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starlightxsvt · 3 years

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Home | k.mg

pairing ➳ businessman!mingyu x female!reader

genre ➳ strangers to lovers, romance, slice of life, angst, fluff, gets spicy at the end

word count ➳ 5.6k (apx)

warnings ➳ cursing, reader is really indecisive, heavy makeout, implications of sexual activity.

synopsis ➳ an attractive stranger visits your cabin for a week with whom you quickly bond, developing some strong feelings in the process; leaving you to wonder if he's worth leaving everything behind.

A/N: henlooo~ I finally posted! This has been sitting in my drafts for a while but I didn't really feel like writing for a while, hence the delay. I hope y'all enjoy this piece and please don't forget to leave some feedback! It really motivates me :)

A cool gust of wind blew by as you finished typing your last column, leaving a soothing feeling behind as you exhaled loudly. It was hard to finish this piece of writing for some reason, maybe because you lacked inspiration or maybe because your life had been monotonous for a while or simply, a mix of both. Closing your laptop you stretch your hands and legs, feeling somewhat productive. Humming a tune, you looked out the window to see a Lamborghini come to a halt at the entrance.

It piqued your interest because it's not often that people riding Lamborghini come in this cabin so genuinely you're interested in the visitor. You shifted in your chair, waiting for the man to come upstairs to the reception and sure enough a tall- really tall man dressed in a neatly pressed suit appears into your view, briskly walking towards the reception where Chan stood to greet him. You could not get a good look at his face as he moved around quickly, grabbing his small carry on and heading towards his cabin after the formalities.

You watched his tall frame walking away as you got up from your seat and moved towards Chan.

"Who is he?"

"Kim Mingyu," Chan explained, resting his arms on the reception table." A millionaire, owns a lot of companies. No wonder he looked familiar."

"Oh, really? How long is he staying?"

"He has booked for five days. Said he might extend his stay."

"I see."

"Why are you so curious though?" Chan raised a brow at you, tilting his head to a side.

"Nothing." You shrugged. "He just has different vibes than the other people that come here you know?"

Chan hummed in agreement.

There was never much visitors during the rainy season which was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because that meant the cabin was less hectic and curse because sometimes you are bound to get a bit too bored. You were helping yourself with a cup of tea to somewhat feel re-energised when your newest and the only guest for the week appeared from his cabin, padding through the corridor and stepping into the common kitchen area. You were taken aback for a moment before you composed yourself and smiled at your guest, "Good morning, Mr. Kim. May I help you with anything?"

"Mingyu, please," the tall male replied while scanning the kitchen area. "You're the owner right? What's the food arrangement here?"

"Well, our guests generally cook for themselves or order takeout. When there are many guests I sometimes do the cooking."

Nodding, he hummed before putting in a capsule in the cappuccino machine. You took a seat by the window, tea in your hand as you watched the male move around like he knew this place. Dressed in his pajamas and judging by the fluffy mess that his hair was you assumed he had a good night's sleep.

"I hope you had a pleasant night, Mr- Mingyu." You said to your guest who had whipped out a pan from the cupboard and was making omelette. "Yes, surprisingly so. Normally I have trouble falling asleep but I slept like a baby last night," he casually conversed as he prepared his breakfast.

You smiled, "Well, I'm glad to know that. If you need anything let my staffs or me know."

"Sure. Oh- I didn't get your name though." Mingyu turned to meet your eyes.

"___," you smiled.

"___, okay."

"This is gonna be a rainy week," Hoshi said from behind you as he stood holding a tub of fresh soil for the plants in the backyard of the cabin. You sat on your knees, eyeing the plants which needed their soil changed.

"Yeah? Well, good thing there isn't much guests now."

"I think there should be, I mean it's so pretty here during the rain too. People need to look at it themselves." Hoshi complained.

"Well, most people don't like going out in the rain. Pass me the soil, Hoshi. Let's get this finished before the shower starts."

Hoshi handed you the tub of soil as the sky above started growling, full of thick black clouds. It was gonna start raining soon.

Hoshi spoke, "Oh, Mr.Kim, Mingyu you know, asked me about the beach by the marketplace. Apparently he wants to visit so he asked me if I was free to show him around."

"And let me guess, you aren't?" You rolled your eyes.

Soonyoung pouted, "No! Well I would have given him a tour today if the weather wasn't so bad. And my friends are coming tomorrow, so I'll be busy then."

"Wait- you're friends are coming?" You turned, glaring at the boy who smiles sheepishly, "Oh! Um- I didn't tell you? Well they're only staying for a couple of days and it's not like they're staying for free."

"Well, make sure they clean after themselves okay? If I see them trashing all over the place like last time, I'm kicking you out with them." You gave him a pointed look.

"Okay okay," Hoshi rolled his eyes, puffing his cheeks. "Just- take the CEO out on a tour tomorrow for me okay? I haven't seen my friends in a long time."

"Alright, I will...if the weather is good which probably won't be." You sighed, gently removing the old soil.

Hoshi mused about Mingyu, "Bummer for him, he came in a wrong time. It's weird, no? We don't have such guests like him."

"Yeah," you hummed, focused on handling your roses.

Hoshi's friend, Seokmin and Seungkwan appeared early in the morning next day as you watched Hoshi vibrate from happiness when he hugged them. You smiled to yourself, laughing at at the antics of your staff as you saw him guide his friends into their cabin. The day was once again filled with dark clouds and raining which occurred every other hour. You and Chan cleaned up and completed some chores as the noon fell.

"Should I cook something up for them?" You wondered as Chan finished cleaning the common space of the first cabin.

"Nah, Seokmin hyung is cooking for them. He's a pretty good cook actually."

"Really? That's nice." You said pulling up a chair to sit down. "Are you gonna join them? Hoshi has been with his friends since they came."

"Yeah, probably. You should join us too."

"No, I think I'm gonna take a nap. I feel so tired."

"Alright."

You watched as Chan climbed down the stairs and stepped towards the second cabin where everyone else was. You were about to head to your room when the CEO, Mingyu appeared in the kitchen.

"Oh, hello."

"Hi."

"I haven't seen you since morning," you said watching as Mingyu poured himself a glass of water.

"Yeah, I woke up early today, went for a jog."

"Ah, I see."

"Couldn't go far though, the weather sucks you know." He said leaning against the kitchen top.

"Yeah. But I heard that it should get better from tomorrow. I could show you around if you want to. Hoshi, my staff, is going to busy for a while so I can guide you around."

"Really? That would be cool." Mingyu smiled. There was a small stretch of silence as you both listened to the rainfall before he spoke, "Have you had lunch?"

"Uh-no."

"Would you like to join me?" He asked "This is the longest time I've been alone and it feels a bit weird," he murmured more to himself than you.

"I mean- I don't mind," you shrugged. "Though I should be the one doing it."

"It's okay. People say I am a good cook," Mingyu smiled, his eyes crinkling.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to see."

It was weird how comfortable you felt watching Mingyu being clumsy and bump into things as he prepared your meal. It felt like you've been doing this forever- like you've known him forever and you thought to yourself what was suddenly wrong with you. He made small talk as he cooked and it felt easy talking with him- almost impossible to believe that he was stranger. He was friendly and easy to get along with, definitely not a cold and grumpy businessman like you imagined him to be.

Mingyu grinned as he set down the food in front of you- chicken soup, rice and cheese omelette. His eyes twinkled excitedly as he watched you take a bite, waiting for you to say something.

"What are you? A part time chef or something?" You tried not to moan as you chewed because it was that good. Mingyu laughed- a sweet, shy laugh that had his canines showing and his eyes forming crescents. "Thank you. I learned from my mom. I like cooking for myself when I get the time which is not often," he smiled- almost sadly.

"Well, you can cook for me all you want as long as you're here because this is amazing!" You grinned at him, cheeks puffed with food.

Mingyu chuckled softly as he dug in and you both started eating. It felt nice, to talk to someone new and spend time with them, someone other than Chan or Hoshi. It was a nice change- a change you probably needed for a while.

"So...What brings you here?" You asked as you finished your food, setting down the spoon and leaning back into the chair. Mingyu who was still eating, looked at you with a perplexed expression so you spoke, "I mean...we don't generally have guests like you. And it's not even a good time to visit...so I was wondering what brought you here?"

"Guests like me? What does that mean?"

"I mean...rich, okay?" You fumbled, feeling awkward. Maybe you shouldn't have asked. "Like...there are fancier places to visit, you know..."

Mingyu smiled at your words for a moment before he deadpanned, "I'm running away."

"Running away?" You gasped, almost jumping from your seat, "From who? The cops?"

"It would have been better but no, my family," he said, his voice as serious as ever.

"Oh...I see," you fell quiet. It definitely wasn't the answer you expected. You both remained silent for a while as he started out the window, lost in thoughts. "It must have been really bad if you're hiding out here." You spoke softly.

"It has always been," he mumbled. "I just couldn't take it anymore, you know? I desperately needed a break," he spoke more to himself than you. Instead of prodding further, you sat quietly, watching him and listening to his words. Seeing him now, he definitely looks troubled and you didn't exactly have the words to console him.

So you whispered, "Well, I hope it gets better."

Later that night, you find Hoshi and his friends and Chan preparing for a bonfire in the front yard of the cabin.

"Wow, you all are really having fun, no?" You said as you fisted your hands in your pockets from the chilly weather. The air was colder than other nights and everyone including you had put on some warm clothes.

"You wanna join us?" Seokmin asked as he stacked logs on top of each other.

"Nah, it's fine. You four carry on," you patted his back as you started walking back towards the cabin and saw Chan and Hoshi coming out with some boxes in their hands.

"Hey! There are marshmallows in the kitchen cabinet if you want.... nevermind," you finished as you saw beer cans and soju bottles in their hands.

"We're gonna get drunk baby!" Soonyoung yelled, grinning like a fool.

"Hyung, you look drunk already," Chan gave him a side look as they trudged towards the bonfire.

Laughing at their antics you climbed the stairs to the kitchen, preparing some hot chocolate for yourself. Holding the mug on one hand you knocked on the door to Mingyu's room, checking up on him since you haven't seen him since lunch.

The door opened revealing Mingyu in a baggy shirt and pajamas, his hair fluffy and messy.

"Hey," you chriped. "Wanted to check up on you. You wanna join the others in the bonfire?"

"Nah, I'm good. I've been watching them from the balcony." He smiled, his pointy canines showing.

"Oh, I see."

"You wanna come in? I've been getting lonely." He offered, moving away from the door to make space for you.

"Uh- I don't mind," you murmured, surprised that he asked you to come in. You tentatively stepped in and it was fair to say that you were surprised to see the room neat and pristine as most guests kept their room messy.

He ushered you into the balcony, which had a great view of your yard and the forest behind. You saw others laughing loudly as Soonyoung acted something out. Mingyu's voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"You didn't join them?"

"Nah, they can get too loud sometimes," you chuckled, taking a seat on the bench. You eyed an empty mug lying by, guessing that Mingyu already had his fill of hot chocolate.

Mingyu took a seat beside you, stretching his legs and sighing as he mused, "The view is great."

You hummed your agreement. It was indeed. Not only did you have the full view of your yard and the forest, but you could see a vast horizon of the night sky, some stars twinkling through the clouds.

"It's even more beautiful during summer. You can see so many stars that it feels unreal." You told him.

"Then I will try to visit again during summer," he smiled and you were not sure if he was serious or joking. However you replied with a smile, "You're always welcome."

A silence falls among you two after that but it's not uncomfortable, as you both watched the night grow and Soonyoung and his friends got louder.

"Things got really hard for me, you know," Mingyu started speaking, his voice soft as he stared at the mesh of trees ahead. You were somewhat surprised at his words, but you didn't interrupt, opting for him to continue.

"Running a million dollar company was never easy but...it suddenly was unbearable. My parents always interfered in my work and how I run the company but I managed through all of that, really...until..." Mingyu heaved a long sigh, abruptly stopping.

"Until?" You tentatively asked, peeking at him.

"They want me to get married. With the daughter of their business partner. A marriage of convenience, really."

Oh.

You fell silent, watching him as the moonlight dimly lit the side of his face. There wasn't enough light to see his face completely, but enough to see the curve of his face, his sharp jawline and the sad, lost look in his eyes. Your heart suddenly ached for him. Silently you patted his shoulder, conjuring up some words to console him.

"That's ...awful, really. I'm sorry."

"I've never been so mad in my whole life. Can't they just leave me alone? They treat me like a puppet, like my only job is to live for them. I'm so done. " He said, his hands forming fists.

There's a beat of silence as you quietly patted his back and watched your friends get wasted by the bonfire before he chuckled softly, "I'm sorry for dumping all these on you. I just couldn't hold them in you know-"

"It's really fine, Mingyu. I don't mind. It would be nice if I could actually help you," you sighed, retracting your hand.

"Trust me, you are," he said and you caught a smile on his face.

"I suppose you don't have a significant other? Someone you could talk to freely?"

He shook his head. "That is why I came here. Needed to get my thoughts together, away from them. Not to mention I don't remember the last time I went on a vacation."

"And have you got your thoughts together?"

"I think so, yeah." He shrugged.

"What are you gonna do?" You asked tilting your head.

"Stand strong in my ground, I guess. There's no way I'm marrying their business partner, I'd rather die. And if all else fails, I'm staying here. I'm sure you have some type of job for me, right?"

You laughed at his words, "Maybe. But I'm not sure about your skills, Mr. Kim."

"Oh I'm a fast learner, Miss ___."

You both grinned at each other.

That night when you went back to your room, your thoughts were plagued by Mingyu and you could swear you saw him in your dreams too.

The next morning is brighter and shinier; the sky relatively clear other than some light clouds. After getting dressed and checking up on Hoshi and Chan who were still sleeping, you trudged through the cabin and towards Mingyu's room, before knocking on it. A fully dressed Mingyu appeared, clad in a white polo and jeans, his hair styled messily. He looked effortlessly attractive, making your heart skipp a few beats.

Damn it, what was wrong with you?

"Hi," you almost missed a breath, your face flushed with warmth.

"Oh, hey. I was about to come to you. I believe you were to show me around." Mingyu grinned, his pointy canines showing.

"And that is what I'm here for, Mr. Kim."

"Great! Let's get going. We'll take my car."

After showing Mingyu around for a couple of hours, you both ended up at the beach by the marketplace, sitting on the sand next to each other. The weather was nice; not too hot, not too cold as a light breeze flew by occasionally. Though you could see some black clouds gathering above, it wasn't to rain until evening if the forecast was correct.

"This place is so pretty," Mingyu mused, making you smile.

"I know right. The weather is great too."

You both watched the waves crash to the shore, occasionally wetting your feet as you both relaxed on the sand. There was a silence, a comfortable one as you finished eating the corndog you bought from the market earlier with some groceries. As you finished the last bite, Mingyu turned to face you and asked, "Tell me about yourself."

"What?" A squeak of surprise escaped from you.

"I shared a lot about myself last night. It's only fair I get to know about you too."

"Well..." You pondered. "There isn't much to tell. I've a pretty dull life, unlike you."

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head, "Does the cabin belong to your parents? Is it like a family business type of thing?"

"No, not really," you smiled softly. "My parents are dead. The cabin belonged to my grandfather."

"Oh- I'm sorry."

"No it's okay. They passed away in an accident when I was a kid so I don't remember them much." You spoke, watching the sea, "My grandparents raised me. Growing up I've spent a lot of time in the cabin and when my grandfather retired he handed the job to me."

"Are they alive? Your grandparents?" He asked tentatively.

You shook your head, "Grandpa passed away a couple years ago and it's been a few months since grandma did too."

"I'm sorry, you must've been lonely," Mingyu offered, his voice soft.

You shrugged, "Yeah, like I said, nothing interesting going on in my life."

Mingyu hummed noncommittally and there was a few moments of silence before he spoke again, "Was managing the cabin something you have always wanted to do?"

You were quiet for a while as you thought over the question, "No...not really. I've just kept doing the job I was handed to. I haven't really thought about what I want to do."

"Well...I think you should hire a manager in your place and maybe...I don't come to the city and make friends, see what calls for you."

"Yeah, I've thought about it. But I don't know really." You murmured.

"Well, give it some thought. I could help you find a manager. In fact, I could help promote and upgrade your cabin if you'd let me. It'll be a good investment."

You laughed softly, not taking his words too seriously. He was just a guest. He was probably just being nice.

A gust of strong wind flew by, ruining your hair as it poked into your eyes and you laughed when your eyes landed on Mingyu.

"What?"

His hair was sticking in different directions because of the wind and you shook your head with a smile as you reached to pat the hairs back into place. It happened naturally, before you could stop yourself. For a moment your eyes meet as you quickly retract your hand, face heated.

Something was definitely wrong with you.

Mingyu's gaze stayed at you for a while; you could feel his intense eyes on you and you thought maybe he didn't like you touching him. Before your thoughts ran more rampant, he spoke.

"___?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you...Do you have a home?"

"Home?" You were confused.

"Yes, home. Not like a real house but like a... person. Someone who makes you feel at ease, someone with whom you can be yourself without judgements, someone who keeps you cozy and safe and loved...like a home."

Somewhat taken aback by his words, you fell silent but their depth hit you and you found yourself thinking about it. Do you have a home?

No. No, you don't.

You shook your head, murmuring, "No."

Mingyu nodded taking his eyes off you.

"What about you?" You asked.

"Me neither."

You smiled, "Figures. Because if you had someone you wouldn't have run here but went to them."

Mingyu smiled, a sad smile gracing his lips. It was a somewhat bitter truth, he hadn't found his home no matter how much he looked for it. Maybe that's what he was doing wrong, looking desperately.

"Let's get going. It has started to rain," Your voice dragged him out of his thoughts as he felt small drops of water fall on his face. You reached your hand out to him and he took it, standing up. As you both jogged towards Mingyu's car, your hands remained connected, no one bothering to let go.

That night you had dinner with Mingyu again but this time it was you who did the cooking. After enjoying dinner over small talk, Mingyu like the gentleman he is did the dishes as you poured some wine for the two of you.

Sitting on the small table in common space by the window, you both watched the clear sky that had appeared after the shower. You sipped your wine, watching the vast expanse of stars that blinked in the dark sky.

"I think I've to go back tomorrow," Mingyu suddenly whispered, his tone so low you almost thought you misheard him. A bolt out the blue, you looked at him.

"Tomorrow?"

"Mmhmm," he fiddled with the hem of his cardigan as he stared at the table. "I've got so many calls and messages from work. My company won't run on its on, I can be gone for only so long." He sighed.

You didn't offer any words, too shocked to know that he'd be gone tomorrow. What is this attachment you've developed towards him? Why did the thought of someone, almost a stranger going back to where he came from, where he belonged hurt you so much? You didn't know what to label your feelings but realizing that you'd probably never see him again was tugging at your heartstrings.

Should you ask him for his number and stay connected with him? Is there even a point in that? You both live miles away from each other. Or should just take his advice and follow him to the city? Would that even be a good idea? Are you just reading all this wrong?

You were so invested in your thoughts that you didn't realize Mingyu was calling you until he shook your shoulder.

"You okay, ___?"

"Huh? Yeah...it's just, the news is really sudden. I didn't... expect you'd return so soon." You mumbled.

Mingyu sighed, his shoulder dropping a little bit. "Trust me, if I could I'd stay here forever. But...I can't keep running. I need to face my parents, the sooner the better."

At a loss of what to say, you just nodded. Reaching for your drink you took a big gulp, trying to calm your nerves. It's okay, you can do this. He's just another one of your guests.

You stood up, taking the empty glass in your hand, "Well, I better leave you alone now. I'm sure you've got packing to do."

You almost turned away; until a strong hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back, making you stumble towards Mingyu's body.

"Don't. Stay for a while. I don't want you to leave." His voice was soft yet deep and it immediately broke your resolve as you set the glass down and looked into his eyes.

He didn't let go of your wrist; instead only wrapped his other hand around your waist, pulling you closer, leaving just a few inches between your faces. You didn't tell him to move neither did you make any effort to get away from him- you didn't want to. It felt good, comforting as he held you and looked at you almost like you were his whole world. His eyes had so much emotion swirling in them and you were sure yours looked the same too.

"___?" His voice was breathy and it set your heart aflame.

"Y-yes?"

"Can I...kiss you?"

You inhaled sharply as his hold on you got tighter. You couldn't process a reply, overwhelmed with emotion. So you just nodded and Mingyu leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

It was soft at first, his lips just resting against yours, as if he was testing the waters. When you didn't resist but only pulled him closer, he started devouring you, his tongue prodding in your wet cavern. Moans espaced from you as you kept pulling at his hair almost grinding on him, desperate for more. He was the same, kissing you with so much passion and vigour like you were the last female standing.

You somehow managed to tug off his cardigan between the kiss and when you pulled apart for air, Mingyu panted, "Can we take this to the bedroom?"

His deep raspy voice spread liquid heat throughout your body and you had to stop yourself from pouncing on him.

"Yes please," you breathed. Mingyu stood up straight, his tall and built body intimidating you in the best ways possible, "Oh baby, you don't have to beg. I'll give you anything you want."

Once again your breath was trapped as he picked you up, his hand under your ass to support you. When he dropped you on his bed and took off his tee you realized you were in for a long night. In the back of your mind, you also realized that this would make it even harder to let him go.

Next morning you were the first one to wake up as the sun barely seeped through the blinds. If you had to guess it wasn't any more than six am. Mingyu's hand rested on your waist as he remained snuggled against your back. It was so comforting that you almost forgot your reality and went back to sleep, until you remembered what had happened last night. Before you could start overthinking and possibly had a breakdown right there, you ever so carefully removed his hand from your body and scrawled out of the bed, grabbing your shirt and quickly throwing it on. Then you tiptoped out of his room despite the ache between your legs and rushed straight towards yours.

Slamming the door shut, your sat down, head in your hands. You've to now prepare for saying goodbye. Right, you just need to act casual and not let him know that you might have developed feelings for him in the past week.

His words came back to you.

"Do you have a home?"

You didn't have one until now but the realization that you may have found it brought tears to your eyes.

You spent the next hours wallowing in your self pity, curled up in your bed too afraid to get out and face Mingyu. Soonyoung dropped by once, knocking at your door and asking if you want breakfast, which you declined. Time slowly ticked away and you watched as the clock struck eleven. You couldn't stay inside forever. You needed to bid Mingyu a goodbye- that is if he hadn't left already. But you were sure he didn't; he wouldn't just leave without any words.

Sighing, you gathered every last bit of your courage and stepped out of your room. Immediately you saw Mingyu coming out from the opposite end of the corridor, the carry-on he brought with him in his hand.

"Hey, where have you been?" He asked, his steps getting quicker to come and stand in front of you.

"Oh- um, I took and shower and then dozed off, sorry," you lied easily, not meeting his eyes.

There was a beat of silence as you both stood in front of each other and when your eyes finally met his, a blush spread across his face like wildfire. The air was heavy with unsaid words and you coughed, trying to get rid of the terrible awkwardness.

"So, you're leaving now?"

What a nice question.

Mingyu seemed to be lost in thoughts as he snapped back to reality and scratched the back of his head, "Oh yeah, right. It'll be a couple hours drive so the earlier I leave the better."

Nodding you motioned your hand towards the exit, "I'll see you out."

Mingyu seemed to have something to say but he pressed his lips in a thin line and started to climb down the stairs, you behind him. Soonyoung, who was standing at the entrance gave you a conspirational wiggle of his brows but said nothing as he watched you follow Mingyu out.

You observed as Mingyu loaded his bag in the trunk, peeking glances at you every other second. When he finished, you spoke, "Well...good luck. I hope you can overcome your problems."

"Thanks. It won't be easy and my dad will probably take away my shares of the company but...I'm done living like this."

You nodded, smiling softly as you crossed your arms against your chest. It suddenly felt cold.

You both gazed at each other, saying nothing even though you've so much to say, as if the silence would carry your unsaid words to him. You were torn- wanting to talk about last night but chickening out knowing it was probably just a fling, a one night stand for him.

"___..." Mingyu spoke but the words died on his tongue. Not trusting yourself to speak, you swallwed the ball of emotions and looked at him with a curious tilt of head.

"...I hope you find what you really want to do. And I hope you find your home too," he said, his words so soft and gentle. For some reason you had a feeling that those were not the words he wanted to say yet you forced a smile and nodded, "You too, Mingyu."

His eyes swirled with so my emotions but you didn't know what he was thinking. He looked pained, just like you but you were too afraid to speak your feelings, scared that you misread him.

When you spoke no more, Mingyu sighed and backstopped slowly, "Well... goodbye, then."

You managed to choke out the words, "Goodbye."

Your emotions overwhelmed you, tears stinging your eyes as you watched him enter his car. Why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like your heart was being ripped right out of your chest?

His engine roared to life and your stomach sunk. Was this really the right thing to do? Should you just let him go like this?

You made a split second decision that moment, just as his car moved forward a little.

"Mingyu!" You called after him, immediately making him stop the car. He came out, almost in a hurry, an expectant look on his face as you ran towards him. Then you made another split second decision as you wrapped your arms around his tall frame and held tight.

"I like you, Mingyu. I really like you." You mumbled in his chest.

He didn't say anything back but you felt his arms wrapping around you tightly and you stood there in each others embrace for a while. It felt like time has stopped, the warmth and safety of his arms comforting you and making you realize how you would have regretted if you had let him go.

Mingyu pulled back to take a look at your face, his hand cupping your cheeks, his warm but intense eyes on you, shining with love and adoration.

"Say something," you whispered, still unsure.

He chuckled, a light-hearted, carefree sound that made your heart swoon. "I like you too, if it wasn't obvious after last night."

Elated, you pulled his face down and kissed his lips as you felt him grin and wrap his arms around you once again.

"I want to go with you...to the city," you murmured into his chest as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You couldn't see it but you felt him smirk, "Good. Because I think I found my home."

Your heart couldn't become fuller as you grinned like a happy child.

"Me too."

A/N 2: If you enjoyed reading don't forget to like and reblog and let me know your thoughts!

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt~ hoping you'll like it ♥️

Things between the Nie brothers are not always nice and happy, they fight, just like any other pair of brothers, and sometimes things are said, sometimes these things are heavy and painful. Sometimes they're said in the wrong moment (maybe at the eve of a battle? Sunshot campaign?) and huaisang doesn't know what to do with the broken look his brother gives him before leaving the unclean realm. Because what if he doesn't return? What if the last thing he said to him was how much he hated the man he became?

Labyrinth - ao3

“But I didn’t mean to wish him away!” Nie Huaisang cried out.

“That’s really too bad,” the goblin king said, looking pleasant and humble and charming the way he always did, even in his cape of glittering gold and high-browed hat. “I wish there was something I could do for you, but the rules are the rules. You wished him away, and I took him.”

“Aren’t you supposed to only take babies?” Nie Huaisang demanded.

“Your brother’s enough of a crybaby to count, it’s close enough.”

“It is not!” Nie Huaisang wrung his hands. “You don’t understand, the last thing I said to him was that I hated him! Meng Yao, please!”

“It’s Jin Guangyao,” the goblin king corrected. His smile looked a bit strained. “Listen, do you think I’m happy about this? He’s my sworn brother! I’m only doing what I have to –”

“Oh, save it for Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang growled. “Show me the labyrinth already.”

“You’re going to face the labyrinth,” the goblin king said. His voice was very polite, and yet still expressed significant doubt. “You.”

“Yeah, me!”

“You remember that it goes ‘through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered’, right? Not ‘through a nice teacher and a forgiving grading system’?”

“Yeah, well, your father is a fragging aardvark. Let me at the labyrinth already!”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

The life-sized animated puppet blinked at him. “You – don’t want my help?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“You haven’t even gotten into the labyrinth yet!”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t have a chance to get in,” Nie Huaisang said, patting around his sleeve and pulling out a fan. “So I’m just going to walk over and beat at the wall till something happens.”

The puppet followed him, staring blankly. Quite a change from his original apologetic ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy with my own things, I really can’t help you, also it’s too dangerous and you shouldn’t go’ response.

“You were blackmailing me to help you just a moment ago,” the puppet said after a little. “Don’t you need a guide?”

“Listen, I’m bad at memorizing things and I’m a little useless, but I’m not actually dumb,” Nie Huaisang said, fanning himself. “Jin Guangyao is a demon of the mind above all else, and the labyrinth is supposed to be ‘fair’ – which means, more than likely, that the labyrinth is a reflection of the subconscious, specially tailored to each person’s strengths and weaknesses. And that means that you, who sound exactly like Lan Xichen, are almost certainly a set-up sent by Jin Guangyao to ‘reluctantly’ aid me and then betray me.”

“Uh,” Lan Xichen-the-puppet said. “My name’s Hoggle, actually.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, er-ge…A-ha!” Nie Huaisang beamed at the gates that automatically opened. “Perfect!”

“Oh, don’t go that way,” the worm said. “Never go that way. And are you sure you don’t want to come in for a cup of tea?”

“No time,” Nie Huaisang said. “Thanks a lot – wait.”

The worm blinked at him.

“You’re a pretty attractive worm, in a slimy sort of way,” Nie Huaisang said, frowning at him.

The worm blinked again. “Why, thanks!”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Is your name Su She, by chance?”

“Definitely not!”

“Mm. Oddly vehement of you. Never mind. Just, quick, could you tell me exactly why do I not want to go that way?”

“I don’t suppose straight ahead is an option?”

The hands-faces stared at him.

“I’m just saying, I feel like most of my problems so far have come from the fact that I decided to accept the whole concept of turns. It seems like a mistake.”

“…it’s a labyrinth,” another set of the hands said. “You have to make turns!”

Nie Huaisang shook his head mournfully. “I should’ve brought Baxia or something and just – ZIP. Gone straight through. You know what I mean?”

“I’m dropping you in the oubliette regardless of your decision,” the first set of the hands said. It sounded a bit like Sect Leader Yao. “Just so you know.”

“My life is so hard,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “So hard! Do you know what it’s like to be overlooked by everyone? Do you know how hard I have to work at being this useless?”

“Drop him,” the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Ouyang said, and the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Yao said, “Yes. Now!”

Down Nie Huaisang went.

“I can take you back to the beginning of the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen offered.

“What, and waste all that time? I have a time limit, er-ge!”

“It’s better than being stuck in an oubliette. That’s where they put people to forget about them, you know.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes filled with tears. “You want to forget me, er-ge? You think I’m useless, don’t you? A good-for-nothing, who’ll never amount to anything –”

“Please don’t cry.”

“ER-GE! WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME!”

“Please stop crying!”

“So what’s the point of you?” Nie Huaisang asked the Wise Man with the Talking Hat.

“Not everyone exists to contribute to your storyline,” the Talking Hat snapped at him. “Some of us’ve got our own problems. Now hand over the candy!”

“Don’t be mean,” the Wise Man said. He had a white cloth over his eyes, and was smiling like he found the hat funny.

“Awww, but daozhang…!”

“Different plotline entirely, I guess,” Nie Huaisang decided. “Probably just here as a foil. Shall we keep going, er-ge?”

“I can’t believe you scammed me to get out of the oubliette,” Lan Xichen mumbled. “I can’t believe…”

“Oh, leave him alone, he’s just sensitive!” Nie Huaisang snapped.

“Am not!” the upside-down creature snarled, curled up on itself and trying to hide from all those that had been hitting him. Its fur was a vivid sort of purple. “Go away!”

“Don’t you have some sort of special power to help you here,” Nie Huaisang asked him as he tried to get him down before the goblins came back with weapons. “Rocks, maybe?”

“…lightning?”

“Well then get to it, will you?” Nie Huaisang frowned. “Wait. Lightning, constantly being tormented, terrible at communication, and purple? You’re Jiang Cheng, aren’t you?”

“…maybe.”

“Well then get down faster! I need to copy someone’s notes here!”

“Leave me aloooooooone!” Nie Huaisang howled, running away from the measuring snake.

“Wow,” Lan Xichen said, holding his cheek. “You kissed me.”

“You saved me from the snakes,” Nie Huaisang said. “Can we focus on how we’re in this awful stinking bog?”

“It’s not that bad!” a voice piped up. “I don’t smell anything!”

Nie Huaisang turned to stare, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you don’t,” he said. “I bet the total absence of a sense of smell helps when you eat spicy food, Wei-xiong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spicy food!”

“You’re short,” Nie Huaisang informed the small goblin-like creature with the big grin and the red ribbon in its hair. It looked vaguely fox-like, or possibly like certain large breeds of rabbit.

“Why you..!” Wei Wuxian crossed his furry little paws over his chest. “Just for that, I’m not going to help you.”

“Uh-huh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Really. That’s awful…oh no! A dog!”

Wei Wuxian jumped high into the air. “A dog?! Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! Save me!”

Much to Nie Huaisang’s surprise, a furry dog immediately darted out of nowhere – only Wei Wuxian didn’t seem afraid of it, but rather hid behind it, teeth chattering.

Truly, Nie Huaisang reflected, the eyes of love are blind.

“I think the ‘dog’ is gone now,” he said. “Your brave and noble Lan Wangji must’ve scared him away.”

Wei Wuxian’s head popped out from behind dog-Wangji. “Well, Lan Zhan is really cool…hey. Are you trying to manipulate me?”

“Is it working?”

“No!”

“So you won’t help me?”

“No!”

“Not even if it means you get to figure out a really tricky puzzle?”

“No – wait. A puzzle?”

“I can’t believe this is going to work,” Lan Xichen muttered from behind Nie Huaisang. “I mean, I can. But also…Wangji…I love you, but you could do so much better than this.”

“Ugh,” Nie Huaisang said. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Have some Emperor’s Smile,” Lan Xichen said, offering a jar.

“Amazing,” Nie Huaisang said, accepting it and taking a swing. “I had my doubts, you know, but you’re actually good for something after all, er-ge –”

The golden bird was Nie Huaisang’s favorite.

He’d worked so hard to bring it back to his aviary – it couldn’t be forced, he knew; it would play along at first but in the end it would turn on you and bite you. It had to be coaxed with gentleness and kindness, approached indirectly so as not to spook it, convince it that you really did mean well – that you were harmless, that it had no reason to fear you. It was arrogant, too, proud of its shining feathers and ashamed of the brown plumage of its chick days, which still remained visible on its tender underbelly. Ironically, that was Nie Huaisang’s favorite part of it, the soft and gentle part; it might not be as pretty as the gold, but it felt more genuine.

Nie Huaisang smiled as he brushed the beautiful feathers, and the golden bird allowed him. He felt cherished, treasured. So what if he had to hide all the sharp parts of himself to get this close?

It was fine. He didn’t like to be sharp.

He wanted to be soft. Soft and gentle, careless and free, relaxed and without effort, good for nothing –

Wait.

No!

“It’s all junk,” Nie Huaisang hissed at the pile of burning fans, tears in his eyes. “I want my da-ge!”

“You’re all right!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, helping pulled Nie Huaisang up.

“Huaisang-xiong,” Jiang Cheng said, looking relieved. “You’re back.”

“We have to go to the temple beyond the Goblin City,” Nie Huaisang said, teeth gritted together. “We have to. I won’t let that bastard…we’re going to go there and throw all his damned tricks right in his face!”

“Just us?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I mean, I’m awesome, Lan Zhan is fantastic, and of course Jiang Cheng is great, too, but…uh…there’s a lot of goblins in the city.”

“We’ll sneak in,” Nie Huaisang said. “He thinks he’s sidelined me entirely – he thinks I’m useless. He won’t be expecting me to get this far.”

“I can get help,” Jiang Cheng said. “I have friends.”

“…not to be rude, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “But – really?”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said, eyeing the pile of rocks following Jiang Cheng around, each one painted with a name. One of the names was yellow. Two were in white, with forehead ribbons. “This is fine. I feel like it says something really rude about my empathy for and interest in our junior generation, or lack thereof, but you know what? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

“You saved me,” Nie Huaisang said blankly, looking at Lan Xichen, who shrugged, abashed. The remains of the mechanical temple guard were scattered all over. “Over – him?”

“Huaisang –”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said, holding up his hands. “Don’t. Don’t…I don’t want to hear you talk.”

Lan Xichen’s head dropped down and he looked at the ground. “You knew from the beginning what I was like,” he murmured. “I never tried to hide it –”

“I forgive you for being what you are,” Nie Huaisang told him, and Lan Xichen looked up at him, startled and pleased. “I forgive you for not having the backbone to stand up against Jin Guangyao for me – or for da-ge. For being willfully blind for so long, for needing someone else’s proof of his ill-intentions, for always picking him first, for never trusting me…I forgive you, even if you’d never forgive me for the same.”

He dashed away the angry tears in his eyes.

“I just wish this wasn’t a fucking metaphor.”

Nie Huaisang left the fighting to the people who knew what to do – Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng, even the rock-juniors – and went to the temple at the center of the city alone.

Some things, he knew, needed to be done alone, even if it was the type of alone when you were surrounded by other people. Even when those other people stood by his side and made him promise that if he needed them, he would only need to call. Some things…

“I want my da-ge back,” he said to the maze of stairs.

“Then go and find him,” Jin Guangyao replied, looking smug, and Nie Huaisang had to go up and down all those fucking stairs, because Jin Guangyao was nothing if not predictable with his trauma, looking all over, looking for –

Looking for pieces.

“It’s just a metaphor,” he whispered to himself, ignoring how tears were streaming down his face. “It’s just – I need to put him back together, it’s fine. I’m not too late – I’m not too late –”

Jin Guangyao held Nie Mingjue’s head in his hands, blinded and gagged and bound with talismans, pulled out of whatever oubliette he'd shoved it into to forget about what he'd done. “Beware, Huaisang,” he said, still smiling. Always smiling. “I’ve been generous up until now, but I can be cruel.”

Nie Huaisang laughed, scoffing. “Generous? What have you done for me that’s generous?”

“Everything! Everything you’ve wanted, I’ve done – I cared for you, I gave you attention, I got you out of work, doing your schoolwork for you and coming up with excuses to get you out of saber training. I gave you presents, fans and pretty clothing, and when that brute of a brother of yours tried to take them from you, I rescued you. And then I even managed your sect for you, answered all of your questions, any time you had – Huaisang, I’m exhausted trying to live up to your expectations of me. Isn’t that generous?”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth. “Half of those are burdens that only fell on me because of you. Why should it matter to me that cleaning up your own mess and satisfying your own guilt is hard? Why should I pay such a price when all I wanted was to be your friend? When all da-ge wanted was to be your friend? How dare you, Meng Yao!”

“Huaisang…” Jin Guangyao shook his head mournfully. “Huaisang, the last step here is to say the words to break the spell. But you were never good at memorization, were you?”

Nie Huaisang bit his lip until he drew blood.

“Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered,” he said. “I have fought my way here to the temple beyond the goblin city –”

“Huaisang, stop! Look at what you’re risking here. You know how everyone loves me – do you think anyone will forgive you for taking me down, for tricking them all? You’ll be all alone!”

I already am, Nie Huaisang thought.

“My will is as strong as yours,” he said. “And my kingdom is as great…”

His voice trailed off.

“I ask for so little,” Jin Guangyao said beseechingly, convincingly, looking just like he always did, like the man who'd been their friend. “Just let me fool you, and you can have anything you want. No responsibilities, no stress, a life of your own. You can even have Lan Xichen, if that’s what you want…”

What’s the last line, Nie Huaisang thought, hating himself for being such a poor student, for cramming things into his mind without any order, for never being able to retain a single drop of it no matter how hard he tried. What is it? Why can’t I ever remember?

“It’d be so easy,” Jin Guangyao crooned. “Much easier than this. Just fear me, love me, believe me, and I’ll be your slave.”

Sharp teeth in a false smile.

Nie Huaisang shook in terror. He couldn’t – his da-ge needed him – he couldn’t be afraid, couldn’t be a coward, couldn’t be good-for-nothing – couldn’t let Jin Guangyao win – couldn’t let him –

That was it.

Nie Huaisang raised his head until his eyes met his enemy’s.

Sensing something wrong, Jin Guangyao’s eternal smile dimmed, and he began to step forward, reaching out, but it was too late.

“You have no power over me,” Nie Huaisang declared, and the world within a world collapsed.

Nie Huaisang opened his eyes.

Nie Huaisang sat in his desk in the Unclean Realm, trying to amuse himself by trying to figure out what exactly he’d eaten the night before that had given him such bizarre dreams. It was not successful, on account of him being alone.

Alone, just as he had been every night, and every day as well, since the success of his scheme at the Guanyin Temple.

Just as the dream-Jin Guangyao had threatened.

It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang regretted what he had done – the dream was clear enough about that; he’d do it all again in a heartbeat if he had to. But in the dream he’d been working alongside his former friends, with Lan Xichen betraying but then returning to him, with Wei Wuxian dragging Lan Wangji around, with stone-faced Jiang Cheng and the rather interchangeable junior squad behind him…and in his dream, in the end, they’d let him go to take his revenge, telling him that if he needed them for any reason, he could just call.

Just call, and they’d come back to him. Instead of turning from him in disgust, they’d stand by his side…

“Stupid subconscious,” Nie Huaisang mumbled to himself. “What do you expect? That I'd write to them and say ‘for no real reason at all, I find that I rather need you’?”

Silence answered him.

“Well, I do,” he said with a sigh, putting his chin on his hands. “Does that make you happy? I do need you.”

“You do?” Wei Wuxian’s voice rang out, and Nie Huaisang jumped nearly out of his skin. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Nie Huaisang turned, staring: it was Wei Wuxian at the door, the human version of him, and of course there was Lan Wangji right before him, and Jiang Cheng, and the (still mostly interchangeable) juniors, and – and even Lan Xichen, who Nie Huaisang was sure had gone into seclusion with no intent to leave.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Huaisang squeaked. And why hadn’t any of his sect disciples warned him?

“We just bullied our way though the door before anyone could stop us,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully, answering the unspoken question first. “As for the rest – it turns out that I had the strangest dream the other night, really, truly bizarre, and obviously I had to tell Lan Zhan all about it, except it turned out he had a strange dream too.”

Nie Huaisang’s jaw dropped. “But –”

“I felt da-ge’s qi woven into the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen said quietly. “I thought it’d have long ago dissipated or been locked away, but – it was there, in every stone, in every turn. Every obstacle that didn’t really hurt you, every goblin that was more silly than scary…he was there. It was unmistakable.”

Nie Huaisang swallowed. The story of the labyrinth, baby-stealing wish-granting goblin king and all, had been one that Nie Mingjue had told him as a bedtime story, when he'd been a child in need of comfort; he hadn’t thought of it in years before last night. “But…why…?”

“Because Chifeng-zun has a demented sense of humor?” Jiang Cheng suggested, looking irritated.

“Jiujiu means that he hasn’t had that much fun in years, and also that you should throw a party,” Jin Ling said. “You are hosting all three of the sect leaders of all the other Great Sects. Also, why were we rocks?”

“Uh, no idea,” Nie Huaisang said. “Da-ge’s weird sense of humor, no doubt! Anyway, did you say party? I can do a party!”

He rushed out of the room, calling for his servants, calling for them to bring food and wine and tea, and as he did, he looked out of the window – a golden bird was flying away, looking hunted as if something was chasing it, and even as he watched, it crossed the borders of the Unclean Realm and suddenly dissolved into a fizzle of golden dust.

Nie Huaisang put his hand on the stone wall, and felt a familiar echo.

A very familiar echo.

“Oh,” he said, to his servants, feeling somehow simultaneously sheepish and filled with joy. “And while you’re at it, can you bring me my saber? I seem to have – misplaced it…”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #su she #sect leader yao #sect leader ouyang #xiao xingchen #xue yang #my fic #my fics #labyrinth

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lantsovsupremacist · 3 years

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I was wondering if you could do a Nikolai fic w a Tidemaker reader who works for him on the Volkvony ?

whenever i read nikolai stuff, i imagine his girl to be a tide maker. so, of course it’s my honor to make this happen 🙏🙏 also i got carried away and there will most certainly be a part 2 🤪🤪

mijn dochter: my daughter (i went with dutch because that’s what kerch is supposedly influenced by)!

nikolai lantsov: mirror ball

it all began out of desperation, as most things in your life often did.

born into a family of ten living on the farmlands of kerch, there were always too many mouths to feed. despite the nature of your family’s occupation, whatever could be harvested or slain for food often ended up sent to the markets to try and keep up with the land payments. it was this necessity to help your family (an expectation of yourself as the middle child as much as your younger siblings) that kept you from attending school the day testing occurred. considered the bottom of the lowest class, nobody deemed you important enough to reschedule a test or even find you a spot for the next year’s round.

you believed the position of the testers. it was not because you felt particularly unimportant, just that there was no history of grisha in your family or few you had ever come into contact with. in fact, watching the older kids get tested was your only example of grisha power. a lack of suitable education did not help your case. so, you disregarded the event or lack thereof quickly after it passed.

however, when you pulled the tide in to help the withering crops survive one summer—out of sheer desperation—you could no longer ignore the possibility. the land only needed to close in to the sound by a few feet in order for the water to saturate the fields properly. it could have been a trick of a weary mind. you might not have even realized what had happened if not for your father’s startled gasp.

he muttered a single word, grisha. anything else was unintelligible under his breath—likely a slew of curses. he had even less of an education than you and your siblings. for months, you pleaded for your parents to pretend as if nothing had changed. your oldest brother knew the word for it: tidemaker. one of his best friend’s at school, their older sister had been one. but, she had been taken away. you could not imagine leaving your fields and the sun that hung above them.

you did not want to be a danger to your family, what with the way in which discovered grisha were treated in kerch’s cities. you could only hide for so long. in addition to this worry, you believed by using this resource, you could find better pay to send home. it was not the second army you desired to join but perhaps, some freelance work.

the volkvony was much larger than the scattered fishing boats dotting the coast. even those you saw rarely, the docks being miles outside your town. the pirateer’s vessel and those occupying it radiated power. the reminder of your own ability did little to ease your anxiety.

you mother’s final parting words rang in your head, and you held onto the echo for as long as you could.

“you are a fierce force to be reckoned with, mijn dochter.”

right now with your knees knocking and shoulders shaking, you hardly felt it. your mother often remarked you showed courage in different ways. you might have paled at standing up to the bully that had broken your sister’s arm as a child and allowed your eldest brother to physically retaliate, but your calm nature quieted her cries as you held her gently, waiting for help. you knew that even when he did not verbally express it, your father still appreciated how you took it upon yourself to care for the little ones, handle the crises at home. you made life work for everybody.

your littlest brother, espen, would think you were strong despite the obvious nerves riddling your form. before you left, he hugged you goodbye with all of the strength his two-year-old body could muster, imbuing you with it. his childlike magic satiated any apprehension that came your way on the voyage to the boat’s docking in ketterdam—a city’s whose reputation limited your visits to three occasions in eighteen years. and when it faded, because it always did, you held tight to baby noa’s fairly like giggles, each one of her accompanied smiles locked carefully away in your heart.

even with living a life largely locked on land, the water brought a unique sense of calm to your restless spirit. to any onlooker, your closed eyes and deep breaths by the banks could be attributed to the anticipation of adventure. however, anyone who truly knew your heart would understand the greater impact of the tides. they might even notice the slight curl of your lip or scrunch of your nose, the actions of concentration supporting the delicate ripples of waves on the edge of the sound.

a voice from behind you nearly caused you to jump right off of the dock. one might think that growing up in a household of ten, you would be painfully aware of your surroundings. that could not be father from the case. you did not intend to walk through life stuck in your own head, but it was a habit.

“we’re boarding now,” the same person spoke again, “you’re our new tidemaker, right?”

“that’s right,” you annunciated softly with a nod of your head.

now having stepped forward, you identified the figure to be a girl a few years your elder. with short cropped hair and a glint in her eyes, she intimidated you. however, her tone was kind and seemed welcoming.

“i’m tamar and that,” she extended a hand to point, “is my brother toyla. heartrenders.”

you nodded again, rolling your lips into your mouth. following behind her, you strung your bag over your shoulder and avoided the more worn planks on the dock. the wood was speckled with age.

“how long have you been in the harbor?” you questioned, genuine curiosity in your words.

“only a few days,” she replied without turning her head, opting to keep her gaze ahead as she weaved through the crowd, “ketterdam intrigues sturmhond, but he never keeps us here for too long.”

recognizing the captain’s name who had graciously offered you a position onboard the volkvolny only two days prior, you continued after tamar. you remembered his crooked jaw and nose that had obviously been broken before. however, the ease of his smile and light in his eyes gave you the push to accept. he had approached you in the spot which you had stood only this morning and caught you in a similar position. he had been uniquely attentive.

the way he revealed that he had caught onto your ability with the ripples in the shallow water still caught you by surprise and perhaps, amusement. he had asked you to help him skip a rock. you smiled at the memory now, a small but authentic one only for yourself.

“are all of the hands grisha?” you asked another question, careful to lower your voice.

home to various brothels, pleasure houses, and gambling dens, as well as gangs, ketterdam could trap grisha in servitude if they were not vigilant. this and the general boisterous nature of the city were largely your reasons for avoiding it. you preferred the tranquility and predictability of the countryside, where all that stood out among the plains were the occasional rolling hill and far away slopes of mountain.

your older brother coen studied in the most acceptable part of the city on a scholarship, the only one of your siblings (including yourself) that showed enough intellectual promise to merit pursuing an education over farm work. the only other member of your family to dare encounter the barrel was lotte. given she was now estranged and likely involved in gang work, her possible presence did little to soothe you.

“oh, no,” tamar answered, “in fact, most aren’t. we try and keep it quiet.”

humming in response, you used the handrail to board the ship. you took a deep breath to quell any remaining anxiety. once your feet touched the hull, there would be no room for fear or at least, any expression of it. you were used to keeping to yourself, your head down and hands working.

the salt air filled your lungs easily, and you were greedy for more. it left a pleasant enough taste in your mouth. you realized you were content here and wondered if you might even find happiness on the ship.

after showing you to the quarters you would share with two other girls, you straightened your cot and placed your bag underneath it. you made quick work of braiding your hair back, pacing the room as you did so. there was work to be done, and you would be sure to see to it.

grounding yourself to steady the spinning of the room, you faced your things one more time and headed out to the deck above. for once, you were surrounded by people like you. while this did not quite give you confidence, there was a semblance of reassurance flickering in your heart.

you no longer needed to be perfect for everyone else. though your family was still largely your responsibility as they would receive a portion of your wages, you no longer had to pace your interactions with each member. if you wanted to, you could be as loud and lively as the rest of the crew surely was. scrunching your nose at the thought, you stepped by an empty crate and up the stairs. you liked being quiet. it gave you the headspace to observe others.

a long life of making the lives of your younger siblings and parents easier gave you little time to think for yourself or about yourself. maybe this adventure was all a farce to finally please yourself, to learn to believe in yourself, but you had forced it to be about the others. always placing the focus away. that was an easier story to believe rather than accepting that maybe, you were doing something for yourself and maybe, that was okay.

perhaps it should have made you nervous, but you were a shy version of excited at the idea of testing out each variant of yourself to see which one you believed in most. you had shown everyone else what they wanted or needed to see for many years. you needed to live for yourself now.

you had a right to the sea and you were determined to take advantage of it.

#nikolai lantsov imagine #sab netflix #sab fic #six of crows #shadow and bone fic #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov #rule of wolves #tidemaker #the grisha series #grishaverse #grisha netflix #tamar yul bataar #toyla and tamar #ketterdam #nikolai lanstov imagines

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morganayenneferburnham · 3 years

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Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me A very short summary of the fic: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes. Word count: 2.1k A/N: Here is the 2nd chapter! If anyone wants to be added to my taglist just send me an ask or a message 😊

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

“I’m going to bed. I can’t work on the more difficult tailoring for either of us until I’ve had at least a few hours of sleep.” Everyone else had gone to bed about an hour ago, leaving her and Nikolai alone for the first time since they’d met. While he had been a lot more pleasant in the last hour all she could think of now was her bed.

She slowly got up and left the room. Her head felt like it was going to implode. She was already dreaming of crawling in bed under her soft blanket, letting her feet navigate the familiar hallways and stairs.

“Y/N! Wait.” Nikolai had followed her down the hallway and caught up to her before she had a chance to reach her room. So much for my well-deserved rest.

She whirled on her heels “What do you want, Sturmhond?” Her tone had been harsher than she’d meant but she was exhausted. The last thing she wanted was to spend one more moment in the privateer’s company.

“Please, call me Nikolai.” His easy-going flirty tone was gone. He sounded genuine now, almost pleading. “Listen, I know I haven’t made it easy on you. I need you to know that this job is important to me too. I am taking it seriously despite my natural devilishly charming demeanor. My country depends on our success.”

She took a moment to consider this new version of the man standing in front of her. He had almost slipped back behind his mask, but she could tell he was sincere. She understood the urge to hide all too well. “I’m sorry Sturm – Nikolai.” She amended. “I’ll try to sleep for a couple of hours. I should be better company when I wake up.” She genuinely smiled at him for the first time since they’d started working on Dirtyhand’s crazy scheme. “I’ll do all I can to make this job a success. If only so that Kaz won’t kill me.” She laughed softly “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” he replied with a quick bow. He left her standing in front of her door and walked back towards the slat’s main floor.

She would have to consider the different personas Nikolai had shown her, at some point, if she hoped to understand him. However, that was a problem for another day. All thoughts of the privateer left her mind when she slipped into sweet unconsciousness. — She woke to loud knocking on her door. She groaned. She was going to kill them. Whoever the idiot was. It felt like she’d only just gotten to bed.

She opened the door with enough force to almost rip it off its hinges. “What the fuck do you – ?” She was standing face to face with Zoya Nazyalensky. Oh, she thought, guess I just shut my chances straight to hell.

Zoya smirked at her. “Good morning to you too. Everyone’s waiting for you downstairs.” She turned to walk away but shot a glance over her shoulder before disappearing down the stairs, her eyes trailing Y/N from head to toe and back up appreciatively. Raising an eyebrow, she added: “You might want to get changed before joining us.”

Y/N had forgotten she was only wearing her short lacy, somewhat see-through, nightgown and felt her cheeks heat up. “Yeah, sure, tell Kaz I’ll be there in a minute.” She stammered. She leaned back against the door as soon as it closed. Oh, well maybe not straight to hell? She quickly got dressed and tailored her cheeks back to normal before making her way to the others. The last thing she needed was to be teased by her friends for being so flustered over Zoya fucking Nazyalenski. She took a deep breath before entering the room.

“How long did I sleep for? Feels like I just went to bed.” She grumbled walking through the door.

Nikolai looked at her apologetically “Judging from when I last saw you, I’d say you probably slept for two hours?”

“Alright” She ran a hand through her tangled hair. “I guess that’s all I could really hope for.” She let herself fall on the couch next to Nikolai. Kaz raised an eyebrow at her. Interesting, he thought. There had been an empty armchair, but she’d chosen to sit next to the privateer. Maybe there is hope for the job yet. Torturing her is just a nice bonus.

She turned in her seat to face Nikolai. “I’m going to get started on the more advanced tailoring. It might get a bit uncomfortable. Changing bone structure always is. Let me know if you need a break.”

He’d only nodded at her in reply. She raised her hands to his face cupping his cheek with her left hand and running the fingers of her right hand down the line of his crooked nose. “Zoya, I’ll need you to tell me if the changes I’m making get too close to his actual features. Everyone else can piss off.” The crows took her dismissal seriously and scurried off to make other preparations.

Y/N settled into her work making corrections when needed following Zoya’s comments. She leaned back to admire her work after about three hours. She’d straightened Nikolai’s nose, made it slightly larger, raised his cheekbones and brow, and rounded his strong jaw to make him appear a bit younger. “Alright, I think this should work? The only major thing left is changing your eye colour. I’ll touch everything up once more after that.” Zoya had approached to examine Y/N’s work, staying quiet. “It’d probably be easier to make them hazel instead of green.”

“No,” interjected Zoya. “His eyes are usually hazel. You should make them blue. Nice work. I don’t think I’d recognize him in the street.”

Y/N beamed at Zoya. “Blue it is! That’ll take a while. Do you need a break, Nikolai?”

“I’m alright. Do you need a break? You’ve barely slept, and you still need to tailor yourself.” Well, she thought, that’s new. When did he become so considerate? He had let her work mostly in silence since she’d started that morning. He might not be so insufferable after all. Still a bit too full of himself to her taste but not insufferable.

“I’ll take a break after I’m done with you. I’ll need you to be very still for this.” She took a good look at him. “Zoya, can you make sure no one comes to bother me while I’m finishing up?” she called.

“Sure thing. I’ll get coffee. I have a feeling we could all use some.” As soon as Zoya left the room Nikolai’s shoulders bunched.

“I’m going to start now. You need to let me know if anything’s wrong alright?” Her voice was soft. She almost sounded worried.

He flashed her a bright smile. “I have full confidence in your talents, my dear.” He straightened his back once more. “Let’s do this.” She could tell he was tired and was only putting on a show. She wished he’d stopped hiding behind the self-assured ruler persona he’d mostly shown so far but she didn’t want to push him. She said nothing, opting to get back to work instead.

By the time Zoya got back with coffee Y/N was done tailoring Nikolai. Zoya let out a low whistle. She’d almost dropped the cups she was holding.

“He looks nothing like himself!” She exclaimed. “Once this job’s done you need to come with us to Os Alta. Genya would never forgive me if she didn’t get to meet you.”

Y/N smiled at Zoya and handed Nikolai a mirror. Genya Safin was the most talented tailor in recorded history, a member of the Grisha Triumvirate. Y/N couldn’t believe she’d ever take interest in a barrel rat like her. “Zoya’s right. You’ll have to come with us, or I fear our dear Genya will attempt regicide again.”

“She wouldn’t attempt it, moi tsar. Genya doesn’t fail. She would succeed in getting rid of you.” Zoya sounded amused at the idea.

He shrugged. “She’d probably murder you, my prized general, as well.”

The crows filed in after Zoya to take in Y/N’s work. Sturmhond’s strawberry blond curls were gone, replaced by chestnut brown ones with just a touch of red when exposed to direct sunlight. His green eyes were now a deep blue, slightly bigger than they had been. His shoulders were narrower, his skin tone lighter and his facial structure completely altered. He truly looked nothing like the privateer, or king, he truly was.

“Well done, Y/N.” Kaz’s raspy voice sounded from the back of the room. “Go rest and tailor yourself. Meet us back here in three hours. We’ll go over your covers again once that’s done.” The girl nodded and made her way back to her room on the second floor. — Nikolai couldn’t help but be impressed by the work Y/N had done on him. He was used to Genya’s skills, yet he never thought he’d meet another tailor as talented. He was pretty sure Y/N had even been faster than Genya ever was. She must have had years of practice to be able to perform such advanced tailoring this efficiently.

“How does it feel, Lantsov?” Nikolai jumped. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed Kaz standing in front of him.

“How long has she been working for you, Brekker? I’m pretty sure you have one of the most talented tailors of all time on your crew. How did you manage it? Where did you even find her?” Nikolai just couldn’t wrap his head around Brekker’s luck. How does he always manage to have the best of every field on his crew?

Kaz chuckled. “While I appreciate your new-found interest in my tailor. I’m gonna need you to focus on the task at hand until we’ve pulled off this heist.”

Nikolai had been about to reply when Y/N’s voice cut him off. “I am not yours, Kaz Brekker.” She was standing in the doorway.

Nikolai was suddenly very glad he’d been sitting. The grisha had done just as good a job on herself as she had on him. Her usually dark auburn hair was now a vibrant shade of red. Her beautiful green eyes had been replaced by a darker brown. She hadn’t needed to change her complexion, but it looked like she had changed most of her bone structure. Her face was rounder, her lips narrower, her cheeks fuller. She’d even tailored her body, reducing her natural curves to make her seem slightly taller. Nikolai would have never recognized her. Her voice, still captivating, was the only thing that hadn’t changed. He found himself looking for any trace of the girl he had spent hours observing, and even grown to appreciate, in the last few days. Even though this tailored Y/N was beautiful, he had to admit he already missed her true features.

Jesper slung his arm around her shoulders. “You surpassed yourself, love.” He guided her towards the couch. “I have no doubt the job will be a success if everything goes as smoothly as your tailoring.” He only released her to push her down by Nikolai’s side.

Jesper’s attempt to calm things had been evident to everyone, nevertheless, it had seemed to work. Y/N leaned into Nikolai’s side and took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. “Do we look like Kaelish newlyweds yet?”

They spent the next few hours going over every single detail of their new identities. Covering everything that could come up in conversation at the party. Y/N had comfortably settled on the couch never straining too far from Nikolai, playing the role of the perfect little wife. The smell of her hair was intoxicating, and Nikolai was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the proceedings. All he wanted to do was wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to his own body.

Eoin and Ainsley were 24 and 22 years old. They had met two years before getting married. They had had an unusually long engagement, lasting a full year, because Ainsley’s father had gotten sick, and she’d had to take care of her sisters. They had only been married for a few months but were looking into expanding the business to support Ainsley’s family. They wanted to get settled a bit before thinking of building their own family. That’s why Ainsley was working with her husband rather than stay behind at the mansion. How the engagement came to be had already been covered multiple times. Kaz made them rehearse telling the story over and over again.

Only once Kaz was satisfied did they get to take a break and sit down for a quick dinner, which had consisted of sausages, fried potatoes, and bread rolls.

“We’ll go over everything again tomorrow morning. I’ll make sure your clothes are ready by 3 bells. You’ll need to be at Van Verent’s house by 6 bells. Go get some sleep. All of you.” No one dared contradict Kaz, as they were all half-asleep on their feet by the time they were done. —- Tagged: @power-of-words23

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kithtaehyung · 3 years

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Room 3 | PJM

summary: it’s just another normal day for you at the wellness center until it suddenly isn’t. note: standalone for now! part 2 is semi-written but no solid plans atm. note 2 (june 7th, 2021): this will be revamped in the future! i really enjoyed this premise so i won’t get rid of it completely. pairing: idol!jimin x massage therapist!reader genre: fluff word count: 9,188

Thirteen.

The sidewalk underneath your feet has thirteen cracks in the little square you stand in. Sliding a small rock into one of them provides you with something to do until you hear the squeaking, screeching brakes of a bus struggling to a stop in front of you.

You adjust the strap on your shoulder as the doors open with a hydraulic hiss, and you give the driver a small smile before finding a place to stand. There aren’t many people commuting today, so it’s a pleasant surprise that you get to sit down for a change.

It was just another day in your life. You got up this morning and did your routine, listened to your wake up music on repeat, and checked that you had your wallet, phone, keys, and earphones before heading down to the bus stop. The very same earphones are still on as you now have your library on shuffle, and you hum along to the “na na na’s” of the current tune.

Living in Seoul for about a year now, you were pretty settled in. The people were accommodating, the quality of life was much better than where you were before, and you felt like you could live here for the rest of your days. It was insanely tough at first, but the initial culture shock and feeling of loneliness lessened as you made friends and befriended coworkers. You don’t have many people close to you here, but you can count on the ones that are.

You turn your head to gaze out the windows. Shimmering glass buildings tower over you, shops and street signs whiz by, and people look like they’re walking in slow motion as you follow them with your eyes. Blips of pastels and bold colors mingle together and you look down to observe your own monochrome uniform. For the place you worked at, you didn’t expect the clothes to look luxurious, but they’re actually designed very well. And they’re soft.

That’s enough for you.

Your stop is next, so you hook your arm around the nearest pole to prep. The steel has a coldness that seeps into your sleeve, but your only thought is wondering what you should eat for lunch.

Why do you feel so tense?

The sign right above you emits a sense of relaxation, but there’s a tightness in your shoulders. Odd. You lock your phone with one hand and grip the strap of your pack with the other before taking a deep breath. You count down from three before letting it out.

The hiss of your exhale mingles with the standard sounds of the city, and you concentrate on the flow of life both inside your body and the environment around you. You did this often when you felt out of place, and it served to recalibrate you and your thoughts. Storing your phone away, you make your way inside the frosted glass doors.

Working at one of Seoul’s prestigious wellness centers was definitely something you were proud of. If there was one thing you’ve wanted for years, it was for a way for you to massage yourself. Everyone seemed to love your massages, but no one knew how to massage you. That is, until you came here. You’ve never experienced people knowing exactly where you were hurting and effectively working out all of those kinks during one session. It was magical.

What is even more magical is the fact that you joined the ranks of those same angels from above. You love them, and they love you.

“Good morning! I hate you!”

Well.

“Morning, Yoon,” you respond lowly as you take your earphones out and store them. “Love you, too.” As you walk around front reception, Yoon smiles at you and comments,

“No, really, I think you legitimately repulse me now.”

You shoot her a look of pure terror. “What the hell did I do?”

“Nothing,” she sighs, dropping her eyes to the papers in front of her.

In a state of panic, your mind speeds through any events that happened since the last time you saw her. Did you accidentally ignore her once? Look at her funny? Yoon was big on body language.

You didn’t realize you were still staring at her until she tapped the glass counter between you two. “Hey, I’m sorry. I know you’re nervous. I just thought jokes would help.”

What?

“I’m not nervous, just tense for some reason. Although, you definitely made it worse,” you admit, “I might need to take a longer break today and somehow get Jay to rub my shoulders. Maybe I can bribe him with samgy--”

“--Uhh, forget him; have you even checked your client list for this week? I’ll do anything if you switch your schedule with me.”

Double-what?

“Okay, now you’re just being weird,” you chuckle, “But also, no, I haven’t checked yet. It’s Monday!”

In a sing-song manner, Yoon warns, “You better check your schedule before I snatch it...”

You laugh again and wave her off, but her words only mess with your head. As you make your way to the back room, you fidget and check your phone for any notifications you missed between when you exited the bus and now. You don’t know what you expected: still nothing.

As if you feel the weight of eyes on you, you glance up and notice some people are giving you looks.

What in the hell is going on? It’s 7am on a Monday and therefore way too early for people to be this upset with you. Yoon may have said she was joking, but by the looks of everyone else...

A hand claps onto your shoulder, causing you to yelp and feel like you rocket right into the ceiling. Only the hearty laugh beside you clues you in on who you were getting revenge on later.

“Geez, someone’s not looking forward to today.”

“You better sleep with one eye open tonight, Jay,” you seeth, hands rubbing your temples as you struggle to steady your heart rate. “Also, what’s so special about today? Yoon was being strange just a second ago, too.”

Your coworker looks at you like you have seven heads. “Okay, first off: if I had the amount of adrenaline in your body right now, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. And second: you didn’t check your schedule yet?”

They didn’t know it, but they were going to be the death of you.

“No, I ha--It’s a Mon--you know what, I’m going to check now; you guys are killing me.” You leave Jay in a rush and race to the employee lounge. The anxiousness in your chest is bubbling over.

Jay’s on your heels, whispering loudly, “I can spoil it right now if you want!”

You respond in a low voice, “Don’t you have a client to see?”

“Nope!”

You round the corner and see the back room door is already open, so you power through and head straight for the docking table on the other side. Everyone working here has a personal tablet, and you unplug yours from the charging port. Pressing through the menus as quickly as the tablet allows, you feel a thin layer of sweat on your skin. Touch ID. Login. Main Menu. Scheduling. Weekly Outlook. Confidentiality Prompt.

Shit.

Confidentiality Prompts are for the therapists that have huge clients scheduled. They’re put in place for celebrities and business executives to have guaranteed privacy.

With a start, you wonder why the hell Yoon wanted your schedule. Everyone here is wary of high-profile people. It’s a whole different experience since they basically hold your life in their hands in each session. You recall a horror story that happened when you first started working there, and still don’t know where that employee ended up.

Your only problem is that you’ve never had to deal with this before. Jay, Yoon, and a bunch of the veterans have, but this is going to be your first.

“Damn, yours is longer than mine was,” Jay observes before you squeeze your tablet to your chest. “That looks intense.”

“Umm, snoopy much?” You shift your body away from him and speed read through the very long, very wordy window. When you hit Accept, another window pops up that you have to read through. This one is even more fine print. You suddenly realize something and dart your eyes up. “Wait, you got one, too?”

Jay nods and looks away, and he actually looks nervous. “Yeah, we all got them this time.”

Now that is alarming. This client must be something else.

Window after window comes up and you wonder if you should probably read these in earnest. It’s starting to genuinely scare you.

If this is that big of a deal…

You banish that thought from your mind as soon as it appears. Elephants would have to fall from the sky before you believe someone from that group is booking you here.

You hit Accept before you realize you didn’t actually read and instead mindlessly scrolled through the prompts. As the screen buffers, you bite your lip.

The screen goes back to normal and presents your schedule for today. Your coworkers are living their normal lives, putting their stuff in their lockers and getting materials ready for various sessions. Jay is being completely normal as he can’t stop laughing at your expression.

And your life is anything but normal anymore because elephants are dropping from the clouds and the words Monday, 8am, Park Jimin are staring you right in the face.

“You mean to tell me that you cleared your morning schedule just to see my reaction?”

Jay laughs in earnest. “Yes, and it was so worth it.”

You are failing to stop bouncing your leg as you wait at one of the tables in the employee lounge. There’s a cup of coffee in front of you, but you already know you aren’t going to drink a drop of it. You are about to be in close quarters with the equivalent of a royal family member, so coffee breath is out of the question.

Suddenly self-conscious, you ask, “Do you have a toothbrush I can borrow?”

“I actually do. Let me grab it.”

As your friend gets up, you scrutinize the table in front of you to avoid peoples’ lingering stares. How everyone somehow knew your upcoming client before you did was a mystery, but you don’t really care enough at the moment to find out.

Jay hands you what you asked for and you thank him before heading to the bathroom to freshen up. After you brush your teeth like a madman, you check your face for discrepancies and sigh at your choice of almost no makeup today.

You can’t help but wonder if the thirteen cracks in the sidewalk are laughing at you at this very moment.

Checking your smart watch, you realize you have either the longest or shortest 30 minutes of your life left before your appointment with Jimin.

You huff out a laugh at how ridiculous that sounds. You refuse to believe this is real until you physically see him in the room. Confidentiality forms or not, the name Park Jimin or not, you still can’t wrap your head around the situation.

Speaking of the forms, you assume that they were printed out for company records as soon as you submitted yours to sign. You decide to head back to the front desk after throwing Jay his spare toothbrush, to which he responds with pure disgust.

It was like Yoon was waiting for you because as soon as you open the glass doors, she’s hounding you, “So what did you do in a past life? Did you save an emperor? Rescue a prophet?”

“I don’t know about a past life, but I did save a turtle when I was five.” You tap your fingers on the reception desk and stare at the orchids on the counter. “Or at least I thought I did. I probably just made his life harder. Can I see a copy of the forms I signed?”

“I’m gonna go with the saved prophet. Which one was it?”

“Yoon,” you beg, desperate as you glance at the abstract clock above her and see that you have 20 minutes left. A mere 20 minutes until he is supposed to arrive to check-in.

“Okay, okay! Hold on,” she chuckles and rolls her chair away from you and towards the printer. “By the way, if I wasn’t the one checking him in, I would’ve hijacked your entire day already.”

Her words are garbled since you are laser-focused on rubbing an orchid petal between your fingers. Its soft and supple touch is calming you, and just for a second, you are able to clear your thoughts.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when Yoon hands you the forms. The paper is still warm as you thank her and head towards the doors.

“Oh, wait,” Yoon calls behind you, and you turn to see her grabbing another small stack of papers. When she extends them over the counter, she explains, “I was waiting until you saw your schedule to hand these over. Read through them carefully.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, even more anxious than before.

Your heart jumps into your throat when you see what Yoon handed over. You don’t even remember the walk to the back lounge and to one of the secluded tables; all you can focus on are the papers in front of you. They look like they were written on and scanned before being sent over to the wellness center.

It’s Jimin’s handwriting.

You’ve seen his penmanship before. There is no mistaking the neat, determined strokes. Even the way he checked the boxes and circled the pain points on diagrams proves very... well, him. Any other uncertainty dissolves after you see his birthday filled in, as well.

This is really happening.

You gently slam the papers on the table and hunch over to commit the information to memory. Months and months of schooling have sharpened this ability of yours, and you are determined to imagine this as just another client you have to memorize.

Light to medium pressure. Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back. Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points. Facial area priority.

A trip to the countryside right at this very moment sounds like a fantastic idea.

Jay plops into the seat in front of you, and that thought bubble bursts. “This color on your face suits you. Reminds me of what’s-his-name, Edward.”

“How much time do I have,” you question, not even acknowledging him.

“Seven minutes.”

“Of course,” you mutter before standing, the irony not lost on you. “I’ll go prep now.”

You don’t see Jay waving you off. “If you survive, I’ll see you on the other side!”

A laugh escapes you. Personally, your only goal is to make it through five minutes. If you pass away after that, you would have no regrets.

You stand behind the reception doors with your tablet to your chest, staring at the wall across the way. The subtle wallpaper pattern is a great choice for this place, you decide.

Indescribable anxiousness and fear aside, you have a job to do. As long as you keep your outside actions professional, your inner turmoil can be whatever the hell it wants. You’ve been in this profession long enough and you know you’re ready to do this. You’ve seen the whole spectrum of human emotion in this line of work. No matter how well of a job you do, there are still people that are never happy. As long as you focus on keeping the client’s wellness and health in mind, you keep your consciousness clear.

Then again, you haven’t had to deal with a client like Park Jimin before, let alone a high executive or well-known actress.

A muffled “Good morning and welcome” reaches your ears and you push yourself off the wall. The frosted glass only allows you to see so much, but you can make out a few guys standing in the front area. Two are taller and only wearing dark clothes, and the other is a bit shorter. The latter is looking to be wearing a beanie, light colored top, and dark pants.

You can’t hear anyone talking other than Yoon, but suddenly the shorter one makes his way to your doors.

It’s him. You’re absolutely sure.

Steeling your resolve, you pull your side open. With a smile, you look straight at your client’s sunglasses-and-mask-clad face and greet him just like you would anyone else, “Good morning and welcome. Am I speaking to Mr. Park?”

He stills for a second before he nods.

“Nice to meet you. We’ll be in Room 3.”

Jimin bows to you slightly and whispers a thank you, and you follow him to your room. Your heart is rattling nonstop as you note the height difference between the two of you. It isn’t as bad as you thought it was.

The door to Room 3 is already open, and when Jimin enters you stop at the entrance.

You lied earlier. None of this feels real. He’s physically in the room, and you still don’t think this is happening.

You let Jimin put his bag down on the corner chair before gliding into the formal greeting, “Since this is our first session, please let me know if there’s anything you need. I did go over your forms, but if there was something that wasn’t specified, feel free to ask. I want to make sure all of your needs are met today.”

“Your name?”

You falter. “What?” Did he just...

Jimin takes off his sunglasses, and you feel all oxygen leave your body. He’s still wearing a mask, but you can see that his eyes are creased just a tad. “It wasn’t specified on the forms. Your name?”

A part of you just chalks this up to being standard Jimin behavior, but the other part of you wonders if he really didn’t know whom he was getting a massage from. Did Yoon not tell him? Check-in is supposed to confirm your specialist.

You also note that his voice is infinitely softer in person. TV and recordings did not do this man justice.

Keeping it professional is all you must do. You tell him your name, apologizing for not introducing yourself already. It’s also on your tablet, so you show him while you talk.

Jimin leans forward to read it and smiles again. “Ah. Pretty.”

Are your five minutes up? Can you pass away now? He’s a mere six feet away from you but it feels like his presence is engulfing you.

All that escapes you is a tiny thank you. “So, mhm,” you clear your throat and yell at yourself to get it together, “Go ahead and undress down to your comfort level and lie down on the bed with the sheet on top of you. That remote there is connected to my tablet, so just take it off the charger and bring it to the bed. You can press the green button whenever you’re ready.”

Jimin looks towards the console table next to him and sees the white remote. It’s docked in a sleek charging port and stands out against the light wood. He nods, and you give him one last smile before reaching out and closing the door.

The only words your brain can process at the moment are not work appropriate, so you just go on autopilot to the employee lounge. You expected Jay or even Yoon to be chomping at your heels as soon as you left Jimin by himself, but neither of them are around. That was completely fine: employees aren’t allowed to divulge anything that goes on in client sessions unless it’s dangerous to either of you.

You help yourself to a cup of water and down it before pouring another. The fruit flavor for today is strawberry, and you watch the fruit and ice swirl around as you stir the big glass container. There are pastries and assorted breakfast foods calling your name in the clear cabinet next to you, but you refuse. Your adrenaline is hindering your appetite.

People are still giving you daggers for stares, but after seeing Jimin in person you really can’t blame them. Even when you couldn’t even see his face, you felt his presence. His aura filled up that entire room and he only spoke around ten words. It would be a lie to say that you aren’t intimidated. You can already count the number of times you almost bolted out of the room on two hands. But you made yourself proud: as long as you keep your outer actions calm, you can get through this. Your voice was fairly level for someone whose heart was bouncing out of their ribcage. In the end, you want to make him feel comfortable and safe. Emotions cannot exist right now.

Self-deprecation comes into play as you wonder if this is a huge mistake and if Jimin is already out the door to find a better therapist.

Oh, well. At least he said your name was pretty.

Your doubts are casted aside as your tablet dings.

Jimin’s ready for you.

When you enter the room, you can see that your client followed your instructions completely. You glance at the corner chair and see that he even folded his clothes and set his jewelry neatly on the thin, long table. Since Jimin can’t see you from his position, you allow a warm smile to grace your features.

You close the door as softly as you can. The way the room is designed, the clients lie down so that their head is opposite the doorway. It takes you a few steps until you reach the head of the bed. You gingerly take the remote from where Jimin placed it next to his neck and turn around to redock it, and start to dim the lights with your tablet. Per standard, you ask, “Mr. Park, is this okay, or would you like the lights lower?”

His voice is projecting straight towards the floor, but it still sounds so light, “This is good, but please, call me Jimin.”

That’s definitely not what you expected, but you are touched. You nod before realizing that he still can’t see you. “Do you have a music preference for today?”

“Whatever you prefer is fine.”

Jimin is being so agreeable that your nerves start to dissipate. You were expecting him to at least be a little particular at some things, but he is being really easy to work with. The atmosphere starts to feel safe enough for you to joke, “Well, it does depend on my mood, so for now I’ll play Standard Spa Chord Progression, No. 5 instead of No. 3.”

The small chuckle you hear melts your heart. “Ah, is that the one with the harp?”

“No, that’s Spa Concerto, No. 4. We don’t have that one in our library, but I think it’s terrible anyways.”

Jimin’s head lifts from the table in an earnest laugh, and you can’t help but laugh with him. It’s infectious.

You select a random song on your tablet, and you weren’t lying when you said it was standard. The song is less of a song and more like a bunch of reverberating chords in slow succession. That’s one thing you noticed about this place: modern tech but very outdated music. Get with the times! At least have some nice piano covers to choose from.

“Not having Spa Concerto, No. 4 may be a deal-breaker for me,” Jimin comments, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You’re still tapping on your tablet to get to his file, and you make your way back to the door. There’s a clear slot on each room’s door to hold employee tablets, and as soon as you store yours, you can finally start. “I don’t blame you, even though I think it’s awful, that one still topped the char--Oh, shit!”

You aren’t watching where you’re going, so you don’t see the shoes in your path. It’s so dim in the room and his shoes match the floor color but none of that matters because right now you are falling and you are falling fast. Your first instinct is to grab the table, but that would risk pulling the blanket off of Jimin and you would rather die than do that to him.

So, floor it is.

Your hand not holding the tablet breaks some of the fall, but your face definitely makes contact with the ground. You can feel the slight burn on your nose and hand, and a sharp lingering pain follows.

Okay, now can you pass away. Someone from the heavens can come claim you now.

Drowning in shame, you don’t help yourself off the floor right away. Not only were you breaking your rule and joking around, you also weren’t paying attention and now possibly ruined Park Jimin’s shoes.

You’ll look up good resigning practices later tonight. You have enough money saved up to make it a couple months without a job, you reckon.

When you finally lift yourself off the floor, you turn around and see Jimin pushed up on the table. His whole upper body is bare and twisted towards you, and this is the first time you see his entire face. It’s more beautiful in person, you conclude, even though it conveys nothing but concern right now. “Are you okay?”

You nod furiously and stand up completely. Your voice is shaky as you apologize, “I am so sorry. One moment.” Before checking yourself, you check your personal tablet. To say it was worth more than you isn’t that far of a reach. No scratches, though. Praise be.

“Don’t apologize… Did you trip on my shoes?”

Embarrassment washes over you as you nod, not looking at Jimin. Placing your tablet gingerly on the console table, you dust your uniform down and inspect your hands and feel your nose. Luckily, there’s no blood, only slight rug burns. If there was blood, you would have to postpone the appointment until you effectively sanitized. With what you have, you just need to go wash up.

Jimin is still watching you intently, which makes your face burn even more. What a mess. He’s probably second-guessing this whole thing.

You bow, feeling tears at the corners of your eyes. “Mr. Park, I am so sorry.”

“Jimin.”

“I’ll just need to clean my hands and then I promise we will start as soon as I get back. I know your time is valuable so I’ll make up for the minutes we lost.”

“I… Okay. Thank you.”

You make your way out of the room, still courteous enough to shut the door quietly. Rushing to the nearest sink, a small sob leaves your throat as you wring your hands under the water. Life is kind to you at this moment because no one is around. You would never live it down if someone saw you coming out of Jimin’s room crying.

After splashing water on your face and drying it, you take out a cotton pad from one of the glass containers on the counter. You press it onto your eyes, decreasing the evidence of your current state.

So much for making Jimin feel safe and comfortable. You’ve only made it awkward.

With a deep breath, you enter the room.

Jimin turns his head and puts it in the crook of his arm to look back at you. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t help you…”

You go over to his shoes and move them under the chair, wincing when you see visible tears on them. Guess you’re withdrawing a chunk of your savings to pay Park Jimin for damages.

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you state firmly, but soften, “But I’m really sorry about the shoes; I may have torn them. I can pay you back.”

You hear sheets shuffling, and when you face him, Jimin’s fully on one elbow and turned towards you. “No, please, don’t worry about those. I should’ve put them out of the way. I feel bad.”

“It’s definitely my fault,” you countered, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jimin uses your name, which stops you in your tracks. “Everything’s okay, I promise.”

You should feel many different things, like pride in getting to see this man in person, or happiness from him actually addressing you by name. But all you can think about in this moment is how disappointing you’ve been to another human being, and you sigh.

You nod, but still plan to pay him back. You know enough about designer brands to know those aren’t cheap, and they’re shoes you’ve seen him wearing a lot in photos.

“It’s okay to lie back down,” you say softly, unmoving.

Jimin searches your face one more time before settling back face-down on the table.

It’s a normal day at work, you tell yourself. Go through your routine.

Launching yourself into action, you move to the far end of the console table. Grabbing a bottle you’ve clutched so many times before that its label is wearing down, you uncap it and oil your hands and wrists. You also unstopper a bottle of lavender oil and pour a few drops into the nearby bamboo diffuser and start it.

You make your way to the head of the table and grab a rolling stool from a corner of the room. The wheels on your chair don’t make any noise, which you fixed up yourself. This day isn’t any different - it’s still silently gliding on the carpet. Plopping your devastated self onto the cushion, you scoot towards Jimin’s head. You’re about to place your hands onto his bare shoulders to start, but you whisper,

“It’s also okay if you want to cancel and reschedule with someone else, Mister--Um, Jimin.”

You can’t believe you just gave Park Jimin a way out of a whole 60 minutes with you. Where did this conviction and restraint come from? Is this going to be the regret of your entire lifetime?

After a long silence, Jimin answers with his face in the headrest, “If you call me Mister Jimin again, then I will.”

You huff out a laugh at his unexpected answer, and your shoulders finally relax. It seems like he’s still fine after everything that’s happened, and you thank any deity you can think of for this second chance.

Light to medium pressure. Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back. Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points. Facial area priority.

You aren’t a fan of light pressure, but you understand why people prefer it. Not everyone can handle the deep tissue or harder pressure massages.

Jimin’s shoulders are incredibly tense, though, so you feel bad that you’re limited in what you can do. You allow some medium pressure to the worst spots, and when you approach the insides of his shoulder blades you lessen the intensity.

Gliding your fingers back to the ridge between his neck and shoulders, you feel that his right is still tight. You use your left elbow to work that knot, careful to press even lighter than you would with your hands.

Jimin grunts, and you still. “Is that too much?”

“No, I like that.”

You keep that in mind as your hands travel over the rest of his upper back area. From time to time, you reapply the oil to allow for less friction. It lets your fingers slide deftly across muscles and quickly work any troublesome areas, which Jimin has a lot of.

It makes sense: you can’t even imagine the amount of pressure all of the boys were constantly dealing with. There was a lull in their activity recently, so you knew something was in the works. Between recording songs, shooting music videos, fulfilling their brand contracts, and whatever else they do, you’re surprised you don’t feel more knots under Jimin’s skin.

The soft chords of the next song float around the room, and you lose yourself in your movements. You can’t see his face, which makes it a lot easier. You worked through his whole upper body, neck, and upper arms area so naturally that you were admiring his wrist tattoo before remembering who you were massaging.

For the seven hundredth time that day, you cannot believe this is happening. You really hope Jimin does feel safe here despite your whirlwind of thoughts. Have you kept it professional enough? Neutral enough? He seemed to be fine with your joking earlier, and he didn’t seem upset about the shoes in the least.

But still… Maybe he was just tolerating you because it’s the same situation for him, different place and day. Putting yourself in his shoes, you would feel pity for you trying your best to accommodate him. The pressure over everyone everywhere you go had to be exhausting. It couldn’t ever be normal.

Your shoulders suddenly slump under the weight of what you feel for him.

And Jimin seems to notice. “Really, it’s okay about the shoes. Those were getting pretty worn anyways.”

You still. Of course he thought you were still fussing over the shoes and not over his life. His unending consideration was like a burning hearth: it made you feel so warm.

“Okay,” you respond softly, “I understand.”

“Good. If you worry about them again, I’m walking out barefoot,” Jimin says sternly, even though you know he’s kidding. “And don’t test me, I’ve done it before.”

Your words leave you before you think. “I don’t believe you.”

“Oh?”

Jimin puts his hands on the table and you yelp, “Okay, okay, stop!”

He laughs and plops his arms back down flat. You lament as you still can see how his muscles bulge in your mind.

You shake your head and sigh before rolling to his left and softly taking his arm. His skin is so soft you don’t even need the oil, you notice. You work his forearm before moving down to his wrist and fingers. Thinking about Jimin’s threat, you are pretty curious. “Be honest: did that really happen?”

“It didn’t,” he responds immediately, “But I thought about it once. My shoes were killing my feet so I thought about walking without them until I found a shoe store.”

It sounds so childish to you that you chuckle. “Where was this,” you ask, completely intrigued now.

“Ah, I honestly can’t remember. I think somewhere in Europe.”

“...Did you just pick an entire continent because you couldn’t remember?”

“...There’s seven continents and one of them is Antarctica! Picking one out of six is easy.”

This man is something else. You finally finish off his right side, and you gingerly set his arm down on the table. With a mental pat on the back, you get ready for the next part of the routine. In your softest therapist voice, you instruct, “Okay, go ahead and turn over and slide down until your head is on the table.”

Jimin obeys right away, shifting over and moving down. The white sheet slips down his body a bit, and you diligently pull it up until it’s covering everything up to his neck. During this, you feel rather than see his eyes on you, so you don’t dare yourself to look.

You go back to your plethora of containers to re-oil, and roll your chair to the foot of the table. All that time, Jimin thankfully has his eyes closed.

You were equal parts dreading and looking forward to this part of the massage since his face was going to be visible. This way, you can’t escape the reality of the situation.

But you decided to follow the flow of the conversation. You learned the subtle nuances of human communication throughout your experiences: when people wanted to talk or stay quiet, if they were liking the conversation or not, etc. Jimin seems to be fine with talking despite your assumption that he was going to be quiet for the most part. It has definitely made this easier for you, though.

“I want to visit all seven continents one day,” you decide to admit.

“I do, too,” Jimin responds, eyes still closed. “How many do you have left?”

You start on his feet, working along the smooth skin.

“Uhh, well,” you whisper, “A good chunk. I’ve only been here and back where I’m from, and I just moved here around a year ago.”

After you tell Jimin where you were before, he sounds amazed, “You seem like you’ve lived here for so long. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

He’s definitely being nice. You are just now getting decent at the language and customs, but there is still a lot you have to learn.

“But, I do want to start traveling again for a specific reason,” you divulge, sighing to yourself as you think yet again about your lofty dreams.

“Which reason is that,” Jimin asks, and you somehow know his eyes are open now.

Your own eyes betray you as you connect your gaze with his. “I want to experience different techniques in person.” You don’t know he can feel the fire behind your eyes. “There’s no better teacher than experience, at least to me. I know I’m good at what I do currently, but there’s so much out there that I want to learn and get better at.”

You debate whether to keep going or not. Jimin’s eyes are alight with curiosity, so you take that as your cue. It’s surreal that you get to talk about your dream with him of all people, so you strive to make it count. “Take music, for example: everyone agrees that music is healing, therapeutic. But, there’s so many genres, so many ways to create it. I see massage as the same way: therapeutic, but many different ways to make people feel better.”

Jimin is silent as he tears his gaze from you to look at the ceiling. You concentrate on his ankles, working them as delicately but effectively as you can. A part of you wants to keep talking, but you don’t want to push it. You may have said too much as it is.

The next song has soft chimes to accompany the rippling chords. Lavender wafts through the air and quells your nerves. You continue to Jimin’s lower legs and glide your fingers along the flow of his muscles. When you feel a break or disturbance, you stop and tend to it until you feel it’s balanced. After his lower legs are done, you move on to his thighs. You feel tightness all over, and you apply medium pressure to these areas because of how much muscle they contain.

Jimin’s legs are a work of art on the outside, but so chaotic on the inside. The chakra highways are disjointed, and you have worked through so many kinks in the roads. If you imagine yourself as someone walking down a path, you are stopping every 10 steps to smooth over a pothole or breakdown a hill in the way. You can’t see how this person can even walk, let alone perform on stage like this. All of them never cease to amaze you.

“Where would you start?”

Jimin’s sudden inquiry throws you. You swear he was silent for a good ten minutes. “What?”

His eyes are glued to the ceiling still. “Which places do you want to visit? Like, where would you go to learn?”

“Well…” You are almost too stunned to speak. He has been thinking about what you said this whole time? Aren’t there plenty of more important things he needs to be thinking about right now? “There’s this technique called amma that originates in Japan, and there’s an American technique called esalen that I want to learn, too. I think that one is from California.”

On a high from Park Jimin’s interest in your life, you ramble about a few more, your voice getting more animated the more you talk about different things. It can’t be helped; you’ve been passionate about traveling and learning for so long. You’ve just never been able to really try it since money was part of the equation. Or more so out of the equation. In addition, you didn’t really get to talk about it with anybody. No one’s actually asked. But somehow, Jimin did.

When you realize you actually stopped massaging his thigh, you look up in horror to apologize, “Oh, I am so sorry - I didn’t mean to stop.”

Jimin’s head is turned to the side, his hair falling into his eyes. The smile gracing his face is soft. “It’s okay,” he assures you, “I feel much better already anyways.”

Your cheeks flush before he even stops talking. “That’s good,” you whisper, “We’re almost done so I would hope so.”

“What!” Jimin’s eyes dart to the clock on the table. It’s already 8:50am.

That saddens you a lot more than it should.

“On second thought: I feel tense in my hand, I think you need to go back and redo it. Here.” He’s extending his right hand towards you as if to shake hands, and you laugh.

“Nice try, Jimin,” you say, “But I do need to work on your face for the last part. Close your eyes for me, please.”

He stares at you for a second before obeying. The smile from earlier makes a return.

You roll your chair back to the head of the bed and plop down. Jimin’s face is angelic even upside-down, and you pray to the heavens that you massage it perfectly.

When you start, you quip, “See? You’re so happy we’re almost done.”

“No, no!” Jimin laughs. “That’s not it. You just called me Jimin - it was nice.”

“Oh.” You swear steam is billowing from your head. How can he affect you so intensely? And how were you keeping yourself together?

With the resolve of a thousand emperors, maybe including one you probably did save in a past life, you steady your hands on his temples. Rubbing in delicate circles, you start the last segment.

Face massages are your favorite. Even the smallest movements are invigorating, and you feel very refreshed after one.

“When I come back, Spa Concerto, No. 4 better be available.”

You smile. There’s no way Jimin will be back, but you appreciate his friendly nature.

“It’s not even all that great, but I’ll let them know,” you play along. “I’m more of a piano person, though. There’s a lot of piano covers saved in my phone that are way better.”

Jimin’s eyes flash open at the same time he proclaims, “Ah, I love piano covers! Especially on rainy days.”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, “I can listen to those all the time.”

Your heart drops like a stone as you glance at the clock and see your time is up. The hour absolutely flew by. Dropping your eyes back onto Jimin’s face, you take your hands off his cheeks and say, “Okay, that’s the end of our session today.” You get up to dry your hands and lower arms with a cloth while going over the last steps, “I’ll leave you to get dressed, and I’ll come back to the room to give you water and some stretch and wellness recommendations moving forward. Just press the green button on the remote when you’re ready, like last time.”

When you turn back to him, Jimin’s fully propped up with his hands behind him. The blanket over him is draped across his body, just enough to cover his ribs. He’s smiling right at you as he speaks, “Thank you. You’re really good.”

You bow in thanks, face lighting up like wildfire. “You were great, too,” you comment in return, immediately cringing inside. “I’ll be back when you’re ready for me.”

Right after you leave clients is when you start filling out their evaluation and wellness recommendations on your tablet. You just worked on them, so the memories are fresh. The forms are a mix of multiple choice and fill-in, and you recommend some specific stretches and deeper pressure for Jimin.

This time, Jay is in the employee lounge when you come in to wait. His legs uncross and he pops up from one of the modern loveseats that are just as firm as they look. “She’s alive!”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the flush in your cheeks. “I’m here, but barely,” you chuckle, your tablet dangling in your hand by your side, “I still can’t believe that actually happened.”

Jay leans in so that no one can hear what he has to say, which makes you suspicious since there’s no one around you. In a low voice, he reveals, “Yoon and I made a bet.”

“Wonderful,” you drawl, “I’m gonna walk away now.” You can already tell this is one-hundred percent not in your favor.

“No, wait!” His whisper is loud. He bounces after you to the water and food station. While you fix yourself a cup, he continues, “Yoon thinks you’ll get done with the appointment unscathed, but I think you’ll come out of it with a problem.”

Jay’s words remind you like alarm bells.

You need to pay Jimin for damages.

“Oh, shit, I need to get something,” you say in a rush, grabbing your tablet off the food station and scurrying to the locker room. In the wellness center, the employee lounge is in the back, and the locker room is in the back of the lounge. You think you still have time before Jimin is ready.

There’s a notebook you keep in your bag along with a pencil case. Tearing a sheet from the notebook, you write down what you think is a good estimate for the shoes. Before you write anything else, you pause.

You only skimmed through the confidentiality prompts, but you do remember a section about personal information. Therapists aren’t allowed to give out their personal information unless specifically asked, and there has to be solid intent behind the client asking. Jimin didn’t need to ask you for yours; he just said not to worry about it.

After a good thirty seconds of your pen lingering above the paper, your tablet chimes.

A split second decision has you crumpling the paper and chucking it in your bag. You tear out a new sheet and tuck it with the pen under your tablet as you head back to Room 3.

You get to the room with a paper cup of water you grabbed on the way, and since you have things in both hands it’s a bit difficult getting the door open. You try the handle but it only jiggles a bit. One more try has you pushing the door right as the handle gives, and it works.

Jimin goes to you immediately when he sees your hands full, and you almost reel back from having him so close. Which should be odd, since you were literally just with him for a full hour, and he was not fully clothed. In the end, his presence alone is enough to affect you no matter the situation.

You extend the cup to him and he grabs it with a small thank you.

“I filled out your evaluation and it should be printed at the front already. Make sure to drink more water after you leave,” you say with a smile, your chest heavy. This was most likely the last interaction you would ever have with him.

Jimin nods, his mask covering his smile but not his eyes. He doesn’t say anything more.

You almost leave it at that, but something in you doesn’t want this moment to end, so you take your chance. “And, umm,” you stutter as you fumble with the pen and paper. You just lay your tablet on the massage table to free your hand, and click the pen open. “How much should I pay you,” you ask, your gaze ironically on the very shoes you tripped over earlier.

Jimin sets his cup down on the console table before taking the paper and pen from your hands. You watch him write something - a price in Won most likely - as you explain, “I’m a big believer of making things right, so please let me pay for your shoes. I should’ve seen them on the ground.”

He folds the paper and hands it back to you with the pen. “If you insist. But don’t check this until you get home.”

“What, why?” Your eyes dart to his face.

Jimin stares at you before responding, “Nothing bad. It just might shock you.”

Immediately, your gaze lowers. If you tell anyone how your day went today, you would think they were weird if they believed you. If you tell anyone why you’re suddenly broke come this Wednesday, they would be lying if they just went with it. “Okay, I won’t,” you assure him, and you’re telling the truth. You are equal parts surprised and nervous that he’s allowing you to pay him back.

With a deep breath, you give Jimin your best soft smile. Your heart is hurting as you send him off, “Well, it was a pleasure. Have a great rest of your day, Jimin. Until next time.” You catch yourself in a sea of emotion as your words die on your tongue. The boys have schedules on schedules, so the likelihood of him stepping foot inside this wellness center again is minuscule at best.

If anything, you’re grateful that you get to address him by name, and you succeeded in making this as smooth and safe as possible for him. At the expense of a scraped nose and hand, but rather you than him.

Jimin hoists his bag on his shoulder, the water cup you gave him already in the trash bin. He walks right up to you and stands there, and you swear both of you can hear your heart beating. One of his hands comes up to his masked face, and he speaks softly as he advises, “Ointment will help your nose if it still hurts.”

Warmth blooms in your chest and cascades all the way to your fingertips. Mirroring him, you bring a hand up to your nose and nod. Your words tumble out, “Oh, yes, you’re right. I can check if we have any in the back.”

Satisfied, Jimin nods. “Until next time,” he offers, his eyes creased and warm.

You smile again and bow slightly. He puts on his shades before heading out the door frame and into the hall, and you feel emptiness in his wake. The world is fuzzy around your vision and you are trying so hard to commit everything that just happened to memory.

Until the doors to front reception close, you watch Jimin’s retreating back. When the frosted doors close shut, you close your own door to Room 3 and lean against the wooden frame. The scrap of paper is creased in your hand as you clutch it to your hammering chest.

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. It takes a good minute for you to compose yourself before pushing off the door and getting the room stripped and ready for the next session. The whole time, you replay everything in your head.

Jimin was just as nice as you have seen him through the lens of cameras. If that was the case, all of them had to be the same way. You are proud to like these wonderful people.

You’re so happy you got to actually spend all this time with him, but that just magnifies the sadness you feel when it’s over.

The room is done and cleaned up, and you go through the rest of the day on autopilot. Not even Jay’s constant teasing could free you from your euphoria-numbed state. The only thing that throws you back into focus is Yoon, and it happens at the very end of the work day.

You push open the doors to front reception, and smile big at your friend behind the counter. She’s beaming right back at you, and she puts her chin in her hand and shakes her head.

“That must’ve been one hell of a message,” she says through a barely contained smile.

Your hand flies to your forehead and you nod. “I can’t believe that happened, Yoon. I mean, it was really him. Opportunity of a lifetime… I just hope he enjoyed the whole thing.”

“You could say that,” she chuckles, “Enough to book you again, at least.”

What?

“He did?” Your breath leaves you in a rush. “If you’re joking with me, I’ll--”

“--He did. It’s not for a long time, but he asked for you specifically.” Yoon gathers papers in her hand and starts to organize them in the containers behind her. “You really piss me off, you know that?”

“Love you, too,” you whisper, your head completely above the clouds. You grab your phone and start checking your schedule from the wellness center app you have installed. Grabbing the door handle, you absentmindedly wave back to Yoon and call out, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The sun emits a golden glow at this hour, and the glass buildings along the street bask in its shine. You head towards your bus stop while skimming your calendar for Jimin’s next appointment, but you’re already four months out and see nothing. Not losing hope, you keep going and see a booking six months in advance. Your heartbeat skips as you click on the appointment, and almost skids to a halt when you see his name written down.

As soon as you enter your small apartment, you head straight to your bed and drop your bag on the comforter. Your whole body bounces as you plop yourself down next, and you stare straight at the ceiling.

Your life is still normal, right? Sure, you were able to spend an entire hour with Park Jimin, but that didn’t mean you aren’t still completely and utterly average.

You close your eyes and go back to Room 3. The scent of lavender fills your nostrils and you can still see his number tattoo as plain as day as you massage his wrist.

In all honesty, it still feels like a fever dream. That was someone else’s life you were able to live, someone else there with Jimin and you just decided to hitch along for the ride.

But that was real, and so is the amount of money you still need to withdraw from your bank account.

With a sigh, you reach into your bag and take out the piece of paper. You were dreading this moment all day since he left. Unfolding it, you prepare for the worst.

But all you can do is stare.

Jimin didn’t write down a price at all.

Your name is at the top, and the rest is as follows:

Save your money for traveling and learning new things, not on me. I can’t wait to see what you’ve learned when we meet again.

a/n: thank you for reading! if you guys have any comments or feedback, please feel free to let me know!

#text #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #bts fics #jimin fics #room 3 jimin #room 3 #ryen writes #member: jimin #long post #grammy nominated singer fic!!#ryenwrites

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taexual · 4 years

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (18)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: suggestive themes, lots of teasing & domestic fluff 🥺

words: 7.1k

chapter eighteen

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing that you felt wasn’t the disruptive rays of sun on your face – you’d forgotten to draw the curtains last night – but soft, almost feather-light touches of fingertips on your collarbones. And, even though you had never woken up next to anyone like this before, you didn’t flinch or pull away.

Instead, you opened your eyes and immediately regretted not doing it sooner. Jungkook was laying on the bed next to you, his eyes still hazy with sleep and his lips parted in concentration as he drew patterns on the edges of your skin.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice quiet. You weren’t sure if you were truly awake yet, or if this was one of the overly realistic dreams that you’d had before.

Jungkook looked at you, surprised to hear you speak – he hoped not to wake you – but relieved when he saw the soft smile on your face.

“Trying to make sure you’re really here,” he answered, his morning voice breathy and raspy, and enough to make your stomach clench and your smile spread in admiration, despite the corny words.

You closed your eyes again. “Did you practice that line?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, shameless. “How’d I do?”

You hummed in content. “The delivery was nice. But it’s all very cliché. I’d say a six out of ten.”

He chuckled lazily, pulling his hands away and prompting you to look up at him again, in a way a dog would look at the person who’d stopped scratching its’ head – disappointed and outraged by the audacity.

“I’ll do better next time,” Jungkook promised, almost naturally reaching for you again – this time, to brush an unruly strand of your hair away from your face.

“Next time?” you asked, not trying to insinuate anything other than your intention to find out his plans for the immediate future.

He read too much into it, however. He cocked an eyebrow as he lifted himself up on his elbows.

“I don’t like that voice,” he said. “You’re about to tell me I was just a one-night-stand for you, aren’t you?”

You laughed, turning on your back but still watching him. “I’ve known you for twenty-three years.”

“Not like that, you didn’t.”

You looked away, your face warm. The smile on your lips was relentless, however – it gave no opportunity for you to pretend like the stressful night last night, and the way it ended, wasn’t a pleasant visitor in your memory.

“What do you want to do today?” Jungkook asked, feeling his arms go numb from supporting all of his weight, but not caring about it too much because, this way, he could see you better.

“Not a thing,” you told him, completely serious. “I want to stay in bed.”

“Alright,” he said, laying back down next to you as he decided firmly, “that’s what we’re doing then.”

You turned your head to face him. “Your bandmates will kill you.”

“That’s only if I go home,” he said, not seeming the slightest bit fazed about his impending doom. “If I don’t, then I’m safe.”

His indifference got you to smile; the relationship dynamics between Jungkook and his bandmates resembled a sibling connection far more than just a friendship. Still, he needed to do right by them.

“You can’t avoid them for the rest of your life,” you said.

“You underestimate me,” he shot back, very proud of himself.

“Jungkook,” you countered seriously.

“Well, I won’t really avoid them for the rest of my life,” he defended, “but maybe for the rest of the weekend.”

“Jungkook—”

“I liked the sound of my name on your lips a lot more last night,” he pointed out, deliberately distracting you.

He ran his tongue over his lower lip as if he could physically see the bolt of electricity that his words sent right into your stomach. He couldn’t get used to witnessing how the effect he had on you manifested on your face.

“Hmm,” you resisted the pull of his eyes. “Did you rehearse that, too?”

“No,” he replied, leaning in closer, “believe it or not, a lot of this charm comes naturally to me.”

“Must’ve had a lot of practice, then,” you spoke, your voice so quiet, it was barely above a whisper, as his face lingered a few millimetres away from yours.

“Or a lot of daydreams,” he said, “and night dreams. And evening dreams. And morning—”

You ended up having to be the one who kissed him – to shut him up before you admitted that his cheesy pick-up lines made your traitor heart flutter; but it wasn’t so much the lines, as it was the undisguised fondness in his eyes, really. Smiling into the kiss, Jungkook was quick to take over by touching your cheek with his hand lightly, and shifting your face into his so he could deepen the kiss.

You pulled away with a half-hearted whine, your lips smacking as you broke the kiss. “It’s too early. I haven’t showered or even brushed my teeth yet.”

Jungkook looked absurdly offended. “You kissed me!”

“To get you to shut up,” you clarified.

“Oh, so the sound of my voice annoys you?” he jabbed, “very well. Let’s go.”

He rolled away from you and sat up in bed.

You watched him, confused and somewhat disappointed that his plans, clearly, did not include staying in bed the whole day, after all. “Go where? Where are you—”

Jungkook stood up and pulled you by your hands until you were sitting up. You refused to stand until he answered you and he clicked his tongue at your resistance.

“We,” he said, emphasizing the plural word as he gave you one more pull, forcing you to climb off the bed, “are going to take a shower.”

It already felt unusual – and uncomfortable now that it was daytime – to stand around in your room next to Jungkook, dressed in virtually nothing because you hadn’t bothered to find your respective clothes last night: he gave up after he untangled his boxers from his jeans, and you settled for his shirt. Now that he’d mentioned a shared shower, you started to feel even more self-conscious.

“We are—no, what are you saying?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest defensively as Jungkook realized he regretted tossing you his shirt last night – he didn’t want it back now, not unless you were in it.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand and heading for the door of your dorm.

You stayed put. “Together?”

“You’re not very sharp in the mornings, are you?” he teased and then smirked before you could punch him. “I like that. Yes. Together.”

He kept going – or, rather, tried to keep going because you still weren’t moving – and when he turned to look at you, exasperation was clear in his eyes.

“Jungkook, the showers here are communal,” you told him.

“Even better!” he replied. Not even an earthquake would have changed his mind.

“How is that better?” you frowned.

“I don’t mind an audience.”

You punched his shoulder. “I mind!”

Laughing, Jungkook let go of one of your hands and rubbed his shoulder.

“Well, it’s seven in the morning right now,” he said, not checking the time on his phone again – he’d done that as soon as he woke up, and he decided to abandon the device for the rest of the day. “I’m sure everyone’s still asleep.”

“Seven,” you repeated, all oxygen leaving your lungs until you felt like a deflated balloon. “Oh, God. No wonder I feel so tired. Why were you awake this early?”

“Why would I waste my time sleeping when I’m with you?” Jungkook asked with a face so straight, you’d have really believed all of this came to him naturally. “Now come on, let’s go.”

And you went with him – mostly because he refused to let you refuse, but also because your refusal wasn’t entirely genuine – almost forgetting to grab the towels and the soap on your way out of the door.

You were beyond surprised to learn that the sight of a boy, taking a confident stroll down the hallway, dressed in his boxers and nothing else, didn’t make you cringe and look away at all. If anything, the dorm doors and the people living behind them was what seemed out of place here, because Jungkook – guiding you towards the communal showers – looked like he was right in his element.

“You ever worry your cockiness is going to get you in trouble?” you asked when Jungkook pulled the door open. You exhaled in relief at the sight of the empty shower stalls all around you.

“No,” he answered, smiling. “You do the worrying for me.”

You rolled your eyes. “You give me too much credit. I’m clearly letting you do whatever you want at this point.”

“Oh, so, does that permission include doing whatever I want to you?” he was grinning as he pulled you into the closest stall and pressed you against the tiled wall, forgetting the curtains or anyone who may have walked in at any moment.

“Maybe not while we’re in public,” you replied, managing to push him off of you – and ignoring his disappointed pout, “it’s highly unhygienic.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” he countered while you busied yourself with the shower curtain which had one of its’ plastic hoops stuck on the rod and wasn’t moving.

“Well, then, don’t look so sad,” you said, giving him a look over your shoulder – immediately, he smirked at your tone – and tugging the shower curtain harder until it finally slid down the rod and separated the two of you from the rest of the room. “You should have been prepared for this.”

“You’re the one who has to be prepared for everything,” he pointed out. “I just go with the flow.”

“That’s not always a good thing,” you countered, crossing your arms. “As I’m sure you know by now—”

Not waiting until you finished lecturing him, Jungkook settled for the most childish way to change the topic and turned the shower on. You gasped in surprise when the cold water splashed you, soaking the front of your – his – shirt completely.

“Jungkook!” you scolded, jumping away from the direct stream of water while he, predictably, laughed.

“What?” he asked, all sugar and spice and everything nice. “We’re in the shower.”

Then, to further prove his point that he hadn’t done anything wrong by getting you wet, even if you were still in your clothes, he turned the shower head towards himself and brought his hands through his hair until he was completely soaked.

You were frozen for a minute – which was exactly what he’d intended – watching Jungkook act out a shampoo commercial right in front of you.

“It’s not showering if you’re wearing all of your clothes,” you muttered under your breath finally, once you painfully tore your eyes away from the droplets of water that traced every crevice of his skin; a cascading waterfall that framed his half-naked body.

“Ah, so you want me to undress!” he translated excitedly and awarded you with a wink that could have made the devil himself flustered. “Should have said so from the beginning.”

“I wasn’t—”

Leaning down under the running water to take his boxers off, Jungkook promised, “your wish is my command.”

After a whole lot of giggling and slipping, and very little actual, legitimate scrubbing and cleaning, you and Jungkook walked out of the shower hand-in-hand, with smiles on your faces.

The sight of the pure joy in both of your eyes as you crossed the hallway back towards your dorm room, left little to the imagination, but you did not run into anyone, so, for all you knew, no one, aside from the two of you, was aware of what had happened in the shower this morning.

In fact, you loved the idea that you and Jungkook were the only people here – there wasn’t a single passerby, a single (un)bothered observer, or anyone else who could have otherwise interrupted you two. It was just you and him. Finally, you-and-him.

“I’ve never lived in a dorm,” Jungkook said once you were back in your room as he used a separate towel to tousle his hair, splashing water around like a shaggy dog. “But I really enjoy the showers here.”

“You got to experience them at a good time,” you replied. “It’s a lot less fun when there are people in every stall.”

“Hmm, I bet. And less fun without me, too, yeah?”

You gave him a look as you unwrapped your hair from the towel on top of your head. “You’re too full of yourself.”

“Me?” Jungkook feigned innocence. His angelic smile was a clear indication that some inane entity had possessed him today and he was absolutely not going to quit teasing you anytime soon. “I’m the most underrated—”

You interrupted, “self-absorbed, arrogant, inconsiderate—”

“—person there is. Hold on now,” he took a threatening step towards you, raising his eyebrows, “did you just call me inconsiderate?”

“Well, you rarely think about other people’s feelings when you do something,” you retaliated and Jungkook – who enjoyed the proud smirk on your lips, but only because he couldn’t wait to wipe it off with a kiss – pursed his lips, shaking his head.

“You mistake my intentions,” he said. “I always think about—”

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, cutting him off mid-excuse. You turned around in the direction of the sound, breaking eye contact, and Jungkook groaned in disappointment.

“Now who,” he demanded, “is bold enough to ruin my monologue about how caring and selfless I am?”

You scoffed, side-eyeing him before you reached for your phone and, much to your surprise, saw a text from Namjoon – who was wondering if you’d found Jungkook last night and if he was alright.

“If it’s Yoongi, tell him that yes, I’m avoiding him, and no, I’m not coming home today,” Jungkook said after noticing the way you bit your lip once you read the text.

“It’s not Yoongi. But you should probably call him,” you said absentmindedly as you tried to compose a text message that involved the right amount of gratitude for Namjoon’s help last night, but also just enough cold politeness, so that Jungkook wouldn’t have any reason to cause a scene. He already had a wary expression on his face after you said it wasn’t his bandmate who’d texted you.

Then, you stopped typing and raised your head to look at the boy, sitting on the bed across from you. “Wait. What do you mean you’re not coming home?”

He shrugged, lying down on your bed. “I’m staying here.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Did we agree on that?”

“Yes,” he replied, “with our bodies.”

You grimaced. “I’m not sure—”

“Oh, you can’t kick me out,” he said – ordered, really – as he patted the bed next to him waiting for you to sit. You did. He continued, “we’ve got so many things we still need to do. All of those movies we haven’t gotten to watch because we keep doing something else when we’re together,” pausing for a moment, Jungkook snickered, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing something else again—did you just laugh at me?”

You bit your tongue, trying to conceal your smile, but the playful mood Jungkook was in amused you too much.

“I just exhaled,” you replied, returning your attention to your phone as you pressed send. “Now, what were you saying about—”

“Who was that?” he asked with a nod at your phone now that you’d finished typing.

“Hmm?” you mumbled, not because you hadn’t heard him, but because something about the way your heart skipped a beat at his question told you that he wasn’t going to like your answer, and you needed to win some time to find a way to soften the blow. “Just Namjoon. He was worried about you.”

Jungkook scoffed but, thankfully, didn’t immediately throw a tantrum.

“Doubt that,” he said instead, with dripping skepticism. “We don’t know each other, why would he care—”

“You went off-the-grid last night,” you said, aware that the patient voice you tried to demonstrate may have come off as accusing. That wasn’t your intention but, now that the conversation came up, you thought it was fair he knew that his actions affected more people than just you and him. “It doesn’t matter if he knows you or not. You could have been dead in a ditch.”

“Is that what Yoongi suggested?” Jungkook inquired in a disgruntled tone.

“No,” you said even though it sort of was. “But we were all concerned for you. Namjoon included.”

He rolled his eyes – partially because he didn’t like to be reminded of the hassle he’d caused last night, but also because he had a hard time believing that people who didn’t know him were genuinely worried about his safety, when his own friends, aside from his bandmates, couldn’t have cared less.

“I know you want to see the best in people, but—”

“I’m not seeing the best in him,” you disagreed, “in fact, we got into an argument at the barbecue yesterday and I realized that there’s more to him than I’d previously thought. But when I told him about you, he was really concerned. He’s the one who drove me back to campus to look for you.”

Digesting this new information for a moment, Jungkook swallowed.

Then, when you thought you were going to have to explain your decision to accept Namjoon’s offer to drive you home, Jungkook dismissed the whole thing.

“So,” he said, “Namjoon isn’t who you thought he was, then?”

“He—that’s not what I meant,” you replied, surprised by the direction the conversation had taken, but suspicious when you saw Jungkook smile victoriously.

“No, I’m curious,” he encouraged, sitting up and scooting closer to you – so close, in fact, that you could see the glistening drops of water that he hadn’t wiped off from his chest, “has he let you down? Are you thinking you shouldn’t be friends anymore?”

Before you could be any more distracted – if not by his words, then by his glimmering skin or by his sneaky, yet lovable, smile – you cleared your throat and looked away.

“You need to call Yoongi,” you said, standing your ground, “or else you’ll be the one who won’t have any friends.”

“Eh, knowing me, that’s inevitable,” he waved a hand, dismissing the thought. “I just want to have you.”

Little needle stabs poked at your stomach after he said this. You blinked, preparing to answer, only to realize that his quick wit had momentarily rendered you completely speechless. Jungkook used that to his advantage.

“I’m thinking breakfast,” he said, changing the topic so quickly, it was like he had the attention span of a squirrel. “Do you have any food here?”

Deeply impressed with his determination to slither out of this situation unharmed – because Yoongi sure was going to rip him a new one – you stuttered, “n-no, wait. I mean, we have milk and—”

“That’s what I thought,” he replied, nodding to himself. Then, he stood up from the bed and ordered, “get dressed. We’re going grocery shopping.”

“Grocery—is that necessary?” you crossed your arms, watching Jungkook pace the room and, most likely, regret his decision to spray his own T-shirt with water because he did not have anything else to wear. “I always have cereal for breakfast.”

“It’s not just cereal we need to think of,” he pointed out, choosing to just settle for that T-shirt. It was supposed to be warm outside anyway. “We have to stock up on food so we wouldn’t have to leave this room for the rest of the day.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You were serious about that?”

“I’m serious about everything,” he retorted and then, untying the towel on his waist in order to put his jeans on, he nodded at you and urged, “come on.”

Not moving one bit, you declared, “call Yoongi first.”

“I’ll call him later.”

“Call him now,” you insisted. “He’s been worried sick since last night.”

“He’s probably still hungover, I’ll call him later—”

“Jungkook,” you said, your voice firm. You didn’t want to enter another conflict with him but, now that you two were obviously going to be spending a lot of time together, it was important for you both that Jungkook actually took responsibility for the things that he did. “He didn’t sound drunk at all when he called me last night. Call him.”

As stubborn as he’d ever been, Jungkook shrugged – and then nearly toppled over as he lost his balance while pulling his jeans up his legs – and said very casually, “then maybe he was high and you couldn’t tell over the phone.”

You could have laughed at this.

“Oh, no, trust me. I’ve talked to a high Yoongi once before,” you said. “I can tell.”

He had several other arguments up his sleeve – excuses were his specialty – but you looked determined to shoot down every single one of them and, at the end of the day, Jungkook didn’t want to spend the rest of the day arguing with you about this.

“Fine,” he gave in. “Give me five minutes and a soundproof room.”

You knew this wasn’t a compromise – Jungkook didn’t look like he’d changed his mind and suddenly understood that he had to do this; he looked like he was only doing this as a favor to you – but it was still something, so you crawled down the bed towards where he’d left his phone last night, and handed it to him.

“He’s not going to yell—okay, he probably is,” you admitted, “but you deserve it. Go talk to him in the hall, though. I’ll get dressed.”

This intrigued Jungkook and he took one last chance to stall, “ooh, can I watch?”

“No,” you answered and got off the bed, watching him buckle his belt. “You focus on your redemption.”

“My redemption,” he repeated, mocking the pretentious word and still refusing to move.

Ignoring that, you pushed him out of your dorm and into the hallway and, waiting for a second to make sure he really was dialing Yoongi’s phone number – “I’m doing it, alright? But if you’d rather I helped you get dressed—” – you shut the door and returned to your room to find some clothes.

When Jungkook returned several minutes later, he looked more solemn than when he’d left, but the glint in his eyes wasn’t too far gone.

“Did he give it to you good?” you asked, as you rolled up the sleeves of your cardigan.

“Actually, I think he was holding himself back a little,” Jungkook replied, scratching his right ear to indicate just how much yelling he’d had to endure out in the hall. Then, inhaling and seemingly dropping everything he’d just heard, he asked, “so, you ready to go? I was thinking it’d be nice to have some eggs.”

You spent the rest of Saturday in your dorm room, being about as unproductive as it was possible for two people to be. You got through two movies (you’d tried to watch five; Jungkook had no patience to sit through the rest) and finished a full bag of popcorn (you’d opened three; the rest of it ended up on the floor of your room as you played a very unsuccessful game of throw-and-catch and then, consequently, throw-and-try-to-hit).

You lost count of how many tears of laughter you’d shed. Or how many times you’d punched his shoulder. Or how many times he cut you off with a kiss when you gave more attention to the movie than to him.

“You’re like a retriever,” you told Jungkook that night, when the two of you were laying on your backs, side-to-side, your hands and hearts intertwined. “You’re hyper-active, unpredictable, and you need constant attention.”

“Also self-absorbed, arrogant, and inconsiderate,” he added, mentioning all the colorful adjectives you’d called him over the course of this one day.

You exhaled in a half-snort, trying to pull your hand out of his, but failing when he refused to let go, pulling on your hand until you turned to your side to face him instead.

“Is there anything good about me?” he asked you.

You squinted. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

Jungkook smiled, shaking his head. “No. I’m just asking. Because if there’s not, then why do you put up with me?”

“Because you’re trying,” you offered, “because you never give up. You work hard, you’re dedicated and determined. You’ve always got your eyes on the prize—”

He cut you off, “that sounds like the opposite of all the negative things you’d said about me.”

You didn’t see the problem there and you shrugged your shoulders.

“There are two sides to every coin,” you said, unsure if he expected you to shower him in compliments at all times, regardless if he deserved them or not. Actually, knowing Jungkook, that was probably precisely what he expected.

“You didn’t call me funny,” he pointed out then.

“Because you’re not,” you dead-panned.

Jungkook scoffed and looked away from you, declaring with great dignity, “I happen to think I have a great sense of humor.”

“You happen to think a lot,” you mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You snickered. “Here’s another one – you can always turn a negative situation into something better.”

Jungkook lowered his eyes to your intertwined hands, the smile on his face growing fainter, even if the atmosphere in the room remained as laid-back as before.

“Not always,” he said in a hushed tone, not daring to pose the risk of ruining the good-natured banter.

Even though he was careful, it was still obvious that you’ve hit a sensitive spot. Not having any intention to do so, you’ve brought back the fact that, in all twenty-three years of his life, Jungkook hadn’t managed to turn the negative opinion of his father into something better.

“But you always try,” you said, less confident now that you saw how easy it was to trigger something that was too big to fix with just a compliment.

“That’s not enough sometimes,” he said, purposefully avoiding sad undertones and, this way, making himself sound even sadder.

“And other times,” you argued, just as persistent as he was, “it’s more than enough. Stop painting everything in black and white, you always do that.”

Noticing that this was turning into a fight that neither of you would win, Jungkook looked at you with a half-smile on his face. “I thought I always turned the negative situations into positive.”

“You don’t do that when it comes to you,” you replied. “Your biggest flaw is being too hard on yourself.”

In the time that he’s been a member of Parental Advisory – and even before, when he was just an heir of a multi-millionaire – Jungkook had had nearly every single one of his flaws pointed out: none of them were new, he was already aware of them all.

He worked on some of them – the ones that he thought would genuinely help him improve: practicing new singing techniques, making sure his band was his first priority, learning how to communicate with his audiences and how to write lyrics that held more impact.

He’d never had anyone tell him that he tried too hard. And he’d never realized that that was true this quickly, either.

Jungkook didn’t consider himself to be someone who wanted to accommodate others. He never followed the societal standards if they contrasted with his wishes. He didn’t care about what other people thought of him; as it turned out, he worried about his own perception of himself instead.

“Maybe it helps me improve,” he said, not feeling like he deserved the credit for this particular flaw when he hadn’t succeeded in changing himself for the better yet.

“Maybe,” you agreed, giving his hand a supportive squeeze. “But give yourself a break sometimes. You’re really not all bad.”

“I needed you.”

You were teasing him and expected him to bite back in an equal way, but the serious tone of his voice took you by surprise. “What?”

“I needed you,” he repeated, “to be able to turn the negative into positive. You’re my better half.”

Despite the beating of your heart and the warmth that spread to your face and forced you to smile, you still shook your head.

“I’m not,” you said, meaning it, “you’re a full person. Not just a half.”

You thought he’d let go of you so he could protest and insist that he was right, but he did no such thing. Instead, he held you tighter and, for a moment or two, being pressed so tightly against each other really did make you feel as though you were two individual parts of the same set – good on your own, but great when paired together.

Jungkook didn’t let go of you the whole Saturday night or the next morning, or the afternoon. That made your normal, everyday functions very complicated – like brushing your teeth, when he was hugging you from behind and purposefully snoozing with his head on your shoulder – but you’d have been out of your mind to complain.

When you arrived to his parents’ house for your Sunday night dinner, Jungkook still had one arm around your waist, as if touching you came naturally to him and he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

As soon as his mother opened the door for you two, she could tell that there was something different about you – maybe it was the fresh glow of having spent the whole weekend locked up together, or maybe she could read your minds – but the wide smiles on your faces were too beautiful of a sight for her to question it.

“Come in,” she encouraged, “it’s lovely to see you, like always.”

“Ah, you’re here already!” Jungkook’s father climbed down the stairs just as you two passed the threshold into the house. Feeling the way Jungkook tensed – his usual reaction – you tried to make up for it by smiling widely.

“Hello,” you said, suddenly feeling ridiculous to be grinning like this for no reason.

“Son,” his father said, acknowledging Jungkook’s presence with a nod and earning one from him in return. “Are you feeling better, dear?”

You didn’t realize his question was directed at you so, for a moment, the four of you lingered awkwardly in the hallway while you waited for Jungkook to answer before you realized that, for one, Jungkook’s father had never called his son “dear”, and, furthermore, it was you who had supposedly gotten sick in the middle of the company barbecue this Friday.

“Oh!” you blinked, trying to remember if Namjoon mentioned what sort of illness he was going to give as your excuse. “Yes, thank you. I’ve gotten some rest and I-I’m much better now.”

“That’s good!” Jungkook’s mother said. Nor her, nor her husband seemed suspicious even though Jungkook inhaled sharply, attracting their attention. “We were very worried when you left early – if you’d stayed just a second longer, we could have driven you home ourselves, we were going to go back anyway.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” you replied, aware that Jungkook didn’t know about this part of your Friday night – he hadn’t asked if you’d left the barbecue early – and, evidently, learning of this right here, right now, didn’t exactly please him. “My friend from university was there and he was kind enough to offer me a ride back to campus.”

Jungkook’s father cleared his throat – an involuntary reaction, similar to that of his son’s before – and gave you a kind, almost apologetic look, “if Jungkook had gone with you, he could have been the one who drove you home.”

That offended you as much as it offended Jungkook – but for different reasons. Jungkook’s dignity was obviously hurt because he had, once again, let his father down. But you were displeased because his father made it sound as though you needed a chaperone. As though you were some damsel in distress.

“No, really, I’m glad he didn’t go. I wouldn’t have wanted him to leave early,” you ended up saying, your polite nature persevering. You could understand Namjoon a lot more now – it was easy to let your real feelings slip if you weren’t paying attention to what you were saying, but hiding them under a mask of good manners and respect, was far more beneficial in the long run. “And, actually, it was even better that he was back on campus, because he helped me out a lot this weekend. Really, I probably wouldn’t have recovered as quickly as I did if it weren’t for him.”

You weren’t just saying that to make Jungkook look better – but there was still gratitude in his eyes when you met his gaze – because he had truly turned your weekend into a time of healing just by spending it with you.

“That’s wonderful,” Jungkook’s mother was the one who responded – Jungkook’s father just smiled mysteriously – as she brought a hand through her son’s hair in adoration, “let’s head to the dining room now, alright? The food is getting cold. You can tell me how your semester’s going. I assume you’ve got finals coming up soon, isn’t that right?”

That was right – well, sort of; you still had about a month of classes left – and it prompted you to start a conversation about school, which allowed Jungkook to casually bring up the fact that he’d knocked his professors off their feet by passing all the tests that they had predicted he would fail. His father, of course, did not express his surprise or say anything encouraging, but he gave a very impressed nod and that was more than enough.

The dinner only seemed to last a few minutes – it flew by like it always did – and you found yourself in your already usual position: offering Jungkook’s mother to clean up, while she forbade you from doing anything and insisted you stayed back and relaxed.

Relaxing was what you and Jungkook had done here last Sunday – before his mother knocked on the door of his bedroom and interrupted you two – so, not very excited to have history repeat itself, you didn’t mind when Jungkook made an excuse to leave early today.

His mother seemed sad to hear that – dessert was just as important part of dinner as the actual main course – but she didn’t push you to stay. Maybe because she could see the look in Jungkook’s eyes and she knew him well enough to understand that, although he had a sweet tooth, her son would have gladly rejected dessert just to get to spend more time alone with you.

However, alone time wasn’t the reason why Jungkook wanted to leave early – you learned that as soon as you sat down in his car and saw his hand lingering by the ignition, not ready to put the key in just yet.

“You okay?” you asked tentatively, already trying to analyze the dinner in your mind, hoping to come across a moment that could have stuck with him.

“I didn’t know,” Jungkook said finally, “that you had to leave early. I’d assumed the barbecue ended and that was why you got back to the dorm.”

You lowered your eyes, realizing that your failed attempt to get to the bottom of things on Friday night – it was generous to even call it an attempt, considering that you were ripping each other’s clothes off within twenty minutes of seeing each other – had now caught up to you.

“Yeah,” you said. “I got Yoongi’s call in the middle of dinner, and told him I’d go back to campus to look for you. He told me you went missing, I wasn’t going to sit around eating grilled sausages and wait for you to turn up.”

That wasn’t exactly what Jungkook was trying to talk to you about – he’d already put the pieces together – and, taking a moment to admit to himself that he did feel guilty about this, he exhaled before speaking again.

“You could have told my dad the truth,” he said. “Or you could have left without bothering with an excuse, he would have probably assumed it was my fault, anyway.”

“I’m not stupid,” you replied, “you’re trying to make progress with your father. You may not be doing very well, but why would I halt your process? I’m on your side, remember?”

He nodded. “I remember. I’m just saying, y-you didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to stand up for me tonight, either.”

“Technically, I did,” you replied, smiling now. “We started to go to these Sunday night dinners for a reason.”

For a good minute, Jungkook really struggled to follow your train of thought. Even though it couldn’t have been more than a month, these dinners with you had already become a part of his routine, so the fact that you were, theoretically, only here to prove Jungkook’s maturity to his father, seemed very obsolete now.

“Well,” Jungkook said, considering your new situation. Chuckling lightly, he added, “that’s stupid now, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Pretending to be dating when we actually are.”

Catching the perfect opening, you teased, “we are?”

He gave you a look that dared you to test him.

“We haven’t been on one date,” you defended – sensibly so, really.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes as he looked at you, wanting to point out the flaws in your words, but having a hard time finding any, because, in the normal sense of the word, you hadn’t actually gone on any dates with him.

“We went to my party last weekend,” he still tried, figuring that the term ‘date’, when used loosely, could really mean just two people hanging out together.

You scrunched your nose, enjoying this game. “Was that a date?”

“We spent the whole weekend together,” he tried again.

“Was that a—?”

“You are my girlfriend,” Jungkook cut you off finally, his voice forceful and determined. “And you have no say in that matter.”

He looked you right in the eyes as he said this – boldly challenging your undeniable authority over this moment in the car – and you tried not to, but still ended up laughing.

“You’re taking away my freedom of choice,” you said.

“Are you saying,” he asked in a teary tone because his go-to maneuver in cases like this, was extracting pity, “you don’t want to be with me?”

“I’m not,” you replied, resisting him with surprising ease. You’d taken a page from his book and you were almost gloating as you watched how flustered he became with every word that you said, “I’m just wondering why you can’t ask me out like a normal person. Like someone who hadn’t known me for years.”

He observed your face for a second, making sure that you were serious – you were – and then sighed so deeply, it was like he was hoping to cleanse his dignity of whatever damage your words had done to it.

“You like me like this, don’t you?” he asked, aware that you had turned the tables on him.

“Like what?” you were still grinning. You absolutely liked him like this. “Do you think you’re too good to ask someone to be your girlfriend? Is that beneath you somehow or—”

“I love you,” he said sternly, cutting you off so quickly and successfully that your throat dried up as soon as he said this. “Please be my girlfriend.”

Biting the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling at the juxtaposition of his pink cheeks and his determined eyes – while also, cringing at the cliché words that you’d forced him to say – you nodded and did not say anything else.

“What, that’s all I get?” Jungkook widened his eyes, scoffing in disbelief. “I ask you to—and you nod your head?”

You couldn’t help yourself as you replied, “I’ll think about it.”

Completely flummoxed, Jungkook examined your features without blinking or breathing. You really did have him right where you wanted him. If someone had told him that the reason why you stopped being friends once upon a time, was because he had too much influence over you, he wouldn’t have believed them.

“Enjoy this while you can,” he said a minute later, shaking his head and putting the key in ignition before finally starting the car. “You have endless weekends like this ahead of you, try to keep me on my toes.”

This didn’t put out your fire as you continued, “is that a challenge?”

“That,” he said, his voice more promising than threatening, “is a warning.”

You laughed before relenting just because you didn’t think it was fair to have his confession linger in the air like that, “I love you, too, Jungkook.”

He rolled his eyes, backing out of the street where he’d parked his car. “Oh, now you say that.”

“Better late than never,” you pointed out in a laid-back tone.

“Better all the time than late,” he retorted.

“You’re needy,” you said.

Jungkook didn’t skip a beat as he drove down the street back towards your campus, and still found enough time to glance at you, “you’re uncooperative.”

“You’re prideful,” you shot back.

“You’re controlling.”

“You’re reckless.”

“I love you,” he challenged.

“I love you more,” you fought back.

Jungkook cocked an eyebrow at this. “Don’t go there. I like to win and I am not above proving to you how much I love you the whole night tonight.”

A simmering fire in your stomach suddenly erupted into a bright flame.

“I have an early class tomorrow morning,” you said, more of a reminder to yourself than to him. “We both do, actually.”

He merely scoffed. “You think that would stop me?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Just drive. Like you said, we have endless weekends like this ahead of us.”

And, even though you’d spent the bigger part of the weekend bickering and bantering, teasing and playing, both of you felt yourselves smile at the prospect of getting to do this again at the end of the next week. And then, at the end of the week that came after that. And then, the week after that. And after that.

At the end of every week, really. For as long as you wanted – be it the rest of your lives, or until the world ended.

keep reading | masterlist

#bts college au #bts reactions #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook college au #college au #fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jeon jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #fanfic

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

The Bargain Pt 5 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Rhys hadn't seen Feyre in a year.

He knew that, because his social media sent him a reminder that he had posted a photo of her finished tattoo a year ago, and he had not heard from her since.

Not that she had any obligation to contact him, of course. In fact, this was why he made the six month rule with his clients- he knew how easy it was to become attached to someone who you have been vulnerable around. And he didn't want to influence anyone like that, particularly not Feyre, who seemed to be having a tough enough time as it was. So although he thought about her often, after she left the shop that last time, for the most part he tried to let her fade into a pleasant memory, and not to dwell too much on whether she was okay out in the world.

But Rhys knew he'd never forget Feyre, because after she was gone he had actually started to paint again. Had locked the door of the studio behind her, arrived back at his apartment and stayed up all night with his crusty old oil set. Paper had never been particularly interesting to him, so he had painted his coffee table. Swirls and eddies of colour like Feyre had drawn on his arm in the gaps between his black line tattoos.

Over the next few weeks, Rhys' plain and understated flat became a frenzy of line and pattern and colour. He started posting photos on his instagram and to his great surprise, they garnered more attention than some of his better performing tattoo posts. He was even commissioned to paint shop fronts and feature walls in restaurants.

By the end of the year, Rhys was still in the studio most of the time but spent a week out of every month painting murals around the country, like he had always wanted to do. So no, he would not be forgetting Feyre, ever.

In May, Rhys got a contract in Berlin. It was one that he was slightly apprehensive about, since apparently it was a team effort and he didn't have much experience collaborating. He didn't love the idea that several people who had never met would be trying to create something cohesive in a short amount of time. On the other hand, it was an all-expenses paid trip and he was about due for a holiday.

Rhys landed in Berlin early in the morning, and had a couple of hours to kill before his meeting. He spent some time wandering around the strangely grey, concrete world, and found these amazing rainbow bursts popping up unexpectedly on street corners and in alleyways. Rhys found he rather liked it.

When eventually he walked through the tall glass doors of the building he'd been directed to, Rhys wondered about the team he'd be working with. There were a number of very well respected German street artists, and if he had to collaborate, he hoped it would be someone who he might recognise.

He was utterly unprepared to walk into the room and see Feyre sitting at the table, deep in conversation with a man with dark skin and white hair.

"Ah, here he is. Feyre, this is Rhys," the man said, while Rhys stood with one hand still on the door handle and gaped.

Shock registered on Feyre's face, but then it settled into an easy, broad daylight grin.

"Thank you Tarquin, we've actually met." Feyre's fingers trailed over her tattoo as she spoke, not taking her eyes from Rhys'. "Remember me?" she asked, with a little tilt of her head.

"I, uh, yeah of course I do," Rhys said. "I wasn't expecting to see you here." "Nor I you," she said.

"Rhys, good to meet you in person," Tarquin said, extending a hand. "I know we've only spoken on the phone before now, and I'm so glad you could come over for this project."

Rhys shook the contractor's hand, and settled into the chair that was pulled out for him. He nodded and smiled at Tarquin, but then found his gaze snapping back to Feyre like a magnet. A rose petal blush stole over her cheeks.

"I am so excited to finally have the two of you here," Tarquin said. His voice was slightly accented, and very warm. "As you know from the brief, my company has just settled its headquarters here in Berlin and we want a summer themed mural."

"I'm sorry," Rhys interrupted. "It's just the two of us?" Tarquin nodded. "Originally I wanted a whole team of artists, but then we redid the budget and it was decided we'd just hire two." "I'm curious, you have so many wonderful artists here in Berlin, why did you fly us out from New York?"

"Actually," Feyre said. "I live in Berlin now." Rhys blinked. "Oh," was all he could think to say.

Tarquin prattled on for another forty minutes about his company, the 'feel' they were going for, their target audience and so on. When Tarquin had first approached Rhys, Rhys was genuinely interested in his work but now that Feyre was here sitting opposite him, he couldn't take in a damn word. Couldn't even remember what he already knew about the business, just sat there wondering what had happened in the year since he had last seen Feyre.

How was she? Was she still with that whatshisname boyfriend? Had she been tattooed by anyone else this year?

Finally Tarquin stopped talking and told them he'd take them on a tour of the building, show them the mural site, and then let them settled in. He stepped out to take a phone call, and left them with a mood board he had collated for the painting. Then Rhys was left alone with Feyre.

And for the life of him didn't know what to say to her.

He just sat there, swallowed, and tried to stop staring at her. She noticed, and blushed.

"What are you looking at?" Feyre said, looking down self-consciously. A curl fell over her face. "I'm sorry," Rhys said. "I just didn't expect to see you." "Me neither," Feyre told him. "I mean, I moved cities, I moved continents and yet here you are."

Rhys nodded. "Here I am." He cleared his throat. "So ah, when did you guys move over?" "Just a few months ago," Feyre said. "And it's just me. I broke up with Tamlin." She shifted in her seat. "You were right. It got worse, and then better." "Oh, good," Rhys said. "I mean- not good, I'm sorry to hear that."

Feyre laughed. "No," she said. "It is good. And I'm really enjoying living here. I can't believe you're here." "I thought I'd never see you again," Rhys said. Feyre's eyes flickered. "You thought about seeing me?" she asked.

Now it was Rhys' turn to colour. "I... I just wondered if you might get in contact later in the year. You know, let me know how your tattoo's healing and all. Is it alright?"

"It's great," Feyre said, holding out her arm for Rhys to inspect. "I know I said I might call, but I just couldn't," she confessed. "As the months went on I got so embarrassed."

Rhys cocked his head. "Why?" he asked. "Because I had such a crush on you!" Feyre said. "And I bet every girl you tattoo falls in love with you, I didn't want to be one of them." She laughed, and looked away. Rhys just stared at her.

"You... had a crush...?" he started to ask, but then Tarquin breezed back into the room.

"Sorry folks!" he said. "Important call, but terribly rude of me. Now. Let's get on with that tour huh?"

And then he ushered them out of the room, and didn't leave them until they were all saying goodbye and Feyre was heading toward home in one direction and Rhys was going to his hotel in the other.

No matter. They had all week to get reacquainted.

****

Thank you so much to everyone who has been commenting, I've been astounded by the love you guys have been giving this story and I appreciate you all very dearly!! I thought it would be a little niche one, I wrote it because I like art and tattoos, and I really didn't think it would do this well. Would love to know what's working for you, so I can keep bringing it to you :)

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #fluff #mine

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Eleven

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: first chapter after acosf!! im sorry for how short this one is, but acosf wrecked me and writing this put me back together. i hope it does something similar for you ❤️

***

“You say you’ve been doing better lately?”

The therapist’s office is plain, a little gloomy, but big windows overlook the center of town that make Nesta feel less suffocated.

She nods, “Yeah.”

“How would you describe ‘better’?” Dr. Bond— Lana, she insists on being called— has been endlessly patient with Nesta’s non-answers so far. Nesta almost feels bad and decides to throw the woman a rope.

“I’m not alone anymore,” she says. “I used to be alone all the time, but now I have friends, sort of… and a boyfriend.” She still loves that word. It’s never tasted so exciting before.

“You were always alone before this, then? Or were there just people that you didn’t consider noteworthy?”

A scowl rises to Nesta’s mouth. Damn, she works quick. “I was raised with two sisters in a one-bedroom apartment. I never got to be alone, but then I grew up, and…” Her mind wants to skip over the time she spent in college. “For the last couple of years, I holed up in my own place. Never wanted to talk to anybody or see them. If people took an interest in me, I shut them down because I didn’t have an interest in them.”

“You missed a few years,” Lana notes.

“What?”

“You’re twenty-four, and you moved out at eighteen. Where were you before getting your own place?”

Numbness seeps through Nesta at the question. She knows she can ask Lana to change the topic, but that will only bring it back later. “I had a boyfriend in college,” she says flatly. “I lived with him for a few years, but like you said, it isn’t noteworthy.”

“As a fellow lone wolf, I disagree.” Lana’s clinical polite face is unchanging. “Any person who you trust enough to let into your life is noteworthy.”

Nesta says nothing.

“I’m interested in these people you’ve chosen to trust,” her therapist continues after a beat of silence. “Why don’t we start with whoever you trust most?”

Nesta snorts. This she can talk about.

“His name is Cassian. I’ve been living with him ever since my apartment got flooded a couple of months ago, and he’s always been a good friend to me.” She sits there, thinking about what else to say. “I think I like him more than I’ve ever liked anybody.”

“This is the new boyfriend?”

Nesta nods.

“Do you compare him to the old one?”

Nesta doesn’t know what this lady’s angle is, but she answers carefully, “I used to. Back when I first moved in. I haven’t done it in a long time, though.”

“Why not?”

The answer is simple. “There’s no need to. He’s not comparable to anybody.”

“Is that why you opened up to him after two years of self-imposed isolation?”

Nesta looks away. “It wasn’t isolation,” she defends. “It’s just… after a lifetime of being subjected to the gaze of strangers, I wanted to hide. I liked hiding.” Mostly.

“What does that mean, the gaze of strangers?”

Question after cool question, this one. Nesta struggles to find a proper answer.

“You know how,” she starts slowly, “as soon as you start school, you’re placed into this bubble with a bunch of people who don’t know you and have no reason to care about you? There’s a shift in how you view people, and how people view you. And I thought I could leave it behind once I graduated high school, but it followed me to college and to parties and into everyday interactions.”

“What is it?”

“It’s this—” Nesta waves her hands, “judgment. It’s that thing you do as soon as you meet someone, and you try to determine whether they’re worth your time or not. Whether they’re above or below you in this made-up social hierarchy in your head.”

“Explain that more,” Lana says.

“We want to hang around people we find cool. And when we meet someone new, we inspect them, look them up and down, to see if they fit our definition of cool. We take them apart. Everyone does it, even you. And with me,” she shrugs, “I’m pretty, I wear the right clothes, I do my makeup. So at first glance, people think, ‘Oh, I can see myself getting to know her better. I can see myself liking her.’ But then they take a closer look at me, and it’s like…” Her fingers flutter in the air, trying to support her thoughts. “I can see their minds changing. ‘Nevermind, I was wrong. Nevermind, there’s something off with her. She’s a little quiet, a little weird, a little bitchy.’”

Lana narrows her eyes. “And Cassian doesn’t look at you like that?”

Nesta looks away. “He doesn’t look at anyone like that.”

It’s what used to make her so uncomfortable about him. She was incapable of fathoming his honesty, his genuineness, his kindness. She thought he was even weirder than her for it— she placed him beneath her on her social hierarchy for it.

Lana frowns thoughtfully. “And now you two live together?”

Nesta nods, then shrugs. “For the next twenty-four hours, we do. He’s helping me move back into my old place.”

Because that was another conversation she and Cassian had on Thanksgiving night. It was a long time coming, but also the perfect time.

“You’re saying your apartment has been ready for weeks? Why are you just telling me now?”

Nesta pillowed her face on his chest, not as upset at revealing the news as she would have been some days ago. “Because I was scared that if I moved out, I would lose my friendship with you.”

“That never would have happened—”

“We wouldn’t see each other every day anymore. Even if we didn’t go back to being complete strangers, the closeness would be lost.”

“You must not know me, then. I would’ve texted you every fucking hour. You’d never hear the end of me.”

“I couldn’t guarantee that back then.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “I can now.” She crawled higher up his body, lowering her voice to a secretive pitch. “Want to know why?”

“Why?” he whispered.

“Because you’re mine now. And that’s what I was waiting for while I made Lorene hold that shitty empty apartment for me. I was waiting for a catalyst, a revelation.” She pressed a kiss to his sternum. “And I most definitely got it.” The pleasant ache between her legs was proof enough. “Also,” she added, “it would be weird if you lived with your girlfriend before even having a first date with her.”

Cassian huffed a laugh. “You have a point there. We have been moving backwards, haven’t we?”

Nesta nodded into his skin.

He got a little quiet. “Still,” he said after a moment. “I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll see me every day. I’ll be fifteen minutes away.”

“I’ll still miss you.”

“I know.”

“What does talking about guys have to do with my therapy?” Nesta squirms, getting restless with the topic.

“Lots of things,” Lana says, putting down her notepad. “It gets you comfortable with expressing your feelings to me, and it teaches me about how you view the world. Besides, therapy isn’t just a rehashing of past traumas, you know. We can talk about whatever you want here, especially if it makes you feel good.”

“Well, I want to talk about something else.” She’s not spending this much money by the hour just to talk about how much she likes Cassian— she can go to Cassian for that for free.

“Like what?” Lana asks smoothly.

She’s offering an opening, finally, to the real reason that Nesta’s here.

Nesta pulls at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, wondering where to start. “I feel like I’ve been growing up lately,” she says carefully. “I have all these new people in my life to be responsible for, and I’m— I want to do it right. But I’m worried I won’t have room for new things until I pack up some of my old shit, so that’s why I’m here, I guess. I don’t want to hold on to all of my old shit anymore.”

At Lana’s encouraging silence, she continues, “I spent my whole life stuck in a suffocating town, and as soon as I left, I got stuck in a relationship. By the time I knew what freedom felt like, I— I’d been left behind. Everyone I knew was moving onto bigger things and all I had was this shitbag of a past. So I got a new place and started law school and called it a fresh start, but now I’m here and I’m not sure if I ever got better.”

She takes a sharp breath after everything that’s spilled.

Lana purses her lips, letting the room absorb Nesta’s words. After a long moment, she says, “Just because bad things stop happening to someone, doesn’t mean they instantly get better. It’s a good thing that you’re recognizing that before stepping into new relationships, Nesta.”

Lana glances at the clock on the wall. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today, but this was a productive first session.” She offers a small smile. “Same time next week?” She says it as if it isn’t already a done deal.

Nesta nods gratefully anyway, unable to say anything else. As soon as she’s out the door, a pent-up sigh escapes her. That wasn’t so bad.

***

Later that night, Nesta doesn’t miss Cassian’s wistful stare as he takes down the painting he got her from the fall festival. Nor does she miss how slowly he packs it away.

Once the bedroom she made her home is as sparse as the day she moved in, all her things packed away neatly in boxes, Nesta wraps her arms around Cassian and pulls him to the bed. There, she lets him hold her close, their breaths and limbs intertwining as they lie in thoughtful silence.

“I can’t believe I’ll never see this room again,” Nesta says quietly.

Cassian’s eyes widen in alarm. “What do you mean, never again?”

“I’ll be staying in your room whenever I visit, remember?” Her underwear already occupies a drawer in his closet.

Cassian visibly relaxes when he remembers, then smiles. “Right. Of course.”

She lets herself sink deeper into his embrace. “I just realized you’ve never seen my apartment before.” He was waiting at the front door of Lorene’s place while Nesta collected her things all those weeks ago, but she cringes at the thought of him visiting now. The clear wealth gap between her and Cassian doesn’t usually show, but it’ll be undeniable with the cramped room she calls an apartment. “Maybe it’s best if I move back in without your help. There might not even be space there for your huge body.”

“Sounds more appealing by the minute.” He’s not joking. He tilts up Nesta’s chin so she’s forced to meet his eyes. “I can’t wait to start partaking in your life the way you took over mine. Spending nights at your place, meeting your friends, riding in your car instead of mine.”

Nesta swallows.

“I’m gonna miss you like hell, but it’ll be for the best.”

He’s right: this is what’s best for their budding relationship right now. Moving out, creating even a little bit of distance— all of it is so they can finally learn each other as lovers instead of roommates. So when they do come back together, which Nesta firmly believes they will, it’ll be stronger than ever before.

Some of their shared sadness flits away at the truth of it. She only places her hand on his cheek, content to appreciate this view— this beautiful, hazel-shaded view— without further chitchat or goodbyes.

Cassian is not as fond of the silence. “I need to tell you something,” he says seriously after a few minutes.

After only a handful of days dating Cassian, Nesta knows what he’s going to say. “Don’t,” she warns, unamused.

He grins conspiratorially and leans in even closer, until their mouths are almost brushing. “You’re my everything, Nesta.”

“Oh my god, stop it.” She squirms out of his hold and gets up, tossing the blankets off herself.

“No, come back!” He makes a grab for her sleeve. “We have to use the bed one last time—”

But she’s already running off.

***

Cassian carefully arranges the canvas painting on the wall, taking a step back to determine if it’s hanging straight. The ruby and amber leaves of the landscape stand out against the dull teal walls of Nesta’s basement apartment, but he’s just getting started.

The rest of Nesta’s things are half-unpacked from their cardboard boxes, but instead of going for the important shit first, he finds the box he specifically marked FAVES in bold letters the night before.

While Nesta wrangles to get her clothes back into her old closet in the background, Cassian crouches and rips open the small box. There, lying atop his girlfriend’s favorite trinkets and personal items, is the framed photo he snuck in without her noticing.

It’s of the two of them at the fall festival, taken mere hours before their first kiss. Nesta is pressed up close to Cassian (her excuse being that it was cold), and a genuine light fills her eyes, one that Cassian never thought he’d be able to capture on camera. Cassian himself isn’t looking at the camera, but down at Nesta with wind-flushed cheeks and a distant smile. Making sure she’s having a good time, that she truly wants to be there with him in that moment.

He never realized how close they looked in that picture until he had it printed and framed, not long after Nesta announced she was moving out. He can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner.

Standing up, he places the photo on Nesta’s wooden dresser. Nesta still has her head in the closet, moving things around, but Cassian makes no announcement of his gift to her. She’ll notice it sooner or later.

He clears his throat. “Wanna take a break and order Chinese?”

Nesta pops her head out of the closet, her ponytail ruffled and eyes narrowed at him. “Have you even been helping this whole time?”

“Standing here and looking pretty is harder than it seems, but I don’t expect any credit from you,” he jokes. “Just let me buy you lunch.”

Nesta grumbles something he chooses not to hear, but straightens up and rubs her spine with a wince. “I need a fucking chiropractor,” she mutters.

Guilt shoots through Cassian at that small wince, and he resolves to finish organizing Nesta’s closet for her before the day is over. Nesta goes on, “So? Still determined to split your time between here and the cabin?” She gestures to the apartment with an arm.

It’s really just a glorified single room, with a rusty kitchenette in the corner, a hallway near the stairs that holds the bathroom, and Nesta’s bed pushed against one wall. It’s nothing special, but Cassian loves it. Mostly because he can already envision each new nook and cranny to take Nesta against, and how he wants to wake up in that too-small bed on days that he’s too lazy to drive home.

“It’s perfect,” he says simply. Thank you for sharing your home with me, is what he really means. Speaking of homes—

Cassian digs around in his pocket, finding and pulling out a newly-minted silver key. “I almost forgot to give you this.”

Nesta frowns, coming forward to take the key from him. He uses the closeness as an excuse to wrap his arms around her waist while she inspects the object.

She glances up at him, eyes softer than they were a moment ago, lips slightly parted. “You’re giving me a key to the cabin?”

He shrugs casually. “You should’ve gotten one a long time ago.” She used either Cassian’s key or the spare while she lived there.

Her mouth is still open, and she closes it once, twice, before finally saying, “I don’t have a key to my place for you.”

“But I can get one,” she adds quickly. “If you want it, that is.”

Of course he wants it, but he keeps his face carefully neutral. “Only if you want me to have one. We’re still new, and this is your personal space.” He emphasizes your.

Nesta purses her lips, then says, “I’ll think about it.”

Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief— relief that Nesta is being honest with him instead of doing something she isn’t yet ready for. He’ll take her honesty over an apartment key any day.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he smiles brightly and shoves her toward the bed. “If we’re getting dumplings again then you can’t steal mine.”

***

a/n: fair warning that ive never been to therapy, but in stories therapists are usually a mode for character exploration and development, which is what nesta's therapy will be for.

also im so glad i got to meet gwyn in acosf and im so excited to introduce her into this fic too!! if you have ideas for her origin story feel free to share because nothing is planned yet

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @swankii-art-teacher

#a favor #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fic #ncssianwrites

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Note

That last ask got me thinking! How would the bucci gang react to meeting SR reader's family? Not all of them but like a visiting grandparent(who is likely very unaware their precious grandchild is working with the mob to pay off awful debts-which reader would like to keep that way), but like who's falling all over themselves to impress said relative, who would be subtly trying to get their blessing to date reader, what shenanigans would reader the gang go to keep this person in the dark??

ohhh what an interesting situation!!! some of them would definitely handle it better than others...

Here’s the general concept! Reader’s grandparents are coming to pay their granddaughter a visit in Naples, under the impression she’s been studying there the past few years. Reader has asked some of the members of her team to further validate her story. I imagine everyone as trying to actively court Reader to some extent during this. :’)))

Bruno Bucciarati;

Bruno is a revered member of the community. Any of the troublesome details of his Passione involvements would be lost in translation, so you figured he’s a safe bet. He’s also the member who is most familiar with your situation. While he speaks under the pretense of being professional, he would love to have that connection with your family for... any future possibilities. Marriage possibilities.

He spots you in a mild state of panic, and boasting the compassionate heart he has, is led to ask if you want to talk to him about it. When you explain that some of your foreign family is coming to visit, he can immediately read between the lines. You need to play this part perfectly. He’ll offer to accompany you on one of his less busier days, willing to do whatever it is that’d help.

The language barrier doesn’t matter too much! Bruno is still a gentlemen. Opening doors for them, pulling out their chairs, offering to pay for any of your meals... he’s very kind. Your grandparents are going to be quite fond of him by the end of your day together. All according to his plan.

Unfortunately for you, Bruno is going to be offering lots of praise that he fully expects you to translate. It’s a bit embarrassing how genuine he’s being. Speaking about how hard a worker you are, how nothing gets in your way, stuff like that. Your face is on fire as you translate the heartfelt compliments. You end up toning them down a bit for your sake.

“[First] is one of the most reliable people I know. You should take pride in having helped bring up someone like her. I promise I’ll continue to look after her, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Ahh... Bucciarati, do I really need to tell them that...?”

Giorno Giovanna;

He speaks some English! Giorno did well in his classes at school, so he can understand the basics. Having a knowledge of multiple languages in his position is also a benefit, so he never fully stopped studying it. Though he’d prefer not to mess up any of the pronunciation in front of you. He’ll be practicing in secret as not to embarrass himself, and definitely thinks this is a great opportunity to get closer to you. It’s a shame he can’t take full advantage of it, but he’s going to try to.

Giorno hasn’t really had any positive family interactions, but he’s still good with people. Unfortunately, in his new position, he’s extremely busy. He still tries to make time for you when he can, but won’t be able to hang out with the three of you as much as he’d like to. He does find the time to come to the airport with you, under the pretense that a lot of shady business goes on there. He wouldn’t want your family being scammed. Don’t ask how he knows about this...

The entire car ride to their hotel will be filled with pleasant conversation. Giorno is a natural at reading the room, and backs your story up to perfection. Any potential discrepancies are covered up with ease. He came in for a clean save at least once or twice when you made a mistake, and you couldn’t thank him enough after.

Giorno isn’t going to want to pry into your personal life, but would be highly amused over any stories they tell him. Even though it’s only a forty minute drive, he enjoyed his time a lot more than he expected to, learning some new things about you in the process. You’re a bit frazzled over the person who is technically your boss (even if he’s not big on formalities...) knowing about your embarrassing childhood stories. He finds it endearing. :’)

He’s gonna bring it up afterwards during a casual discussion, sporting a little devious smile.

“So, [First], do you want to tell me about that time you got stuck in a swing set again? It seems quite unlike you.”

“God... I can’t believe they told you that. I was hoping you wouldn’t understand it well.”

Guido Mista;

Oh no.

You’re going to have to explain to him that a few changes will need to occur if he is to meet your grandparents. For one, he needs to take a shower. Two, he needs something that at least covers his midriff. If there conditions are met, you’ll allow it. He is not missing out on this opportunity to win you over, so he’s surprisingly amiable to these conditions, ready to do his best to make a good impression. You’ve never see him so agreeable.

You do have to keep reminding him of the story that you’re sticking to. Mista makes a few mistakes here and there, but manages to laugh it off. Since you’re going to be translating a majority of his sentences it’s not a big deal. That doesn’t mean he won’t at least try to say a few words in English... results varying.

The most difficult part is trying to ignore the Pistols, who are swarming around in excitement. They keep speaking to your grandparents like they can hear them. Asking for embarrassing stories, to know about your past partners, or for any cute childhood photos of you. Mista struggles to keep a composed look when all this is happening.

“Say, [First]. Your grandparents... they aren’t Stand users, are they?”

“No, Mista. My grandparents aren’t Stand users.”

To be honest, you weren’t too sure if Mista tagging along for some sightseeing would be the best idea. It goes a lot better than you expected. Some of his comments that you translate actually get your grandparents laughing! What a miracle, he’s gonna be grinning ear to ear. Mista is just a lovable guy.

He is going to 100% try and sneak in a question about your relationship status when you’re not paying attention. Mista has to make sure you’re still on the market. B)

Pannacotta Fugo;

He’s actually your go to for this situation. It couldn’t be a better setup. Fugo is intelligent, can speak English the most fluently out of everyone in your team, and would be a big help for sightseeing. As soon as he heard about your grandparents visiting, he knew it was only a matter of time until you came to him for help. At first, he was intent on politely turning you down, but god... how can he? You’re too cute, looking at him like that, saying you need his help. Fuck, he’s so whipped for you lmao.

Fugo is the most anxious about it. What if your grandparents don’t like him? What if he accidentally says something offensive? Or even worse, what if he blows your cover, and you hate him forever? He’s gonna being shutting himself in his room, refreshing his English nonstop. You have to admire his dedication.

When the time finally comes, it goes a lot smoother than he anticipated. There’s no humiliating himself in front of you like he feared. Fugo is a bit stiff at first, but with your help, begins to ease up. He’s an amazing tour guide! Fugo knows the best places to go, what times they’ll be busy, the historical and cultural significance of every place, etc. When he starts talking about trivia you can tell he’s in his element.

It’s going so well. That is, until your grandma says you have such a nice boyfriend. Fugo’s entire face goes beet red. If only.

“A-ah, Mrs. [Last], we’re not dating, actually.”

“We aren’t, but... you’re right. Fugo is amazing, isn’t he? There’s nothing he can’t do. I appreciate him a lot.”

On that day, Pannacotta Fugo’s soul ascended. He legitimately cannot stop thinking about this. For you, his crush of many years, to compliment him so genuinely? Fugo.exe has stopped responding .

Narancia Ghirga;

He kinda invites himself along? Narancia is giving himself a bunch of pep talks, thinking of all the things he can say. His train of thought is that if he speaks English well, it’ll impress you! There’s nothing he wants more in this world than for you to think he’s cool and reliable. The problem is that most of his knowledge of English is only from music. So he’s more familiar with vulgarities than anything else.

You’re understandably hesitant to allow Narancia to tag along. Then he makes the solid point to you that Aerosmith’s radar would come in handy, detecting any potential threats. Narancia is going to be sporting the brightest smile when you concede and say he can come with you, practically vibrating with excitement. He promises that you won’t regret picking him.

The place he picks to go is a local pizzeria. In his opinion, the pizza you’ve spoken of back home is an insult to humanity. Naples style is the only way to go. He insists on letting your grandparents try “real” pizza, as opposed to whatever your country has.

Narancia reminiscences about a lot of your past stories together. Nothing that has incriminating undertones, just casual stuff from your years of knowing one another. You’re almost surprised by how he’s remembered all of this. He can’t help it, any time spent with you has been forever imprinted into his mind.

“So, there was this one time we spent hours looking for [First]’s lost wallet. Come to find out that she just left it in the glove department after we spent the entire evening searching for it. And then--”

“Narancia, do you have to bring that up? It’s so embarrassing...”

Leone Abbacchio;

You’re going to have to pull out some incredible arguments to get him to come along with you. He’s going to say no before you even get the chance to ask, already sensing what it is you’re going to say. So be ready to break out some Ace Attorney level stuff or it’s no dice. He’s already offering special treatment by even letting you try to convince him, anyone else would’ve been shooed away. He has a big soft spot for you :’)...

The most you’ll get him to agree to is one dinner. That’s it. Abbacchio has a lot of baggage with him, and doesn’t think highly of himself. To be honest he’s wondering why you’re even relying on him here. It’s strange, since he appreciates the trust you must have for him, but also doesn’t think it’s deserved.

He cleans up well. Abbacchio is going to take this occasion very seriously. For most of the dinner he listens to you speaking, rarely offering input unless he finds it necessary. When he does speak he’s more polite than you’ve ever heard him though. You almost wondered if it was Abbacchio who was speaking, and not some imposter. So he is capable of having manners when he wants to...

He’ll also pay for the dinner, much to your surprise. Will insist on it even. Abbacchio tells you to let them order whatever desserts/wine they want. He’s pulling all the stops to make a good impression.

“Abba, you really didn’t have to do all that. Please at least let me reimburse some of it.”

“Would you stop bringing it up already...? They’re your family, so it’s only natural I’d take care of them.”

Trish Una;

As the only non Passione member on this list, Trish is an excellent choice! Her singing career is really starting to take off. Your family will find her to be impressive. You’ll have to think of a story for how the two of you are familiar with one another. You can’t very well say you used to be her bodyguard protecting her from assassins lmao.

Since she needs to travel a lot to different venues for her career, Trish’s English is steadily improving. She’ll normally text you for help if anything is particularly challenging. The biggest challenge would be aligning your schedules together, at the same time they’re visiting. Trish has a way of making time for you.

One of the things Trish loves to do is give gifts from her travels. So she’ll show up with some little souvenirs for them. It’s a very heartfelt gesture that they appreciate, and she even gives you a gift or two. The queen of good impressions.

Throughout the years, Trish has managed to gather a sizeable collection of selfies from when you’ve spent time together. At some of her albums release parties, trips to the beach, the times you’ve travelled together. She’s going to have a lot of fun going through her hundreds of photos of you and showing them.

“Trish, you almost need a SD card for all of these. Just how many pictures of us do you have?”

“Oh, this is just the beginning, [First]. I have a whole other album of when we went to Milan last spring.”

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nervousladytraveler · 3 years

Note

removing your lover's tie, putting it behind their head, pulling them into a kiss

Thanks @veryflowerobservation for the prompt. I know you requested this ages ago. But there I was, chipping away at a new chapter of Like Someone, and Ross started loosening his tie...and well, here we are!

(A proper update to that fic is coming soon)

---

“Demelza?” Ross knocked softly, listening for any sounds within that might signal an invitation to enter.

“Ross? It’s unlocked,” Demelza called. “You don't have to be so formal you know.” She smiled a bright but tired smile as he filled the door frame. “This room is yours too at least as long as we’ve guests in the main house.”

She hopped closer to him and closed the door behind them both. No one else was letting the other barn rooms but he appreciated the extra layer of privacy all the same. He kissed her lips then her forehead lingering a little to take in the softness of her hair.

“Busy day?” he asked.

“Yes but...it was satisfyin’. I'll tell you about it later, after you’ve had a chance to unwind,” she said. “Did you eat?”

“I did--and you? Tell me you didn't just have ramen?” he asked, looking at the remnants of the meagre supper on her desk.

“I didn't feel like dealin’ with other people and sharin’ the kitchen,” she shrugged. “This was fine. I like soup on rainy days.”

Ross was going to quip back that a foam cup of instant noodles wasn’t the same as soup--not like her usual savoury soups anyway--but he decided instead to let it go, grateful that she hadn't asked him exactly what he’d eaten. Or where.

It wasn’t that he was hiding where he’d been, he’d told her his plans that morning--hadn’t he? But maybe it was still better left undiscussed for the moment. Like she’d just said, until after he’d had a chance to unwind. Hopefully that would happen soon.

The truth was, even after his solitary drive home, Ross was still a little unnerved by today’s visit to the other Poldarks in Trenwith Road. It wasn’t that Elizabeth was thorny or icy or even needy, she was in fact very even-keeled and reasonable. Nice even. Perhaps the last few weeks with her husband in hospital had finally given her some mature perspective. But the experience of having a pleasant, genuine conversation with Elizabeth had left Ross feeling off guard.

It had been far easier to categorize her as an enemy, to dismiss her entirely, rather than really engage her. And to think of her as a friend or even as family, which she had been legally to Ross for years now, brought even further complications.

Better not to dwell on that now, Ross thought to himself and without meaning to, sighed aloud.

He sat down on Demelza’s bed and slipped off his stiff shoes, then loosened his necktie. The number of days he was wearing one of those seemed to be growing. If it had been just him and Tonkin today he wouldn't have bothered, but that morning they'd met with the accountants as well. Ross felt like he wore the tie as part of a costume to convince others--and himself--that he was really fit for the role of responsible businessman.

And yet it was curious--he did seem to be growing used to it, so much so that he hadn’t removed the tie when he visited the Trenwith Poldarks. No one there had commented but they must have found it a striking contrast to his usual farm attire of muddy boots, dirty jeans, worn flannel shirts.

Maybe that’s why everyone there was friendlier today, he thought sourly.

“Demelza?” Ross asked, suddenly looking around him. “What’s all this?”

She’d set up the clothes drying rack in the corner but on just about every other possible surface, wet laundry had been draped. On hangers, his shirts--the business attire not the checked ones--hung hooked over the top of the window frame.

“I did a wash today but the tumble dryer isn’t workin’ properly,” she said. “Let’s hope the guests weren’t needin’ it. I’ll let them know tomorrow and if so, I can haul their clothes to the launderette in Perranporth.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” he said more sharply than he’d intended. That she’d been washing his clothes and eating ramen alone in her room while he dined on braised lamb at Elizabeth's well-laid table rankled him. Of course it was himself he should be angry with or the general unfairness of the situation, not Demelza. It had come out wrong. It often did. “Why don’t you let Prudie help you with these chores?”

“She never hangs your shirts properly and then they need a full ironin’ afterwards instead of just a touch up,” she explained. “Besides, there’s…” She darted her eyes across the collection of fine underwear she’d acquired over the past months. Lace, silk--Ross was well acquainted with how they felt to his touch and how they looked stretched against the curves of Demelza’s firm flesh. Of course, she’d want to keep those private.

“Well then, we’ll have to get a new tumble dryer,” he said firmly.

“You keep spendin’ money we don’t have,” she laughed.

We. It wasn’t lost on him that she took his burdens on as her own.

“Maybe I can fix it,” he sighed again. “Is it not heating or not turning properly?”

“Heatin’...it wasn’t that bad a few weeks ago--just took a little longer but now there’s no heat at all…” she explained and moved a pair of his wet jeans from the bed to a chair by the desk.

“You knew this weeks ago? And you didn't tell me?”

“Ross, you’ve been so busy…”

“And you have too!” He hadn’t intended it to sound like an accusation.

“I just meant it didn't seem a priority. The weather has been nice up til now so hangin’ the wash outside wasn’t a problem. And you know how it is--if you ignore somethin’ long enough sometimes it fixes itself.”

She laughed and he was instantly grateful that she’d somehow remained impervious to his grey mood.

The whole room felt damp and smelled like wet laundry but somehow through it all, he could make out her own distinct scent. It moved him and he took her hand in his.

“Demelza, you tell me if you really believe that,” he said and pulled her down next to him on the bed.

“Well, sometimes that’s the easier approach. Besides you can’t take on all the world’s burdens and fix everythin’ all the time, Ross. You just gotta focus on improvin’ your own little corner of the world,” she said softly while further undoing his tie. She pulled the tie off entirely then playfully put it behind his head, pulling him into a kiss.

“My own little corner?” he laughed.

With the rain beating down steadily and his house occupied by paying guests, his life that evening had very much been reduced to one tiny corner--her room.

But with her warm, familiar company he felt at that moment, he had more than enough.

"I like that corner very much," he said and kissed her again.

#writing prompts #poldark fanfic #ross poldark #demelza carne #Ask nervousladytraveler #Like Someone Who Would Know Her Own Mind sneak peek

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chusui00 · 3 years

Text

Not Meant To Be

Word Count: 3,750

Summary: Anthony became the center of your attention, and it seemed as though his feelings were mutual for you. But in light of recent events, he’d only be able to comfort you in more ways than one. With the help of a loyal friend, you have no doubts that Simon will regret leaving you.

Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x reader, Simon Basset x reader

Part 3/6

a/n: Sorry for the incredibly long wait! I knew that editing takes time, but I didn’t think that I would have writer’s block for, well, however long I’ve had it. So much has happened, and I lost motivation after motivation. Although, it’s not entirely fair for those of you who want to read Bridgerton fanfic. Without further delays, here’s part 3!!

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

One might think that when he stood outside my home with roses, Viscount Bridgerton had finally set himself on the route to having a family of his own. The Viscount was welcomed by Charles and invited inside, which caused Mama to almost fall over her feet. “Lord Bridgerton! Heavens! What a pleasant surprise this beautiful afternoon to see you!”

It took a lot of willpower not to roll my eyes at mama's change of mood from just minutes earlier. Lady Bridgerton wrote to me her apologies, that were not even pertinent at all, and mama blamed me of humiliating the Bridgertons yesterday. Papa didn't make his typical remarks, but I knew what he had been pondering regarding my misdeeds.

Other than that, Lord Bridgerton told them his hellos, and when he saw me in the family room, his smiling face grew greater. “Miss Denbow, good afternoon. As it always is, you never cease to look so exquisite.” If I wasn't mistaken, I assumed he was intending to flirt with me, and undoubtedly fooled mama with whatever act he was putting on.

“Lord Bridgerton, how kind of you to give my daughter compliments after seeing what she did yesterday at the picnic. In this town, you and your family are truly the most genuine.” Mama was eager to speak in my place, and when she tried to bring up the incident for the second or third time, I swallowed thickly.

Anthony’s mouth twitched at the corners, and he stepped over to me in order to gift his bouquet of roses. “Lady Denbow, I do not blame Miss Denbow for anything. She was suffering and knew no other way to communicate.” Before he slipped back, his fingers lightly stroked both of my hands, then he sat in an empty chair.

Cheeky bastard. He was making light of my missteps, which Mama considered especially inexcusable. And for his compassion, I could not have been more forever thankful. “Oh, Lord Bridgerton, thank you. To hear you say that alleviates my anxiety. And thank you for these roses.” I ran over the smooth petals with my thumb, then bent closer to take in the fragrance of them.

But once again, with more berating remarks on my ‘unladylike’ and ‘outrageous’ nature, Mama ruined the temporary pleasant environment. “I can't understand why, my lord, you want to court her. She may be my only child, but I'm sure she would be a far better choice for another lord of her equals.” My own mother had a toxic tongue which might ostracize her if she didn't take caution of others.

In order to defend against the offensive expressions she was thinking about me, as if I weren't really there, I opened my mouth, but Anthony decided to stand up from his seat and settled next to me. “I'm going to say this as politely as I can, Lady Denbow. What Miss Denbow did at the picnic was not wrong, and she's a wonderfully capable young lady. You are her mother, and I must admit that what you have said makes me very mortified.”

With discomposure, Mama's face grew red and, at last, she remained at a loss for words. “Lord Bridgerton, my apologies. Forgive your mama, y/n. My intention was not to negatively impact you such a way. I'm worried you can't even defend yourself.” Excuse after excuse were all I heard coming from her, but I needed to leave this conversation in the past.

“Mama, I'm forgiving you. But please don't think of me like that. When you do not see that I am well aware of what I'm doing and what I believe is important, I am in despair. I'm no longer a little girl.” Mama nodded, but in sensitivity, she refused to speak as she left Anthony and I in the room alone. "Well, either that may well have gotten out of hand, or the way I hoped it would.”

A chuckle escapes from the Viscount, and I recline against the back of the sofa with a tired sigh. I loved my mama and papa, but sometimes they treated me like I would never age from my childhood years. Despite having no brothers or sisters, I had friends who supported me and shared the same interests as I grew older.

Having Lord Bridgerton here was an enigma that I couldn’t fathom, but I appreciated how he stood up for me when mama complained without cease. Now that she was gone, I took the opportunity to ask him as to why he came to my home. “Anthony, can you tell me the reason for your visit? We both know that you don’t have intentions to court me contrary to what outsiders might believe.” I crossed my arms and waited for a reply, which was his hand resting on the top of my thigh. Perplexed, I looked over at him to see his eyes full of sympathy.

“Y/n, what Hastings said could have been less severe than they actually were, and Daphne chastised him for doing so.” Anthony began, his grip squeezing in reassurance, and he gently pulled it away once I’ve had enough time to comprehend what he told me. It warmed my heart to hear that Daphne was upset in my stead, although I’m sure anyone in their right mind would have done the same for me.

My thoughts wandered to how both the eldest child and the Duke of Hastings were famous rakes with great influence. One had brothers who would take his title and estate if he were to pass, whereas the other had no known relatives and only Lady Danbury to defend his name after his death. I found it funny that I’ve fallen in love with the latter, and he was treating me like I didn’t have a place in his place.

I must’ve been worrying Anthony with my lack of response because he waved a hand in front of my face to bring me back into reality. I shook my head of the unrelated topic and smiled sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry. I became lost before I realized that I’d drifted off.” “Oh, it’s quite alright. Trust me, I do the exact same thing when I’m alone.”

“I’ll be impartial with you, Anthony. I hadn’t given it consideration that your sister would do such a thing, and for me, no less. Perhaps I’ve had the wrong impression of her from the beginning. Everything is going terribly, and I haven’t been able to think properly.” I wore my heart on my sleeve for him to see, and I didn’t care about exposing my weaknesses to him. But Anthony seemed be torn between hugging me and giving a simple pat on my shoulder lest an unwanted third party were to walk in.

If anyone noticed the unusual display of affection, then news would spread that rather than waiting to fulfill the courtship rituals, I was advancing on a lord. He wouldn't be much of a gentleman, in Anthony's opinion, if he were to neglect a woman in distress. “When you weep, I don't like it. It so pains me when I'm labelled useless, but when you're laughing, you look the most spectacular, y/n. Simon's blind and ludicrous, but I know you really love him, don't you?”

“You're right, my lord. Again. I need to let go of my struggles and to live my life to its fullest. The Duke encouraged what I would like to go do, become, and pursue, but under false premises, he is intimately involved to your younger sister.” I forced my body to stand, and in confusion, but without doubt, Anthony quickly followed. In my own house, it felt too stifling, so I concluded that a stroll outside would hopefully help take my mind off what occupied it at the moment.

“Is there anything other than whining and moaning that I could do instead? Wait, Queen Charlotte is holding a ball for her nephew, is she not? I do believe his name is Prince Friedrich.” Anthony gave a short nod, and I could tell that he was already dreading a night of being surrounded by desperate mamas along with their unabashed daughters. Who would blame the Viscount for trying to discourage total strangers from making unwelcome advantages?

I was unexpectedly given the best idea by his affirmation, and I couldn't wait to put it into motion. I wanted to prove my worth to Simon, which would make Anthony and the Prince the ideal partners to irk him. “What say you to opening Simon's eyes in the notion that I attract His Highness tonight? I will have to be in the most magnificent ballgown, and I know that you can help me with this.”

“In the heat of the moment, it won't take a lot of effort to raise feelings of inadequacy in Hastings. He will be fixated on Daphne and attempting to keep conversations with literally everyone who comes across him, but I don't find it unlikely that he will be observing you with the Prince. I know I wouldn't have the means to take my eyes off you, my dear.” That was just what I expected to hear from him, and furthermore. I felt that I had done well enough to seek a Viscount who had awareness of everyone else around him.

Then that settled it. I was going to win the Prince's favor, and Simon would spectate from the sidelines with no likelihood of attempting to snatch me away. It felt invigorating even to think about how it would play out tonight, but it would be seamless with Anthony's help. “For your time and soothing words, I am beyond delighted, Anthony. Until the ball, there is more than enough time, so I want to use it to aim for perfection. Tonight, I hope to see you, my lord.”

“Miss Denbow, I am forever happy to console a lady when she is enduring pain. And indeed, tonight, to my great reluctance, you will see me. For now, I will leave you and I look forward to enjoying your progress.” Anthony bowed as he started to walk out of the family room, and with a curtsey and a goodbye, I accompanied him to our front door.

Since then, hours have passed, and I finally found a dress from Lady Delacroix that was incredible. She wasn't even from France, and her accent didn't fool me. Not important. My makeup was done by Marianne, my hair was styled by Lucinda, and mama lent me her diamond necklace to wear. It matched the diamond earrings I got from papa on my eighteenth birthday, and tonight, nothing could go wrong. I was positive of that.

The time had come, and I was one of the few to arrive at the castle fashionably late. The eyes of all were on me, making my chest swell with pride. I got a glimpse of Simon and Daphne who were standing by the refreshments, and they couldn't stop watching as I elegantly walked down the stairwell.

To my amusement, Prince Friedrich was the first one to approach me, and he held my hand and placed a feather-light kiss on the back of it. “Good evening, my lady. You are by far the most beautiful and hypnotizing center of attraction in this ballroom. May I inquire for your name?”

I concealed the lower half of my face with a fan and smiled with my eyes, captivated by his mannerisms. “I have the luxury of being graced by your presence, your highness. My name is y/n Denbow.” After I've presented myself, Prince Friedrich's face lit up, and he guided me off the the last two steps. “To my ears, your name is like music, and it's perfect for a maiden like you, Miss Denbow.”

His flattery would make any young lady practically beg the Prince for a dance at the ball. Well, if he could ever tear himself away from me, that was. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You make me feel like I've got my head in the clouds. If you keep complimenting her, you will certainly find yourself a maiden to court this evening.” From my comment, I swore he blushed a bright red.

“Ah, hello, Prince Friedrich! Miss Denbow! I see that you have made friends with each other. Y/n, I'm so happy you've arrived safe and sound back in London.” Lady Danbury tapped her cane on the ground twice to emphasize her excitement, and I couldn't have been more relieved to see a familiar face among those whose names I couldn't match.

“I have so much to tell you, Lady Danbury. But not here, especially when I came so late.” I apologized to the Prince and wrapped my arm around Lady Danbury as we walked into a more private area. She furrowed her eyebrows together, but she didn't inquire until we got to the place where we could be alone. “Well, speak to me, y/n. What are you so worried about? And why did you come by yourself?”

I bit my lower lip and exhaled deeply, which all the more displeased Lady Danbury. If I tried to explain my desperate condition to her, she was going to have countless questions, and I knew she would never let Simon live in the humiliation he brought upon himself. “I'm sure you've recently read Lady Whistledown's column, and my relationship with Simon, Lady Danbury, is complicated.”

“Unbeknownst to me, when I was in France, he and Miss Bridgerton declared their engagement. He did not give me a letter or even a note when I returned to London that he had gone ahead with a marriage proposal to a young woman he had never met before. I invited him and the Bridgertons to have a picnic just yesterday. I have never been able to remain quiet forever; you know this, Lady Danbury. He lashed out at me, claiming that if he had known that I would be so self-centered and petty, he would never have gotten to know me.”

She went on a tangent as I predicted about how she raised and trained "the shameless rake" to do better than what he did. During the length of her grievances, I remained silent, then patted her arm softly when she started to run out of words to illustrate the Duke. “Compared to his late father, he's not terrible, but he might just be so after he treated you, y/n, and I apologize on his behalf.”

In disagreement, I shook my head, not acknowledging her apologies because she had nothing to do with that. In the sense of flirting with Prince Friedrich, all I wanted from her was to be an addition to humiliate Simon. “If we succeed, then he'll see the good thing that he lost because he agreed to marry another needy girl.”

This caused Lady Danbury to chuckle at my remark, and I had an inkling that her mood improved just a little bit. “I’ll take part in your schemes, girl. Now, let us return to the ball before we’re asked of our whereabouts.” She winked playfully, then gently pushed me back the way we came from.

Men and women danced to their heart’s content, their veins pumping with champagne and even the possibility that they will be courting after tonight. I see Anthony and Simon quietly bickering where no one could eavesdrop on the conversation, but their secrets weren’t going to be hidden from me. “Lord Bridgerton, I thought you promised me a dance?”

I chimed into the midst of their argument, and Simon’s mouth hung open in shock. He quickly closed it, though, and I bowed to him as acknowledgment for his presence. Anthony gathered the remnants of his dignity before offering a hand for me to take. “My apologies, Miss Denbow. I promise you that never slipped my mind from the moment that I asked.”

After the brief yet nerve wracking encounter with the Duke of Hastings, I’m led to have a dance with the Viscount and my new partner of schemes. I felt everyone’s eyes glued to us, which makes me uncomfortable because of the unwanted attention, but it dissolves when Anthony nudges me to look up at him. That’s when I knew how much I admired the man, and perhaps, there wasn’t any obstacle that we wouldn’t be able to overcome.

I may have lost my first love to Daphne, but I also had the power to pull the necessary strings to get what I wanted. Anthony tightened his grip on my waist then closed the gap between us, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Simon glare at our swaying figures amongst the others. The spectacle made me laugh softly against the Viscount’s shoulder, and his chest rumbled with a quiet laugh of his own.

“I believe that taught him a harsh lesson, don’t you think, Miss Denbow?” Anthony whispered into my ear, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. After clearing my throat, I nodded in agreement. The man wasn’t exactly reputable in every way, but he damn well had my respect. “Yes, it most certainly did, Lord Bridgerton.” I replied, head tilted downwards to avoid eye contact with him.

Once our dance came to an end, I was approached by Prince Friedrich a second time this evening. Young and older women alike flocked around his highness, and I took a small step closer to Anthony in fear that I would be ridiculed by them. Wait, what am I thinking? I shouldn’t be afraid of the people that make their bosoms unnaturally larger than they actually are nor should I be backing away!

“Miss Denbow, may I have this next dance? It’d make me extremely delighted.” Prince Friedrich asked, unknowingly breaking the tension growing between myself and the disappointed women behind him. All I gave him was a smile along with an enthusiastic nod, and Anthony released his arms from around my waist. “I’d love to, your highness. And I could say the same about myself.”

The prince took my hand just when the next song began to play, and we danced as if we were one. If I were being completely honest, he needed a little more practice with his feet, but I was enjoying myself nonetheless. We shared a few words and I kept glancing over our shoulders to see if Simon was keeping an eye on us. In fact, he had been watching the entire time, and Anthony gave me a signal that our plan had succeeded.

I bowed deeply to the prince when our dance came to its regrettable end, and bid him farewell for the rest of the night. Simon appeared out of nowhere then pulled me to an empty area despite my cries of protest. “What do you think you’re doing?! Just because you’re jealous does not give you the right to drag me as you so please, Hastings!”

“Will you keep it down, Y/N?! We both know that I’m not the only jealous one here.” He huffs angrily, and for the first time in a long time, he’s rendered me utterly speechless. No, I won’t play by his rules. Not when there was so much more for me to accomplish. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply fulfilling my role as a maiden who hopes to have a courtship.”

Simon rolled his eyes in disbelief, turning away from me so that I’m only staring at his broad shoulders. I’m beginning to lose my calm composure, and the more I stay alone with him, the less I’ll want to leave. He can’t learn of the nights when I suffered alone in France, and he certainly couldn’t force me to risk my reputation for his sake.

“You’ve changed, Simon.” My voice broke at the end of my sentence, but I continued to speak. “I’m not doing anything for you, so don’t get your hopes up.” He scoffed, not convinced by my words, and turned back to face me. His arms find their way around my body like they used to in the past. The next thing I knew, we’re kissing passionately against the cold marble walls.

He had me mewling his name over and over again, begging for a release that was on his fingertips. Simon muffled my sighs of pleasure with his mouth, and we fixed the bridge that was crumbling between the two of us. When we were satisfied, he muttered apology after apology as he kissed my skin. But we both knew that we run away with the position that he was in.

“I’ll figure it out, so wait for me. Please, Y/N.” “Don’t make me promise you, Simon. I want you to prove to me that I’m the only woman you love.” I kissed his neck and cheek, my heartbeat slowing to its normal pace before I fixed my dress. We’ve both been gone for too long, and I didn’t doubt that I would be questioned of my whereabouts.

Simon understood the weight of my words as well as what we would both face when we left separately. He kissed me one last time, and made his return to the ballroom until I did the same. Thankfully, neither Anthony or Mama asked where I had been, and I could breathe easy again. But now I was even more conflicted than before. I made Simon jealous, which ignited sex and doubt that we would be together after all this time.

Although... if I were to adjust my original plans in order for us to have a wedding and deal with the consequences afterwards, then it shouldn’t be very difficult, would it? Well, we would just need to face the challenges when the time comes, and I was determined to have Simon all to myself again.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #simon basset #reader x simon basset #anthony bridgerton

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thomaslightwoodenthusiast · 3 years

Text

hey you guys, here is a little something i’ve been working on! it’s going to be quite long so apologies, but i am going to eventually post it on wattpad too! enjoy!

(this piece revolves around thomastair, but is NOT thomastair only. they are going to be the main theme, but i don’t like writing pieces only on a ship. also it’s gonna be good anyways bc it has drunk and pining charles at one point)

A NOTE: i realised there is a problem. if i wrote the entire thing in a tumblr post, it will be far too long. but it also isn’t long enough for a work. i have decided i will upload in different parts. please let me know if after reading this you are still interested! if not, that’s fine and i’ll probably post it to wattpad lol. but i haven’t written in a while now and i am scared it’s not as good lol. anyways here u go

enjoy!

desc: in which christopher decides that everyone needs a pick me up after recent events, and concludes that the best way to do so is to hold a talent show at the institute. what could possibly happen?

———————————

Alastair scrunched up yet another ball of paper and threw it atop the ever increasing pile beside his desk. He had been trying for days- no, weeks now, to write a letter to Thomas. Despite feeling that he did the right thing in walking away, he could not scratch the feeling that he had hurt him. He wanted at least to apologise, and to let him know he believed it was the best decision for them both.

But was it? Alastair could not lie to himself. He did not feel as good as he thought he would. I’m doing this for his sake, he thought. He is more important to me than I will ever be to myself.

“So, what do you think?”

Alastair looked up. He’d almost forgotten about the ‘Talent Show’ Christopher Lightwood was arranging at the Institute. He was actually considering turning up to prove the point that he was not going to accept Matthew’s ill treatment of him, but he had little energy and currently could not be bothered to waste time on him. He knew that Cordelia was going. She and Lucie had chosen to audition together. They were going to act out a scene from ‘The Beautiful Cordelia’, with Lucie as Cordelia and his sister as one of her many lovers Lucie provided her with.

She was wearing his clothes.

“I think you look utterly mad. In a pleasant way, of course.” It was true. Cordelia looked amazing in his clothes. Not as good as he did, but a close second.

“Thank you, oh cheerful brother of mine. Are you quite alright? There is a rather large pile of paper beside you. Not to mention you look as if your eyes have cried the tears of the earth’s oceans,” she replied. There was the usual sibling tone of mockery in her voice, but also a tone of genuine concern. Alastair looked at himself in the window and realised Cordelia was right; he must have been crying, though he had no recollection of doing so.

“I am fine. Go and have fun. You deserve to, after this gargantuan mess.”

“Alastair, I am not stupid. I know when you are hurting. And what’s that on your desk?” she asked. Before he could stop her, Cordelia had made her way across the room and grabbed the piece of paper sitting in front of him. Alastair had not realised it, but he had written a few of his earlier thoughts on the page.

Cordelia frowned as she read out loud, “‘He is more important to me than I will ever be to myself.’ Alastair, I swear on all of the angels if this is about Ch-“

“It isn’t! It isn’t. I...well I suppose it’s just thoughts. Feelings.”

Cordelia was not having it. “If it’s not about him, who is it about?”

“Well, if you want a clue, his friend is the reason I cannot be at all bothered to attend tonight.”

Cordelia thought, and there was a long pause. She furrowed her brow. She seemed to be remembering something. “It’s not...is it Thomas?”

Alastair closed his eyes, as if the name pained him. “How did you guess?”

Cordelia had to admit; she wasn’t entirely sure. But a few observations she’d made over the past months had made her think. She remembered the time on the bridge when Thomas refused to show his tattoo- until Alastair had asked to see it. The time at Anna’s, when she had asked everyone what names they would want and Thomas had quietly admitted he would want only one, never saying who.

The time she and her brother had been speaking with Charles, only for her to notice Thomas had been staring at them.

“I don’t know. Sisterly instincts, I suppose. Do you want to tell me about it? Actually, no, hold on. I will not give you the option. You bottle up far too much, Alastair. Please, pray tell me, what this is about?”

Alastair sat for a moment, unsure where to start. “You remember the day, don’t you? When I defended Thomas in the Sanctuary? It starts long before that; but I fear if I tell it all you may miss out on your night. I had said that I followed him because you were fond of him. That was...” He trailed off. The words were not leaving his mouth. Cordelia smiled sympathetically. “It was only part of the truth. I came to find that I myself was indeed...quite fond of him. And I was afraid that if he went out alone with a murderer on the loose, something would happen. I couldn’t bear the thought of it being my fault; I have done enough damage. When I saw him being arrested I panicked and did the only rational thing I could think of.”

Cordelia raised her eyebrow. “Follow him the whole way to the Sanctuary risking getting caught by the Inquisitor, then further increase your risk of getting caught by sneaking into the Institute and hiding until you were needed?”

“What can I say?” her brother replied, seeming distant. “You do...odd things, when you care about someone.”

“Alastair, you risked your own safety doing what you did as well. I do not know what on earth I would do if something had happened to you without my knowledge.”

“My dear Layla. When one’s heart is so encompassed with love for another, rationality is quite frankly defenestrated.”

“What exactly does ‘defenestrated’ mean?”

“Thrown out the window,” Alastair replied, matter-of-factly. Cordelia moved towards the door of his room, realising she had to leave soon. “I only want to ask one more question. Is Thomas aware of your feelings for him?”

Alastair laughed to himself. “Quite. In fact, in the Sanctuary, I discovered that being held in confinement with someone who is as handsome as he is kind can result in interesting outcomes.”

Cordelia mocked a gasp. “Alastair Esfandiyār Carstairs, did you spend that whole night-“

“Ah ah! An honourable man does not kiss and tell.”

Cordelia’s eyes widened. “YOU KI-“

“Fine! Quieten down, lest mother is given a heart attack! Look, what happened is staying between us only. But I can tell you this; we did have a long conversation, in which he told me that he liked men. He also told me how he had figured that out; turns out that it was essentially me. I was quite shocked, because I thought he was referring to our school days when he mentioned feelings for me. I was, however, promptly proven wrong, shall we say.”

Cordelia’s face burst into a grin, before she sensed there was something else to the story. “Wait. What happened? What did you tell him?”

“You must understand, Layla, I really do care for him. But his friends- they hate me. Matthew cannot even be in the same room as me without hurling an insult. I cannot be with him; it is too complicated. I do not want to break that poor boy’s heart again, not after the Academy. I told him what I just told you, though I fear my last statement may have been too late. The letter you have in your hand and the paper you see on the floor are all my attempts at an apology. I just...walked away. Left him there. If only I had the chance to apologise to Matthew, this could have been different. But he will not accept it. He will not stop hounding me with comments, and I feel as though I can never stop being fifteen years old. I know I deserve better, but it can be tiring to fight when all your life you’ve been at war with yourself.”

Cordelia made a decision in that moment. She looked at Alastair and observed the similarities in how he and Thomas had been acting. Thomas looked a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, only to have one twice as heavy dropped on again. Alastair seemed even more quiet than usual. “You are coming with me. I don’t care when you turn up, you are turning up. I will ensure there is a piano nearby so that you can demonstrate your own incredible talent. If Matthew makes a jab at you, I will take care of it. If these rules are not met, you will be cut to pieces with Cortana. See you there,” she said, concluding her speech and leaving. Alastair watched as she left the house. He felt inspired by what she had said. He realised something within himself, too.

I cannot run from my past, but I cannot be forced to stay in it either. I am worth more than that.

And I’ll take any opportunity possible to make sure Matthew knows I refuse to take it anymore.

#shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles #chain of iron #lgbtq #queer #cordelia carstairs #alastair and cordelia #alastair carstairs #the last hours #chain of gold #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #james herondale #matthew fairchild #will herondale #lucie herondale #thomastair #alastair x thomas

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the-ferocious-kittyrose · 3 years

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What I would’ve done w/ Lotor’s character

It’s not exactly a secret to anyone who’s been following me for a while that I’m not the biggest fan of canon Lotor. I had high hopes for the character from his 80s counterpart and intro in season 3 but I was really let down by the direction the writers went with him in canon.

When he was introduced, I was so hoping for him to be this cocky manipulative asshole that’s only out for himself. I love that character archetype so goddamn much.

But in canon he was just kinda boring to me. His personality was bland and his motivations never really made sense. He’s introduced using empty promises of peace and comradery to manipulate people, then its revealed that he actually does want peace and comradery and wants to lead a peaceful empire, then that turns into draining Alteans and wanting to kill all Galra...

I also didn’t like how the writers decide to tack on this whole child abuse plot to explain why he was the way he was. As if that’s the only way to make a villain sympathetic. Yeah other versions of Voltron have touched on Lotor’s childhood before and it was never pleasant, but VLD really leaned into that shit, to the point where it felt like the writers were just shoving angst down our throats thinking that equals good writing.

It takes more than a tragic backstory to make a character compelling. It takes an interesting personally and motivations that make sense. And you can make a character tragic/sympathetic in more subtle ways.

For me personally, I wanted Lotor to be a sorta fusion of Loki and Littlefinger in space.

Loki is a sly trickster who grew up feeling like an outcast, unaware of his true heritage. He grew up believing he could be king but when his shity father handed it to his perfect brother he felt he had been robbed and decided to take the throne by force.

Littlefinger is a small man from a small house with no power, and after getting the shit beat out of him trying to win the hand of the girl he loved, he decided he would use his intelligence and skills in manipulation to screw over all these noble lords and weasel his way into the throne. And when he did he would finally get vengeance on all those who had looked down on him.

I feel like this fits Lotor well. Lotor is a prince, so he isn’t small in that regard, but he is not respected in the way a prince should be.

He is a lot smaller than the average Galra. And even though Lotor is still quite strong, developing a fighting style that suits his small form and uses his opponents size against them, in a society so heavily based on physical strength that’s still a big blow to your rep.

He employs half breeds, which we know are looked down on in the empire. And there are definitely rumors about Lotor himself being a half breed. I think after 10,000 years Zarkon would’ve done a pretty good job at hiding Lotor’s heritage from the public but just looking at him compared to the average Galra there’s going to be some suspicion there. On that note Lotor is probably considered butt ugly by the Galra.

And Lotor works in the shadows and achieves his goals through lies and trickery, which Lotor himself says are things the empire looks down on.

So yeah, the people in the empire hate Lotor. Even Sendak who’s all ‘Gung ho empire’ has no respect for Lotor. And because of this it would probably be up in the air whether or not Lotor would even be allowed to take the throne if his father were to pass, even though it’s his birthright.

And in the face of all this rampant disrespect, Lotor decides that he is going to overthrow his father and take the throne. And when he does he will take vengeance on everyone who had ever undermined him and expand the empire beyond anything his father could’ve dreamed of.

And don’t try telling me, “oh that’s so out of character! Lotor would never take pleasure in the pain of others!” Because he does.

Remember Throk? Remember how Lotor sent him away to the worst station in the empire and joked about letting him, “rot with the ice worms?” Remember how Lotor later invaded his station then watched with a grin as he was tortured by Haggar?

Lotor 100% takes pleasure in hurting those who would hurt him, because it makes him feel powerful.

Now let’s talk about Lotor’s planet. The one given to him and destroyed by Zarkon. I always felt weird about this plot. Obviously it’s a very sad thing to have happen, but I always liked the idea of Lotor’s promises of peace to be empty, a means of manipulating people. So this whole situation being genuine feels weird to me.

In my version, Lotor didn’t get banished for being too kind. He got banished because Zarkon caught him in a plot to betray him.

When Lotor was put in charge of the planet, he seduced and married the princess Ventar. He filled her head with promises that her people would be free and they would rule the universe together and convinced her to secretly round up her armies and send word to her ally planets to do the same, so they could start planning a way to overthrow Zarkon.

It’s left ambiguous whether or not he was being genuine and whether he really loved Ventar and intended to keep his promises to her or if she was just a tool to get the throne. But either way, it ends the same. Zarkon finds out, destroys the planet, kills Ventar, and exiles Lotor.

Still sad/humiliating thing for Lotor, and definitely a story that could gain sympathy from Allura.

Speaking of Allura and Ventar, let’s talk about Lotor’s relationship with the women in his life.

(Trigger Warning: Brief mention of of a rape scene in GoLion)

In the 80s Lotor was incredibly misogynistic. He walked around with a harem of half naked women, tried repeatedly to kidnap and marry Allura against her will, and in GoLion it’s heavily implied that he raped Romelle because she looked like Allura.

It’s a common joke in the fandom that he went from this to drinking respect women juice in VLD but I don’t know if I’d go that far.

He’s definitely better in VLD than he was in the 80s, but even in VLD he manipulates, uses, and hurts most of the women in his life.

Allura is the obvious example, but you also have his generals. Acxa talks to the paladins, Allura in particular, about how persuasive Lotor could be. Implying that she and the other general were manipulated the same way Allura was.

Well not EXACTLY the same way Allura was, romantically I mean. Though there are people who believe that Acxa was also in love with Lotor and he used that to his advantage, which I can see.

But I feel like it was more about giving them a place in an empire that didn’t care about or accept them.

I hate The Last Jedi but I really feel like the line, “you’re nothing, but not to me,” fits really well. They were outsiders with no place to go until Lotor swooped in and gave them a purpose.

Do I think that there was a part of Lotor that genuinely wanted to help them because he saw a kindred spirit in them? Yeah. But I also think that at the end of the day, they were more tools than real friends. And he had no qualms about killing them if they betrayed him.

The situation with Narti proves that. As well as the fact that Ezor and Zethrid seemed very scared of the prospect of Lotor being alive and coming for them.

And then you have Allura. Lotor’s lust for Allura has always been a very important part of his character. In the 80s the reason behind his obsession with her was that he had a lot of baggage about his mother and had a thing for women that looked like her. Also the fact that he just didn’t like not getting something he wanted.

There was never any love. He didn’t want to be with her, he wanted to own her.

In VLD, his want for Allura seems to stem more from the fact that she’s Altean than an Oedipus complex. As well as the fact that she’s powerful and skilled in Altean alchemy, which makes her rather useful.

I don’t personally believe that Lotor ever really Loved Allura. I think he liked the idea of her and what she could do for him, but the end of the day she was more a means to an end than anything else.

Allura’s been trough a lot. Zarkon betrayed her family and destroyed her entire planet only about a year ago from her point of view, and she appears to have a pretty bad case of survivors guilt and PTSD. And to make matters worse, while Lotor was on the ship she was fighting with Shiro, someone she clearly cared about. The idea of loosing him after already losing so much must’ve been really painful.

She was hurting, conflicted, and lonely. Which made her all the more vulnerable to Lotor’s manipulation.

He took advantage of her loneliness and insecurities, making her believe she had found someone who understood her and could help her avenge her family and planet. She trusted him, let herself be vulnerable around him, which made it hurt even more when it was revealed to all be a ruse.

And then you have his relationship with his mother Honerva/Haggar.

I talked a lot about this in my whole rewrite/rant about Honerva, but I’m not a fan of how they made their relationship 100% negative. I feel like it robs the show of a lot of interesting character interaction.

It’s sad. The whole relationship is really tragic. Shit like this is literally my worst nightmare. The thought of looking my mom in the face and have her not recognize me as her daughter keeps me up at night.

But the thing is, in canon the relationship kinda falls flat because Lotor and Haggar/Honerva have no connection. Haggar was awful to Lotor and Lotor hates Haggar. What reason do I have to be invested in their relationship?

So If you haven’t read my Honerva rant, here’s how I would’ve done the Honerva Lotor relationship.

10,000 years ago, when Alfor came to Dibazzal to convince Zarkon to close the rift, Honerva went into labor. Alfor and many Galran doctors tried there best to save her and the baby, but the quintessence had damaged her body so much that she couldn’t be saved and died in childbirth.

Zarkon went ballistic and Alfor had the doctors take baby Lotor somewhere safe, fearing Zarkon would take his grief and anger out on the child.

After Honerva was resurrected as Haggar and throughout Lotor’s childhood, they had a strange sort of relationship. Lotor was an inquisitive child and was always curious about Haggar and her work, making a habit of following her around like a little shadow and watching as she worked. And there was also the fact that, while his father was never friendly, he was calmer when she was around.

Haggar had no idea what to make of this weird child following her around all the time. All these big strong Galra were terrified of her but this tiny child showed no fear as he tugged on her robes and excitedly asked questions about her work. And she never minded. She didn’t know why or how to explain it, but she cared for the child. As much as a soulless undead witch could care for something anyway.

But as time went on there relationship became more and more strained. Lotor was a smart kid he was gonna find out about his mother and deduce what happened to her.

He resented Haggar. Resented her for not remembering him. Resented her for the fact that he had to go through life without a mother while she was right there. And he resented her for being loyal to Zarkon, who had been making his life hell for thousands of years.

Every time she showed him something resembling kindness he’s conflicted. He knows he should feel happy that she cares, but at the same time, why does she care? It’s not like she sees him as her son.

He turned to denial, insisting that Haggar couldn’t possibly be his mother, even though he new the truth deep down, and a part of him always secretly longed for her to remember who she was, who he was, and embrace him as her son. He hates that part of himself.

And when he does meet Honerva for the first time, it’s... tense... to say the least. Having his mother reach out to him and acknowledge him as her son is something he thought would bring him joy, but in that moment all the pain he went through rises back to the surface and he lashes out. He draws his sword and is about to cut her down but he hesitates. He’s trembling with tears in his eyes. He can’t forgive her, but he also can’t bring himself to kill her.

Then you have his relationship with his father.

It’s no secret that Zarkon is an awful man and a shity father, always has been.

The explanation as to why is kinda shaky. All we get is Zarkon saying Lotor is his greatest shame because he’s Altean but I don’t know about that. Zarkon may hate Alteans but he loved Honerva and I don’t think he would be ashamed of his relationship with her.

He definitely did his best Lotor’s heritage from the public. But I don’t think that’s the reason he hates him.

In my version of the story, Zarkon hates Lotor because Honerva died giving birth to him and Zarkon blames him for her death. He lost his beloved wife and was forced to watch the son that killed her waltz around wearing her face.

It didn’t help that Lotor was a snarky rebellious kid that liked to show off. He did things his own way, didn’t care much for rules, and had a real knack for finding loopholes. All things that made his strict father very angry. He was an embarrassment. Small and rebellious. That’s why Zarkon began training Sendak.

I personally believe the reason Zarkon was so trusting of Sendak and had so much faith in him was because Zarkon had been grooming him to be his “true heir.” Sendak is the epitome of what a Galra should be. Strong, loyal, and brave. He would be the son Zarkon wished he had. The favorite child.

Lotor obviously hates Zarkon, and rightfully so. Zarkon hates him for something he had no control over and constantly disrespects him.

Lotor may not follow the rules, but he passes every trial. He excels at everything he does but Zarkon refuses to see that all because he blames him for Honerva’s death.

Lotor sees Zarkon as an old fool. He knows that he could do a far better job at running the empire.

Lotor dedicated thousands of years of his life to overthrowing Zarkon. His hatred for his father was his motivation, what got him out of bed every morning, so when the deed is done and Zarkon was finally defeated, in the moments after he felt empty.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on that feeling for long. He still had to deal with his father’s men and take the throne that was rightfully his.

Then you have his plan.

Lotor’s plan in VLD is really weird and over complicated. There was no real reason for the whole draining Alteans thing. Just a lazy way of making him 100% evil.

The plot could’ve been a lot simpler. He gains the paladins trust, gets them to help him build his ships and overthrow Zarkon, and then once he has the throne he pulls an Uno reverse card and is like, “yeah, nothing personal but this was all a trick and imma lock you and your lions up now.”

Obviously more complicated than that but that’s the basic idea.

One of my main problems with VLD is that they had a bad habit of over complicating the plot. People don’t care about VLD because of the plot, they care about the characters and their relationships, the actual plot doesn’t have to be anything spectacular.

It’s strange to say but I feel like the writes tried too hard with Lotor. He had the potential to be an amazing villain but the writers were too focused on tricking the audience and making him angsty that they forgot to make him compelling.

#Voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #prince lotor #Lotor #emperor zarkon #zarkon #haggar #honerva #princess allura #Allura #acxa #ezor #Zethrid #narti #galra #vld critical #discourse #sincline

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

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Hello! Welcome to The Yandere Fandom! And Tumblr! I hope you enjoy it here. Can I request headcanons with Black Butler characters? Like how did they first met they darlings and what made them fall in love in the first place? With Alois, Claude, Grell, Will, Sebastian and Undertaker if possible?Not sure how many characters I can request...

I love using Tumblr😁! You can request a maximum of 10 characters so basically a bunch of ‘em. By the way, this Hc’s might contradict in some points with the basic Hc’s I wrote about this characters because in them I didn’t focus that much about who their darling is.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, paranoia, delusions, stalking, clinginess

Hc’s when meeting and falling for the s/o

Alois Trancy

👅I believe that he met you somewhere outside the mansion, for example in a village near the manor.

👅He was in a bit tricky situation at that time, for example being pestered by some people who wanted his money and cornered him. Of course Claude could have helped him, but suddenly Alois heard yelling from behind him and that’s when he saw the s/o for the first time. They quickly stepped in front of Alois and cursed at the villagers for treating a young man with such disrespect.

👅Alois was amazed at that. You didn’t even know him, but were willing to protect him even though you were clearly outnumbered? Surprisingly the guys left, probably because all the yelling had drawn already too much attention and everyone was staring at you.

👅His darling quickly turned to him, asking if he was okay and apologized for this guy’s behavior. They felt terrible about it and were ready to make it up for him so they basically assisted Alois for the rest of the day, showing him around the village and even going as far as buying him something he wanted, of course only if they had enough money for it. And after a day were Alois spent more time in the village than originally planned he left together with Claude, the s/o waving after his carriage.

👅Alois fell that day for your incredible kindness and your will to protect those in need. He never experienced much kindness in his life, but you... You showed him that not all people are just after his money! He made a mental note to himself to visit this village more often. That’s when he started falling into his dark desires that would cost later on the lifes of many innocent.

Claude Faustus

🕷Claude met the s/o somewhere outside as well. There’s no chance that you’re a maid because I don’t think that humans would survive very long in this manor...

🕷He was getting someone for his master at that time when suddenly an exquisite scent hit his nose. Claude had a hard time to not let his eyes turn pink. He immediately started looking around, searching for the source of the sweet smell. Then he found the source of the scent and with it the s/o.

🕷They had somehow managed to hurt themself and blood was seeping out of their wounds. It took all of Claude’s willpower to not grab this human and lick their wound clean. Instead he offered his help and started cleaning and bandaging the wound. The s/o happily thanked him for his help and ran off to somewhere else, Claude’s eyes following them until they disappeared in the crowd.

🕷His gaze turned to his now slightly red tainted gloves. The scent was nearly driving him crazy and he quickly ran into a secluded alley and was finally able to taste some of your blood. His eyes turned immediately pink and his jaw dropped. Their soul... If Claude needed to describe it he would say that it tasted like a bright burning flame made of passion, love and innocence. He licked greedily his gloves clean, not leaving a single smear of blood over. This soul was better than anything he had ever tasted in his whole life and he had lived a very long life. This soul was amazing! Fantastic! Marvelous! And most important, HIS!

🕷The thing that made Claude obsessed with you was your soul. He wanted it for himself! But what was at first just the pure greed and desire for that soul turned later on in an unhealthy obsession for the owner of the soul itself, YOU!

Grell Sutcliff

🟥She met you when she was pretending to be Madam Red’s butler. The s/o is most likely an old friend and she met them on some party where her and Madam Red were invited to.

🟥Grell was at that that time pretending to be really clumsy and this wasn’t different on the party. She helped the other servants in the house with serving drinks and food on the party, but always messed up and spillled everything on the plates on the floor. The guests and other servants started complaining, calling her unsuited for being a butler. It wasn’t like she cared, but what surprised her was when her s/o suddenly interfered all the jeering.

🟥She stood in front of Grell and looked threatingly down on the guests and servants. The scene somehow looked like a momma bear protecting her little one from any danger. All people shut up because of the dangerous glint in their eyes. After that Grell’s darling started scolding Grell as well, but for some strange reason helped her for the rest of the party with everything. Grell was surprised how talented they were with all this even though they were a noble themself.

🟥What she also found really fascinating was their rough and impulsive character. A pure hothead who quickly lashed out on everyone with harsh words, it looked like everyone on the party was afraid of them. But at the same time Grell catched on on the s/o’s more softer actions they were showing her. Of course they threw harsh words at her, but always helped her with cleaning the mess up she made. This made her feel special.

🟥Grell fell for you because you were strong headed and defended her even though she seemed like a hopeless case. She also loved that you were showing her your softer side. After that she was already incredibly fond of you, but that would worsen even more later on.

William T. Spears

📒William met his darling the first time when he was following his target who was about to die that day.

📒He was quietly observing the person from the distance, watching how they suddenly walked in front of a carriage just about to collide with it when suddenly someone sprinted towards them and pushed them away, saving them. This person was no other than the s/o.

📒William was shocked to say the least. Impossible! It was written down that his target was going to die today, but they saved him. William was at first annoyed to say the least. Great, this means more paperwork. He observed the s/o, angry with them for saving that person and giving him more work. But somehow he was also curious, after all it doesn’t happen everyday that a human saves another from their death. He decided to watch you for a bit longer. At least then all of this wouldn’t have been a complete waste of time.

📒William watched you as planned and he discovered that something about you...fascinated him. What exactly was it? Was it the s/o’s bubbly and energetic way of being? They were the exact opposite of him and normally he found people like them annoying and exhausting, but somehow they managed to make it oddly fascinating for him.

📒Will was at first interested in you because you saved someone from a written down death in his book and after watching you he became interested in you as a person. You were somehow...refreshing to him. He was quick to catch on his interest for you and decided to avoid you before this would turn into something more. But if he would have known at that time how fatal it would be to deny his emotions he probably could have prevented the happening of future events.

Sebastian Michaelis

🐈‍⬛I believe that his darling is a servant themself for Ciel.

🐈‍⬛At some point Ciel needed another capable servant in the manor who wouldn’t burn his mansion down when he was away with Sebastian so he started searching for such a person until he believed to have found just the right one. He informed Sebastian and the others about the s/o’s arrival and ordered Sebastian to introduce them to everything.

🐈‍⬛Sebastian was prepared for a lot, but not for this splendid scent that hit his nose when you arrived, he nearly lost it then and there. But with every last bit of his self control he managed to not do something stupid that would have brought him troubles with his master. He introduced himself politely and started showing the s/o around the manor, his mind starting to feel hazy due to their smell that he nearly missed another thing that was very pleasant about the s/o besides their magnificent scent.

🐈‍⬛Sebastian noticed that the s/o moved in a very graceful and elegant way that he had so far only seen by cats. This sparked his curiosity with them even more and he started a conversation with them, showing a genuine interest in them. And ohh...this human managed to shock him. Not only their way of moving, but even their way of speaking was elegant and graceful! What a charming and witty little thing his master had found there. A true feline!

🐈‍⬛Just like Claude the first thing that attracted Sebastian to you was your scent. But he also became attracted to your cat like charm. He found you fascinating, but even he couldn’t have imagined that later on he would crave you like a human craved his drugs, being addicted to all of you.

Undertaker

⚰️His s/o was a costumer that visited his shop someday.

⚰️Undertaker hadn’t expected much when the door to his shop opened and a new costumer walked in, asking for a coffin because some of their relatives had died recently. Undertaker informed them about his assortment of coffins and which ones were more suitable. In his eyes it was just a normal and boring day.

⚰️But the s/o didn’t leave after they ordered the coffin. They just stayed in his shop, walking around and looking at everything with a glint of curiosity in their eyes. Undertaker watched them confused which the s/o noticed and quickly started explaining that they found the theme death and afterlife very interesting and admitted to even like spending time in graveyards. Now this caught Undertaker’s attention and he started a conversation with them.

⚰️And his conversation with them brightened his whole day up! The way they were so fascinated about death and afterlife and the way they were looking at things made this guy feel thrilled. Finally! Finally someone interesting! He couldn’t remember that he had ever seen someone with a similar mindset they had. The s/o had a very unique charm which pulled him in immediately. He was more than disappointed when they left the shop.

⚰️Your weird way of seeing and judging things around you plus your unique charm led Undertaker to have a morbid fascination with you. It was like he saw for the first time in his grey world colors. And he already knew at that time that he yearned for more of the colorful you.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere alois #yandere alois trancy #yandere claude #yandere claude faustus #yandere grell #yandere grell sutcliff #yandere william #yandere william t. spears #yandere sebastian #yandere sebastian michaelis #yandere undertaker

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