sat in your suite biting your nails and waiting for their arrival, your maids were going in and out with different dresses in their hands looking for your approval. You on the other hand did not have the mental energy to entertain their ideas. It was bad enough that you had to attend a ball given in their honor that very evening, but you also had to be in the throne room soon enough to welcome them into the castle. Not to mention this would be the first time that you were to meet your possible future husband.

You heard of him before of course. How could you not when his reputation preceded him? A very cunning and ambitious young man, yet it was his looks that brought the most gossip. You heard his name whispered among the staff when they did not know you were listening and heard the ladies giggle when they mentioned the time that they spent in their court, with him.

It was enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth. Was it too much to ask that your future partner was a man of intelligence and few words? At least you would know that you could get along with him then. But a sharp and striking Casanova? They had to be jesting. That was the only possible explanation for this mockery.

As if your fathers’ ridiculous behaviors wasn’t enough now you had to entertain another man like him. It was pretty common for monarchs to take on other lovers, but you would not be embarrassed by a man you did not know in your own house, husband or not.

When you finally entered the throne room you could hear the commotion outside caused by non-other than the infamous man that was plaguing your thoughts for the past week. Your mother motioned you to hurry and take your place with a sudden turn of her chin just before the doors opened.

The rumors did not do him justice you thought as he strutted towards you and your family, your breath caught in your throat.

Oikawa Tooru was without a doubt the most beautiful man you ever laid eyes on.

He was beautiful alright.

And with his charming eyes staring straight at your own and his delicate hands placed on his sword, he looked ready to murder.

It might look like a filler episode, but I needed to give background and I love to build anticipation. Sorry not sorry? Reblogs are appreciated! And also this was not edited I posted it right after writing it so if you see any mistake let me know.

Disclaimer: No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without permission. I do not own the character of Oikawa Tooru. This is a work of fiction.

TAG LIST: Let me know if you want me to tag you.

@triskoof @sassyglassesbunny @m-a-r-i-a-s-b-l-o-g

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

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It’s Time

Masterlist

Bryce could only prolong this talk for so long.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Ithan. They’ve both been dying to speak to each other since she closed the gates.

Bryce wanted hug him. To thank Cthona that he’d made it into the cellar, and get to know him as the person he’s become. Conner’s little brother who is all grown up now.

Before they could do that, they had to clear the air between them. It would require picking at old wounds so they could heal properly. The death of the back was a rugged, festering scar on both of them. Solving Danika’s murder started the long journey towards healing and it couldn’t be stopped now.

Ithan was a big part of this.

“Would you like me to stay with you, Sweetheart?” Hunt mumbles into her hair.

Bryce knew he would stay if she asked. Bear the awkwardness of this conversation silently, acting as a welcomed voyeur to this mending of a relationship. Her and Ithan needed the safety of privacy to work this our, though.

She leans up and presses a kiss to the high arch of his cheek. “You don’t need to hand around. It’s just a talk.”

Hunt looks decidedly concerned, but doesn’t contradict her choice. “Let me know when you are through. We can go out for dinner tonight.”

Bryce wrinkles her nose, “Where we can get harassed by paparazzi and journalists? I don’t like having my picture taken when I’m trying to shove noodles into my mouth.”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he brushes a piece of hair back from her face, “they won’t be bothering us tonight. I’ll make sure of it.” There’s a lightness to Hunt’s posture and a wicked gleam in his eyes now. Freedom looked good on him, and he was thriving.

Bryce felt the strange new magic inside of her twist. It was almost as attracted to Hunt as she was, and it always answered his call to playfulness and mischief. The kind of trouble Bryce herself was always drawn to.

Kindred souls, mirrors, whatever you wanted to call them, there was an unmistakable bond between them. One, that when Ember finally comes to visit with assuage her worries about her only daughter being with a Vanir male.

That was saying something.

Bryce looks through the glass windows of the bar where Ithan sits. He hasn’t seemed to notice her presence yet, the weight of what they were about to do was probably distracting him as well.

“Call me when you finish,” are Hunt’s final words before he takes off above the city streets.

Bryce looks at Ithan for a moment longer, and counts to three before walking inside.

As was typical these days, the minute she steps through the doors, heads turn. A couple of men even pull out their phone to snap picture, but Bryce flips them off and ruins their shots.

Or maybe they will sell it to CC Weekly and title it Princess Unhinged Again.

Ithan turns and glares at some of the offenders, and a few even have the common sense to turn away. Pissing off the new lead of the Aux packs wasn’t high on anyone’s to do lists.

Bryce was glad for Amelie’s decision to step down. She took it upon herself to decide that someone who didn’t have the dominance to oppose Sabine in her rash decisions should be her second. It was also becoming more apparent to the other packs that Ithan was built to be an alpha male, and Amelie was doing a piss poor job of maintaining control.

Ithan’s eyes catch Bryce’s, and instead of angry, he seems almost sorrowful. She pulls out the barstool next to his and orders a beer, looks at Ithan, then orders another for him as well.

Step one, they both would need alcohol for this.

“I’m not going to lie, Bryce.” He says looking up at the TV playing Sunball reruns on the screen and keeps his gaze fully locked there. “I’m really freaking uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, it is.” She agrees, “but it shouldn’t be, and that’s why we are doing this.”

“He was my brother.” Ithan chokes out and Bryce feels a tear in her heart. “You hurt him really bad and then he died.”

“I know,” Bryce swallows.

“He loved you.” There are tears dripping down Ithan’s cheeks and makes no move to wipe them. “You didn’t love him, but you lead him on and made him think he had a chance.”

Bryce wanted to retort, but she knew Ithan needed to express these feelings. He’d harbored them for so long they needed to be said aloud before they could be dealt with.

“He died and you wouldn’t even talk to me,” Ithan looks at her in betrayal.

She has to dab at her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt. Ithan looked so lost. So different from the vibrant puppy who played college sports and squished next to her on the couch. Bryce felt responsible for that loss of innocence even if she hadn’t been the one to kill Conner.

“I’m sorry,” she says, through the lump in her throat. “I know that doesn’t mean much but I am. You should know that I did love him.”

Ithan scoffs, and shakes his head at those words. “Sure you did.”

“I did.” Bryce hisses leaning forward, but catches herself and sits back in her chair. “You don’t get to tell me what I felt. I was young, stupid, and scared about what a relationship would mean.”

A sigh escapes her and she leans her face into her hands. “You know my baggage with Vanir males. I won’t go into that again. Conner was an intense person. I know how he felt about me but I wasn’t ready, yet.”

She looks Ithan in the eye, pleading for him to understand. “I wasn’t ready then.”

Her and Conner had just taken the first baby step in a relationship that night. They hadn’t made any commitments to each other, and while the wolves may see things differently Conner wasn’t expecting her to dive head first.

If they’d had more time, there would have been more baby steps. More progress. Bryce would have had time to mature and for Conner to be sure he was making the right choice not searching for a mate. They might have become something.

But they never got the chance.

“I couldn’t even look at myself in a mirror, there was no way I could have faced you.” Bryce confesses weakly. “If I could change the choices I made that night, I would. Without hesitation, but that’s a useless thought to entertain.”

All she could do was live with the choices she made. The past couldn’t be erased, and with Hunt, she was finally learning to embrace the future.

Connor sniffles and takes a long drink of the beer in front of him. “It wasn’t your fault, Bryce.”

Shock ran its cold fingers up her spine, and Bryce couldn’t keep the surprise from her face.

“You messed up. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard to forgive you for that,” Ithan says and Bryce cringes a little. “But I should never have let you go in believing you were to blame for them dying.”

“Ithan-“ the tremble in Bryce’s voice sends more tears to her eyes and she dabs them with a bar napkin. “Ithan I-“

“No,” he stops her short. “They were family too. You were in the right place at the right time and it spared your life. There was nothing you could have done, and I’m glad you aren’t dead. I would miss you.”

Ithan shudders and takes a gasping breath, and it breaks Bryce as well. She reaches over and wraps her arms around him, while Ithan squeezes her waisted as if he were afraid she’d disappear.

Several moments pass with them like this. Bryce knows a few people have snapped photos, but there isn’t any more room for anger. Not with the relief flooding through her veins, chilling that hot white pain she’d carried for so long.

“I forgive you Bryce,” Ithan whispers in her ear.

Bryce sobs, “I missed you too Ithan.”

They both pull away, wiping their faces and taking drinks of their beers to calm down. A cheer comes from the TV screen as a goal is scored, and a bowl of peanuts had been set in front of them at some point.

“Can we start over? Bryce asks hesitantly. “Is there a chance we could be friends again?”

Juniper was busy and Fury was gone on another mission. With Hunt and Ruhn active in her life again she was a lot less lonely, but there was still a gap where the pack had been. Where Ithan used to be.

Ithan takes a moment to think. “No,” he says, breathing out and taking a drink of beer. He rolls a peanut shell between his meat-stick finger. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Bryce said. That didn’t feel like a knife in her gut at all.

“No,” Ithan continues. “Because we are family. We’ve always been family.”

Bryce beams from ear to ear, she honestly may even be glowing a bit. “I like the sounds of that.”

They drink beer, and soon talk becomes easier. Ithan fills her in on the years she missed, Bryce talks about the dance classes she’s taking again. They even talk about the night the she shut the gates, and the backlash that’s followed.

Time passes, and before she realizes it, Bryce is late to meet with Hunt.

“Shit,” Bryce starts gathering her things and lays a few bronze marks on the table. “I’ve got to go.”

“Hot date with your Angel?” Ithan asks and Bryce blushes and turns away, feeling slightly ashamed to acknowledge her new boyfriend in front of Conner’s brother.

Ithan touches her shoulder, “Conner would have liked Hunt for you.”

Bryce had texted Hunt, and she can see him land on the sidewalk outside of the bar, but her attention is still focused on Ithan.

“They didn’t know each other very well when he was alive,” Ithan acknowledges, “but if my brother saw how happy Hunt makes you, it wouldn’t have mattered. At the end of the day, he would just want you to be happy.”

Bryce grabs his hand and squeezes it. “He would be proud of you Ithan.”

“I know,” he smiles. “Now get going, I have to report for my Aux shift soon anyways. We should meet up again sometimes.”

They bid their goodbyes and Bryce feels a million times lighter as she walks out of the bar. Hunt sweeps her into his arms and they take off over the streets of Lunathion.

“How did it go?” He asks.

“Really well,” Bryce tells him l about their conversation and the bridges they mended. Hunt listens without judgement or interruption.

He lands in vacant side street close to the Old Square. A food cart serving spicy wraps, pita bread and hummus is just down the block. “I figured we could get some food and have a picnic?”

“A picnic?” Bryce smiles. “I like the sound of that.”

They’d made a bucket list of things ordinary people did in the city that Hunt has yet to try, and they attempt to knock a few off each week. Bryce took photos, and Hunt would get them developed after work. Soon a whole wall of their apartment was now decorated with photos of the two of them having fun.

A picnic was on their list, but near the bottom. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing Hunt would be super interested in.

Yet here they were.

It turns out, he’d even packed an old blanket in his backpack. When they finished eating Hunt and Bryce laid out under the stars, not speaking but just content in each other’s presence.

Her phone dings.

A text bubble from Ithan appears, quickly followed by another.

I hope you and Hunt are having fun. Conner isn’t the only one happy for you. I’m glad you’ve found someone.

It’s time

Bryce’s heart is warned further, and she sets her phone back down on the blanket beside her. She would call Ithan in the morning. Right now, Hunt’s wing was draping over her and the softness of it could put her to sleep.

Everyone was moving on, but instead of bitter and sad, there was hope. Their loved ones may be gone, but they weren’t forgotten. The pack would always be in her and Ithan’s heart, and where love endured so would their memories.

“You didn’t tell me your mother is coming next week,” Hunt whispers as Bryce’s eyes droop.

“I wasn’t about to give you time to prepare yourself,” Bryce smiles into his neck. “It’s better if you just jump in feet first with her.”

“Menace,” he hisses. “A pretty menace, but a pain in my ass at the same time.”

“We can face her together,” Bryce yawns.

“Go to sleep,” Hunt encourages. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. Like I said earlier, no one is going to bug you when I’m around.”

So, under the night sky, wrapped in a velvet wind, her and Hunt fall asleep, looking forward to tomorrow at last.

The conversion at the end of HoEaB I feel we desperately needed 😂

Taglist- (let me know if you would like to be added or removed :D)

@cursebreaker29

@firestarsandseneschals

@royalsqueeze

@julemmaes

@tillyrubes10

@live-the-fangirl-life

@ghostlyrose2

#crescent city #a house of earth and blood #hunt and bryce #Ithan Holstom #a little angsty #lots of comfort

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vespertineflora · 3 years

Text

Title: we’re family now, aren’t we?

Rating: G Summary: Jin Ling was nearly three weeks old, and in that time, Jin Guangyao hadn't yet been allowed to hold his nephew, despite very desperately wanting to. Jiang Yanli thought it was time to change that. (2.5k, h/c and family feels)

@goddamnshinyrock drew this heartwrenching art and i couldn’t accept the hurt so i needed to let jgy hold baby!!!!!!!!! (by proxy of jiang yanli, whom i love)

~~~

“Xiao-shu!”

The name being thrown in Jin Guangyao’s direction made him pause mid-step as he’d hurried across the courtyard, hopping from one set of chores to another as was ever the case for him. Of course, he knew it was Jiang Yanli before he even turned to look, the same placating smile he’d long since grown used to wearing rising to his lips without a thought.

Jiang Yanli was resting comfortably on a bench in the small pavilion nearby, a bundle of blankets in her arms that most certainly contained a particular infant. The smile on her own lips was open and warm, authentic enough to extend that same warmth to her eyes as she looked at him.

Jin Guangyao couldn’t begin to guess why he was being called, but he approached Jiang Yanli regardless, stepped up to the outside of the pavilion as he asked, “Is there something I can get for you, Saosao?”

Upon her arrival in Carp Tower, Jin Guangyao had tried to address her properly as a lady of the sect, the wife of the sect heir, but she’d refuted such a title from him almost immediately. Jiang Yanli had insisted that he was her husband’s younger brother, and she his brother’s wife, and that they should address each other as such, which had been... rather baffling to him. She’d come to live in Carp Tower several months after he had, but of the two of them, there was no question in Jin Guangyao’s mind as to who was more welcome there. Jin Guangyao knew his place, knew where he stood in the eyes of his father and Jin-furen (despite his continual efforts to change this), and knew that Jiang Yanli’s place in the family was more secure than his own.

In spite of Jin Guangyao’s instincts telling him that actually indulging the idea that they were family was most certainly doomed to tragedy, he had sensed her determination and decided it was better not to argue with her.

“No, no,” she said with a faint shake of her head. “I just wanted to know if you had a few moments to spare. If you’re busy, I don’t want to disturb you.”

Continue Reading on AO3 or below the cut

Jin Guangyao might have laughed if he were in a better mood; he wasn’t sure a day went by where he wasn’t busy, honestly, but... it was almost because the work never seemed to end that it wouldn’t truly matter if he dropped everything to indulge whatever it was that Jiang Yanli needed from him, even if he couldn’t imagine what that might be.

The two of them... hadn’t actually spoken much in the near-year since her marriage to Jin Zixuan. Not only was the difference between their places in the sect enough reason for their paths to cross only occasionally, but Jiang Yanli’s health had been precarious during the pregnancy, and for the last several months, she’d only left her bedroom for fresh air and to have the occasional dinner with the family. He had been instructed to bring things to her room from time to time, but beyond such small exchanges, Jin Guangyao hadn’t really had a conversation with her, and he’d most certainly never spoken to her in private beyond perhaps the exchange of a few words.

Even still, Jin Guangyao could... sense how different she was from everyone else living in Carp Tower. His personal experience with her was limited, but he’d seen the sweet way she interacted with the family, and even how companionable she was to the servants, who were more so used to being ordered around or ignored as they worked. There was a sincerity and a gentleness to her nature that didn’t seem to belong within the walls of Carp Tower.

Maybe it was that, more than anything, that made Jiang Yanli a bit of an enigma to him. Kindness was something Jin Guangyao had so rarely encountered that he had difficultly accepting it at face value. Beyond the kindness he’d learned to expect from Lan Xichen, he wasn’t used to seeing it (and was even less used to receiving it).

“I have a few moments,” he told her, still having no idea what she could want.

“Oh, wonderful!” The smile on her lips only grew as she adjusted her position on the bench, shifting to one half of it, while motioning to the spot beside her as she insisted, “Come, sit.”

Jin Guangyao hesitated just a second, almost certain this would be a trap of some sort if he was dealing with anyone else, before he gave in, crossing the small pavilion and taking a seat on the bench next to her. His eyes naturally fell to the boy being cradled in her arms, fell to his dark eyes open with wonder, his round little cheeks, his tiny fingers curled up near his mouth as he gummed on them inquisitively. Almost immediately, Jin Guangyao could feel a tug somewhere near his heart just from looking at the sweet child, but he swallowed hard against it, and forced himself to look back up at Jiang Yanli, tried to push past the faint tightness in his throat to ask what it was he was here for when...

When he noticed the way she was leaning in to him, extending her arms towards him as if she was trying to hand him...

He hadn’t held Jin Ling yet. The boy was nearly three weeks old now, and had been passed through the arms of nearly every member of the family, and a majority of the servants... but the one time Jin Guangyao had offered to take Jin Ling from his father and back to his room... Jin Guangshan had denied him immediately. In the time since, Jin Guangyao had felt... almost like Jin Ling was somehow off limits to him. For as much as there was a part of him desperate to be close to the boy that was supposed to be his nephew, Jin Guangyao had been made to feel like he could only look on from a distance, had only felt the isolation from his place in the Jin family all the more harshly. Ever since, he’d tried to stayed back, tried to pretend that looking at the baby he’d been forbidden from touching didn’t feel like taking a knife to the chest, because if he were ever going to earn his father’s love, he needed to at least respect his wishes in regards to this.

He’d hoped rather fruitlessly that... he could convince himself that staying away from Jin Ling had been his own choice, and that that could somehow quell the ache in his heart every time he saw him.

“Put your arms out a little more,” Jiang Yanli instructed him gently, meeting his gaze as she asked, “You wanted to hold him, didn’t you?”

There was a lump forming in Jin Guangyao’s throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow, so he just nodded numbly, and moved as he’d been told to, letting Jiang Yanli carefully shift the tiny bundle into his arms.

It... it wasn’t the first time he’d held a baby. Though it wasn’t an experience he’d had frequently, he’d had more than a handful of moments in his life when he’d had some reason to pick up an infant: he hadn’t been the only child born in the brothel, though he was the only one who hadn’t been quietly whisked away by their father; in the Unclean Realm, there’d been hardly any duty he hadn’t helped with at some point; during the war, he’d helped more than one mother carry her baby away from the danger of a nearby battlefield. As soon as the weight of Jin Ling’s tiny body was in his arms, the shift was almost natural to him, taking just a few seconds to hold him to his chest as he adjusted his arm properly to support his head and neck...

But holding a baby had never felt like this before. Jin Guangyao had never felt such a swell of warmth and love like the one that was bowling over him now, had never felt his eyes prickling with tears like this. He felt overwhelmed by the weight of the baby in his arm, by how small Jin Ling was, by his wide, open eyes, staring up at him with a sort of curiosity, by...

“A-Ling,” Jiang Yanli cooed next to him, leaning in a bit closer. Her hand rested casually at Jin Guangyao’s elbow and she reached over with the other hand to rub her finger against Jin Ling’s chubby little arm as she said sweetly, “Say hello to your shushu, A-Ling.”

He was holding his nephew. Maybe his own father didn’t want to acknowledge what he was, but... blood was blood and there was no changing it. Jin Guangshan was his father, Jin Zixuan was his brother, and Jin Ling... Jin Ling was his nephew.

After Jin Guangyao’s mother had died, he’d followed her wishes all the way to Carp Tower, only to be violently turned away... and in all the time since his father had officially accepted him into the Jin Sect and given him a new name, he’d done nothing but try to please him, nothing but try to earn the respect and recognition that he’d been told should be his by the nature of his birth. Nothing he’d done so far had seemed to earn that from Jin Guangshan, and Jin Guangyao wasn’t going to stop trying but...

Jin Zixuan had been awkward and distant with him at first, as if unwilling to talk to him, or just unsure how to go about it, but now, in recent months, he’d taken to calling him A-Yao, thinking of him as his brother, and that... that wasn’t meaningless to Jin Guangyao. It wasn’t what Jin Guangyao had been fighting for or expecting, and it didn’t save him from needing Jin Guangshan’s approval, but it was something, it was a start, it was more than Jin Guangyao had had before, and now... Jiang Yanli had decided to recognize him as well, she had accepted his place as Jin Zixuan’s brother more easily than anyone, and Jin Guangyao suddenly found himself all the more grateful for that...

Because it seemed like, as long as Jiang Yanli had any say in it, Jin Ling would grow up knowing exactly who Jin Guangyao was to him.

Maybe it wasn’t what he’d come to Carp Tower hoping for all those years ago, but... in the end, the one thing that Jin Guangyao had wanted the most was family--and it seemed like Jin Ling would be raised in a world where he knew, without a doubt, that Jin Guangyao was his uncle.

Before Jin Guangyao had even realized what was happening, he felt the warm wetness of tears rolling down his cheeks--he was immediately shocked and embarrassed to be crying, and even more embarrassed to be crying in front of Jiang Yanli. He quickly tried to swallow the rest of his tears, even though it was impossible to reverse the ones that had already fallen and take back the raw display of emotion that he usually kept under such tight control. As discreetly as he could, he lifted the arm that wasn’t supporting Jin Ling to quickly wipe the moisture from each cheek, before letting his hand fall to gently touch Jin Ling’s arm and lightly stroke the back of his hand with a finger.

If Jiang Yanli noticed that he’d been crying, she was kind enough not to mention it.

They sat together quietly like that for a few minutes, Jin Guangyao coaxing himself through a few slow breaths until he could feel his emotions leveling out once more, until he felt calmer and more able to actually focus on the baby in his arms. Soon, the expression on his face had softened into a genuine smile as he rubbed his finger against Jin Ling’s round cheeks, brushed it against his little nose, stroked the back of his hand again, just feeling... strangely at peace for a few moments as he indulged in holding his tiny nephew.

At some point, Jin Ling’s little hand wrapped around it, squeezing it with the surprising strength infants had and dragging it to his mouth to suck on his fingertip--if Jin Guangyao hadn’t already felt attached to Jin Ling, that alone would have been enough to win him over completely.

“I think he might be getting hungry,” Jin Guangyao commented softly, his voice cracking just the faintest bit from the moisture leftover in his throat.

“It’s been a couple hours since he ate, so I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jiang Yanli replied with a soft laugh, playfully pinching at Jin Ling’s foot through the blanket and making him kick his leg as a smile curled at the corner of his lips.

Even still, they sat quietly together for another minute, before Jiang Yanli finally reached for Jin Ling, slowly shuffling him back into her arms as she said, “Xiao-shu, I had no idea you were so good with babies.” Her voice was overflowing with a warmth that made Jin Guangyao’s softened heart feel even softer. “I think A-Ling likes you very much. You’ll have to come spend more time with him from now on.”

Jiang Yanli didn’t have to say it any more plainly than that for him to understand what she was doing. In an instant, it was clear just how much she’d been paying attention. Either she knew what Jin Guangshan had done with him and Jin ling, or she at least knew that Jin Guangyao had been keeping his distance for a reason other than his own desire to do so. In the most graceful way possible, without touching on anything that would have caused Jin Guangyao greater embarrassment to have brought up, she’d found her own way to extend to him a solid invitation into their lives.

Jin Guangyao wasn’t sure anyone had ever done something to make him feel so included, especially not here in Carp Tower; he found himself speechless for a moment as she pushed herself up gingerly from her seat, taking a moment to adjust her hold on Jin Ling.

When Jin Guangyao did finally find his voice, all he could manage to get out was a slightly stunned, “Thank you, Saosao.”

He wasn’t sure he had the words to express how grateful he was, but he had a feeling that Jiang Yanli would understand him anyway.

The smile that settled on her lips was somehow even warmer than before, and with a degree of sincerity and affection that he could only dream of expressing, she said, “Of course, Xiao-shu. We’re family now, aren’t we?”

Without waiting for him to answer, she gave Jin Guangyao a little nod before she turned and headed back towards her room with Jin Ling.

Jin Guangyao took another few quiet moments to himself, letting the even rhythm of his breathing lead him past the erratic emotions of the last few minutes, reflecting warmly on what it was like to hold his nephew in his arms... and how nice it felt to think about getting to do it again sometime.

A quiet smile lingered on his lips for as long as he let himself linger on the moment... until he finally huffed out a soft breath, rose to his feet, and carried on with the rest of his day’s work.

#vesper posts #jin guangyao #jiang yanli #jin ling #mdzs #mdzs fic #cql #cql fic #the untamed #the untamed fanfic #mo dao zu shi #family

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haikyuulovercompany · 4 years

Note

Hii! May I request a scenario for Kuroo and a character of your choice? Whoever you feel like writing. Could it be angsty? Their s/o has a very big, visible scar on their face, which they got when they were younger. They don't seem bothered by it unless someone asks for the details, in which case they get defensive. And when people who knew them before what happened go like, "You used to be so beautiful back then" they get insecure. Please feel free not to write it if it makes you uncomfortable♡

So, I was unable to make it really angsty... so i did more of a comfort piece that i hope that whoever feels a insecure on any degree, feels a little bit more loved... and since you let me choose one character, it was obviously my boyfriend Tendou ! Hope you enjoy (:

-----

Tetsuro Kuroo

Meeting the family of a new partner was always nerve-wracking. For Kuroo it was, at least. He was spending the weekend at ______’s hometown ready to get to know better the person he had happened to fall in love with more than seven months ago. Kuro had met ______ on his second semester in college. It was supposed to be an early night for him. He was supposed to have a couple drinks and then leave. However, as soon as ______ had appeared, he decided he could stay a couple more minutes. They had happened to be friends with his friends, and it had been a coincidence for them to choose the same bar as them. Kuroo didn’t believe much in coincidences, and started to believe in fate. What could’ve been the odds? Those few minutes became a couple more hours, and he had ended up walking ______ to their dorm at five in the morning.

The chemistry had been spontaneous, and he hadn’t let them go ever since that day. He genuinely saw a future with ______, and giving their parents a good impression was in his best interest.

______ rubbed his arm reassuringly as they stepped out of the taxi. Kuroo took a look at the house, and breathed in. “It’ll be okay. They’re nice,” they said. He nodded, keeping his cool.

He followed them down the graveled path leading to the front door. ______ rang the bell a couple times, and flashed him another smile. He fixed his jacket as if there something he could do. They had hopped off from an airplane, and he looked exactly like that. His hair was slightly more disheveled than usual, and he was sure he didn’t smell that nice either. He hoped his personality could make up for it.

The door opened showing two shining smiles. ______ went straight for a hug. While their father hugged them, their mother pulled Kuroo inside the house. “It’s so good to meet you,” she said cheerfully. “He’s such a handsome boy, ______. Where did you find him?”

“Lost in the streets. Like a stray cat,” they joked. Their parents rolled their eyes at them.

“Well, lucky you,” their mother told ______, and winked an eye at Kuroo. “Go and get comfortable. Dinner is not ready yet.”

“Yes. I’m dying for a shower,” they claimed, heading for the stairs without saying anything more.

“Thank you very much,” Kuroo made sure to say, never losing his manners.

“Oh, it’s our pleasure. Go ahead.”

Kuro nodded, and shuffled a little on his place before joining ______ on the stairs. They chuckled at him and shook their head. Neither of them said anything else until they were in the safeness of the bedroom they were using for the weekend. It was ______’s childhood bedroom. Kuroo’s curiosity perked up. He chose the bookshelf first, inspecting what kind of books they had collected through their early years. “Do you want to take a shower first?” they asked, sitting next to their

“No, go ahead.”

“Okay. Knock if you need anything.”

They locked themselves on the bathroom leaving Kuroo alone in the room. He continued going through the shelves. It was easy to tell which books had been for school, and which others had been bought for a personal preference. He stumbled upon a couple of photo frames. Standing with ______ were a couple of people he had never seen—their friends from their old school most probably. The first one was from somewhen around high school. The second one was different for one special detail: there was no scar on ______ face. They were much younger than in the previous photo, way before the accident which caused the scar on their face. He continued inspecting the room, not putting much more attention to it. Once he was done, he laid down on the bed, and scrolled through his phone, waiting for his turn without a hurry. He was grateful he could rest a little after the trip.

Within half an hour both were ready. While they hadn’t made a big effort on their appearance since they were staying home for the rest of the day, Kuroo combed his hair anyway. He wouldn’t dare to go down to have dinner with his hair in a complete mess. “Looking fine,” ______ teased him.

He smirked. “I’m trying to give a good impression.”

“I see that, thank you.” They stood on the tip of their toes and kissed him on the cheek. It meant a lot to ______ to see Kuroo taking the trip seriously, and he knew this. It also meant a lot to him. He had been excited when ______ invited him to meet their parents. It was taking their relationship to a more formal ground, and he was in for it. He wanted nothing more than to solidify his commitment to their relationship.

______ exited the room first. He had never been a shy guy, but he preferred to stay behind and be cautious with his actions. No matter how much ______ and he were alike, their parents could be another story. It wouldn’t be the first time an apple fell too far from the tree.

As they approached the first floor, they heard a third voice. ______ frowned, immediately turning to see their boyfriend with a worried face. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“That’s my aunt. She’s… kind of careless with what she says.” They huffed. “I didn’t know she was coming.”

“You parents probably told her you would be here and wanted to see you.”

“Yeah, probably. I wished they didn’t to be honest. Whatever she says don’t take it personal, okay?”

“No problem,” he assured her with a casual yet confident grin.

The table was set for five people, confirming ______. Their aunt was staying for dinner and they hoped she didn’t make things too awkward. She came into the room as soon as she heard the pair, a big smile spreading across her face. She hurried to their side, embracing one at a time in a tight hug, almost taking the air out of the two of them. Just like their mother had done, she complimented Kuroo on his looks. He pretended to be shy, but they knew he was enjoying all the attention deep inside.

They helped to bring the food to the table, falling into casual conversation. ______ relaxed. Their aunt seemed to be on her best behavior. No imprudent comment had been made yet. They weren’t worried about what Kuroo would think. They worried on how awkward the night could be turned thanks to her.

They were in the middle of their food when their aunt cleared her throat as she wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “For how long have you two been together?”

“Eleven months to be exact,” Kuroo answered.

“Wow, almost a whole year. That’s so sweet,” ______’s mother commented, giving the two a tender look.

“It is, right?” Kuroo answered with a slight grin. They exchanged glances with him briefly. ______ held back their giggles. Kuroo could never turned off his confident personality. They would never admit it out loud, but they adored that part of him. Admitting out loud would cause far more teasing from his part.

“You’re such a cute couple,” their aunt followed. “Had they showed you pictures of ______ before the scar? They used to be so beautiful back then.”

______ stopped chewing right then and there. It had taken them years to feel at ease with the scar across their cheek. It had been years of trying to cover it, failing, and having to accept it. Their parents stayed quite—everyone was trying to realize what to say next. “I need something to drink.” They stood up, quickly disappearing into the kitchen.

Kuroo cleared his throat and with a polite tone said, “No, actually no. I don’t there’s need to, to be honest.” ______ eyed him.

“I mean, they’re still as pretty as ever of course,” the aunt continued, a little bit ashamed of her comment. She wasn’t getting any sympathy, though.

“For sure, they’re a beauty,” Kuroo stated before standing up and following ______ into the kitchen, knowing well what they must be feeling. ______ was resting on the counter with their eyes on the floor. A shiny tear hung on their chin. Kuroo silently and swiftly approached them, swiping the tear off from their chin. “Are you okay?”

“I told you she was kind of careless,” they murmured, avoiding to meet his eyes.

“But she is wrong. I don’t think you were more beautiful than now.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“I say is subjective,” he offered.

They finally looked at him, a soft frown on their faces due to the confusion. “She thinks you’re not, but I think you are.” He received no answer, and he concluded it was best to take it more seriously. He hugged them with the intentions of keeping them under his hold as much as they needed it. ______ hugged him back. That was what they needed. Unconditional love.

Five minutes later, they removed themselves, drying their face. “Is it too obvious that I cried?”

“No, don’t worry.” And he wasn’t lying. ______ had spilled a couple tears. They hadn’t been enough to swell her eyes.

They went back to the table together. Kuroo pulled the chair out for them, and then took his seat. The dining room was in complete silence. Their parents stared worried. _____ gave them a faint smile. It didn’t mean everything was okay. It meant they were handling it.

“So, if you have embarrassing pictures of ______ as a baby, I’m up for that,” Kuroo said out of the blue, surprising everyone. ______’s father laughed first. Kuroo slipped a hand under the table and rested it on their leg, giving it a soft squeeze.

“We have many,” their mother assured him.

“I’m impatient,” Kuroo declared.

The tension slowly dissipated. ______ looked at their aunt. She had her eyes on her food, and they could see the shame in their factions. ‘Good’ they thought. It was nothing against her, but she shouldn’t be meddling in their business like that. It was their scar, their story, and their decision. They had showed many pictures to Kuroo prior to the accident, but it had been in a moment of intimacy where they had felt comfortable to talk about it. And in an incredibly gracious way, Kuroo had shut the situation down. ______ smiled to themselves and continued eating as their parents now asked Kuroo about him a little bit more. They would make sure to thanked him properly later.

Satori Tendou

Meeting new people was always exciting for him. He was expectant to see what type of person they were or how fast he could read them. It was interesting to him. Meeting his new partner’s friends was turning out to be an interesting situation, to say the least.

______ stayed on the edge of their seat, trying to find when they could add something to the conversation. The other four people—the “friends”—wouldn’t let them say a word. They talked all over ______, and ignored when they managed to complete a sentence. It was clear they were dismissing them. Tendou had his eyebrows raised, wondering why ______ would consider these people their friends. He hadn’t tried to join. He was seeing enough for him to grow highly uninterested on the group of people. It meant something to ______ for him to be there, and that was the only reason why he was staying there.

“It is Tendou right?” one of the boys asked. He had a buzzcut and moved his tongue inside his mouth like he had crumbs stuck on his gums.

“Hmm-mmm,” he shortly responded, lazily tapping his fingers on the table.

“How did you meet ______?” a girl asked. They made it sound as if it was unbelievable for ______ to actually meet someone. He didn’t like the tone of their words. It had a mean undertone. He knew because he had used too to discourage someone on the court. He despised the idea they were trying to bring down ______ right in front of him—their boyfriend.

“At a party. He is my cousin’s friend,” they explained.

“Make sense. One day you suddenly had a boyfriend. It was supper random,” another boy pointed out. He had shaggy hair, and it wasn’t the type of messy that could be cute. The guy needed a haircut immediately.

“I guess,” they said, sounding a little bit more nervous. Tendou wasn’t participating at all in the conversation, and he was aware he was being rather quiet. He wasn’t comfortable with those people. It reminded him of elementary school. The vibe was similar, keeping him on the edge, expecting an insult at any moment.

And it did.

“Do you want to see ______ before they had the scar on their cheek?,” the same girl asked with eagerness, like she was ready to play her favorite game. Tendou felt them tensing under the arm he had kept across their shoulders. He could physically feel their emotional stress growing rapidly inside them.

“Not really,” he answered stoically. He squeezed their shoulder, and stood up from his sit at the pretty cafeteria they had met. “Come on, ______, we’re going to be late to have dinner with my parents.”

______ nodded, and got up quickly. They weren’t having dinner with anyone. It had been the first excuse that came to mind to leave the place. He wasn’t staying, and he wouldn’t leave ______ there. He had to get the two of them out of there before something bad happened—and he meant snapping at any of them, and god knew he could be vicious if tempted.

Tendou intertwined his hand with theirs, walking out of the establishment without looking back. They went down the street for a couple minutes before he heard the tiniest of weeps. He stopped on his tracks, and with one swift motion pulled them into his chest, wrapping his arms around. People moved around them as ______ cried under his shelter. Tendou felt his heart wrench. It had not only been humiliating for them, but that girl had touched the most sensitive nerve in them.

______ raised their head once they were able to stop crying. It had felt like a nightmare. Their scar wasn’t a joke or a toy they could use to entertain themselves. Tendou’s long fingers were soon on their face, rubbing their cheeks with the kindness they needed in that moment. “Are you better?”

They give a little tired grin. They loved Tendou didn’t expect them to simply be okay, but instead they hoped for them to feel better whenever those type of situations happened. “Just a little,” they admitted.

“I hate to say this but your friends suck.”

The little grin turned into a sad chuckle. “I know. But back in middle school they were the only people who wanted to hang around with me, so… I guess it was better than to be alone.”

“You don’t have to anymore, you know?” he asked rhetorically. “The older we get, the less it matters,” he finished as his finger went through the scar on their face. It was true. The older the people, the less noisy people were. There were adults were absolute assholes who had no sense of decency and would make the same tactless questions and comments, but they were just a few compared to a crowd of fourteen-year olds.

“Yeah, but it’s still hard.”

“It is, but we’re going to make it easier. I promise you.” He bent down giving them a quick peck on the forehead. “If you ask me, you’re the cutest thing around.”

They snorted, trying to hide the blush on their face. Tendou understood them from a deep part of himself—a unique type of understanding. ______ hugged him, nuzzling their nose on the crook of his neck. It was the place where they felt the most accepted… in his arms.

#satori tendou #tendou #tendo #Kuroo #Kuroo Tetsurou #tendou x reader #kuroo x reader #tendou satori x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x me #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #HQ!!#hq x reader #hq x you

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kpop-cakepops · 3 years

Note

Hii, I hope you are doing great!

First I wanted to say that I love all of your works, I'm so in love with the damaged and snuggle donation series! You melted my heart with those😭

Well, I was wondering if I can ask for a similar concept but with johnny or junhui, pure fluff to melt my heart

Thank you and have a nice week ❤

Hi! Since I've never written about Jun before, I'm gonna go for it this time! Thank you for requesting and hope you enjoy ♡ (ALSO I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER BUT IT WAS DELETED AND THEN I WAS ALL UPSET THAT I DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE WILL TO RE-WRITE IT UNTIL TODAY)

Warnings: none

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2,229

On The Dancefloor// Moon Junhui X Fem!Reader

"... and over there we keep the towels because, you know, we're some sweaty boys " Vernon, your younger best friend, told you as you stepped inside the dance practice room.

You had never been there before. Being a science major yourself, you didn't exactly have a reason to, but Vernon had been asking you to drop by since the start of the semester. Especially since you'd be graduating soon.

"Well... that is very nice, Vernon." You mentioned as you looked around the place trying to hold in a grimace at the mention of sweat.

Loud laughs interrupted from behind you two as two young guys entered the room. "Oh! You guys came!"

"Vernonie!" One of them, the one that had been loudly laughing pounced on the younger boy and ruffled his hair. "We had no idea you'd be here."

"Oh, I promised Y/N a tour of the performing arts facility" he grinned. You waved your hand out at them in shy greeting. "Y/N, this is Soonyoung, Soonyoung this is Y/N, and that's Junhui, Junhui this is Y/N, she's my best friend."

"Nice to meet you! Any friend of Vernon's is our friend, am I right, Jun?"

Junhui quietly nodded, his big catlike eyes avoiding Y/N's curious ones. "I'll have to agree with that... you guys also dancers?"

"They're my seniors. They graduated last year, Soonyoung was our club's president and Junhui was one of the officers..."

Your gaze dropped upon the taller man and suddenly the thought of sweaty dancers didn't seem to appear as disgusting as it had just moments before. "You guys still dance?"

The question was meant to be aimed at the two men but your eyes seemed to be trained on Junhui alone. His face flushed as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I volunteer as a dance instructor on the weekends at an arts center for kids of low income" the tall man replied making your heart nearly burst with admiration. A part of you was convinced he was an angel.

"I run a dance academy, but I don't think you care too much about that" added Soonyoung with a little smirk. His mischievous eyes bouncing between Jun and yourself.

"Oh, that's really cool. What do you do during the week?" you asked curiously.

"He helps run his-"

"I HAVE A REGULAR OFFICE JOB" Jun cut his friend off loudly your brows jumping in confusion. "I um, I just, have a regular office job, at a regular office place."

"That's cool. Have you two had dinner yet?" you asked.

"I did, but Jun hasn't. Weren't you saying you were really hungry Jun?" Soonyoung nudged his friend with his elbow and wiggled his brows.

"I- yeah, but you said you'd come with me-"

"I actually just remembered I have to drop something off with Dino, you know, since he's starting his run as the club's president next semester, now that Minghao is graduating... anyways, don't worry about me and Vernon. I drove here, so I can get the both of us back home safely." Soonyoung quickly grabbed the clueless Vernon and started to walk him out of the room, leaving both you and Jun alone and awkwardly standing in the silent studio.

"What... just happened?" You asked.

Jun was internally freaking out. Soonyoung, better than anyone, knew how socially awkward he could get around people he didn't know, BUT LEAVING HIM ALONE WITH A GIRL?! A PRETTY ONE AT THAT?!

"Welcome to Top 10 anime betrayals" he blurted in a daze.

"Huh?"

Junhui snapped out of it and looked over at you. "Huh?"

You wanted to laugh, but the anguish in Jun's face seemed pretty real. "So, do you feel comfortable having dinner with me or would you rather just go off by yourself? I'm absolutely fine either way" You assured not wanting him to feel pressured into doing something he wasn't comfortable with.

Jun stared at you as he weighed down his options. He could go to dinner with you, oh so pretty you, and fight through his awkwardness. Or he could go eat alone and look like a sad, friendless idiot... which he wasn't because he had friends... but everyone watching him wouldn't know that. "Uh, we can go have dinner together," he said softly.

"Are you sure?" You asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I just don't know what I want to eat" he admitted.

"I know a place if you're up for it."

The man nodded shyly and stuck his hands deep in his pockets. "Okay... my car's out front, come on"

The car wasn't exactly what you'd expected from a simple office worker that volunteered at a dance center for kids. Did you expect a Honda at best? Yes. But an expensive, brand new Audi? NO. "I'm scared of even stepping foot in this thing. Oh my god... is it yours?"

Jun's face was flushed as he became flustered. "Yeah" that's all he was willing to offer at the moment. The last thing he wanted to talk about was how rich his family was and how he was running the Korean branch of his father's Chinese company. That would only serve to either push you far far away or have you chasing him down for his money.

"Damn... well that's pretty cool." You told him as you fixed your seatbelt on. "I guess I'll show you the way to my friend's restaurant. I promise he's a really good cook."

He was also a very nosy cook because the moment you stepped into the small restaurant, Mingyu's eyes were wide and on the tall man that walked in with you. Jun was oblivious as he took in the small place, almost as if he had never seen such a place.

"Welcome!" The small part-timer he had hired greeted, but your friend was quick to snatch the menus from her hands and walked over to you and Jun.

"Hi there, table for two? I'll have you seated" he greeted politely making you snort as he really only had 3 tables in total and one was already being occupied by another couple.

"Oh, thank you. You have great service" Jun complimented making you want to squish his cheeks.

"We're often told that! Chaeyoung, bring in some dumplings for the couple, it's on the house!" Mingyu called out. The tiny girl huffing something under her breath as she disappeared into the kitchen.

"I thought this was your friend's restaurant," Jun said.

"It is, this is my friend Mingyu. He just likes to pretend he doesn't know me sometimes" you clarified.

"I have no idea what she's talking about. I'm not her friend, matter of fact, she has no guy friends, so if you want to shoot your shot as the cool kids like to say, you're totally free to do so" he said.

Jun cleared his throat and you swore if he wasn't there you would have kicked Mingyu's ass in a heartbeat. "Where is your restroom?" Asked Jun.

God bless his soul.

Mingyu showed him there before coming back over to the table with a loud smirk. "You, where the hell did you get THAT man? He's wearing Armani slacks, Y/N!"

"First of all shut up you're embarrassing me, and second of all, he's Vernon's friend so don't even try to mess this up between us. I just want to be his friend." You said as you stuffed a dumpling in your mouth.

"Yeah and I'm the queen of England. I am not blind, ma'am, I saw the sexual tension between you two-"

"Are you sure that wasn't the raging social anxiety between us?" You questioned with a little eye roll. Mingyu loved to think he was some sort of love expert when his love life was deader than the dead sea.

Mingyu grabbed the plate of dumplings and moved it out of your reach, "I said drop the act"

"Okay so he's cute and I wouldn't mind him breaking my back on the dancefloor... but I don't think he's interested in a boring biology major like me." You snatched the plate away from Mingyu again. "Plus. I'm pretty sure I've seen him on the news. He's like rich RICH, so he's probably got an arranged marriage going or something"

Jun was listening. He had been standing behind the wall listening into the conversation and couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that you knew who he was.

"You watch too much TV. Plus, isn't it a good thing that he's rich? Secure that bag!" Mingyu patted you on the shoulder.

"Do I look like a gold digger to you?" You asked. "Do you actually want to get your ass kicked? Jun's a nice guy... Vernon wouldn't be friends with him if he wasn't, so I'm just looking to be his friend"

"For now?" He asked.

"Kim Mingyu..." your tone was direct and your eyes alone told him it was time to drop the conversation.

Unbeknownst to you, Junhui was still standing behind the wall of the hallway that led to the bathroom. He was torn on what to make of the conversation. He wasn't sure if he liked Mingyu, but there was probably a reason both you and Vernon kept him around, right? Then there was that whole other issue... you knew who he was but for some reason, you weren't running away but neither were you chasing after him for his money. It made his heart flutter a bit, and yes, he was aware that the bar was set very low. After a few deep breaths, he stepped back out, causing Mingyu to jump out of his seat and smile at Junhui with a knowing smile.

"I'll go ahead and bring you today's special. Excuse me"

You watched as your crazy friend walked back into the kitchen, you could see Chaeyoung snapping at him for leaving her to do the work alone. She sometimes made you wonder who was the boss among the two of them.

"So, what were you guys talking about?" Asked Junhui as he looked at the drinks the small part-timer had brought over.

"Just stuff" you smiled. "He's an idiot, but he's a good guy, I guess."

"Are you guys close?"

You nodded in response, "we met through Vernon. They used to be under the same modeling agency as kids."

"Ah, no wonder he's so handsome." He mumbled looking over at the man at the counter. Jun couldn't help but compare himself to him.

"Don't worry, you have a nicer nose than him" you joked and leaned back on your chair, your hair dropping back, leaving your new friend to admire you.

She still hasn't asked.

"I think it's funny" he finally built up the courage to say. "That you know who I am but haven't asked about it yet"

His words came to you as a surprise but you shrugged your shoulders, "It's only my business if you want it to be. You seemed to not want to talk about it earlier, so why should I put you in a tough spot?"

"Are you always this nice?" He asked with a little smile.

"Only around people that I like" you grinned in response. Your lips pursing around your straw.

It seemed that Jun was now hyper-aware of every movement you were making. From the way your eyes impatiently dropped on Mingyu, urging him to hurry with your food, to the way you tapped your fingernails on the tabletop.

"My parents aren't arranging a marriage for me" he broke the silence suddenly.

The news making you choke on your drink. "Sorry?"

Crap. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, it was a habit Jun had been working on ridding himself of. "I- I mean-"

Your ear burned in embarrassment and you dropped your gaze, "please tell me you didn't hear all that?!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Oh my god, Junhui, I'm so sorry! I promise you we weren't gossiping about you-" you were cut off by Mingyu placing your food down on the table.

"Yeah, we were." He stated nonchalantly. "She also thinks you're good-looking and would really love for you to, and I quote, 'break her back on the dancefloor' just in case you missed it."

"Kim ming-"

The bell of the front door jingled giving your friend the perfect excuse to leave you both alone again. "Welcome!" And he was gone.

"Oh my god, I swear I just-" you didn't even know what to say. All you could do was wish that all of it were a nightmare and that you'd jostle awake any second.

"I mean, I won't break your back, but I could teach you some dancing if you want" Junhui, who was just as embarrassed as you were, was avoiding your eyes entirely as he spoke.

"What?" You squeaked.

"At the center with the kids, this Saturday. I can pick you up" he managed to speak the full sentence without choking.

You couldn't believe that was how you scored your very first date with the Wen Junhui. Over hotpot at your idiot friend's tiny restaurant. IN THE MOST EMBARRASSING WAY POSSIBLE.

"By the way... I think smart girls that like biology are cute" there he went again, blurting the first thing that came to his mind.

I really need to stop doing that.

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ghostdrew22 · 3 years

Text

One Of Those Days || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No

Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Warnings: Some police detective talk(not good but something) and a few mentions of murder and whatnot. But it’s quite fluffy in my opinion.

Summary: Draco and Y/N work as detectives in a muggle police department and she has a really rough day after it looks like one of her cases is about to fall through. Draco can sense that she’s had a bad day and offers to help her get her work done.

WORDS : 2001

Draco prided himself in knowing as much about you as possible- it was his hobby in fact. Draco could tell your silhouette through stained glass windows, he could tell your laugh from three storey’s above you, he could sense your footsteps from kilometers away and he could pinpoint whatever emotion you were feeling with just a single sound from you. Some people would find it creepy- the way he focused so intently on every detail of you like he needed to commit your entire existence to memory- but you loved it, relished it in fact, especially on days when it felt like the entire world was against you and all you needed was for him to comfort you.

That’s why when you’d come by his office to get him for dinner that night he’d known that you weren’t up for it. You were trying very hard to hold it together- it was date night with Blaise and Pansy after all- but he just knew that today had been one of those days, and he made quick work of getting you comfortable on the little couch in his office. It was in the heavy steps you took when you came in- like you couldn’t bare to carry the weight of your own body even though your own office was barely a few paces away from his- and the fake smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked once he’d finally got you seated comfortably- pulling your feet into his lap so he could start massaging them- and you tried your best to feign stability with a nod.

“Yes, just a long day.”

“There’s no need to lie, love.” He persisted and moved one hand below your chin so he could lift your head to look at him. “I know something’s up.”

And he was right, as usual, something was up and it had been bothering you all day. One of your cases just didn’t make sense, no matter how hard you looked there didn’t seem to be the missing string that would tie it all together. You knew who the murderer was, it was textbook really, but you just couldn’t find any evidence tying him to the murder no matter how hard you tried.

“Is it the case?” He asked- referring to the homicide case you’d been working at relentlessly for three weeks now- and you merely nodded meekly in response, feeling too hopeless and tired to manage more.

Both you and Draco had wanted to pursue law enforcement for as long as you could remember- particularly homicide investigation- but after the war neither of you could bare the idea of being aurors- the trauma deterring you both from wanting anything to do with fighting the dark arts- and so you decided that working as muggle detectives was the next best thing. And you loved your jobs, really, but it was a hard job to do when every other aspect of your lives benefitted from the use of magic. I mean, how would you explain to a jury that magic helped you track down a suspect in record time? It was absolutely outrageous and it made sure that you both stuck by the book. But it could be immeasurably exhausting despite your love for it, and today was one of those days.

“He’s going to walk.” You said before a sob escaped your lips and Draco was quick to grab you by the shoulders gently and pull you into his chest for soothing- knowing that all you really wanted was for him to listen to you complain and hold you tightly. So you began to explain your situation to him and he listened intently- absorbing every single detail that he could and running his hand up and down your arm to keep you at bay.

“Do you want help going over the files?” He asked once you’d finished explaining. The truth was that you did want help- particularly his help because he was the only person in the entire homicide department with an eye better than your own when it came to this kind of stuff- but you didn’t want to ask for it in fear of adding to his workload, and so you bit your lip and shook your head softly.

“It’s okay Drac, don’t worry about it.” You tried to brush it off, but Draco knew you too well to fall for your antics and he shook his head back at you.

“Nonsense love, I’ll help.” You opened your mouth to protest- already feeling guilty at making him help you- but he was quick to interrupt you, already knowing what you were going to say. “You’e not adding onto my workload Y/N, I’ve always got time to help you and you know that.”

You sighed in defeat- knowing that you weren’t going to win- and looked up at him with a pout, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Hey! Who’s ready to get-“ Blaise had barged into the office excitedly but stopped his speech immediately upon the sight of you and your husband on the couch. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t think we can do tonight mate, Y/N’s case has hit a standstill and I’ve offered her to help her go over the case files to find something that’ll help.” Draco answered his best friend with a solemn expression and Blaise nodded in understanding.

“Is it the Yarvis case?” Blaise asked and you nodded faintly with a sigh, “I could help too if you need an extra set of eyes.” Blaise had also decided to join you and Draco in the muggle detective business, but where you and Draco were homicide detectives, Blaise was focused on Narcotics. Ironic for someone who had been the biggest stoner in your year group.

“Blaise, you really don’t have to. I know you and Pansy have been looking forwa-“ You started but Blaise was already shaking his head and dropping his coat onto the hanger by the door before you could finish.

“That’s absolute nonsense Y/N, we’ve been looking forward to spending time with the two of you and this would count. Think about it, we can order Chinese food and crack into those files around the table like one of those cheesy muggle movies you love?” Blaise offered with a soft smile and eyebrow raise and you had to resist the urge to cry on the spot.

“That would actually be great, thank you Blaise.”

“Anything for a friend. Let me go ring Pansy and tell her to bring Chinese on the way.”

“Okay.” Draco replied to his best friend with a thankful smile.

“The usual?”

“Yes please!” You shouted back as Blaise made his way out of the office with a chuckle at your excitement.

And that is how date night turned into the four of you laid out on the floor around a little table in Draco’s office, eating chow mien and going over your case files- trying to find any inkling of evidence that could tie the suspect to the murder.

“Hey Y/N?” Pansy calls from across you as she strains her eyes at an image from one of the folders- although Pansy is an auror, she has a particular knack for muggle crime as well.

“Yes?” You hum as you slowly bring your eyes up to meet hers.

“What’s this in the corner?” She passes the image to you for you to see what she’s referring to.

“It’s just a photograph in a frame, I think it’s the parents and their children.”

“Okay, now look at this.” She passes you a second, almost identical, image of the scene and the photo frame is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s it gone?” You ask in disbelief.

“I think it disappeared while you were on the scene of the crime, I think it was magic.”

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows at her as you look back down at the images.

“A delayed protection spell perhaps?”

Draco doesn’t say anything but moves closer so that he can also see the two images.

 “Why magic? It could’ve been bagged as evidence.”

“No, there are no photo frames in this evidence log.” Blaise pipes up as he passes you the log to inspect yourself.

“Hmm.” You huff and narrow your eyebrows at everything you’ve been handed. “But I’m pretty sure that they’re a muggle family, what could magic have to do with this?”

Pansy shrugs with a thin smile and you sigh- realising that you’ve hit yet another stumbling block- as a silence encapsulates the room.

“Shit.” Draco mumbles as he drops the images onto the ground and quickly jumps off the ground to walk toward his desk his desk.

“Shit?” You ask as you observe his suddenly frantic state as he tries to find something- feeling excitement bubble up inside you at the prospect of him having a lead.

“Yes, shit.” He pulls out two large files from one of his desk drawers and drops them onto the surface, “That- that picture, look at what’s behind the family.”

You narrow your eyes at frame that’s in the evidence shot. “The park?”

“The man that’s on the bench in the park.” Draco responds as he shuffles through papers, “A few months ago I had a case to this where we couldn’t pin the murder to our prime suspect because it all fit so perfectly together but none of the evidence was sufficient enough to withstand trial.”

“Was that the-“ Blaise starts.

“The Hunter Street case? Yes.” Draco answers, “Then right before it looked like she was going to walk, some random evidence perfectly matched up and tied her to the entire thing. It was almost too good to be true.”

“Oh yeah, I remember how confused you were about that.”

“Now I remember why I was so unsettled by it, she wasn’t the culprit.”

“She’s been in jail three months now, a bit too late to be pointing fingers.” Blaise adds with an awkward chuckle and Draco’s lips draw upward slightly at the comment.

“Who did it then?”

“There was a neighbor, a man, who came out as a witness and claimed to have seen her on the night of the crime. I didn’t interview him but I caught a glimpse of him and he is that man in the photograph.”

“How can you be so sure?” Pansy furrows her eyebrows.

“I never forget a face.” Draco utters sternly as he looks Pansy dead in the eyes and you smile proudly.

“So how does he connect to everything?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“He’s the missing puzzle piece, but I think he’s working with someone on the inside.”

“So you think someone discarded the frame for him? On the scene of the crime?”

“Yes! But it definitely wasn’t the photographer, and it means whoever did that arrived after everyone else.” Draco continues and you nod- digesting the information.

“Okay...” You agree with him- feeling a sense of relief wash over you at the fact that finally something is starting to make sense.

Yes, it had been one of those days but everything felt like it was worth it when you could watch your husband in action. You stared at him in awe as he rummaged through the pile of papers in front of him- already connecting the millions of dots that had started forming in his head- and you had to resist the urge to pull him into a kiss of adoration.

“Found it!” Draco explains as he pulls out a small piece of paper and squints to read what’s written on it. Without a second of hesitation he strides toward the door and pulls both of your coats off the hook then stands against the door frame and waits for you.

“Are you coming? We’ve got a murderer to catch.” He asks as he waits for you by the door and you quickly nod and hop off the ground to join him- feeling warmth consume you at the sight of the excited glint in his eyes.

Yes, it had been one of those days… But those days would always be easy to take in stride when you had Draco with you.

<~>

I feel like I kind of half-assed this toward the end just because I needed to get it done before I lost the love for it, but I still love the general concept either way. I wrote this because I can see Draco wanting to solve crimes and be a detective but I can’t see him wanting to be an auror after the war because he’d be fighting the very same people he ‘worked’ with once and working with the very same people he ‘fought’ against once, and the trauma from the entire situation would be too much to handle and make him hate his job- so muggle detective Draco is born! :)

anyway, love you all,

jean <3

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one-shots #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #y/n

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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

Text

To Be Continued - Part 6

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

In this chapter, the jealousy flare up is strong lol.

Word count: 2307

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

The warning bells you had been hoping to ring sounded around your home a second time, and you stepped down from the tips of your toes that you hadn’t realised you were standing upon and ducked under Brian’s arm, escaping the almost kiss to see who was here.

You guessed it was your mother, knowing her impromptu visits often occurred at night. Or Lily was back from visiting her family and wanted to check in on you as she usually did. However, nothing prepared you for who was standing there.

“Su-Sungjin.”

“My other rival has arrived,” you heard Brian mumble under his breath as he stopped beside you.

The police officer looked at you and then Brian, suddenly growing reserved. He laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, Y/N. I should have called ahead of visiting you. I just was worried about you and wanted to check if you were okay. It seems like you are.”

“She is,” Brian confirmed, and you glanced at him hopelessly before shunting him in the stomach and opening your door further.

“Please, come inside.”

“Oh, I don’t wish to intrude when you have a guest here already,” Sungjin mentioned, though he stepped over the threshold far too easily, eying Brian carefully before smiling down at you. “Did you find out about the stalker?”

“Stalker is a bit of a far-fetched term, don’t you think, Constable?” Brian answered before you could, and you noticed the hint of annoyance in his eyes.

You knew that Brian, when protective of someone, wasn’t afraid to use his hands if necessary. Jumping in front of him with a light laugh, you then smiled up at Sungjin to try and break their staring war.

Thankfully, it worked. “Have you had dinner at all, Sungjin? I was just about to order in something and can add on another serving for you?”

“I’m sure the busy police officer doesn’t have time to stay for dinner.”

“Interesting that we don’t even know each other and you’re answering for me,” Sungjin rebutted, glowering at the man behind you. “I’m guessing Y/N told you about me?”

“It’s a long story,” you mentioned, wondering just how many more times you’d have to use that line when it came to Brian’s existence. “Dinner?”

“Would love to,” Sungjin agreed.

It was awkward as you waited for the delivery to arrive, glancing between the two men glaring at one another and then at the door hoping for salvation. Whilst you were excited to see Sungjin again, you hadn’t really thought this through.

After all, before he turned up on your doorstep, you were fully committed to kissing the man who firmly placed himself at your side. Then again, you had already day-dreamed about kissing Sungjin multiple times before Brian had even stepped out of your computer.

Your heart and mind were a mess, as was this dinner suggestion. You were relieved when the pizza turned up, diving towards the front door with your purse in hand. Paying the driver a tip, you then returned with the meal, placing it down on the table and spreading it out. “Let’s eat!”

“So, let’s hear about this long story,” Sungjin asked midway through your second piece of pizza, in which you choked upon. Both men thrust their drink towards you, and you looked at their offerings before meekly reaching for your own.

“The story,” Brian repeated, and Sungjin glanced at him curiously. “I guess you want to know who I am.”

“He’s my cousin’s friend!” you blurted out, and Brian gaped at you instantly. “Brian is just staying here because his flat is infested with bugs. You don’t do bugs, right, Brian?”

“Cousin’s friend. Bugs. Uh-huh.” Looking over at Sungjin’s surprised expression, Brian sighed heavily. “That’s me. Brian, the cousin’s friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about that,” Sungjin mentioned, a small relieved smile crossing his lips. “Hopefully it gets fixed soon.”

“Actually, I think it’s going to take a really long time. I might just end up moving in here permanently,” Brian commented with a strained smile, and you clamped your eyes shut with frustration before trying to smile politely at Sungjin.

The police officer smiled warmly back at you and began to eat again.

Thankfully, he didn’t stay too long, happy enough to see you were okay and when you confirmed you hadn’t heard from your strange intruder since Brian had arrived, it placated him enough to head for your front door.

“Dinner was lovely,” he mentioned, and you laughed.

“It was an awkward disaster.”

Sungjin nodded, chuckling softly. “Next time, I’ll take you out somewhere, if you like.”

“Re-really?”

“Only if you’re free too.”

“She’s going to be reallyyyy busy writing the next story in her trilogy, right, Miss Writer?” Brian added into the conversation, and your mood dampened again with his arrival at your side. Slinging an arm over your shoulder for effect – which worked – Brian smiled all too happily. “So busy that I wonder if she’ll even have time to eat. You know, when she’s stuck up in her worlds, she often forgets to even feed herself. Lucky I’m here, right?”

“I’ll call you!” you managed to tell Sungjin with a wave, before shutting the front door and spinning around to face the remaining man. “Wow! I never expected you to be like this!”

“Surely, you did! I mean, you created me!” Brian exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “And now I’m your cousin’s friend too?! You’re so good with stories, Miss Writer. Do you know what is real life and what isn’t?”

“You’re impossible when you’re jealous.”

“And you invited your hero in here when you had no need to! What are you going to do? Have a moment with him in the kitchen too? Tell him how he’s the only cop for you?!”

“Your bitterness is unfair!” you warned, stalking over to the table to clean up the takeout containers. Brian joined you, stacking the plates and cups you had used and took them over to the sink. You worked in harmony in clearing up the mess before you realised what you had both done. Stopping to watch as Brian vigorously scrubbed at a cup, you reached over for his hand and ceased his actions altogether.

“I panicked.”

“About what exactly? That the man you’ve been pining over since you met him just recently was on your doorstep or the guy you created in your stories was about to kiss you for the first time?”

So it was about to happen. Gulping back your emotions from his admission of the fact, you nodded. “Of both.”

“What are you going to do about it then, Y/N? You can’t play us both.”

“I wasn’t playing-”

“I guess that hero of yours makes me the villain for turning up, huh?” he muttered before rinsing off the cup and placing it to the side of the sink, turning on his heel for your guest bedroom and shut the door with a bang.

The following morning, you were the first one up. Binks met you in the living room, winding himself around your legs and mewling for his breakfast. Smiling, you picked him up and carried him the rest of the way to the kitchen. Settling him down by his food mat, you then picked up his bowl and filled it with fresh food before placing it back in front of him. You watched as he ate happily, relaxing into the simple nature of your usual routine.

Without Sungjin or Brian, life sure had been just that – simple.

Yet, you knew you wanted to fill the loneliness in your heart also. It had taken you some time to fall asleep last night, staring at the screen of your laptop at the words To Be Continued over and over. Wondering why Brian kept changing it to that instead of The End had plagued your thoughts all night long.

You had been hoping to meet him in the kitchen for breakfast and discuss it with him but you had gotten up before him. Waiting for over twenty minutes, and making as much noise as you could without being too rude, you finally walked down to the room and rapped your knuckles over the door. “Brian, can I come in?”

No answer.

Knocking a little louder this time, you repeated your question to receive, once more, silence in return. Unlatching the door, you stepped inside to find it empty of his presence.

It all hit you then like a tonne of bricks, and you went through your house from room to room in a blind panic, wondering where he had gone. Finding yourself in your office, you opened the lid to your laptop and hurried to turn it on, waiting to sign in to your account before dashing into your files for your latest story. Opening it, you bounced on the spot as your fears got heightened.

What if Brian had gone back into his world without even saying goodbye?!

You had definitely turned off the device last night before bed, but could he have turned it on and headed back into Captivated? Would he even remember you if he had?

After all the thoughts of insanity you had endured with his sudden arrival in your life, you were now equally despairing his departure. You hadn’t even kissed him yet! Let alone shared a day with him doing all the things you wanted to do. How could he just leave you like this –

“Y/N?”

Spinning around to find Brian behind you in exercise clothes and sweating from a morning run, you let go of your laptop and lurched towards him, wrapping your arms firmly around his waist. Whilst he immediately held your distraught body, he chuckled a little also. “I just went for a run. I don’t care what you say about me, even guys like me stink when we sweat.”

“You’re still here!”

“Of course, I am. Where did you think I was?” Brian asked, and when your sniffling turned to sobs, Brian attempted to pull you away from his body but you gripped on tighter. “You thought I had gone back into the story?”

“What else was I meant to think when you weren’t here, and there was no note?! Especially after last night-”

“That’s why I went for a run, to clear my head,” he admitted. “I’m sorry I didn’t leave you a note. I thought you would sleep in like usual.”

“I’m sorry too,” you replied, shaking your head, your tears spreading around the room and landing upon him in the process. “I shouldn’t be like this over you. I mean, I feel like I’ve known you forever yet you’ve only been here a couple of days and you’re right, I should be more clear with Sungjin, but I didn’t know what to do and-”

Your sentence was caught against his mouth, swift as it pressed upon yours, did it leave. Brian, evidently surprised at his attempt to stop your fevered rambling, cleared his throat before staring down at you for your reaction.

It only took you a second to think about it before you stretched up and coveted his mouth with yours. Unlike his quick peck, you moved in with the intention of savouring this one. Slowly, your mouths pressed together, tasting one another. He was slightly salty, due to the way his skin has perspired from his run and yet you didn’t care, pressing into his body further the longer your lips were attached to his. Your mind swirled with desire, and your heart thumped erratically as a result.

You were kissing Brian Kang.

When writing kissing scenes with him and Charli, albeit there had only been three so far, you had struggled. Just how would Brian Kang be as a kisser? No matter how much you had imagined his style or the way he would caress Charli, this moment in time was unlike anything you had penned. This was an entirely new feeling.

There was a hunger driving his lips now, his hands firmly taking purchase of your hips, drawing you in closer, making you his as much as you had made him yours. The taste to him changed, heating up with how his tongue dipped behind your teeth to greet yours, as if this exchange was something you two had done before. Kissing Brian was new, and yet it felt as if you had been doing it all your life. You were certain you could continue to keep kissing him as well, had you no need for air. However, you pulled away then, gasping in deep breaths, your mind and eyes blown from the experience.

Brian appeared just as dishevelled.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t apologise for kissing me,” Brian murmured, running his thumb over your now swollen lips. He smiled giddily before looking back at you with bright eyes. “Don’t ever apologise for it.”

“You’re sure?”

“That was some kiss,” he told you, cupping your cheek within his hand. Leaning in closer again, you felt your breath heighten, moistening your lips for him to take them hostage again. However, he merely kissed your cheek before letting you go entirely. “I’m going to have to watch myself around you, Miss Writer. Our story’s only just begun, and we’re already kissing one another. You’re more dangerous than I thought you’d be for my heart.”

“Why did I create you to say lines like that?!” you groaned as Brian slipped away from you and headed down the hallway towards your bathroom. Sticking your head around the corner to watch his departure, Brian stopped outside the door and glanced back at you, biting his lip before shaking his head and stepped into the bathroom to shower from his run.

Leaning against the threshold for support, you held your heart again.

It was beating in tune for him now.

_________________

Part 7

[DAY6 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#kwritersworldnet #young k #young k fiction #young k fluff #young k romance #young k au #day6 #day6 fiction #day6 fanfic #day6 fluff #day6 romance #day6 au #pwyl; to be continued #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop romance

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silenceofthecookies · 4 years

Note

Henlo Cookie UwU! Happy to see your askbox open, hope you get many good requests! I need some of that motivation to dive into the Magi manga u so graciously let me borrow, so I am going to ask for a scenario with Kouen and his beautiful goatee UwU, maybe an arranged marriage, but him and fem!reader actually fall in love? It's a bit unexpected for both of them since they were just seeing it as a duty, but a nice extra. Happy writing, enjoy your week off and much much love and much UwU!

Henlo Hazel! And I’m happy to see you in my askbox UwU. I’m really looking forward to you reading the manga! I’m expecting updates on feelings, though the most interesting things are in the second half, obviously 😉 For now, enjoy Kouen and his terribly weak goatee game! ❤

Word count: 1823

Warnings: Suggestive themes

“Do you, Ren Kouen, take L/N Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?” “I do.” “And do you, L/N Y/N, take Ren Kouen to be your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do.” “Then by the power bestowed upon me by the Kou empire, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

The first kiss held no emotion at all. Neither did the vows. Everything felt forced, just like the marriage you had gotten into. Not that you expected anything different. You and Kouen had been forced into a political marriage, you as the eldest princess of your kingdom, and Kouen as the crown prince, who would need a wife for when he ascended.

You had only met once before the marriage. The emperor of the Kou empire and your father were discussing the alliance, while Kouen was showing you around the palace grounds. He had been indifferent, uninterested and he seemed everything but happy. You couldn’t blame him, you weren’t too excited about this either. Though you were happy that Kouen was a handsome young man, and not some ugly old creep.

The party was stiff and formal, as you had expected. The wedding took place in the Kou empire, where you would now be living. Only a few nobles and family members from your country had showed up, so most of the guests were people you didn’t know. Kouen greeted them all with either a serious face or a confident grin, and he introduced you to every one of them. You were sure you wouldn’t be able to remember all of their names. The party wasn’t really on your mind at the moment, and neither were politics.

It was with your now husband, and what he would be expecting of you, mostly of the first night. You knew what was supposed to happen, but you did not feel ready for it at all. You had read many stories talking about the romance of sharing a bed with the person you loved, and the fact that you had to share this special moment with a stranger made you sick.

The party lasted until late in the night, and it resulted in quite a lot of drunk people. One of them had been one of the Kou princesses, Kougyoku if you remembered correctly, who had started talking to you. It was a little awkward because she was pretty far gone, but you could feel she meant well. She told you little things about Kouen, things you ‘should know as his wife’. How he would work until late at night, how he enjoyed reading and playing chess to pass his free time. How much all his younger siblings looked up to him, and how much of a respectable man he was. Before she got much further, one of her servants gently coaxed her away from your side, and apologised on her behalf for her intoxicated state.

Not long after that, the party ended and you follow Kouen to the bedroom. You were so nervous you could throw up, but you tried to endure it. Kouen held the door open for you, and you stepped inside.

“Your clothes are over in that closet. If you need anything, call the servants. I will be sleeping in my room down the hallway.” You stared at Kouen in disbelief. “But shouldn’t we… ehm…” “You’re uncomfortable, right? Don’t pretend you’re not, I’ve noticed your behaviour at the wedding. I refuse to take a woman against her will, wife or not. Get used to life around here first, then we’ll see about consummating the marriage.”

You stared at his back as Kouen left your room, unable to react. About a minute after he closed the door behind him, you collapsed and started crying, unable to contain all the feelings you felt. Fear. Had you been so obvious? Would there be consequences? Doubt. Were you not good enough? But also happiness. He would not take you against your will. You would not be forced to spend the night with him. You would spend the night in your own bed, without a stranger next to you, doing things to you.

Once you had let out most of the emotion and sorted the bulk of your thoughts, you got changed into your nightgown and lied down in the bed. After all the stress from that day, and the emotions from that night, you were both physically and emotionally exhausted. The comfort of your new bed took you by surprise, and it didn’t take long before you fell asleep.

The next morning, servants woke you up, helped you get ready, and your new life as a princess of the Kou empire, and wife to Ren Kouen, began. You were required to join him and his siblings during mealtimes, but apart from that you got a surprising amount of freedom. You were no hostage for your country, but you still expected a more restricted approach, certainly since Kouen seemed to strict. Then again, he had already shown you he respected you, at least until a certain degree.

For the first few weeks, you and Kouen barely talked to each other at all. There was some conversation during mealtimes, mostly to keep up appearances, but there was no spark, no affection, no love. Once mealtimes were over, you minded your business, and Kouen minded his. He never asked you to sleep in his room, nor did anyone else question it. It wasn’t like he was unfriendly to you, and neither were you to him. There was just very little interaction coming from either side. It was an arranged marriage after all, this was just your duty. Neither of you seemed very much interested in each other, until one night in the library.

You had been in the Kou palace for a little over a month, and you knew the place like the back of your hand. It was late, but you were far from tired. To chase away the boredom, you decided to head to the library to find a book to read until you got sleepy. Once you entered the library, you noticed the two eldest princes. Kouen was sitting on a chair next to a table with a chess board on it, and Koumei was walking away from the table.

“Come on, Koumei. Just one more game?” Kouen grinned. “You always say one more game, and then you insist on another one after that. I’ve had enough for today, brother. I’ll be retreating to my room. Good night.”

Koumei walked past you on his way out, and nodded to you as a greeting before he left. Kouen sighed, although still grinning, and looked at you.

“Good night, Y/N. What brings you here at this hour?” “I wanted to read a book before going to bed.” “I see… so you’re not tried yet?” “No…?” “You wouldn’t know how to play chess, would you?” “Only the basics, but I do, actually.” You were a little proud to admit you knew how to play chess. Maybe a little too proud. Kouens grin widened at your answer. “Then, why don’t you play a game with me?” You instantly regretted your answer, and the pride behind it, but it was too late to back down now. “Very well, one game.”

One game turned into many. Kouen beat you every game, but you learned from his strategies and got a little better every time. About 5 games in, most of the formalities and indifferent treatments had been cast aside and you finally managed to see Kouen as the person he was. Confident, curious, smart, strategic and most of all, someone who loves gloating at a win, even if it was against an inexperienced player. And on the rare occasion that you made a good move that ruined his strategy? He would actually scowl, which was an oddly cute look on the crown prince. The games continued for a good while, before drowsiness finally caught a hold of you.

“Perhaps we should end our game here for tonight?” “We’re mid-game, how come?” “Because you seem to be falling asleep right where you’re sitting.” Kouen said with a serious face, though he couldn’t help but grin at the end. “Maybe then you should make your move so we can continue this game. That would ease the boredom. I get thinking about your move, but you’re really taking long this time.” “I made my move 3 minutes ago, Y/N. Did you not notice?” You stared at Kouen, and he grinned back at you. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you huffed and got up. “Fine, we’ll end it here for tonight. Good night, Kouen.” “Good night, Y/N.”

Getting up the next morning was more of a challenge than expected. You had stayed up much later than expected because of the games, and now you were feeling the results of your actions. Maybe taking a nap somewhere around noon would be a good idea. Or straight after breakfast. That also sounded good.

“Well well, look who’s finally woken up.” Kouen grinned as you sat down next to him. “Did your defeat from last night keep you awake?” “Oh no, not at all. Though I suppose you slept great, gloating about how you, an experienced player, beat a novice at every single match?”

The table was deadly silent, with the exception of Koumei. Knowing what was going on, a single snort from him was heard before he continued eating with a smile. Kouen stared at you with his piercing glare, before actually laughing. The sound of his laughter sounded like music to your ears, and the way his eyes closed while laughing made your cheeks feel warm.

“Then why don’t we change that? My study, tonight after dinner. I’ll show you that no matter how good you get, you still won’t be able to defeat me.” “You’re on.” “Good.”

Kouen grinned at you one more time, before continuing to eat his breakfast. You had no idea why you agreed to getting your ass kicked some more at chess. It was probably his laugh, the sound and sight of it were now burned into your brain, and you were hoping to see it again soon.

As you walked back to your room, set on getting some more sleep now you knew you would probably be up late again tonight, you went over what just happened one more time. Mostly over what you felt during that conversation. The want to spend another night with him like that, and the heat you felt in your cheeks when he actually laughed. You had a good idea what this was, you had read enough books about it, but you wouldn’t call it love just yet. Maybe a crush would be better. You barely knew him after all, but you had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case for long.

#magi the kingdom of magic #magi the labyrinth of magic #magi imagine #magi reader #magi x reader #magi/reader #magi #kouen ren x reader #kouen x reader #kouen/reader #kouen imagine #ren kouen #kouen #cookie writes #requested #nakunakunomi

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unsaidholland · 3 years

Text

‘tis the damn season | s. holland

i hope y’all enjoy 4.9k words of sam holland missing his first girlfriend and having a brief second chance with her :)

warnings: none!

sam had met y/n in high school. he went to an all-boys school, but y/n went to its sister school, and though they didn’t see each other often, there was always something there between the two of them. from the awkward school dances to their shared graduation, whenever the two saw each other, they couldn’t help but feel some sort of attachment. their friends were no stranger to it either. sam was constantly teased over not asking her out or not making a move, to which he would counter with, “how do you even know she likes me?”

after their graduation, sam had worked up the courage to ask her out, and they dated for just a few months, only calling it off once sam found out he was to work at the ski resort in france. at the time, they thought letting go was easier than trying to make it work, but it left them continually wondering what would’ve happened if they had just stayed together.

sam had come back to london with a new girlfriend, not that y/n minded. the two kept in touch, but it was usually long conversations that occurred once every few months, but there was no bad blood between the two. sam’s new relationship had taken off, and again, only ended once he was set to work in scotland, finding a good culinary opportunity there. letting go was always easier than trying to make it work.

sam spent some of his nights in edinburgh wondering what would’ve happened if he had never let go of his first real girlfriend. maybe they would still be together, or maybe they would’ve ended up hating each other. the alternate timelines swam around sam’s thoughts, but the one thing that stayed was the memory of her watching him walk away towards his gate when he left kingston the first time. he thought about the tears rolling down her cheeks and the way she couldn’t bear to let go.

sometimes sam wondered what she was doing, but if it really bugged him, he knew he could’ve just asked, after all, there were no ill feelings between them. he always wondered how she knew him so well. she could read his expression like a book, and just like an appraiser, y/n was able to tell when he was faking a smile.

broken from his thoughts by the phone ringing, sam looked at his phone screen to see an incoming facetime call from his mum. he answered it, and his screen suddenly showed nikki’s face, a smile gracing her cheeks, happy to see her second oldest child.

“hi darling!” she cheerfully said, and her joy radiated through the phone, making sam smile as well.

“hi mum! how’re you?” the conversation started off with them catching up, mostly nikki asking sam about how work has been, and then he talked about how well he played golf the other day against his boss, knowing that his father wasn’t out of earshot.

“you’re coming home for christmas, yeah?” she asked, just before they were to bid each other their goodbyes.

“yup, i’m off on the twentieth, so i fly in that afternoon. i can make a roast dinner for us on the 24th, is granny tess making pies?” nikki nodded, and sam nodded along with her. they quickly said their goodbyes, seeing at how late it had become, and all sam could think about after they had hung up, was being back in his hometown with y/n just a few miles away.

•••

sam had stepped off the plane and went to check-in and grab his bags from the carousel. the airport was busy, filled with people flying home to their family or leaving with their loved ones to go on holiday. he had flown in two days early, wanting to surprise his parents, and was waiting for harry and tom to land. their flights landed thirty minutes apart, but because sam’s flight was ahead of schedule, that thirty minutes turned into forty-three minutes, though he didn’t mind the slightly longer wait.

sam went to the nearest cafe and bought himself a butter croissant and a small coffee. though it was already four in the afternoon, he was feeling quite tired and needed a quick pick me up. it also killed more time than expected seeing as the line was so long.

it wasn’t long until he reunited with his twin and his older brother. the three of them shared a long hug in the middle of the waiting area, gaining some soft smiles from bystanders. harry called their mum and asked them where they had parked, and soon enough the three boys were reunited with their family at last.

“i thought you weren’t coming in until sunday?” nikki exclaimed, arms thrown around sam. he could’ve sworn she was tearing up a little, but he brushed it off knowing that if he brought it up she was going to cry some more.

“i wanted to surprise you guys!”

“i haven’t cleaned your room yet!” nikki quickly remembered. upon sam’s departure, his room quickly turned into another storage space, where one would find small storage boxes of summer clothes from each of the residing members.

“it’s fine mum, i’ll clean it when we get home,” sam said, and with that, they quickly packed all the suitcases into the car and drove to the holland household. the car ride was filled with stories that tom and harry were telling from being on set and the six of them catching up together for the first time in what felt like forever. there was truly no other place sam would rather be, but for some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about the girl he dated the summer after high school graduation. he couldn’t stop thinking about the first kiss the two of them shared and the way her lips felt against his - so soft and tasting of vanilla frosting from the cupcake she had just eaten.

sam’s mind continued to drift far from the conversation and closer to the girl who sat at home with her family, to the girl who sam hoped longed for him as much as he longed for her. somehow, whenever he thought of her and what could’ve happened, it always led him back to kingston. maybe he’d have stayed if they didn’t break up.

•••

that night after dinner, sam went to drive tom and harry to their house. it was late in the evening, but the roads were still busy. the thin layer of snow that laid on people’s front lawns reflected the lights of the cars that passed him.

sam was sure that harry could feel him reminiscing and focusing on what could of been, but harry didn’t mention anything and neither did tom. after dropping his brothers off and helping them bring their stuff inside, sam left to drive home, but found himself taking the long way. something pulled him to go to his old school. he parked between the church and the school building and thought back to when he asked y/n out on the football field after leaving the graduation ceremony. his parents were ringing him asking where he was, and he heard your phone go off too, but in that moment all that mattered was you two.

the holidays always seemed to remind him of y/n. ever since he moved to scotland, coming back to kingston was like picking a scab and causing that wound to never heal. he always felt cold whenever he thought of her, cold from the pain that they had brought each other all those years ago. how that pain had never healed was unbeknownst to him, but it always brought him back to the street between the methodist and the school.

as sam drove home, he for some reason couldn’t stop thinking about the day he left for france. they weren’t together, but she was still there to say her goodbyes. it was one of the last times he had seen her, but sam couldn’t stop thinking about how he walked over to the gate and looked over his shoulder only to see her still standing there and watching as he left her. the image of her standing still as everyone else in the airport kept moving around her was burned into sam’s brain and was something he could never forget.

the memories of y/n and sam driving around the countryside were the only things flowing through his mind. he thought of how they had had countless picnics at the fields they were allowed to, and how that summer was practically perfect. sure he followed up his relationship with y/n for one with ciara that lasted for almost four years, but the short-lived relationship was filled with nothing but passion that was turned on high, the idea of it being a summer fling had fueled it, but the slow burn was also something he had missed.

ciara and sam had always had something between them, that was evident in france, but it was different. sam couldn’t put his finger on it, and the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if she was a replacement for someone who was long gone or if she was genuinely someone he had quickly fallen in love with.

•••

as christmas eve rolled around, sam found himself busy with food prep. and when dinner rolled around, and he was busy with his family. he had an urge to text her, but the fact that he was consistently busy kept him from doing so. when his family decided to watch a movie in the living room, he found the time to text her. his fingers tapped on the screen, finding her contact and opening their last conversation, but then sam paused. what was he supposed to even say? he leaned forward so his forearms were resting on the edge of the kitchen island, the feel of the granite cooling down his skin.

while sam’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard, figuring out what he wanted to say, harry was walking into the kitchen in search of another beer. sam was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t even hear his brother come in until he said, “what’re you doing?”

sam’s head shot up in the direction of where harry was standing, by the fridge.

“mate you scared me,” sam said, knowingly avoiding the question harry had asked. harry raised an eyebrow at him, but sam knew that harry had a feeling something was going on all due to the fact that they were twins.

“so, what’re you doing?” harry asked again in search for an answer. sam thought between telling a white lie or just telling harry the truth. it wasn’t groundbreaking that he wanted to text someone who he hadn’t seen in more than four years, right? sam was about to lie when harry snatched sam’s phone right out of his hands.

“hey!”

“why are you texting y/n?” they practically said in sync. sam couldn’t form a coherent sentence to explain this. he kept opening his mouth, but then closing it seconds afterwards, his brain not being able to form a sentence. harry’s jaw dropped when he made the connections. “you wanna see her again. i knew you still had feelings for her!”

“keep your voice down you idiot!” sam scolded the younger of the two, trying to cover harry’s mouth with his hand just in case he would say something else that he wasn’t ready to share with the family. “yes i want to meet up with her, but,” sam paused. but what? what was supposed to come after that? “i don’t know. is this stupid?” sam asked, mostly to himself, but also directed at harry.

harry just looked at his twin brother baffled. sam knew that y/n was the last person he should’ve been thinking about, not because she did anything wrong, but because she was someone who he was with when he was seventeen. a lot has changed, but how come his feelings stayed the same?

“there are so many girls you could’ve wanted to text. literally anyone. maggie, ella, haley, ciara, but why y/n?” harry asked. sam knew he wasn’t supposed to answer that question, that harry had asked it to only feed his thoughts, but his brain quickly scrambled for an answer.

“home just reminds me of her is all,” sam mumbled. it was the only thing he could think of, but it wasn’t a lie. being at home in kingston always reminded him of the summer nights he spent sneaking y/n in and out of his house, and driving to the nearest mcdonald’s at two a.m. when it seemed like they were the only people awake. well, them and the drive-thru workers, but it still felt like they were the only ones there. kingston always reminded him of the days they would stroll through london with no plan, and how they always took the train home absolutely knackered with their feet so sore from how far they walked, but he wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

“mhm, sure.” as soon as harry spoke, a whoosh sound came from sam’s phone, and he had only realized that harry texted her.

“mate what the fuck!” sam exclaimed, immediately reaching over to grab his phone back, eyes scrambling to read the words his idiot twin brother had sent.

“thank me later,” was all harry said before he went back into the living room to continue watching elf with his family.

i’m back in town for christmas, do you wanna hang out this weekend for old times sake?

sam sighed knowing he couldn’t take anything back, but damn did he want to.

•••

y/n was sat on the couch with her family asleep upstairs in their rooms. she was the only one awake on christmas eve, mostly because she had fallen into the habit of sleeping late. whenever she had to work, her shifts were always later in the day, which meant she got home later and would always fall asleep around two a.m.

her christmas dinner wasn’t anything extravagant. she and her family never did anything big for christmas, or for the holidays in general, but they just used the holiday to spend time with one another, even though it usually ended with them just sat around a tv with dinner plates on their laps as they watched and ate. y/n enjoyed the simple things, and dinner and a movie were exactly what she needed and prepared herself for. it wasn’t until how the grinch stole christmas finished when she received sam’s text. it was maybe ten pm when she saw it, but her brain spent the hour following it just processing what was happening.

i’m back in town for christmas, do you wanna hang out this weekend for old times sake? the words floated around her brain over and over again as she tried to process the situation. she hadn’t seen him in years, and they only talked every few months, but their conversations were typically just a “how are you?” and an, “i’m doing well!” and never anything more than that. she wanted more though. she wouldn’t be lying if she said she didn’t miss him, but y/n just blamed that on how reminiscent she always was.

what was she supposed to say to the boy she dated when she was seventeen? maybe it would be nice to feel like she was seventeen again, even if it was just for a few days. would there be any feelings attached? she couldn’t help but wonder about the circumstances of it.

“what the fuck is my life,” she groaned as she threw her head back onto the back of the couch. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, right?

pick me up at two am, saturday morning, just like old times :) she replied with, hoping that she wasn’t biting off more than she could chew. maybe they’d go back to the old mcdonald’s drive-thru that they used to frequent, or maybe they would go down that backroad that sam first took her on right after he got his license.

y/n’s mind then drifted to the last time she saw him, to her standing in the middle of the airport watching sam walk away from her. she felt the same hurt that she felt that day, and somehow she knew she would feel it once again once the weekend was over, but she wanted to feel that thrill once more, the thrill of being seventeen and in love.

•••

the evening of the twenty-fifth was filled with joy for the hollands, but for sam it was riddled with nerves. in just a few hours he would be driving around with y/n, someone he hadn’t seen since he had left her standing in that airport however many years ago.

he immediately started wondering what was going to happen when they hung out. whatever ended up happening, he was going back to scotland, that wasn’t going to change, but what if y/n asked sam to stay? what would happen then? the first time sam left, he wanted her to ask him to stay. he didn’t say anything because he knew he had to go, but how different would things be if she had asked him to stay? sam knew that this time would be different, but it would end the exact same way it did the first time.

sam knew that y/n would always remind him of home, that wouldn’t change. she would always remind him of being home, of his firsts. she’d always remind him of his first kiss, his first time, his first drink, and his first party. y/n would always remind him of the all-boys school he and harry went to and how she was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. granted, they were fourteen when they met, but he knew his feelings weren’t just infatuation. y/n made him feel different. he had always felt different towards her, and maybe it was just the constant thought of what could’ve been, but regardless, sam had a second chance, a second chance of calling her babe, even if it was just for the weekend.

one a.m. had quickly rolled around, and before sam knew it he was getting ready to go pick her up. after putting on a heather grey hoodie he was sure he had stolen from tom, and a pair of black jeans, he went downstairs and grabbed his coat, making sure he had everything he needed.

the drive to y/n’s house didn’t take as long as he had given himself, but he also needed time to mentally prepare before he let her know he was there. after turning down every street he could turn down in her neighbourhood just to kill time, sam found himself parked outside of her family’s house and sending a text letting her know he was out front. just seconds later, she had come out from the side door of the house wearing a black, puffy winter jacket, and a pair of black joggers. her jacket was unzipped to reveal a university sweater, and sam quickly noticed it was the one she dreamt of going to, but didn’t get into.

“hey, you!” she said once she got into the car. they shared an awkward hug, each of them leaning over the centre console, and sam kicked himself for not getting out of the car to greet her.

“hi there darling,” sam greeted her, the pet name rolling off the tongue as if it was supposed to. he knew he shouldn’t have called her that, but he couldn’t help himself.

“where are we going mr. holland?” she asked after buckling herself in. sam looked over at her and swore she was an angel. she was glowing in the moonlight, and even though they were around each other for less than a minute, sam could feel that there was still something there.

“you’ll see,” was all he said before he put the car in drive and headed down the street to the old mcdonald’s drive-thru they used to go to. he had the night planned out, and luckily for him, he had remembered to get gas before going over to her place. they were going to drive around like old times, and if he played his cards right, then maybe they would end up watching the sunrise sitting on the roof of his house, just like they used to.

they spent the whole car ride catching up, talking about ex’s, but then they reached a point where they felt like they both were seventeen again, and sam could tell by the way she seemed more carefree.

after ordering their food and driving around for a bit, sam decided the rooftop was going to be the best place to talk. they were sat next to each other, the roof tiles covered with a blanket. sam and y/n shared a blue blanket that laid across their legs, the mcdonald’s bag sat in between them. it was silent for a bit as they looked out at the stars. sam couldn’t stop thinking about how small their town felt, how nothing seemed to matter except him and y/n. was this what he wanted? for nothing to matter except for the two of them?

“do you ever think of what would’ve happened if you had stayed?” y/n asked, breaking the silence. sam took a minute to think. of course he did, but where was this conversation going to lead them.?

“mhm, but what i come up with always changes,” sam admitted knowing that she wouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t think about it herself. part of him hoped that she was going to ask him to stay, but he knew she wasn’t planning on it. he reached over and grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers together. y/n’s hand was so cold, but she’d always been a cold person sam remembered. “what happens in your alternate universe?” sam asked, wondering if her hypotheticals aligned with his.

sam looked over at y/n only to see her deep in thought. he recognized that look anywhere. her eyebrows were furrowed and she was biting on her bottom lip. sam always wondered why she did that when she was thinking deeply, but never asked why.

“i guess i just always imagined that if you had stayed we would’ve lasted longer, or maybe we would’ve still been together,” she mumbled. sam just nodded not finding the words to say, what was he even supposed to say to that? he knew that she was right, they would’ve lasted longer if he didn’t leave, but he couldn’t change that it happened.

“for whatever it’s worth, i’m sorry i left.” he would always be sorry for leaving, that’s something that had never left. the guilt of leaving y/n in the airport always made itself known, and sam didn’t know how to fix it. he knew the weekend was going to end with him leaving again, that’s something he couldn’t change, but he hoped the guilt wouldn’t grow.

“i know,” y/n whispered, barely audible for him to hear. sam could tell that this was hurting her from the way she was trying to close herself off by bringing her knees up to her chest. maybe he had reopened a wound that hadn’t healed by asking to hang out with y/n, maybe he was breaking his own heart by wanting to see her again, but the road not taken was so appealing.

“i just wish you would’ve stayed,” she whispered. those six words made sam feel like someone had stomped on his heart and shattered it, but there was nothing he could do to change the past.

“i’m leaving on january second, so we have until then,” he stated, hoping that they would make the most of those few days that they had left together. sam watched as she processed it, then glancing down to where their hands were connected. he let go to put his arms around her and pull her into a hug, the black jacket compressing under the pressure of his arms. “what do you say?” he asked, then kissing her cheek. there were unsaid feelings still lingering between them, and sam knew from the way that y/n stole glances at him while they were in the car that she still felt something for him.

y/n smiled and nodded her head, but sam knew that this was only going to hurt more by the time he had to leave. he knew that nothing was going to change, nothing was going to get better. she wasn’t going to ask him to stay, she didn’t the first time, and sam knew that there was too much on the line for her to ask him to stay this time around.

they stayed on the roof for a few hours longer, waiting for the sunrise. all sam and y/n did was just talk, but with the way y/n laid on his lap, sam could feel that she also was hanging onto the moment as much as she could, that she was grasping onto it for dear life.

as the sun rose, y/n sat up and tilted her head so it was resting on his shoulder. sam’s arm came up to wrap around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his body. the orange and yellow colours of the sun melted and dissolved the dark night sky, and if sam thought that y/n was glowing in the moonlight before, he definitely thought she was glowing now with the way the sun cast a warm glow onto her skin. sure it was five in the morning in the dead of winter, but he hadn’t felt this warm in a long time.

once the sun had finished rising and was above the horizon, they began the climb back down to the ground. as they climbed down, sam looked into the kitchen window only to see two pairs of eyes staring back at him, one of them being tessa’s, and the other being harry. y/n sheepishly waved at him, a wave that felt like they had been caught doing something wrong. sam nodded at his brother who only returned a smirk in his direction, to which sam rolled his eyes at. they got back into the car, and sam found himself taking the long way back to y/n’s place, not wanting the night to end just because the sun had come up.

as they pulled up to y/n’s house, sam bid her an innocent kiss goodbye, the feeling of her soft, slightly chapped lips against his lips, also slightly chapped from the cold, sent sparks through his body.

“i’ll see you tonight?” he asked, and she let out a hum of agreement before saying ‘goodbye,’ and walking up to her front door and sneaking back into her house.

on the drive back to his house, sam knew that harry would be waiting for him with questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. he knew that harry would be sitting at the kitchen table, his tea in one hand, and his phone in the other, waiting for sam to come back just so he could interrogate him, and boy did he interrogate him.

as soon as sam opened the door to the house, harry immediately called out, “so how was your date?” sam shut the door behind him and took off his shoes and coat before he walked into the kitchen where harry was sitting just as he predicted, with a cup of tea in one hand and his phone in the other.

“it wasn’t a date, but it was very nice, thank you for asking,” sam stated.

“yeah yeah, whatever. what are you going to do when you have to leave again?” harry was looking at sam with an all-knowing look on his face, but even a blind person could see how this was ending, and it wasn’t going to end well.

“i’ll get there when i get there.” sam didn’t care that this was going to hurt him much more than when he left for france, but he didn’t care because the second chance he had with her was far more exhilarating than just wondering what would’ve happened. sam sat down in the chair beside harry, leaning down to pet tessa who was sitting by his feet.

“you’re only going to hurt yourself,” harry said, a tone of concern tinting his voice. their family was always honest with one another, but harry and sam were always honest on a different level. their honesty usually came in a form of protection, and sam knew that harry was just trying to protect him, but he didn’t care if he was going to get hurt, it was all worth it to him.

“‘tis the damn season,” sam shrugged. the eight days they had left with each other was all sam needed, even if she didn’t ask him to stay this time around.

anything and everything taglist: @hollanderfangirl @hxrryhxlland @ohmy-moonlightx @musicalkeys @notsosmexy @writertoo18 @icyhollands @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

#sam holland #sam holland x reader #sam holland x y/n #sam holland x you #sam holland fic #sam holland imagine #sam holland imagines #sam holland fluff #sam holland angst

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syms-things-5 · 3 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Eighteen

Previous Chapter Here

Notes: So sorry this took me an age to get out. Thanks for sticking with me. We’re in the end game now...

Warnings: Heavy language. Angst.

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sarah was trying her hardest to get out of Lisa’s birthday weekend. Really trying. She couldn’t remember the last time she had put this much effort into something that wasn’t related to work or getting to a finish line she’d imposed upon herself while out on a run.

She wasn’t a very creative person either. Not when it counted. She spent three days pathetically dropping hints that she was coming down with something. Scott dismissed it at first, insisting the fresh air would do her some good. She went as far as to suggest she was feeling quite nauseous so perhaps a five-hour-plus car journey might not be the best idea. Only she had downplayed it to such an extent, she inadvertently removed the problem from the table.

She also tried the whole “it should be a family event” thing, but Shanna told her she was family and that she should stop mithering and start packing.

Things got a little desperate. She wasn’t proud of herself but when Audrey had told her about a falling-out she’d had with Michael, well, it would be stupid to lose that golden opportunity. So, she told Shanna she was thinking of offering to stay and support her dear, dear friend and colleague but, with a glint in her eye, Audrey insisted it wasn’t that big of a problem. She was definitely off Sarah’s Christmas card list now.

Truth be told, she didn’t have a legitimate reason to avoid the break. She couldn’t deny the prospect of having the entire apartment to herself for four days was enticing, though. She could enjoy some rare peace and quiet. She could read a book in a long, hot bubble bath without Shanna perching by the side and regaling her with the latest issues in her romantic life. She could cook and eat seafood without worrying about giving her best friend an allergic reaction. She could also lounge around in her pyjamas all day, or maybe even naked.

No, not naked. She was never one for that idea.

Carly had been filling the family WhatsApp with game ideas; some solo, some in teams. All kid-friendly, which was a speciality of the Evans’ clan. Lisa had planned a long hike for the Sunday morning followed by what sounded like an extravagant picnic with champagne, quiche and foot-long subs. She also sent a picture of three humongous bags of marshmallows, the size of small children, and suggested they could sit round a camp fire on the evening they arrive. That was assigned to Chris as his first job.

There was also the small issue of a massive hot tub. Thanks to a new reliance on fast food during her late shifts, Sarah wasn’t much a fan of her body at the present time. That was another thing she’d have to contend with. She loved the family but forced fun in bathing suits was not really her “thing”.

“If we get there early, we can bagsy the attic room.” Shanna suggested, nose in a gossip magazine. Sarah nodded in agreement while keeping her eyes on the television. “I’ll be damned if Scott gets it all to himself again.”

“Sure thing.” Sarah replied, acting nonchalant and biding her time once more before she could raise again the possibility of her not going with them.

“Don’t get anything out for dinner tonight. We’re heading to mom’s in a couple of hours. I hope that’s OK.”

“Sure. Wait, what?” Sarah did a double take at Shanna, her face now fully hidden by her magazine.

“Sorry!” She peaked out over the top of the page. “I forgot to say earlier but Mom wanted to have dinner at hers tonight so we can go through the itinerary in full. Make sure everyone knows what they’re bringing. I said it’d be cool ‘cos you weren’t working.” Her tone was apologetic. “You’re not doing anything, are you?”

No, she wasn’t doing anything. And she couldn’t think of anything either. There was literally no thoughts running through her mind at that time. None that offered her any help whatsoever. Blank. Stupid, fucking, dumbass.

“Yeh, no, of course. Makes sense.” She responded after a second had passed. She silently blew out a long breath and sank further into the couch.

When Shanna had said they were having dinner, Sarah figured it would be one of Lisa’s massive pot pies followed by the biggest tub of Neapolitan ice cream she could find. Something easy and comfortable that wouldn’t get in the way of the more pressing matters at hand, namely finalising plans for her birthday weekend. She was most certainly not expecting candles and a table runner, the fancy anniversary cutlery and four or five bottles of expensive red wine. Lisa had even added some fresh flowers as a centrepiece.

Sarah looked down at her ripped black jeans and grey t-shirt and felt woefully under-dressed. She scolded Shanna with an annoyed look that didn’t go unnoticed.

“I didn’t know she was planning some fancy thing, did I?!” Shanna whispered as they hung up their jackets in the hallway. “You know what she’s like.”

Sarah did know what she was like so, really, she should have known better.

Shanna nudged her out of the way to walk into the kitchen and give her mother a hug, leaving Sarah standing in the doorway feeling like a potato and not sure how to make use of herself. She could hear Scott get beaten loudly by Carly’s husband on a computer game. She glanced her head inside the living room and waved at them, watching as they offered muffled sounds as acknowledgement of her greeting. Chris didn’t seem to be anywhere around yet which gave her some mild comfort at least. In fact, nearly a whole hour went by before he arrived. A light, summer shower had started outside and his arrival was announced to all by Lisa’s shrill tone instructing him to take his shoes off before walking on her newly shampooed carpet.

“Yeh, ma, I got it. Gimme a break…”

“Did you bring that picnic blanket I asked you to find? The one you brought last year? The large, tartan one?”

Chris gave his mother a confused look before she audibly sighed. “I asked you about it yesterday? I texted you earlier to remind you? Jesus….”

He shrugged off his sport jacket, placing it on top of Sarah’s, and toed his boots off before ambling into the dining room to join the others.

“She’s on one again.” Scott whispered to him as Chris took a seat beside him, across from Sarah and Shanna. “She called me three times this morning alone to remind me to pick up plastic cups and plates. Like I’m gonna forget something she’s messaged me about, like, a hundred times.”

“That’s nothing. You should see the list of jobs she’s given to Miles and Ethan.” Michael joined in.

“But they’re only kids.” Scott questioned him, half surprised and half...not so surprised. His memory suddenly recalled all kinds of jobs he was forced to do as a young boy, raking lawns and cleaning the family car. Michael just shrugged back at him, rolling his eyes knowingly. Scott looked between Shanna and Sarah, worrying for what she’ll impose upon them all next.

“She hasn’t given me any jobs yet.” Shanna said. She almost sounded offended at being left out of the menial work. The room fell silent as everyone else slyly eyed each other. “Oh, right. Thanks guys.”

“Hey, your job is to read the maps so we get there in one piece.” Scott finally broke the awkward silence.

“And Sarah? What’s Sarah’s job? I don’t think she’s been asked to do anything either.”

“Her job is to make sure you’re reading the map the right way around.” Chris interrupted and the room descended into fits of laughter. Shanna merely leaned back in her chair, folded her arms and cast a mental curse on her older brother. Sarah tried hard to mask a smirk that didn’t go unseen by Chris.

Pointedly ignoring his sister, Chris reached for the open bottle of wine closest to him. He leaned his arm across the table and offered Sarah a glass. “Want a top-up?”

They made eye contact for the first time in what felt like ages and he smiled at her, a slight crease appearing in the corners of his eyes so she knew it was genuine. “No, I’m OK. Better pace myself.”

They hadn’t seen each other, hadn’t messaged each other, in over a week. She was grateful for the break. He looked good, though. Lean and sculpted to a point that was inhuman or, at the very least, unfair to an average human being. A couple of weeks of working out and his body seemed to ping back to what it once was. It was like watching elastic snap into place. Sarah suddenly felt every single extra pound clinging to her thighs. Whenever she gained weight, it always seemed to land there. It was annoying and proved nearly impossible to remove no matter how often she ran.

“The hell is this?” Chris asked. He finally noticed the smooth table runner stretching out in front of him. “Are we expecting someone official?”

“Just keep quiet and let her do her thing.” Scott pleaded with him quietly before connecting eyes with Shanna and Sarah, everyone seemingly thinking the same thing. “Let’s try to get out of here in one piece, yeh?”

“What took you so long to get here, Chris?” Lisa asked as she walked back into the dining room carrying a large tray of what looked like bread rolls. She placed it down in the centre before moving to the side table to gather the salt and pepper grinders.

“Oh, it was just a work call.” He shrugged, confident enough in his manner that the conversation didn’t go any further. Scott elbowed him seemingly without anyone else noticing but Chris brushed him off with a shake of his head. He rested his chin on his hand as he took stock of what was in front of him, Sarah included.

His beard was thicker and apparently untended to, Sarah noticed, now that things had quietened down. He glanced at her through his lashes as things grew quiet and Lisa started dishing out vegetables to everyone. Lisa had a particular way of handling large family dinners – lessons learned from cooking for many kids over the years. You knew to wait until everyone had something on their plate before making moves for any more. It all smelled delicious. As unnerved as Sarah felt with the formality laid out in front of her, she had to admit she was looking forward to some proper home-cooked food.

Chris kept looking at Sarah, hands folded in her lap, polite as always, waiting for everyone else to go in front of her. He saw Michael help himself to three bread rolls before passing the plate back round to Lisa. Michael was a tall, hefty man whose appetite never seemed to be affected by anything. Even when he had horrendous flu that left him in bed for a fortnight, he still managed to put a lot away. He had never once experienced food poisoning.

“If you’re waiting for everyone else, there’ll be nothing left.” Chris spoke as he leaned in towards her so she could hear him over the sounds of cutlery and enjoyment. “Just go for it.”

She smiled shyly back at him and thanked Lisa for cooking what appeared to be a mini-feast.

“Can you pass the butter, please?” Shanna asked as she reached her arm over Sarah’s plate, forcing Sarah to lean back in her chair. She stretched her other arm out for the gravy that Scott was currently pouring over his plate.

“You’re always so polite.” Chris chuckled. “Shan, can you stop getting in the way and let the poor girl eat.”

“Huh?” Shanna questioned, unaware of what was going on.

“You’re getting in her way.”

“No, she’s fine. It’s fine.” Sarah quickly interrupted as she sensed him bristle with frustration.

He looked at her for another second before shaking his head. Shanna threw her brother a look of puzzlement but Scott appeared just as confused by his sudden tone.

“Bet this beats McDonald’s, eh Sarah?” Carly said, before giggling to herself.

“You’re telling me. I can’t remember the last time I ate something green and fresh.”

“Michael is so jealous.”

Michael’s ears perked up as he turned to his wife and Sarah. “Damn straight. Being only able to eat burgers and fries is, like, the dream scenario.”

“Why have you been on so many night shifts lately anyway?” Chris asked, a mouth full of chicken, placing the spotlight firmly on her.

She tried to shrug it off, act casually. “Audrey needed some extra support and I figured it would do me good to work in a few more nights. I always seem to manage to get out of them.”

She was fast hoping Lisa would start discussing the impending trip to distract everyone but no such luck.

This felt like it was going to be a long night.

“It gave you time off for this weekend so swings and roundabouts, eh?” Shanna added. “Speaking of which, is there anything you need us to do for the trip, Mom? I noticed everyone else has jobs and lists except for us.” Shanna inquired, not quite able to hide the mild accusatorial tone creeping into her words.

“Um, no, I don’t think so, honey. Just trying to keep it as casual as possible.”

Scott nearly choked out a chunk of potato. Chris, side-eyeing Michael’s increasingly red face, tried his hardest not to bark out in laughter. It was tough. Lisa noticed it, too. Choosing to ignore it, she turned back to her daughter.

“I meant that things are under control now so there’s no need to add to the pile. As long as you get there on time, that’s all I’ll ask for.”

Shanna wasn’t feeling convinced and the smug grin now on Chris’ face wasn’t helping to reassure her either. She turned to Sarah to see if she was thinking the same thing as her but Sarah just kept her eyes on the plate of food in front her, hoping that if she continued eating and finished as quickly as possible, she could get home again.

“I can do something, Mom.” She protested. “I could bring that lawn bowling game again?”

“Actually, Michael has one of those. It’s a bit newer and the skittles are heavier so the wind won’t keep knocking them over.” Carly spoke up before glancing apologetically at her sister. “He just got it from a friend at work, so… No biggie.”

“What about wine and drinks? We could stop off on the way up?”

“I put an order in for all of that.” Lisa responded with a casual wave of her hand. “It’ll be here the day before so I’ll pack it up here before we set off. Speaking of which, anyone for more wine?”

Shanna remained quiet as the family conversed about nothing in particular. Carly was talking about some game the kids at school had taught her that might be fun for the weekend but nothing could remove the unease surrounding her sister. Sure, Shanna wasn’t the most reliable when it came to shopping lists and sticking to plans but it was unlike Lisa not to call upon her for something, no matter how small and inconsequential it might be.

Attention turned from one brother to the next as discussions about carpooling took over. Chris really wanted to use the trip as an excuse to take his new Audi for a drive but with all the gear he and Scott had to bring, there wasn’t much room for anything or anyone else.

“Except maybe Sarah?” Chris posed the question, keeping it casual. “You could tag along with us and then Shanna could go with mom, I guess.”

“I was thinking of hiring a car myself actually.” Chris looked surprised at Sarah’s sudden offer. She hated driving. “We could take some of the load off everyone else then. Lisa? We could pack up some of your stuff?”

Sarah had loosely discussed this with Shanna some time ago but they had ultimately decided against it because, well, she really hated driving. Now, however, sensing her friend’s growing despondency, she figured it might help her feel more useful. Plus, it would give Sarah some control over when they could head back home again.

Shanna looked at her friend and smiled gratefully.

“That’s very kind of you, Sarah. I supposed you both could go on ahead and get the keys from Maggie and we could meet you there soon after? I said we would be getting there some time around the early afternoon if that’s alright with you both?” Lisa requested, opening another bottle of wine. Shanna nodded, a smile wide on her face now and she felt a sense of relief.

Sarah mentally calculated backwards from “early afternoon” and reasoned they would need to be up and out of the apartment by 7am at the latest. Suddenly, her role in proceedings made more sense where Shanna was concerned. She gladly accepted a new glass of wine and made a mental note to contact the car rental in the morning.

“You know who you should ask about renting cars?” Scott asked. “Greg, of course! I bet he knows a guy who knows a guy who is the son of the guy that started Mercedes. Or something. Either that or he probably has shares in Hertz.”

Sarah rolled her eyes at him, laughing. He probably wasn’t wrong.

“OK there, brother. You need to ease up on the wine” Chris pushed Scott’s glass further away and patted him on the back. “There you go, little sis. Looks like you have a job after all.”

A clear sign of Chris’ irritation was when he chose to be patronising. Shanna was taken aback by his tone and Sarah felt her friend sink back into her chair, irritated. Sarah raised her eyebrow at him but all he did was shrug, playing innocent. Not his strong point.

The room stayed silent for a little while as people finished up their meals. As much as she originally wanted to pace herself, Sarah didn’t object when Scott filled her glass up yet again. He turned in his chair to place the empty bottle on the side table alongside the others. It was then that Sarah noticed all of the other empties. Had they really drunk that much? In little more than an hour? She clocked the time and there still seemed to be plenty of food left. They would be travelling much of it home as afters at this rate. Chris left the room briefly and returned with a couple of beers for him and Michael.

“What are you gonna do with all this left-over food, ma?” Chris asked as he sat back down indicating a second tray of roast potatoes that had so far gone untouched.

“Please don’t let us take any.” Sarah joked, holding her hands up in playful protest.

“What?” Scott asked before laughing. He looked at his sister before smiling broadly at Sarah as he watched her cheeks blush red.

“Oh, she’s feeling self-conscious about her weight.” Shanna answered, nudging her under the table. That was helpful of her, thought Sarah. She could feel herself heating up as they all looked at her, waiting for her to speak up again. Chris took a swig of beer from his bottle and leaned his forearm on the table.

“No way in hell are you fat, Sarah. That’s ridiculous.” Scott combatted. “You’re really trim, being on your feet all day. I’d love to give you my fit-bit some time. I’d probably gain a few thousand steps.”

Sarah laughed out loud. “Thank you, Scott. Can we please change the subject?”

“So, you’ll be wearing a two-piece, yeh?” Chris asked. She turned to look at him suddenly before chuckling nervously.

“Um, I have no idea yet. Are we even going to use the hot tub?”

“I won’t be.” Lisa laughed.

“Oh, we all definitely will! It’s the height of summer and that thing can fit a dozen people. Ample room for comfort!” Scott enthused. He should be a salesman.

“And it’d be a real shame if you didn’t join in, Bernette.”

She felt her skin heat up under Chris’ gaze as he attempted to hide the fact he was looking at her by taking another long swig from his beer bottle. “I’m not apologising for that by the way. As a man and your friend, I can say that and you can’t get mad at me.”

“What?” Scott asked. It was a valid question in the circumstances. “What a…weird thing to say.” Scott laughed a little uncomfortably but Chris didn’t break eye contact with Sarah.

“So,” Michael attempted to add some humour back into the room. “Bet it’s nice sleeping during the daytime now you’re on lates? I used to love lazing around the house when I did them.”

Scott nodded enthusiastically in agreement, slapping his hand on the table. “I remember night shoots on this one TV drama I did a few years ago and honestly, the sleep I got the next day was the best ever. I don’t know why but I always tend to sleep better in the daytime.”

“Funny, that’s what your teachers used to say.” Chris joked, swigging his beer. Lisa giggled and fondly touched her son’s elbow.

“Oh ha ha ha. You’re so funny. I swear if you’re this amusing this weekend, I might not survive my sides splitting open.” Scott rolled his eyes. “Which reminds me, we should figure out rooms now so there’s no fighting on the day. No way am I sharing with this idiot.”

“You only wanna do that ‘cos you know we’ll be there first and we will be bagsying the attic this time.” Shanna thumbed the space between her and Sarah.

“You don’t deserve the attic.” Chris pointed. “You’ll be half-cut the entire weekend, like last time. You won’t enjoy the space or the views.”

“Excuse me? What do you care?” Shanna retorted.

“You spent a whole day in bed with a hangover last time. If you’re gonna be sharing with Sarah, it’s not fair on her to have to look after you. Again. It’ll spoil her weekend as well.” He explained. “She deserves a break just as much as you do.”

Shanna looked aghast at her friend before regarding her brother again. She shook her head in disbelief. “I can handle my drink, OK? I was just gonna say that it wouldn’t be fair if Scott got that room all to himself. Especially if he’s on his own again.”

“Thanks sis.”

“Sorry, Scott. But…y’know. If anything, Mom should have it.” She suggested, looking towards her mother in hopes that she might appreciate the offer.

“Thanks sweetie but I’ll be staying in the guest house this time. With Carly, Mikey and the kids.”

“Since when?” Chris asked, surprised.

“We just figured it would be easier this time around. Plus, I can help with the kids and you guys can sort breakfast for us all. Get your pancake apron out again, hun.” She winked at him, sipping her wine.

“Chris is a great tosser.” Shanna said under her breath.

“Shanna….” Lisa nudged her.

“Wait, so does this mean we get a room each then?” Scott interrupted. He wasn’t even sure of what he was saying as the wine haze gradually descended over him. “Sarah?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“I’ve lost track of what’s going on now.” Scott said.

“That doesn’t answer the question of who gets the attic, though?” Shanna asked, a little whinier than she had intended.

“If Sarah and I take the downstairs rooms, we can figure out breakfast in the mornings.” Chris suggested. “And you can have your precious attic. That makes it easier, right? Does that make you happy, Shanna? Good.”

“What’s crawled up your ass and died this evening?” Shanna asked, irritated.

“Oh my god, Shanna, it’s a fucking bedroom.” He practically spitted. “You keep dragging everything out and making everything into a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are! I’m just making the decisions so we can all move the fuck on.”

“Chris!” Lisa reprimanded her son and regretted over-ordering on the wine.

“It’s alright now.” Sarah attempted to calm things down. “I think we’ve pretty much figured it out so it’ll be fine.” Carly nodded and nudged Michael to offer something by way of support but he looked just as baffled by the tension as she did.

Chris landed his bottle on the table hard. “Sarah, you don’t need to keep standing up for her. She’s a big girl. She should be able to figure it out now without you babysitting her all the goddamn time.”

“What?!” Shanna also slammed her glass down on the table and looked to Scott and Carly for some back-up but they both seemed frozen to their respective spots. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“OK, guys. Dessert? I have pecan pie and or ice cream?” Lisa offered, standing up from her seat and making a shade more noise than necessary in the hope it might snap the kids out of whatever funk they were in.

Chris glared at his sister a beat too long and she returned the favour before turning away with a look of disgust. “You’re gonna be heaps of fun this weekend, I can tell.” Shanna shrugged. “Clearly, I’m not the one we need to be concerned with. Maybe it’s you that needs babysitting?”

“Fuck you!” Chris stressed, just low enough to miss his mother’s ears.

Carly’s eyes grew wide in shock and for a second, Chris looked like he might apologise. Sarah reached a hand under the table to gently tap Shanna on her leg. Shanna felt it but didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she leant on her elbow and rubbed her earlobe between her thumb and forefinger, a sure sign she was feeling upset and possibly trying to stop tears forming. Sarah tried to get Chris’ gaze back on her but he continued eying his sister, no apology yet materialising. He was a loose cannon when he was in this mood and she didn’t much want to stick around and find out what might happen if he downed another beer.

“We should probably think about heading home, Shan. I’ll check for an Uber.” Sarah stated.

“Don’t do that, I’ll give you a lift, hun. It won’t take long. We can have some pie and then go if you like.” Carly offered with a wink and for the first time that evening, Sarah noticed she hadn’t been drinking.

“Always looking out for you, aren’t we?” Chris said, lowly.

“Do you wanna calm down?” Shanna asked.

“I am calm.” Chris replied. “I’m just having a nice time, right? That’s what we’re all doing here, yeh? Sarah?”

“Sorry?”

“Are you having a good time?” He pressed.

She was sure he was leading her into a trap.

“I am OK. Sure.” She spoke each syllable carefully, trying to warn him off from whatever his motive was.

“I don’t believe you.”

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, or anyone. She held her hands in her lap and paid attention to the air she was now breathing in deeply.

“Oh Jesus Christ!” Shanna called out. She was growing more and more frustrated with her brother by the second.

“Shanna!” intercepted Lisa.

“No! He’s being a dick and I wanna know why!” She turned back to Chris. “What the hell have I done to piss you off?!”

He stayed quiet, blocking her voice out. He focussed as much of his energy as he could at Sarah sitting across from him, willing her to look back at him, to let him know it was going to be OK. He swung between feeling regret and feeling practically and absurdly confident. It was the beer obviously. It really felt like a now-or-never moment. Fuck it.

“I’m sorry, Sarah.”

Sarah finally looked up at him, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. Her feet felt like they were weighed down with concrete to the spot underneath. She tried to feel them, to grab at the carpet between her toes. She was pretty sure she could no longer hear what was going on around her as she felt her heart beat inside her ears.

“Why are you apologising to her? I’m the one that’s upset!” countered Shanna, jabbing her finger at him, aggressively.

He shook his head before looking back at his sister. “I’m sorry, Shanna. I wish there was a better way of saying this but I guess not. I’m just…”

He paused as he tried to find the words. Sarah felt her heart sink. What felt like goosebumps suddenly appeared up and down her arms. Chris looked at her again. Scott looked at her, too, picking up on something for the first time but what, he couldn’t work out. Damn that second bottle.

“I’m just tired.” Chris offered. Carly looked to Michael but he knew nothing of what was happening. “Of this.”

“Is it work again?” Lisa enquired. “Maybe you could work in some time off this time around, so you’re not away from home for as long.”

“No, it’s not work, ma. I’m just tired in general. Of a lot of things. People.” He pronounced each syllable as clearly as he possibly could. “And I know it sounds pathetic and you’re probably thinking I’m being selfish but I really don’t fucking care.”

“I…I don’t understand, honey.”

“Yeh, what are you talking about?” Shanna turned to her friend but her stare wasn’t quite matched by Sarah who looked like she was waiting for the ground to swallow her whole. “Does anyone know what the hell he’s talking about? Or why I am in the firing line for it all of a sudden?”

“Shan, I don’t think-” Scott started but the glare from his sister stopped him in his tracks. Scott looked at Sarah and things started falling into place. For some reason, of all the memories to have at that moment in time, his mind flashed back to standing out on his brother’s terrace on the evening of his birthday party. Chris had been distracted and checking his phone, even more than usual so Scott was certain it had something to do with a girl. Normally, he’d feel a sense of pride at being right but it didn’t feel altogether appropriate in the current circumstances.

“What the hell is going on?” Shanna pressed. She looked to Scott who had his gaze fixed firmly on his brother. “Do you know, Scott?”

Scott looked to his brother and when Chris met his gaze, he knew. He knew Scott knew, too. Call it brotherly intuition but something had connected for him and Chris was all the more grateful for it.

“Do you ever feel tired or dictating everyone else’s happiness?” Chris asked, breaking the silence.

Shanna dropped her hands on her lap in frustration. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? When have I ever dictated your happiness?”

“Do you even realise what people do for you? Do you ever take notice of everyone around you, going out of their way to make you feel better even if it makes them feel worse? Take tonight for example. Sarah doesn’t even wanna drive this weekend. She fuckin’ hates it, you know this, but she’s doing it anyway so that you can feel useful. It’s pathetic.”

“What? You heard her, she just offered.”

“Because you’ve been moaning about not having anything to do! If you’d just moved on, shut up, she probably wouldn’t have needed to.”

“That’s not true. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shanna dismissed him.

“Why don’t I get the car running and you guys can meet me outside in 5?” Carly proposed, indicating to Sarah that she should try and gather her things, Shanna included.

Chris completely ignored Carly. “And you’ve asked her what she wants, right?”

“Chris, please…” It was pathetic. Sarah knew that.

“I just don’t get it, Sarah.” He turned to her with a half-hearted shrug. “I’ve thought about it all week but I just don’t understand what you are getting out of this. Surely, I give you more than this?”

“OK.” Lisa got up from the table and moved round to where Shanna was sitting, rubbing a hand across the back of her shoulders as though it was in preparation of something, but Shanna abruptly pushed her hand away.

“Sarah and I have been seeing each other. For a little while. A few months maybe, I lost track of time.”

Shanna’s jaw dropped. Scott should have felt something but after glancing at his mother stood in front of him on the other side of the table, and recognising the same look in her eyes, he stayed quiet. He saw Sarah close her eyes and figured someone should try and comfort her, too, but it was hard to know where to stand.

Shanna found some strength to open her mouth a few times but no sound came out, until… “What?”

“You don’t need to worry, though. It’s over now.” He placed his bottle of beer on the table and leaned back. He placed his fingers on the edge, running them up and down the smooth, varnished wood. “She ended it by the way. Because she knew you wouldn’t be happy.”

Shanna’s mouth hung open, dry. “Is that true?” She turned to Sarah. “Were you with him?”

“I just said so, didn’t I?”

“I wasn’t asking you!”

Chris wasn’t sure what he was hoping for in that moment. He looked at Sarah and felt sadness. Sadness at the pain evidently coursing through her body in that moment. She looked small and deflated somehow. He felt astonishingly sober, more’s the pity. He wished he could go to her and hold her but he knew it was the last thing she wanted. Probably what anyone would have wanted. It wouldn’t have helped matters and he wasn’t sure anything he could say now would do that job either.

Sarah took in an audible breath and looked at her friend. She blinked back the few tears that had gathered but it only seemed to make things worse. “I’m…sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“I think I’ll just…” Michael pointed to the door and left the table as quickly as he could manage, no doubt to fill Carly in.

“Oh my God.” Shanna replied. She put her face in her hands and didn’t move. “I don’t believe this.”

Sarah looked beyond Shanna to Lisa who offered her a surprisingly reassuring smile that she was definitely not expecting. Did she feel grateful for it? She had zero clue. “I’m so sorry.”

“We don’t have anything to be sorry for, Sarah.” It was the gentlest tone Chris had spoken in all night. “Shan, I know it’s a lot to take in right now but you should know that this wasn’t just some fling or something utterly stupid. There’s a real thing here.” He looked to Sarah for reassurance. “Right?”

Sarah couldn’t look him in the eye.

“OK, I know I haven’t handled this in the best way-”

“-That’s an understatement.” Scott finally found his voice.

“-I accept that and for that, I am really sorry, I promise you. But you have to see things from my perspective here.”

“Chris, I don’t think that’s what needs to be said right now, OK? Your sister is very upset and I think you should maybe head home to sleep this off. Scott, can you...?”

Scott nodded in agreement and left the room to grab both their jackets.

“Mom, this isn’t-”

“-I know.” She held her hand up to stop him. The less he said now, the better. At least until a few hours had been put between them. Chris, resigned, agreed.

He looked at Sarah again hoping for something, anything, that might make him think things were going to be alright. Lisa noticed the plea in his eyes, practically begging her to look at him.

“Sarah, sweetheart, you both can stay here tonight. I think we should probably be together for a bit, yeh?”

Sarah was flummoxed by the offer but grateful at the same time. She knew Shanna wouldn’t say anything to her if they just went home again, if she would even come back to their apartment at all. She’d shut her bedroom door and not emerge for some time and that would have driven her mad. She wanted to get out of there as fast as she could but…this was perhaps better. Safer.

It was going to be a long night.

#chris evans #chris evans fic #fan fiction #Sarah Bernette #clear the area #evans fic #chris fic #chris evans x original female character

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