#mentally i set it after the novel and such
Text
Straight From a Romance Novel
Pairing: Nico Hischier x female reader
Summary: Nico's trying to get his girls attention but is thrown for a loop when she's more interested in the book she's reading. After prying, he finds out why
Warnings: smut, literally the whole thing is just smut lol, cursing
A/n: Uncanny timing that I finish this as the whole book tok thing is happening but this has nothing to do with hockey romance novels lol...still funny timing though.
Anyway, hope y'all enjoy!
The house in Switzerland is always quieter than their home in Jersey. Without their friends and teammates running around, chatting and laughing over music or something on the tv, the calm house almost feels empty. And for a moment, Nico thinks it might be. The kitchen is empty, any remaining presence of the large dinner you shared only a couple hours before has been wiped clean, revealed only by the humming dishwasher.
He finds the living room empty as well, the tv off and couch cushions missing ruffles and dents in the spot she usually curls up on. Every throw pillow and blanket is perfectly fluffed and placed. He doesn’t even bother checking the sunroom attached to the living room, seeing that the room is dark and the glass door most likely locked.
Usually she sprawls out on the patio furniture there when he goes for his evening run, watching the sun set and painting her nails or crocheting. Sometimes he even comes home to her asleep out there, the open windows blowing the summer breeze in, carrying the sounds of chirping crickets with it.
Nico takes a swig of his water bottle, gripping the hem of his sweaty shirt and lifting it to wipe at his mouth. He decides to just rip off the soiled cloth, pulling it over his head and swiping at his damp chest and neck. Still trying to rid himself of sweat, he drags the fabric down his abdomen and around to his back, moving down the hallway as he does so.
It’s the warm smell of vanilla that leads him to her, it’s aroma drifting into the hall. He smiles, let’s the scent soak into his nose and lungs, stirring up thoughts of her. It’s her favorite, vanilla. It’s in her perfume, her hair products, her lotions and oils, probably even her deodorant.
Through the open door he spots her, nestled into a stack of pillows against the headboard of their shared bed. Her hair is pulled back in a loose braid that falls over her shoulder, messy and half undone because she always tugs out pieces to twirl around her finger as she gets ready for bed. Sweater paws hold a book out in front of her, the string of whatever hoodie she snagged from him pinched between her teeth. And sure enough, a vanilla candle burns on the nightstand next to her.
Nico steps into the room, admires the look of concentration on her face as he carelessly kicks his shoes off by the dresser. She doesn’t react to him, instead flips the page and drags her eyes across the first paragraph. He approaches the side of the bed, laying his wet shirt over his shoulder as he cups the back of her head. She hums distractedly, leans a bit towards him but doesn’t dare stop reading. He knows she likes to end chapters before bed so he simply presses a kiss to her temple and right below her ear. Her skin is hot and dewy under his lips, most likely from the sweater she’s wearing and he makes a mental note to get it off of her the moment he crawls into bed.
But for now he disappears into the master bathroom, shrugging off his clothes and dropping them in the hamper. A quick cool shower refreshes him, eases his bones and muscles to the point that he feels like jello when he enters the bedroom again. She’s still in the same spot on the bed, nose in her book but he’s hoping the sight of him crossing their room in nothing but a towel will catch her attention.
Nico digs out a pair of boxers, dropping his towel so he can pull them up his legs. Once the band sits low on his hips he pretends to fix his hair in the dresser mirror, utilizing the chance to peek at her in the reflection. To his utter dismay, she’s still got her eyes on the stupid pages of the book. He’s about to sigh, maybe pout a bit, and open and slam the drawer again so she’ll look at him. Until he notices the look on her face.
What he thought was concentration before is in fact something else. The way she’s tucked her lip into her mouth, teeth turning the flesh ruby red. Wide eyes, intrigued and excited as they flutter over the pages. No not excited, enticed. And her warm skin he’d felt earlier, he decides, isn’t from her sweatshirt. He bets he could see her pulse beating in her neck if he got close enough.
If it weren’t for that stupid book Nico would think that she did in fact watch him get dressed and is trying to hide how flustered it made her. But she’s been warm and distracted like that since he walked in the room. What is she reading?
He turns around, arms crossing over his chest as he just watches her. If she notices his staring she doesn’t care because her fingers just flip the page and her teeth continue to gnaw at her lips. It distracts him for a moment, the way her bottom one has swelled and bled into the skin around her lips. It reminds him of how good her smile always looks after he’s messily kissed her breathless.
It’s the movement of her legs that brings him back to his task. She uncrosses her legs for just a second, stretching them across the bed before swapping her right leg over the left. He catches the way she wiggles, how her bare toes curl just for a beat and his stomach swoops.
She’s reading porn.
There’s no way she’s not. He knows her tells, her mannerisms when she’s turned on. Knows how her eyes light up and grow hungry, all starry and desperate. He’s seen first hand how her skin flushes and grows warm, how he can press his tongue to the pulse in her neck and feel her heart pounding.
Intrigued, Nico moves towards the foot of the bed. He wills his smirk to go away, playing innocent as he knees his way onto the mattress. On instinct she separates her legs for him, allowing him to climb up her body. Nico has a habit of snuggling into her like this when she reads so he barely has to duck down under her book as she lifts it for him. Settling his hips in her parted thighs, Nico rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes with his nose pressed into her neck. Sure enough he can hear the rapid beat of her heart, smell the arousal on her neck.
“Baby,” he murmurs as her elbows come to rest on his back. Nico doesn’t need to look to know she’s still reading, but he feels her hum in response.
“Do you love me?”
She laughs quietly. “I love you Nico.”
He smiles, presses his lips to her neck and teases the tip of his tongue along her warm skin. Her breath shudders, a leg comes up around his waist and nudges him closer. He hisses quietly, the semi he’s been sporting since he realized what she was doing presses comfortably into her thighs.
“Will you read to me?”
She hesitates. He hears her heart beat jump. “No…”
“Please?” He begs, “I want to hear the story.”
She giggles nervously. “I don’t want to.”
Nico nips at her neck again, shifting his hips into her even more. The thin cotton underwear she’s wearing does nothing to hide the heat between her legs.
“Because you’re reading something dirty?”
Almost immediately she shuts the book, jolting as much as she possibly can with his weight on her. Nico grins devilishly as she moves to shove the book under the pillows.
He laughs, pushing himself up to his knees so he can make a grab for the book but she hugs it to her chest instead, squealing at his pawing hands. Nico tries to wiggle his large hands under her elbows and then her biceps, anywhere to gain access to that book but she just laughs and squeezes it tighter. It gets to the point that his grabby hands are just tickling her, making her curl up into herself and putting the book even more out of reach.
“Let me see!” He shouts through giggles, cheeks throbbing from smiling so hard. She laughs again, shaking her head no and somehow managing to wiggle onto her stomach under him. With the book now hidden between her and the mattress, Nico rests all his weight on the back of her thighs, pining her down.
“My arms are falling asleep,” she says breathlessly, looking at him over her right shoulder. Nico scoops her hair out of the way, pushing it over her left shoulder so she can see him better.
“Give me the book and I’ll let you go.”
She scoffs, still refusing. Knowing she’ll have to give in eventually Nico simply drapes himself over her back, ghosting his lips over the back of her neck. Goosebumps rise on her skin and she shivers, wiggling under him with a tiny giggle. Smirking, Nico presses the bulge in his boxers into her butt, letting his small moan run over her neck in a hot breath.
“Nico stop,” she protests quietly, and if he thought she actually meant it he would. But he can hear it in her voice, how turned on she is. She knows he’s going to break her, even if he has to use his mouth and hands to do it. He’s determined to see that book and if he has to rile her up, tease her into giving it to him, he will.
“Stop what?” He murmurs innocently, sitting up and ghosting his hand down her back. His fingers find the hem of her sweatshirt, pushing it up to reveal the dimples at the base of her spine and the curve of her bottom. He presses his thumb into the dip, licking his lips when he hears the pleasured noise she chokes back. Nico grips her side, holds her still so he can press himself into her even more.
She laughs softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Stop putting your dick on me!”
Nico laughs, amused at her whininess and her words. For a moment he lets himself feel the bubble of love in his chest, the way it makes him float, tethered to the ground by nothing but her. He almost abandons all thoughts of seeing that book in favor of seeing her especially when his other hand falls to her waist, gripping her side and rutting his hips forward on instinct.
It’s just enough to tease him, to remind him of what it feels like to have her bent over their bed like this while he makes them feel good. Sometimes this is what he thinks about on long road trips away from her, when he wants to replay the pleasure in his head. He pictures her on their bed. And what about her? Does she read this stuff? Is it the words of someone else that makes her feel good when he’s not home?
“No,” Nico finally says, an edge of whininess in his own tone now. He doesn’t like the thought of her preferring that stupid book over him. “not until you let me see that book.”
She groans in annoyance, turning her head to bury her face in the pillows of the bed. Nico eases up on her, lifts his weight back into his knees so he’s just caging her in. With the space to move again, she flops back over onto her back, his hands following her movements as she goes.
Nico smiles when she looks at him, her cheeks flush and eyes shift over his face. She’s nervous, he realizes and not just in a please-fuck-me way but actual anxiety. He softens, cups her face in his right hand and leans down to press his lips to hers. It’s just a quick, soft peck but the reassurance he was trying to convey must come across as she lets out a breath of relief.
“Just want to know what you like,” Nico explains “I’m not going to tease or laugh. S’like I just want to know what I’m competing with.”
Her hold on the book slackens the tiniest bit. “Compete with?” She questions “Nico you have no competition. Nothing could even compare.”
Pride swells in his chest. Her praise makes his veins buzz, his dick throb in his boxers. He’s tempted to pull himself from the fabric, provide a little relief from how tight his underwear has gotten but now might not be the time.
“Still,” he presses “I’m curious my love.”
She rolls her eyes but a smile tugs at her lips and he knows he’s won her over. Eager, Nico bites at his bottom lip and sits back on his haunches, hands running down her thighs appreciatively.
“Fine,” she relents “but you have to close your eyes.” Nico opens his mouth to object, already prepared to lean foreword and bribe her with kisses. “And only a page!”
“That’s not fair!”
“My book, my rules Hischier. Now close ‘em.”
Huffing, Nico does as told and closes his eyes. Surrounded by darkness, his other senses peak, making him hyper aware of her warm skin and heavy breaths. The rustle of the book as she flips to her previous page is loud in his ears and it makes his stomach knot with anticipation. His mind reels, flashing through different scenarios she could be reading about and each one he pictures behind closed eyelids has his dick growing thicker. He feels a bit pathetic when it only takes her a minute to find her spot in the book and he’s already on the verge of reaching down to rub one out because he’s so excited.
Before he can really think about it she’s clearing her throat softly, her legs adjusting under him just the tiniest bit. He wonders if she’s still nervous about reading to him, not that she should be.
“Kay,” she croaks quietly, “you ready?”
Nico nods, licking over his lips anxiously and digging his fingers into her thick thighs to ground himself. He’s not too sure he likes this whole not being able to see thing, but for her he’ll try anything.
“She had never met someone like him, been with someone like him. She had only known one kind of loving, the hard and fast kinds that felt good in the moment but burned out quickly. It only lingers for as long as the muscles in her thighs burn and by the time the sweat on her skin has dried, she’s left with nothing but that too fast lover next to her.
“Jax is different-“
Nico scrunches his nose at the name of this man, thinking it’s far too close to the name Jack and far too different from his own name.
“With him comes passion. A slow burning candle rather than a fast lit fuse. She likes that he takes his time, drags his mouth over every inch of skin he can get. Just as he does now. Plump, wet lips moving up her thighs, soft in their kiss but rough with intent. Jax nips at her flesh, licks closer and closer to the bundle of nerves he’d just abused with his fingers-“
He can hear in her voice how enthralled she is with this man, or at least with what he’s doing. Her words are breathy and hot, some barely murmurs from her lips. Nico can’t seem to tell if he should be jealous of this fake character or impressed. In just a paragraph Jax has knocked his girl breathless and horny, filled her voice with a lust that has Nico’s cock aching.
She continues reading, retelling Jax’s wet and sloppy head performance on the main character but Nico’s not exactly paying attention anymore. Not to the book at least. Instead he’s listening to her, soaking in the sound of her describing what it feels like on the woman’s side. How it burns in her belly, swirls in her chest, curls her toes. He likes hearing her breath catch when she talks about how it aches, how she’s greedy for the pleasure this man provides.
It’s like she’s physically remembering what that feels like. His girl pauses for a moment, her soft pants filling the air and he suddenly realizes how hard he’s breathing, how sweat is building on his neck and shoulders. He’s holding her thighs for dear life, clutching at her like she might disappear under his fingertips.
“Don’t stop,” he begs quietly, desperate to hear her repeat the moment this girl in the book comes. He needs to know if there’s reminiscing in her tone, if she’s recalling moments she’s felt that good as she reads.
“I don’t want to read anymore,” she replies, and he hears her shut the book. He opens his eyes just in time to see her carelessly toss it to the floor. The room is bright when he looks down at her and black spots swim in his vision from how tightly he’d closed his eyes.
She looks up at him with dark eyes, her lips swollen and bitten red. Her teeth catch the bottom one again, sinking into the flesh and his painfully hard dick throbs so deep it hurts in his gut. As if sensing his pain, her eyes flicker down to his lap. Instinctively, Nico widens his thighs for her, welcoming her closer. Abiding, she lifts a hand from the bedsheets and places it over the one he now has splayed across her belly, squeezing his fingers momentarily. Then she’s trailing her fingers towards him, slow and teasing.
“You like the book?” She questions with a hint of amusement. Nico’s brain swirls, his eyes watching her fingertips dance down her sweater and towards the bulge in his boxers. When he doesn’t answer she slows her movements and he huffs frustratedly before finally coming up with a response.
“Is that what it feels like?” He asks “For you? S’that why you read it?”
His tone isn’t condescending or mean, not a hint of judgment on his tongue. He’s just intrigued, curious. Nico never in a million years thought a porn book could turn him on let alone his girl, especially when they’ve got each other to help out. He wants to know what it is that made her read that book instead of coming to him.
“Kind of,” she responds, her hand now on his thigh. “He reminds me of you.”
Oh
Nico swallows. Hard. His tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth and her fingers suddenly weigh heavy on his skin. He tries to think of something to say, knows he has a million things he could say to her but nothing comes to mind. She thinks this guy is like him?
“Some of the things he does.” She continues “How he teases and picks on her but he’s still safe and sweet. And he’s strong but not with her.
"It's you, you're straight from a romance novel."
God she hasn’t even touched him yet and he thinks he’s going to come. With every little compliment his cock thickens more (if that’s even possible) and his skin is buzzing. Like a flip has switched, his mouth waters, his mind slows down just enough for him to meet her gaze. Her pupils blown wide and dark, eyes shiny with need. He smirks.
“Can’t even read a book without thinking of me?” He murmurs “I’m that good huh?”
She simpers, realizing he’s come back to himself. “So good Nico.”
He swipes his hands under her sweater, pushes it up her abdomen and chest until she has to pull her hand back. She sits up just enough for him to pull it over her head, tossing it to floor as he takes in her newly exposed skin. Not that he really needs to. He could draw her body ten shots in and with his eyes closed.
While he’s busy admiring the dip of her collarbones, the way her nipples have hardened in the cool air, she sneaks her hand back down between them. Nico’s just made up his mind to mark her left breast with his teeth when she cups his cock through his underwear.
White flashes in his vision, tingles of pleasure shooting down his legs and he practically falls forward into her from how sensitive he’s grown. Nico crashes his mouth into her smiling one, silencing her amused giggles with his tongue. He nips at her bottom lip, grunting when she methodically squeezes him in her palm.
“You gonna let me make you come like that?” He asks, lips ghosting over hers. She holds his gaze, eyes dreamy and far off like he’s just kissed her silly. “On my tongue? Always taste so good sweetheart.”
It takes a second, but she eventually mumbles a displeased sound. “Just want you to fuck me Nico. Been waiting long enough.”
She catches his lips again, this time taking over as she swipes her tongue at his bottom lip before drawing back and sinking her teeth into it. He hisses, ruts his hips into her hand.
“Could’ve been fucking you a while ago if you’d put down that book,” he informs, pushing himself back up to his knees. "I even put on a little show for you before I got dressed."
Nico wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand back from him and instead bringing it up to his mouth. She whines at his interruption, eyebrows pinching together but he just smiles, pressing lazy kisses to her palm and fingers.
“You know I looked,” she whispers, eyes flickering down his body just once before meeting his gaze again. “I always look.”
Teasing, Nico cocks his head to the side. “Still pretended like you didn’t see me? Ouch babe.”
Something like shyness bleeds into her features, her gaze growing bashful. “Didn’t want to be needy.”
Oh his sweet girl. Doesn’t she know that she’s always needy? It’s one of his favorite things about her. How clingy and pliant she gets when he fucks her, when she’s desperate for his touch.
Nico intertwines their fingers, pushing them onto the pillow by her head as he leans back down to kiss her.
“Never stopped you before…” he murmurs, kissing her chin. Before she can respond he’s getting up, pulling her with him by the hand until they’re both standing at the bottom of the bed. His hands move to her hips, drawing her up to her tip toes and into his chest. She complies, rising to meet his mouth as she holds his face between her palms.
Her skin is soft and warm under his fingertips, begging to be traced and worshipped by him. Nico tugs her in closer, her belly pressing into his cock has his knees shaking and she greedily swallows the moan that escapes him.
Slipping his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, Nico drags his hand around to her ass, pawing at his favorite part of her. Well almost favorite, he still fucking loves her smile more than anything else.
She parts from his mouth, panting out a whimper when he digs his nails into her skin just enough to sting. The sound has him needy for more, aching to hear her again so he tugs down her underwear. He works it down her thighs until the cotton fabric falls to her ankles where she trips trying to kick it away, stumbling just enough that her arms lock around his neck for stability. The moment tugs him forward, his nose bumping into the corner of her eye.
He cups her face, running the pad of his thumb over the outer corner of her eye as she giggles. She’s clearly not in any pain or discomfort from the little bump in, but Nico kisses the area just to be safe before connecting his mouth to hers again. Her arms fall from his neck to his abdomen, fingers tracing over the dips of his stomach for a moment but when he trembles with shivers she moves them to his back. While she’s busy mapping out his spine his fingers find the end of her messy braid. She might not like it but he slips the hair tie off anyway, blindly unbraiding her oiled hair.
“Blegh,” he jokes, pulling his hand back from her hair and scrunching his nose “what is that?”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes shoving his hand down. He grabs her waist, smoothing his hand back over her ass. “It’s oil to protect my ends while I sleep.”
“You couldn’t have done that after we have sex?”
“I was ready for bed!” She exclaims around a laugh, shaking her head when he just grins at her. Nico loves this, loves her. And he really loves that he’s lucky enough to fondle her butt and make her smile at the same time. He thinks he could probably die here in this moment and be happy.
She has other ideas.
“Oh fuck!”
One of her hands has snuck into his boxers, pulling the band back enough for his cock to spring up and her to fit her fingers around the width of him. The feeling of her warm fingertips on his sensitive skin jolts him, almost makes his knees buckle as pleasure shoots down his legs.
He never knows how she manages to get ahold of him so quickly and smoothly like that but it drives him wild every time. It’s like she knows to distract him with her beautiful laugh and pretty little eyes just so she can surprise him like that.
“Now that you’ve messed up my hair,” she tantalizes, leaning in close to his face. Her lips ghost over his, breath warm on his face. “Are you gonna finish the job Nico?”
Nico closes the gap, bites at her bottom lip harshly before soothing his tongue over it. He’s rough with it, more than he has been all night but if she’s going yo keep teasing him he’s going to make her pay for it.
Before the kiss can get too distracting he’s pulling back, licking his lips as he uses his hold on her ass and waist to spin her around. Her gasp of surprise has him smirking, nudging her forward onto the bed with a gentle but sturdy hand on the back of her neck.
“Finish the fucking job,” he mutters under his breath, lips quirking into a smile when she giggles into the mattress. “Just how I like it.”
He smoothes his hands over her ass as he says it, presses his slightly clothed cock forward. His toes curl, eyelids fluttering as he ruts into her once just to tease himself a bit more. The little bead of precum that slips out of the bare head of his cock is enough though, and he quickly shoves his underwear down with his left hand.
They get kicked off to the side somewhere, immediately forgotten in favor of the enticing woman bent over in front of him. Nico drops his hand between her spread thighs, two fingers growing straight to her dripping cunt. She mewls, arching her back as he spreads her wetness around. If he were feeling more patient tonight he’d take a moment to make her cum on his fingers but his cock is far too hard and heavy to do that now.
Instead he grips himself with the fingers that had just been teasing her, holding the base of his cock steady as he presses the head of him into her folds. She’s so fucking warm and inviting, her hips tilting to try and get him to push in further but he holds, inhaling deeply to keep himself bursting as soon as he’s fully seated inside her.
“Nico,” she whines, drawing out the last letter “more, please more.” And who is he to deny to his sweet girl, especially after she asked him so nicely. In one swift motion Nico fills her up, thighs and hips flush against her damp skin.
The noise he lets out is almost pathetic, a borderline whimper that squeaks out from the back of his throat the moment his cock is enveloped by her slick walls. But it’s nothing compared to her own sounds, whiny and pleasured gasps that make his stomach twist in pleasure.
Settling himself, Nico inhales deeply and talked a hold of her hips in both hands. He can’t hold back any longer, head titling back as he finally moves. With the knowledge that her book and his teasing had worked her up into a frenzy, Nico decides they’ve both had enough foreplay.
He’s deep and thorough with it, fucking into her until his lower belly is tight against the curve of her ass and then pulling back until just the tip of him teases at her walls.
“Oh fuck,” Nico groans when she rocks back on him, squeezing his cock. It feels good, she feels so fucking good. But he wants to fuck her, not the other way around.
He gathers her hair in his right hand, weaving the strands around his fingers tightly. He makes sure not to pull but keeps his hold strong enough that she’ll stop grinding back on him.
Nico waits for her to still before picking up his pace again, rutting his hips forward before pulling back, dragging his thick cock through her walls. Hitching forward, Nico presses his chest to her back, free hand wrapping around to hold the pudge of her stomach. She goes soft in his embrace, collapsing to the mattress until just his hands are keeping her up.
“Good girl,” he purrs in her ear, chuckling huskily when she clenches down on his cock and he ruts into her again. “My good girl…”
Pressing a wet kiss just below her ear, Nico straightens back up so he can have the leverage he needs to make her cum. And he does just that, holding her ass up and wrapping his fingers around her hair, Nico drives his cock into her until her knees wobble and give out. She squeezes his cock, pulsing with every deep push of his hips and whimpering into their bed sheets.
Nico’s arms burn from holding her up, thighs tight from being tensed for too long and the pull behind his belly button is so strong it’s uncomfortable. Still, he chases his own high, eyes fluttering shut and head tilted back as he abuses her spent pussy.
“Come on Nico,” he hears her encourage, voice begging. It makes his toes curl, the coil in his belly tighten even more. “I want you to come, please come for me.”
White stars burst behind closed eyelids, veins buzzing and burning in the best way possible as Nico releases his load into her. Cock still throbbing, he falls forward into her, squishing her between him and the mattress.
“Fuck me,” Nico mumbles, planting a kiss to her shoulder blade. Unable to stop himself, he ruts into her one more time just to hear how wet she is, feel how full he’s left her. She whimpers, overstimulated and tries to wiggle away but he’s got her pinned. Not that it matters, if he moves anymore he thinks his dick might fall off.
“M’gonna have to read that book of yours,” he declares, pushing himself up now that his muscles feel semi-normal. Gently, he slips out of her, cupping his softening member in his palm. She laughs as he promises to return in a second, moving into the bathroom for a towel. He cleans himself up before going back to her, still perched on the edge of the bed. Nico has to physically stop himself from looking between her thighs where he knows his cum probably dripping from her, afraid he’ll somehow get hard again.
“Would you hurry,” she dramatically complains, her smile present in her tone “my legs are tired.”
Snorting, Nico quickly helps clean her up, wiping the mess between her legs before folding the towel up and wiping at the sweat on her back with the dry area. He dots kisses to her bare skin as he does so, lightly slapping her ass before he discards of the soiled towel.
He digs up their discarded pjs, slipping his boxers back on before helping her into a shirt and her underwear. She’s braiding her hair again when Nico tucks himself into his side of the bed, finding her book by his nightstand.
Smirking he grabs it, humming thoughtfully while she quickly gets ready for bed. “Read me a bedtime story?” He requests, jutting out his bottom lip when she turns to face him.
Laughter bubbles out of her when she sees the book in his hand, rolling her eyes as she ties off her braid and climbs onto the bed.
“That’s enough of that book tonight,” she says, tugging it from his fingers and putting it back on the nightstand. Nico watches her slip under the blankets, rearranging her pillows before slipping low under the sheets.
She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts him.
Nico shuts off the bedside lamp, leaving them in the darkness before he too settles lower on the pillows. Then he wiggles closer to her, tucking himself into her side and throwing a leg over hers. She giggles, lays her hand over his before turning her head to him.
“I love you Nico,” she whispers, eyes glowing in the little bit of light in the room.
“Love you more sweetheart.” He replies, sealing their lips together for a chaste goodnight kiss. They break apart, settling in for sleep as the events of the night catch up with them. Nico’s barely conscious when he makes a mental reminder to find her more dirty books.
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I did it! This is an IDW AU born while watching The Green Knight (2021), specifically from one movie shot that I'd like to redraw. I was torn on whether or not to draw them all as robots or humans, so I started making designs for their human counterparts first - mostly because it is more fun to come up with clothes and accessories. I will eventually tackle a robot version. This is a long post, btw!
Indeed, this is a completely separate version from the Lion King AU I had come up with a couple of years ago, I just borrowed the crowns because I really liked those designs lol.
But let's set the stage under the cut. You can listen to the playlist on spotify dedicated to it: I've placed the songs in sequence so that they can create a certain vibe for the scenes I had in mind. You can read the plot part while listening.
Some character traits
This royalty au supposes a parliamentary monarchy (like the UK, Spain or Japan). This work is an in-between of later Roman/early Medieval aesthetics and some Futuristic Stuff. The Autobot brand is the royal family crest, while the Decepticon brand can be used to signal the Protector and their entourage, but only in formal settings outside the nation. Usually, the Protector can show elements of the Decepticon colours (red) in their attires.
Optimus Prime
Optimus is prideful and domineering: he knows he has the power to do real damage to people. After all, he was born into royalty and has known no other life. He has anger outbursts, but that's a side effect of his paranoia. At the start of the story, he is not the prime yet. He's around 23-24, already suffering from a mental affliction much like schizophrenia, but, just as in ye old days, the court and his father (Zeta) are not really concerned about his odd behaviours. "He is just volatile", you know. He is also dramatic, making big scenes when his emotions are too cooped up. Optimus, though, is not intentionally cruel - this isn't a Shattered Glass au where he wants some kind of bloodlust sated. He has a deep inner mind, feeling much more like a philosopher and a writer than a brute. This makes him a little naive, too, having people in court (like Prowl) taking advantage of him - and sometimes even Megatron uses his influence on Optimus to stir him where he wants to. He reads a lot, is curious, and is deeply in love with Megatron - sometimes becoming a little cringy about it. He can be a bit of a goofball, telling jokes and being rather affectionate with his family. Sadly, he's a Pisces.
Megatron
Megatron is a diligent engineer who just so happens to pick the Prime's son's interest at some point while assisting his father (Terminus, a strict, distant man) in a job at court. Optimus and Megatron are the same age. He is aloof, quiet and a very good listener. That means he often allows people to speak over him or for him - that doesn't mean, however, that he isn't going to correct them or speak his mind. He is just a careful man. Coming from a rather cold family environment, he has a hard time expressing his emotions, both verbally and physically: he kisses and hugs, sure, but that doesn't come naturally to him. After becoming protector, he has a hard time getting used to the court lifestyle since he is quite bothered by the intricacies of royal "rituals", may they be clothing, hairstyles or make-up choices. Or Starscream fussing over him about that all day. He also often stands up against abuse of power, especially from Optimus. They fight quite a lot. He enjoys drawing (buildings, like architecture) and reading novels, but he's not particularly cultured. He is also, sadly, an Aquarius. (And transgender, but this has no political or social bearing in the story besides being Rodimus' biological carrier).
Prowl
Prowl is about fifteen years older than Optimus, becoming his advisor once Zeta Prime passes in "a tragic accident". He is ambitious, cunning and... Deceptive. His ultimate goal is to push Optimus to insanity, convince the parliament he is unfit to rule and become reagent in his stead. This would allow him to create an oligarchy with other senators. His words always support Optimus' delusions, abusing the Prime's naivety for his scheming. Prowl thinks of Optimus as an idiot lucky enough to be born in a high position in the social pyramid. He has attempted various times to "warn" Megatron, one of the few people who is extremely suspicious of Prowl. And by warn, I mean having him pushed down the stairs, giving him a nice broken leg. He also acts suspiciously around Rodimus.
Zeta Prime
Zeta Prime was a balanced, careful ruler. He held concerns about his son's future, as he thought Optimus wasn't fit for a leading role. He was a stern man and often frustrated by Optimus' antics. However, their relationship was on good terms. He was "found" dead by Prowl during a political meeting abroad, as he was standing in for Alpha Trion (Zeta's advisor), prompting Optimus' coronation. Zeta wasn't sick, but all primes in this AU suffer from haemophilia (a hereditary illness that makes it harder for the body to stop bleeding).
Rodimus
Rodimus was born three years into Optimus' primacy. He was brought up in a restrictive environment, as Megatron grew more suspicious of Prowl, fearing for Rodimus' safety. That translated into Rodimus feeling anxious when Megatron's not around (for too long, at least) and becoming a little jealous of him, even if it's Optimus taking Megatron's attention. Rodimus uses "dad" for Megatron and "Father" for Optimus. He doesn't like Optimus too much, usually bearing his presence and ignoring him whenever he can, but deep down he worries about his father, too. He is a very knowledgeable child with a vast vocabulary, as he enjoys books of every kind and, just like his dad, he is a good listener, learning a lot from the "adult conversations" around him. Rodimus is often seen together with Starscream (his nanny, in a way lol), who he is fond of but has difficulties showing it. He becomes Prime-to-be at the age of 16, like all Primes.
Starscream
Starscream was the royal alchemist, an inspired researcher and a man of science. He is loyal and has strong opinions on many subjects, especially on morals and ethics. That is also why, during Zeta's late reign, he was demoted to servant with the accusation of insubordination. He is still a high-grade servant, usually dealing with bureaucracy... Until a new Protector shows up, that is. As soon as Megatron becomes a Protector-to-be, he is assigned the role of first maid in assisting him, a task he takes very seriously. Although Megatron's distance and lack of interactions with him drive him quite mad at first, he slowly realises they're quite compatible. Their relationship evolves into confidants and then friends, as Megatron often takes Starscream's side. Also, Starscream has been suspicious of Prowl since day one. He enjoys Rodimus until he starts being a little opinionated pest-- but he's fond of the child, even as he grows older and more anxious. His hobby is sneaking into the court laboratories and fixing whatever annotations made by other alchemists he deems wrong.
Skywarp & Thundercracker
They are part of the Protector's entourage (and Starscream's brothers). Skywarp is a little airheaded, a bit clumsy, and usually focuses on entertainment, mostly writing poems and songs. He is the only one who knows all the intricate inner passages of the court's buildings by heart, meaning he never gets lost. Thundercracker, on the other hand, is a bit more cocky. He is built like a brick, so he helps with manual tasks and is a decent leader, usually picking up the ranks when Starscream is busy. Both of them were not demoted like their brother, they just started working at the court as high-grade servants. They are very loyal to Megatron, although they treat him more like a royal than a friend.
The Plot (generally speaking)
Optimus is interested in this one engineer working at the court he has seen a couple of times in the last few months. He is gorgeous, and it sounds like a fun time to fill in his afternoons, maybe even getting some sex out of it. That's a thing he hasn't lacked in his life, like most royals he was used to having sex workers available at whim. However, Megatron doesn't seem too affected by the Prime-to-be's attention. He is very deadpan and interested in him as a person; he finds Optimus interesting and funny, so, in a matter of weeks, they kind of hit it off, Optimus falling madly in love with this man, spending most of the time daydreaming and absolutely useless at his duties, much to Zeta's dismay.
As this love story progresses over the next couple of years, Prowl's machination starts rolling out: being a young overachiever, he patiently waits for the chance to get rid of Zeta in a way that doesn't point directly to him. After all, Prowl is trusted and seen as loyal and caring for the Primes he serves; he is an incredibly talented actor, having the support of a few Autobot senators, too. On an out-of-country political trip, he lets Zeta bleed to death, coming back home in a hurry to announce the Prime's death and rushing Optimus' coronation. At this point, Optimus is not mentally ready to hold that position; he is quickly pushed to marry Megatron, making him his Protector. In a matter of a year and a half, Optimus' mental state quickly deteriorates, allowing Prowl to take hold of the neo-Prime's decisions.
Optimus' mental illness worsens, which stresses Megatron into stirring his husband away from Prowl. Rodimus is born in that worried, paranoid environment. Although mostly wanted by Optimus as one of his fixations (and also discouraged by Prowl himself), Rodimus brings more stability to the court. Megatron finally takes hold of Optimus' volatile behaviour as Rodimus grows older, making the Prime doubt his advisor's suggestions more than once. Prowl, thus, "warns" Megatron to lay low, having him pushed down the stairs. The goal wasn't to kill Megatron but to show him Prowl could. As Rodimus turns seven, Megatron becomes more anxious and paranoid, rubbing that over to his son. Optimus doesn't allow them to go around the court or outside without being accompanied.
Prowl's hold on Optimus slowly slips away. At the time of Rodimus' coronation as a Prime-to-be, during a medical examination for his haemophilia, the court physician (Ratchet) tells him he needs to be careful, as that illness was Zeta's cause of death. That was a known thing, of course, but it made Optimus think over the mechanics of his father's death in a way only an obsession-driven man can. He confides with Megatron over his suspicion of Prowl killing his father, and finally, they seem to be on the same page on this...
This is somehow the story up to now. I don't know if I'll update it further. I just enjoy the idea of whatever can happen in this setting. I hope you enjoyed reading this wall of text.
#transformers#shattered glass#maccadam#starscream#megop#megatron#optimus prime#rodimus#megaop#prowl#alternate universe#skywarp#thundercracker#humanformers#fanart#erinni#Spotify#a morte
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Tell Me You Are Mine
Hopefully he'll leave me alone now.
Sequel to : Love Me Tender & Love Me True
Warnings: Yandere Content, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, Implied Stalking, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI
“Good afternoon.” As if by instinct, your jaw tightened at the sound of his soft voice. A swift glance out of the window told you he was early. Way early. Normally, it was closer to dinner when Neuvillette made his presence felt.0 The golden light of the setting sun seemed to herald his return. The second it began to peak through the soft sheer curtains that hung on all the windows, you made every attempt to hide. Drawing room, breakfast room, the back corridor that led to the servants quarters. It didn’t matter. He always found you. Even after you slipped your little wardens or convinced them to give you privacy, he still found you within minutes of his arrival. It was almost like he had a sixth sense in that regard.
As of late, you had taken advantage of the mild weather, opting for one of the more out of the way spaces so that you might enjoy your novels in peace. You had read the one that was currently in your hand a hundred times before today. It was one of the few pieces of fiction you were permitted to read, therefore it brought you the greatest joy you could muster. The escapism was a much needed break from the monotony you faced on a day to day basis. Which was why his gentle voice breaking your train of thought at the best part was nothing short of annoying. Especially when his presence was neither expected or invited. “I see that with the change in season, you’ve adopted a new spot. This room does keep the afternoon light longer than the drawing room. With the days becoming shorter, I imagine it is exemplary for reading before dinner.” You tried not to visibly roll your eyes as you made every attempt to ignore him. The faster this was over, the faster you could enjoy your solitude before you were forced to perform the abhorrent ritual that was dinner. “I wonder if you are at a stopping point. I have something I wish to show you.” There was an unusual giddiness that his calm voice generally lacked. He was uncharacteristically excited about something. That generally meant one thing. “A present, of sorts.” A heavy sigh was your only reaction. He had already tried to shower you in presents as a lame attempt at an apology. Aside from the book in your hand, all the others had fallen flat. The only time he got to see them was when you felt he was in need of punishment. Where you forced him to see and be near the version of you that he so desperately wanted, the version that you would never let him have. “Please, I have been working on it for quite some time. Will you let me show you?” The sheer hope in his voice grated on your nerves. Every instinct in you said no. Mentally you wanted to crush that hope he had. If you did, then perhaps he might finally see there was nothing to gain in keeping you here beyond your mutual misery. Once he realized that, then he might grant you the one thing you so desperately wanted, which was to let you go.
“Is it not something you can leave on the table for me?” You didn’t bother to take your eyes away from the page you had been reading. Instead, you made a half hearted gesture in the general direction of the rest of the room.
“I am afraid not.” Gods above you hated he sounded pleased, but you supposed he got something he wanted from the brief interaction. You had avoided speaking to him for weeks now. “This gift has a bit more permanence to it.” You furrowed your brow in confusion. Permanence? Another sigh escaped you, this one smaller than the last. You couldn’t deny that after months of trying, he finally didn’t something that made you want to know more.
With zero flourish you closed your book, giving him what he truly wanted, which was your full attention. The soft smile he offered you as a reward for your compliance was no less annoying than his voice. “I will need to escort you to it, but afterwards you are free to go there on your own.” He toyed with his fingers for a moment, a tick you had noticed whenever he was nervous. Your eyes narrowed at it, momentarily focusing on his hands, questioning the action. On closer inspection of Neuvillette you noticed he was as rigid as a board. His frame lacked the somewhat relaxed countenance his normal posture tended to have. From your vantage point, you could see that small beads of sweat had begun to form on his brow, while his eyes swirled with what you could only guess were the emotions he refused to acknowledge or show. Neuvillette was always so calm, so collected. He never exercised anything but absolute control over himself around you. The only time he had come close to losing that control was when someone had dared to threaten one of the melusines. The weather had seemed to match the fury that filled him as the storms lasted for days.
Now was nothing like that time. His mood, his posture, even the slight shakiness in his speech was nothing short of bizarre. You blinked, a realization washing over you. God, it couldn’t be, could it? Was he nervous? Another look at him told you all you needed to know. His handsome face was strained, struggling to hold the disarming smile he was wearing. The sweat on his brow was growing by the second. He actually broke eye contact with you long enough, to allow his smile to fall into a slight frown. What made his present state so curious was that he never got nervous when giving you something. It was often left for you in your room or he would drop it on a table nearby and wait for you to open it. Why was this different? “Will you allow me to escort you?” The expectation in his voice grew. He sounded almost desperate for you to say yes, for you to take down the invisible barrier between you long enough for him to get close to you. Based on his proximity to you, he had already broken it, but given that he had you cornered there wasn’t much you could do other than say no. “Please?”
Again it was a chance to hurt him beyond all measure. To just absolutely crush him, possibly once and for all. The longing in his eyes alone would make it worth it, but for once, your better judgment granted him a reprieve. While Neuvillette was many things to you, the one thing he was not, was intentionally cruel. He had never been abusive, nor had he ever raised his hands to you to bring you harm. Even at your worst, when you could do nothing but scream at him, he just took it. He never interrupted, never raised an objection to a single thing you said. He just let you rage at him until the anger that had possessed you left your body, reducing you to a quivering, sobbing mess. Then he would still be there; a glass of cold water and handkerchief in hand, ready to comfort you should you wish him to.
His compassion for your situation, despite being the cause of it, was the only reason you bit your tongue now. Over the many months you had been with him, you had come to the realization that while you loathed his actions, you did not necessarily loathe him. At least not entirely. You were still angry. You still sought your petty revenge. You still denied him all that you could, but crushing his hope, crushing him felt needlessly cruel. His motives had come from a decent place, as had his actions. At the time he had believed something horrible had happened to you. With a serial killer lurking, you could make yourself understand it. In some way it was almost flattering. The Iudex of Fontaine cared enough for you that he came to personally rescue you from harm. What you resented was not what he had done before, it was what he did now. You despised being kept, but your abhor at your own situation was not a good enough reason to harm him like that. Deep down, you knew it would not bring you the outcome you desired, nor would it bring anyone any satisfaction. If anything, it may make things worse for both you and the nation as a whole. Living with a kind man was easy, you often shuddered to think what kind of man Neuvillette could be if he wished to see someone suffer. Given his place in the world, it wouldn’t be difficult at all if he wished that upon you. His little friends were all too happy to tell you about the caverns and caves and oubliettes that lurked in the darkness beneath the waves. It would be nothing for him to disconnect from your world completely and send you to live in eternal darkness for the rest of your days. Your entire body involuntarily grew cold at just the thought.
It was easy to forget Neuvillette was dangerous. His calm nature and gentile manners were a clever mask for the power that laid just beneath the surface. You had heard the rumors, same as all the rest. It was all the melusines had talked about for days. They had fretted and fawned over the events that had taken place. Neuvillette had recently had to suppress an outburst in court. The offender had managed to land a blow, but it had only been by luck. Not even a blink of an eye later and the individual in question had been subdued thanks to Neuvillette’s strength. The entire interaction had lasted seconds. You knew based on your own experiences with him that he wouldn’t even need that for you. It was another sobering reminder that his treatment of you was a choice. He chose to love you, just as he chose to be gentle with you. But you knew, even gentle people had their limits. You briefly wondered where his actually were, if rejecting him now would push him past the point of no return. You silently worried if you could weather that kind of storm.
Reconsidering your options, you took a second look at the current situation. Unlike past gifts that were left for you, this one was different. He had arrived unexpectedly, nervous and hopeful, with something he could not simply hand you. Neuvillette had to escort you. It possessed permanence. To say that you were cautiously intrigued more than you were worried was not an understatement. It was impossible for you to imagine what it could be.
“Petit?” The intrusion of his voice, distracted you from your thoughts. You looked at him again, his nervous feelings were clear as day now. The smile had fallen in favor of pursed lips and concerned eyes. “Will you walk with me?”
“Will it take long?” You did your best to sound disinterested, quickly using your book as an excuse. “I was at the best part.” A breathy chuckle escaped Neuvillette’s lips, followed by what felt like a sigh of relief.
“Not long at all petit chou. In fact, bring it with you. I believe it may come in handy.” That statement only served to encourage your curiosity further.
The walk was a quiet one. Neuvillette either wasn’t in the mood for small talk or thanks to the situation, he had been rendered silent thanks to his nerves. You found that fact irksome. The one time you wanted him to speak to you, to tell you what was going on, he wouldn’t. Neuvillette was stalwart in his silence. The only sound that passed between you was the sound of his robes moving in time with his body as he silently led you to wherever you were going. His home in comparison to yours was quite large, but in reality not so big that you wouldn’t be able to reach a set of locked double doors within a few minutes. You noted there wasn’t anything particularly special about them. The only thing unique to them was that they were on the north side of the house, a place you rarely ventured as Neuvillette’s office and chambers were located on this side. It made complete sense the object in question was on this side. If it possessed any sort of permanence, then it was logical that he would keep it close.
There was no fanfare when he unlocked the doors before you. No music. No confetti. No shouts or utterances of the word surprise. Just an open door and second set of doors, that led to a walled garden. To what you gathered later was his extreme pleasure, your jaw hit the floor.
It was a peace offering between you and him. A cage within a cage really. The stone walls were far too smooth and far too tall for you to scale, but that didn’t detract from the meaning behind his gift. Neuvillette was expanding your privileges, offering you a semblance of freedom in a world where you had none. Here, you would have the feeling of the sun and the wind and rain on your skin. You could hear the sounds of the court, albeit at a distance. You could even detect the faintest scent of the sea as it hung in the air. All the things you had lost the day he had taken you. All the things you had yearned for since being locked behind the heavy stone walls of his home. After the first few weeks of being here, you hadn’t asked for them to be returned to you. Neuvillette had made it clear that they wouldn’t be. His personal matra to you was that the outside world was dangerous. You were not safe. He had done his best to protect you from afar, but it had not been good enough. Your trip outside the city had triggered him to the point that he felt the only solution for his dilemma was to keep you in a place where you could be monitored full time. If you wanted sun or rain, then you could gaze at them through the filtered light of the windows. If you wished to smell the sea, then you would have to be near him to do so. As of that moment, you would never be in the outside world again. It had absolutely crushed you. “I know it is quite late in the year to gift this to you. I offer my apologies for that oversight. The meulsines and I were in agreement that it should be nothing short of perfect. Some of the flowers were also quite difficult to grow. It was insisted upon that as many of them as possible were to be in bloom when this was presented to you.” He hesitated. “I do hope you like it.”
The trepidation in his voice pulled your attention back to him. There was a pang of guilt for how you had treated his gifts in the past. Your lack of appreciation where he was concerned had made the act offering anything to you, gift or otherwise, a challenging one. It was another sobering reminder that Neuvillette himself wasn’t a bad man. His intent towards you had not and was not malicious. Everything he had ever done for you had come from a place of admiration, of love. Even now, as he stared at you, almost bracing himself for the negative reaction you were sure to have, he still looked at you like the moon and the stars hung by your hands. For the first time since arriving, you felt cracks form in the ice around your heart.
“It’s-” You paused, allowing yourself a moment to take the entire space in again. “It’s wonderful.” You bowed your head slightly, doing your best to hide the genuine happiness that was bubbling up from inside of you. It was wonderful. You would never deny that. Outside of letting you go, this was the best thing he could ever give you. “Thank you.” Your downcast eyes missed the look of utter relief that washed it’s way across his face.
“I am glad then.” There was a breathy laugh that followed that. “Cosanzeana has been so worried over the flowers. She cultivated many of them, just for you. It will be a great comfort to her to know that you like them.” You nodded, bringing your eyes up to meet his once again. “This is not just for today. Going forward, it is reserved solely for your own use. No one will trouble you here unless it is for an emergency or we are preparing to eat.” You didn't know what to say to that. What could you say? Your own place? Your own private place? Better still, you could use it whenever you wished. You felt as if you had witnessed a miracle. While the garden certainly wasn’t the freedom you desired, it was a giant step towards achieving it. Allowing you this was a sign of trust. One that you were sure to take complete advantage of as time went on. “I only ask that you be mindful of the weather, especially when winter arrives. It would be most disagreeable if you caught a chill due to overexposure to the elements.” You nodded, silently agreeing with that sentiment. Becoming ill would be incredibly disagreeable considering he and the meulsines would be the ones to take care of you should you become that way. He had already gotten close enough as it was. Giving him a legitimate reason to be so near you, to touch you, was something you couldn’t bear. “If you are content, then I shall take my leave until this evening.”
“Monsieur.” You thickly swallowed, watching him pause as you called after him. The look in his eyes made you falter slightly. They were brimming with adoration. Instinctively you knew he was pleased as punch that this had gone as well as it had. That he had done something to make you happy. Even if it was only for a few moments, he had managed to pull a genuine smile out of you. It had been the point of all of his gifts. He wanted to make you forget that for that moment he wasn’t your keeper. That you weren’t a captive. He wanted to paint the illusion for himself that you were both happy. Up until now, you had resisted. All the fine things he had presented you did little to achieve the lie he wanted. They did nothing to change the circumstances in which you lived. Clothes would never open the locks that kept you here. Jewelry could never help you get away from the walls that surrounded you. Only the book in your hand had given you even the slightest hint of escape. It was why it was your favorite and you imagined that now, like your book, this too would become a favorite. That should have been enough in your eyes. He gave you a garden, you would use it on the days that the weather would permit. That should be the end of it. Your conscience, though, disagreed. Maybe it was your own guilt for how you had acted, but in your mind a step deserved to be met with a step. The use of the space didn’t seem like a proper thank you. Even if it would bring you his unwanted attention, in this instance, you decided to make an exception and go one step further. “We have a while before dinner. Perhaps-” You gently sighed as he continued to stare at you with those eyes of his. Damn them for being so beautiful. Damn him for being as he was. Damn yourself for making you say what you were about to say. “The weather has been very nice as of late. It seems a shame to enjoy it alone. Would you care to sit with me?” His normally pale skin flushed. Neuvillette looked as if you could knock his lithe frame over with a feather.
“I-” He cleared his throat, the blush on his cheeks growing as he visibly fought his own surprise at the invitation. “I had thought of catching up on some work before dinner.” You raised your eyebrows almost stunned for a moment. He wasn’t going to refuse, was he? Surely he couldn’t. Not when you knew the invitation alone was something he yearned for. Briefly, you considered he would be well within his right. You had given him a rare chance to pay you back for your behavior for the last few months. To your surprisingly great relief though, he did not. “But I believe it can wait until after we eat.” The spirit of peace between you continued, with Neuvillette accepting your olive branch, just as graciously as you had accepted his. “I would be all too happy to join you mon petit.”
#yandere genshin x you#yandere!genshin#yandere genshin#yan genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact#yandere neuvillette#neuvillette#genshin neuvillette#genshin impact neuvillette
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i have had like 10 friends rec worm to me but nobody’s given me a good like, gist of its vibe and what its abt because ‘its best blind’, could u please give a like brief summary and vibe check of it 😭 it’s so long i dont wanna try and invest that much time without knowing much abt it
so, worm is a 1.7 million word long webserial written in 2010. 1.7 million words seems like a lot, but it was also written over a relatively short period of time, which means the writing style is very easy to parse--the ideas aren't without complexity, but the language itself isn't intimidatingly dense. you can get through it at a very decent pace. i agree with your friends that there are vast portions of worm that hit best when you're unspoiled, but the thing is that worm is long enough that giving you the basic plot pitch is in no way spoilers for any of the things that i wouldn't want to see spoiled for someone. i'm actually kind of baffled they're not telling you Any Thing, because it is in my estimation one of the best books i've ever read, but it also Needs a briefing before you get into it for like five different reasons. which i will now provide. i swear to god this is brief by my standards it's just that i am very thorough
worm is a story about superheroes and supervillains, set in a world where superpowers are traumagenic--rather than appearing randomly or innately, some people gain powers after a traumatizing event happens to them. the protagonist is taylor hebert, a 15yo girl who has the power to control insects and desperately wants to be a superhero. and then accidentally finds herself scouted by a team of teenage villains instead. who's to say how she's going to react to all that!
one of the most compelling things about worm is that the superpowers in it serve as visceral, hyper-literal metaphors for the trauma and traumatized coping mechanisms of the characters with those powers. each power is incredibly specific and thematically relevant to the person who has it, and it's incredibly interesting and evocative. it feels so natural and well-done that it comes off like how superpowers are just meant to be written.
the fact that superpowers stem from trauma also means that worm is fundamentally a narrative about trauma. specifically, about traumatized teenagers and the relationships they form as they cling together while struggling through growing up traumatized & mutually coping with an increasingly intriguing, intense, and far-reaching escalating plot. worm's depictions of trauma + mental illness--including unpalatable trauma responses, including traumatized characters who are allowed to be complicated and nuanced and messy while still receiving narrative respect--are deeply real-feeling and impactful, and they're placed in the context of a well-spun + engaging story.
i really do have to stress how excellent the character writing is. worm is fully deserving of being as long as it is. over the course of 1.7 million words of character development, the average reader's reaction to the main characters goes from "sorta interesting" to "okay, i want to see where this goes" to "augh...really likable" to "i am now on hands and knees crying and these characters are going to stick around in my brain forever." wildbow has incredible talent for efficiently conveying complicated, real-feeling, and viscerally evocative characterization. many of the interlude chapters (chapters written from the perspective of different characters other than taylor) are so interesting, fleshed-out, and emotionally affecting that they make you wish you could read an entire novel about just the side character being featured. with that level of characterization for just the side cast, it's not surprising that taylor (& co) are genuinely just downright iconic. and i do not say that lightly--taylor is truly one of the best-written protagonists i've seen in anything. ever.
the other main pitch-point for worm is that it's a fascinating deconstruction/reconstruction/examination of the conceits of the superhero genre. it answers the question of--what would the world have to be like, for people with superpowers to act the way they do in classic cape media? and it does this well enough that it's interesting even if you have only a passing familiarity with cape media. i am not a big superhero media fan, but worm addresses virtually every aspect of cape media that was under the sun around 2010 in a way that's so interesting i still find it incredibly engaging. the approach it takes makes the narrative very accessible even to people who aren't usually cape media fans.
and speaking of the narrative: the end of the story is coherent and satisfying and deeply thematically resonant*. the way worm follows through on all of its main mysteries & plot threads is excellent. you don't have to worry about getting thru 1.7 million words and being dissatisfied by the author shitting the bed at the end, or anything like that. he does an amazing job of weaving together plot events in a way that makes each successive one feel rationally, thematically, and emotionally connected to what came before. there's really only one part where i feel the story stumbles a bit, but i think it was the best option he had for the narrative, and it's by no means a dealbreaker. it's in fact really impressive how cohesive and satisfying worm is for such a long webserial released over such a brief period of time.
*this is subjective ive seen some people who didnt love it but ive never seen anyone who downright Hated it who didnt also demonstrate egregious misunderstanding of literally everything worm is about. so thats a good sign
as for the downsides of worm/things that might put you off:
there is a very long list of trigger warnings for it. if you have any trigger warnings you want you should ask your friends to let you know about the relevant parts, because the fact that it's About Trauma (& about typical cape media circumstances presented very seriously) means that traumatic and violent things & their realistic aftermath are constantly happening and/or being discussed. i would not classify worm as needlessly dark or spiteful to the audience by any means, but it is intense and covers a lot of heavy topics. i do assume if your friends are all recommending it to you, they think none of the material would be too much for you, though!
worm was written in 2010 by a white cishet guy from canada. it's typical levels of 2010-era bigoted, it has a deeply lesbophobic stereotype character, it has some atrociously racist stereotype characters, the author really hates addicts, It's Got Blind Spots. i think worm is generally fully worth reading despite these, but very fair warning that it can get bad. i think what exacerbates this is that worm is generally extremely nuanced & sympathetic regarding ideas such as "crime is a result of systematic circumstance vs people just being inherently evil" and "mentally ill people who are traumatized in unpalatable ways are still deserving of fundamental respect as human beings" and so on and so forth, so it's extra noticeable and insufferable when you get to a topic the author has unexamined biases on and all that nuance drops out. the worst part is that a lot of this is most concentrated in the early arcs, so you have to get through them without being super attached to any of the characters yet. it is worth it though.
worm like. Does have a central straight relationship in it. and it's a very well written straight relationship for the most part and i like it quite a lot. but worm also passes the bechdel test with such flying colors that it enters 'unintentionally homoerotic' territory. which means a lot of people were shipping the main character ms taylor hebert with her female friends while the story was being released. which caused the author to get so mad he 1. posted a word of god to a forum loudly insisting that all of the girls are straight and 2. inserted a few deeply awkward and obvious and out of character scenes where he finds an excuse for the girls to more or less turn to the camera and go "i'm not gay, btw. this is platonic." This is fucking insufferable, and will piss you off immensely, but then you will get to any of the number of deeply emotionally affecting scenes between them, and at that point you will be too busy sniffling piteously and perhaps crytyping an analysis post on tumblr to be mad about all that other shit. also they're only a couple tiny portions out of an entire overall fantastic novel
overall: if those points don't sound like dealbreakers (i hope they aren't they're really massively outstripped by the amount of devastatingly good moments in worm, worm still has a thriving fandom over a decade later for a reason), you should absolutely give it a shot and see what you think. my final note is that you have to read up until the end of arc 8 to really see where what makes worm Worm kicks in, so aim for at least there to see how you feel about it if you're just thinking about dipping your toes in vs fully committing. i hope that was helpful and not too long :)
oh and don't go in the comments section on wordpress if you don't want spoilers. or anywhere else in the fandom at all. you will be spoiled. quite possibly for things you could not even have imagined were topics to be spoiled on.
#ask#wormblr#parahumans#ill tag it to save it so i can reference later. and maybe other people will find it helpful
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Neverending
Lee Jihoon x fem!Reader
Genre: fluff with little to no plot
Words: 14k
Warnings: crying with references to an argument. a single reference to porn. hatred of philosophy. simp woozi who suffers from anxious perfectionism and self-deprecating thoughts.
[College/University AU] With the help of his friends' advice, Jihoon goes on a quest to become the best boyfriend he can be.
Note: I wrote this, had a mental break-down, then finished this, and now I'm sharing it with you in the hopes that it'll save you from a mental break-down of your own or perhaps it'll comfort you in some way. Hang in there, y'all!
It was no secret that Jihoon had little to no experience with romance. His friends often joked that his experience was limited to exactly seven rom-coms and a steamy romance novel from his mother’s bookshelf that he once read in a state of absolute boredom when he was grounded.
And Jihoon was fine with that. He didn’t complain when he made it through middle school without as much as a peck from a girl (or anyone other than Soonyoung, really – he wasn’t picky). He didn’t as much as blink when it was high school graduation day and he was still as single as that one famous whale in the ocean. He merely shrugged when his friends pitied his forever-single state while he was doing his undergraduate degree.
It wasn’t until he started working on his master’s degree that he began to feel left out. Maybe a little over 20 years of being single was just his limit, or maybe it was the constant pitying stares of his friends, or perhaps it was his mother’s not-so-subtle hints of wanting grandkids while she could still run with them – either way, Jihoon finally realised that he was lonely even with over ten friends around him.
And maybe it was this realisation that made him view the people around him differently. All of a sudden, couples seemed to surround him wherever he went. The pair of girls he always saw chatting at the café he worked at? Suddenly he was a witness to the kisses they shared in the corner seat. The guy living across the hall from him in the dormitory? Giggling and kicking his feet after his girlfriend fixed his hair as they left for their 8 am class.
Heck, even Vernon was in a relationship, buying two to-go cups of chai tea from the café every Wednesday, a love-sick smile on his face, before heading to the park to share them with a woman the rest of their friend group could only theorise the identity of.
If Vernon out of all people could find someone, why couldn’t he?
Then, as if the universe had heard the silent cries of Jihoon’s heart, he met you.
Assigned to the same semester-long group project, he quickly realised that you were the only person other than him to actually do the work. It started with looks of exasperation shared across the library table the six of you gathered at, and then the two of you had no choice but to start talking.
Talking – right, that was the first real step. At first about schoolwork – about the research questions of your project, about other courses, about complaints about your professors. Then, barely a week into knowing him, you broke the thin ice.
He could still vividly remember the way you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket just as he was about to walk away after a meeting. You smiled at him – a real smile rather than the tired polite one he had grown so accustomed to – and asked, “So, what kind of movies do you like?”
As soon as he managed to utter the words “I guess… superhero movies?” out of his mouth, you were once again tugging at his sleeve, this time dragging him in the direction of a nearby cinema. You ended up only allowing him to pay for the popcorn (and he had to beg for even that much) because it seemed you were dead-set on treating him like a prince.
That was your first date: after classes, in the darkness of the cinema, with Spiderman swinging by on the giant screen. He barely had any time to pay attention to the plot, too busy relishing in your presence and the sound of your laughter at the corny jokes. And then, as MJ and Peter Parker shared a kiss on the screen, he felt something warm on his hand – your fingers curled around his own and he couldn’t help but give them a squeeze back, his ears as red as Spiderman’s suit.
The impromptu date was followed by another, then another, and another, until you finally had enough and pulled him to the side after class.
“Do you like me?” you asked him, a little frustrated with how slow things were going and with how awkward he still seemed.
His ears flushed red again. “Of… of course I do.” (He preferred to imagine his voice hadn’t cracked in the middle of the sentence.)
Your scowl remained. “Then be my boyfriend.”
When he nodded, you smiled and took his hand again – he told himself he’d never let yours go.
But unfortunately, his lack of romantic experience made it difficult to gracefully slip into the role of your boyfriend. He was almost jealous of the way the role of the girlfriend came so easily to you, taking his hand so easily every day, when he spent hours at night contemplating whether he should kiss your forehead or not when you’d part ways on campus the next day.
On one of those nights, he decided you deserved better. You deserved a better him.
So, he grabbed his phone and texted the one friend he trusted with his life.
[i need advice.]
[how can i be a better boyfriend?]
[YJH: that’s easy! carry her bag for her! girls love that!]
When Jihoon met you on your way to a 12 pm class, he hesitated to follow Jeonghan’s advice. Countless what-ifs floated in his head: what if you thought that it was rude, what if you wanted to carry your own things, what if you tried to carry his bag instead… Did boyfriends outside of fanfiction and romantic movies even carry their girlfriends’ things for them?
Doubts hurried out of his mind soon enough, making way for worry when he saw you adjust the tote bag on your shoulder with a grimace. He inwardly panicked at the sight of your discomfort. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why?” you wondered as if completely oblivious.
“Is your bag heavy?” His brows furrowed. Before you could take another step, he slipped the bag off your shoulder and onto his own. Your grimace made sense all of a sudden. His frown deepened, but not because of your confused stare. “What do you have in here? An entire drum set?”
You laughed. “No, just my laptop and some snacks.”
Even as he bounced on his spot to test the weight, his frown remained. He glared at the bag. “Your laptop’s not that heavy.”
Your face scrunched up. “My laptop kind of broke yesterday, so I had to revive the old, heavy one.”
Jihoon’s frown disappeared. He stared up at you in surprise, and then, unable to stop himself, he offered, “Do you want me to take a look at it? Maybe I can fix it.”
“Nah,” you shrugged, “I’ll just take it to get it fixed tomorrow. My friend recommended this shop–”
“Don’t be silly,” he scolded you and continued the journey to class. “You know that the shop will take three weeks to even look at your laptop and then another three to order the necessary parts and then another five to actually fix it. You might graduate before they get it fixed.”
“Yeah?” you laughed, following after him, your hand naturally coming to rest around his own. “And you’re faster?”
“Faster, more reliable, cheaper,” he counted on his fingers before offering you a cheeky grin. When you didn’t seem too convinced, he sighed and added, “You can ask any of my friends and they’ll tell you I can do this. I’ve done this before. I fixed Junhui’s laptop just a few weeks ago; got a 5-star review.”
At that, you sighed. In the few weeks of being his girlfriend, you had learnt that he was as stubborn as he was kind. In fact, he was even more stubborn when he was being kind: you had been a first-hand witness to Jihoon physically pinning Kim Mingyu to the ground to put a bandage on a fresh cut on his cheek, all the while cursing the friend under his breath for not being more careful. You shuddered at what Jihoon might do if you continued to refuse his laptop-fixing offer.
You finally sighed again and nodded. “Should I bring it over to your place?”
“Yeah,” he agreed easily, his lips curling into a victorious smile, “I’m free this weekend so I can probably get it done before finals.”
You grinned at the thought. “If you manage to do that, I will literally marry you. You’re the best.”
He could only pray you wouldn’t mention the way his ears undoubtedly turned red again as he adjusted your bag on his shoulder and led you to your lecture room.
[YJH: help her do research for her essay]
Jihoon let out a soft huff as he placed your bag on a seat at the library before gently pulling you to sit in the seat next to it. He let himself fall into the chair across from yours.
“Thank you!” your chipper voice was almost enough to rid him of the muscle pain your pain caused.
He offered a smile and a blink so slow you began to wonder if he took you for a cat. “You’re welcome.”
Then, just like a cat himself, he just sat and watched you set up on the desk. His eyes sharply followed every movement you made, sometimes lingering here or there if something particular caught his eye (your oddly fluffy pink pen was one of those particular things). “So, what are you going to be working on?”
You groaned audibly. “Research for this mythology class I’m taking. We’re supposed to make a big wiki as a class effort. Each of us got a different topic to write about. But, like, it’s more of an actual small research paper: citations, references, quotes…” You pouted. “If you weren’t here, I’d be crying by now.”
He didn’t like the sound of that at all – the crying part, because he actually quite enjoyed mythology. Though he hesitated just a little before saying it, he offered, “If you need a hug, just tell me.”
“You’re so cute.” You reached over the table to give him an affectionate pat on his head, effectively both praising him and fixing his windswept mess of hair. “Have you gotten around to fixing my laptop yet?”
Relaxing in his chair, he began, “I’m waiting for a part, but it’s almost fixed otherwise.”
You blinked. “What part?”
“A battery.”
“I don’t think it was a battery issue, though,” you mumbled while avoiding his eyes, not wanting to insult his competence. After all, you were pretty sure the issue was with the graphics – why else would your laptop screen flicker like a rogue disco ball?
As if reading your mind, he chuckled and pulled out his phone to check the package tracking website. “I almost fixed the main issue already, but I noticed that the battery was acting weird, so I figured I might as well fix that too.”
When he looked up from his phone again, you were staring at him with stars in his eyes. His heart thumped a little louder at the sight. “... What?”
You shrugged and turned back to your work. “Nothing.”
He pursed his lips at that and put his phone away again. In his head, he went over all the assignments he had to finish for the following week. Deciding there weren’t any that took priority (a bold lie to himself), he cleared his throat. “So, what do you have to research?”
“Greek mythology.”
“But…” He tilted his head to the side in thought – maybe you wouldn’t want his help? There he went again, he realised: hesitating. He frowned and shook his head clear before smiling at you again. “What exactly?”
“Some mythological creatures. I thought that would be more fun than the usual famous characters.”
“Creatures like… harpies and sirens?”
“Yep.”
Realising you were already deep in the world of research, he decided to not bother you with any further questions. Instead, he slowly and as quietly as he could (but still louder than he would’ve liked) slid his chair back and headed further into the library.
“Mythological creatures,” he mumbled to himself as he wandered between the seemingly endless shelves. Before long, he found what he was looking for. He returned to your table barely ten minutes later, placing a heap of books on it before slumping back into his chair with a deep sigh.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him open the first book and flip through the pages like a man on a quest. You smiled at the sight before focusing back on your work. Even so, you heard the scribble of his pencil and the familiar sound of a sticky note getting ripped out of its block.
Just as you stopped paying attention to him, you felt a book being pushed towards you. When you looked away from your laptop, you found the book you had just seen him read, now laid open on your side of the table, turned to face you.
Light pink sticky notes between the closed pages and a few on the open ones: the book invited you to read. The notes carried Jihoon’s neat handwriting, retelling the contents of the page. Better yet: these were notes about mythological creatures described in the book:
‘Chimera. pg 6: Daughter of Typhon and Echidna. pg 18: lion's body and head, snake for a tail, breathes fire?’
When you glanced back at him, smiling brightly, he was already nose-deep in a different book, paying you no attention.
[Y.JH.: watch a porno together 😉]
Jihoon stared at his friend’s message for a total of five minutes. He then decided that he should stop taking advice from Jeonghan.
He turned to the group chat for help instead.
“You’re going to drive yourself insane before finals even start,” he warned you with a fond smile as you flipped through your worksheets, thoroughly checking each and every one to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.
You offered him a tired glare and turned back to your task. “I’m already halfway there, might as well commit.”
[X.MH.: take her on a walk. enjoy the weather.]
Minghao’s suggestion rang in his head as he watched you. After all, he himself often went on ridiculously long walks in the park when he ran into a metaphorical wall with his work and studies, as did many of his friends. Perhaps it would help you too: romance and relaxation in one – a win on two fronts.
“Do you—” He hesitated. Why did he always hesitate? Even he himself was starting to get annoyed by it. He shook his head to clear his mind and fix his hair before trying again, “Do you want to go on a walk?”
You froze. “A walk?”
He hummed. “To clear your mind. Some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not.”
You mulled it over in your head: assignments versus your adorable boyfriend?
“Fine,” you finally huffed, feigning annoyance, “but I’m going to pet every dog I see and you can’t stop me.”
He laughed at the idea, already imagining it in his head, and got up from the floor before extending a hand to help you up as well. “You’d have to try to stop me first. I’m known for attracting random dogs.”
You took his hand and stretched. “I wonder why.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged and handed you your jacket before shrugging on his own. He tried not to think about how your jackets matched – almost like a couple’s item.
Soon, the two of you were walking side by side in the park, laughing at everything and nothing and Seokmin’s attempt to fit in a kids’ swing that you saw in the passing.
As always, your hand found Jihoon’s before he could find the courage to seek your affection. Fingers squeezing together, his skin blissfully on fire against yours – he wondered why he never dared to make the first move and reach for your hand. But if he wasn’t the one to initiate, he at least had an excuse to not let you go.
“How come I’m your first girlfriend?” you wondered, searching his face for answers.
He shrugged. “You just are.”
“You really never had anyone else before?” He shook his head. “Not even a fling?” Another shake of his head. “A hook-up?” He blushed and shook his head harder. You frowned in confusion. “How? You’re, like, perfect. Other girls must have swarmed around you like bees around honey.”
“Don’t be silly,” he denied in a hushed voice, avoiding your eyes so he could act like his ears weren’t redder than the late autumn leaves.
“I know I wanted you to be mine the moment I saw you,” you mumbled with a pout, offended on his behalf. “So, why were you single all this time then?”
Jihoon shrugged once again, his lips in a tight line of awkwardness. “I just wasn’t interested, I guess. Too busy studying.”
“Then,” you hummed in thought before turning to him again, this time eyes shining with mischief, “have you ever kissed anyone before?”
He paled. “I– Uh– Technically…”
“Technically?” you pressed eagerly.
He cleared his throat. “Technically I’ve been kissed by one person.”
“Technically?!” You were scandalised, baffled, puzzled, curious beyond belief. He could only laugh hopelessly as you stopped him and grabbed him by the shoulders to stare at him, your mouth agape. “Who was it? Was she pretty?”
“Pretty?” He grimaced. It was too late to lie now – might as well commit to his honesty streak. “In his own way, I suppose–”
“HIS?!” Your jaw dropped even more as he avoided your eyes.
“Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything–”
“No, I need the truth,” you laughed, almost maniacal with both joy and curiosity. You gripped his shoulders, promising to not let him go until you got the answers. “Who was it? Jihoon, you have to tell me.”
He sighed deeply. His head tilted back so he could stare towards the sky, calling for an extraterrestrial life-form to abduct him. He had been doing so great so far… Why did he have to be damn honest with you?
After thirty seconds, he accepted that the aliens hadn’t found his calls appealing enough. He sighed and slumped before you, head lolling forward as he confessed, “Do you know Kwon Soonyoung?”
You burst into laughter, jumping away from him to bounce in joy (Jihoon wondered if maybe the impending sense of finals’ season doom was too much for you) as you repeated, “Kwon Soonyoung? The tiger guy?”
“Of course that’s what you know him for,” he mumbled under his breath, hand reaching up to rub at his eyes so he could avoid eye contact a little longer. “Just so you know, it was nothing serious: he just decided to kiss me on the playground in, like, 6th grade one day.” He sighed deeply at the memory, still unsure how he felt about it after all these years.
But you were too busy giggling to acknowledge his dismay. “On the lips?”
He grimaced. “On the lips.”
“Full on?”
“Full on,” he sighed.
Before he could scold you to not tell anyone else (not that it mattered anyway: Soonyoung had taken it upon himself to share the tale with every person he met anyway), you were in front of him again, still smiling brightly. His scowl melted into a gentle smile at the sight – he sucked at being mad at you.
“Like this?” You leaned forward, placed your hands on his cheeks, and pulled him in for a kiss of your own.
All of a sudden, Jihoon swore he was floating. He wrapped his arms around your waist to anchor himself as he leaned further into you, unwilling to part from your lips. Even as you attempted to pull away, he chased after your lips, unsatisfied until you melted back into the kiss.
When he finally ran out of air, you began giggling, a shy glow on your cheeks as you looked at his still-closed eyes. “So?”
“What?” he wondered, slow to open his eyes, and even when he finally did, his eyelids drooped like he was still waking up from the sweetest of dreams.
“Was the kiss historically accurate?” you joked, leaning closer to brush your nose against his.
He was unable to even laugh. Only a dopey smile appeared on his face as he whispered, “No, it was so much better.”
[H.JS.: surprise her with flowers]
[i dont know what kind of flowers she likes tho??]
[W.JH.: unless she’s allergic, i dont think it matters]
Despite still being unsure whether the group chat was helpful or just plain useless, Jihoon followed their advice like it was the law.
Flowers? He could find flowers. Easy. They’re sold almost everywhere. Surely, he could figure out something as simple and universal as flowers.
Wrong.
The moment he stepped into the flower store, he felt like a five-year-old left unattended in a new city. He hadn’t even realised there were so many options. He gulped.
“Can I help you?” an oddly familiar voice called out to him and he whipped his head around in search of the speaker. He found Wonwoo staring back at him, his eyes shining with mischief upon recognising his new customer.
Jihoon grimaced. “I– Nevermind.”
But when he tried to leave, Wonwoo grabbed him by the hood of his white sweatshirt and dragged him further into the store. “Are you going to buy your girlfriend flowers? Like Joshua suggested?”
“I– No– Why would I–” Jihoon’s resolve broke under Wonwoo’s knowing glare. He lowered his gaze to the floor and sheepishly nodded.
Wonwoo let out a small sound of victory before asking, “So, what kind of flowers do you want to get her?”
“That’s the thing,” Jihoon sighed deeply, “I have no clue what to get.”
His florist friend hummed in understanding. “Is she more of a daisy or a rose girl?”
Jihoon offered him a confused look. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve only dated her for a month.”
“Roses may be a bit much then,” Wonwoo concluded with a squint of his eyes before heading somewhere in the store, once again grabbing Jihoon by the hood and dragging him along.
Jihoon could only whine quietly in protest. “Can you stop doing that?”
“No.” The answer was plain, clear, and left no room for argument. “I think tulips are the way to go.”
Jihoon had no further complaints as Wonwoo began piling flowers into his arms. Once he was satisfied, he led Jihoon to the counter – by the hood, once again, as if he was a cat mom carrying her kitten – and began arranging them into a bouquet.
“Do you want me to tie a bow for them?” he asked but Jihoon gave him no answer. When he looked up again, his love-sick friend was staring at the newly-complete bouquet in awe. Wonwoo smiled and handed him the flowers. “There. Do you think she’ll like them?”
“I– How did you know… ?”
Wonwoo’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Was I right?”
Jihoon could only nod before fishing his wallet out. “I seriously owe you one. You’re good at this.”
On the way to your dorm, he couldn’t stop staring at the bouquet. The tulips were exactly the colours he associated with you, as if Wonwoo had read his mind and translated it into flowers. Now he could only adjust them a little and pray you’d like them as much as he did.
A deep breath. A soft knock on your door.
Your roommate opened the door, her eyes lighting up with excitement upon recognising him and noticing the flowers in his arms. She practically dragged him inside while calling out to you, “(Y/n), your Prince Charming arrived!”
Before he could say anything, she patted his shoulder and leaned over to whisper “She’ll love them” before all but bouncing out the front door, offering him one last cheeky wink before she left.
“Jihoon?” he then heard you call out from a distance. “Is that you?”
He called back a confirmation before following your voice to your room. Just as he often did, he found you seated on your bed, your (newly fixed) laptop in front of you, surrounded by endless pages of homework and research. He smiled at the familiar sight.
“Are you busy studying again?” he wondered, his voice impossibly soft just like his heart was for you. “Should I come back later?”
Without looking up, you shook your head. “No, no, please stay. I just have to finish this table and then–” Your gaze lifted to meet his by habit, at which point your jaw dropped. Soon, a smile forced itself onto your face. “Jihoon!”
He feigned ignorance, his lips quirking. “Why?”
“Did you–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, unable to find the words as tears of joy gathered in the corners of your eyes. Pursing your lips to will yourself to not cry, you got up from the bed and walked over to hug him. You held him tight while he just laughed fondly.
“Why?” he asked again, his free hand reaching up to caress your cheek.
You pouted. “You got me flowers?”
When you stepped back, he lifted up the bouquet and asked, “What? This?” You nodded and he laughed again, so completely endeared by your reaction. “Do you like them that much?”
“I love them,” you said and took the flowers from his hands, already rushing to the kitchen to fill a vase with flowers. Despite not leaving your room, he could hear you mumbling, “Oh my god, you’re really going to make me cry at this rate.”
Upon returning with a vase full of water and beautiful flowers, you placed it on your desk by the window. The afternoon light hit them just right and it made you want to cry even more.
You turned to him again. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers like this before. They’re so pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you,” he spoke before his mental filter could catch it. He bit down on his tongue the moment he closed his mouth, unable to believe he let the words slip without even thinking about them.
To his relief, you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, the carelessly spoken compliment made you glow even more. You laughed in joy and pulled him to sit with you on the bed. He could barely find his balance on the soft mattress before your lips were on his.
He decided he’d gift you flowers more often if this was the thanks he earned.
On a sleepless night, Jihoon came to an embarrassing realisation: he had never once initiated a kiss with you. In fact, when it came to physical affection, he hadn’t initiated anything.
The realisation was greatly aided by Boo Seungkwan’s 2 am reply to another one of Jihoon’s cries for help.
[B.SK.: kiss her, you idiot!]
“Kiss her?” Jihoon re-read the message the next day before grimacing in anxiety. He couldn’t even hold your hand without blushing – how was he supposed to initiate a whole kiss? Knowing him, he’d probably accidentally end up kissing your nose or, even worse, ear. The thought made him want to cry so he curled up on a random beanbag on campus, hugging his backpack to his chest, and glared at the message Seungkwan had sent him.
“Who made my Jihoon upset?” your voice carried through the hallway. He looked up to find you walking towards him, a bright smile on your face. Catching his gaze, you smiled brighter before adding to your joke, “Should I go beat someone up? Who was it? Mingyu? Soonyoung?”
“Seungkwan,” he mumbled against the fabric of his bag as you approached him and pressed a kiss to his temple. He could practically feel his ears betraying him and squeezed his eyes shut to will the blush to leave.
Your hand found his hair, stroking it gently. “Seungkwan? The guy who hosts almost every campus event?” He nodded solemnly and you scoffed. “I can take Seungkwan. He should be afraid of me.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, opening his eyes to glance up at you. He didn’t dare to move with the way you were still stroking his dark hair, looking at him so fondly. What if you were startled by his movement and never played with his hair again? No, he couldn’t risk it. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the feeling.
Without even realising it, he leaned into your embrace like a pet looking for warmth. Soon, his head rested against your chest, your fingers still in his hair while his own curled into the fabric of your blouse. He wished this moment lasted forever and then some more.
“So, what did Seungkwan do that you’re like this?” you wondered and he felt the rumble of your voice. He suddenly found he liked it even better this way.
With a small smile on his face, he whispered, “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” you wondered. “He must’ve done something.”
“He’s just annoying.” If it hadn’t been for your questions, Jihoon would’ve fallen asleep right there, pressed against you like a tired child. But instead, he came to an annoying realisation. “Do you not have a jacket today?”
“Nope,” he heard you reply.
He hissed at that, gently slapping your side as punishment for crimes against yourself. “It’s cold outside.”
“I run hot,” you made an excuse.
He scoffed. “You whined you were cold the last time you came to my dorm, even though it’s only, like, two degrees colder there than yours.”
You stayed silent at that. He basked in your warmth for a little longer before sitting back up straight and glaring at you. He then fidgeted with the sleeves of your blouse for a moment before scoffing and standing up to pull off his black hoodie. Unceremoniously, he shoved it to you, paying no mind to the puzzled look on your face.
“Put it on,” he finally told you when you made no move to read his mind. “I won’t baby you if you get sick.”
“I won’t get sick–” you began to protest only for him to roll his eyes, grab the hoodie, and pull it over your head himself.
His hands gently guided your own through the sleeves before reaching down to pull the rest of the hoodie down as much as he could. (He made a mental note to invest in a longer hoodie for next time.) As a final touch, he reached up to pull the hood over your head, tying the strings into a neat bow below your chin once he had pulled the fabric around your head – tight enough to make you look just a little bit goofy.
Surprised by his actions, you were frozen in place in front of him. With your cheeks squished by the fabric, you looked just so damn adorable. Jihoon didn’t even think before leaning closer and pressing his lips against your slightly pouted ones.
He pulled away, nodded and smiled – satisfied with his handiwork. The realisation of his actions wouldn’t hit him for another hour.
[W.JH.: i heard her class is having a big seminar this wednesday. maybe you should cheer for her?]
[how would i do that…?]
Jihoon never received a reply to his question. Odd, and incredibly annoying. But he guessed it was only fair: his friends couldn’t give him all the answers. Some things he’d have to figure out himself.
Just as he was contemplating on what to do, his phone buzzed. Hoping for a late reply from his friends, he immediately reached for his phone. To his surprise, it was a message from you instead:
[Y/N: if u never hear from me again, assume i had a heart attack in front of the classroom]
[Y/N: god, i hate seminars so much]
Jihoon paused. Is this what Junhui had meant? He took a deep breath and typed a reply.
[where are you? i’ll come to you.]
He was halfway out of the building by the time you answered.
[Y/N: linguistics building, seminar 321]
Despite never having been to the linguistics’ building before and having close to zero clue where he would even find this room, he ran to where you said you’d be. His lungs were burning from lack of air by the time he got to you and yet his heart ached even more than they did: all it took was one look at your shaky hands as you paced back and forth outside of the seminar room.
“Are you… Are you okay?” he asked through his laboured breaths once he reached you, his hand immediately reaching for yours to ease the shaking.
You sighed in relief at the sight of him. “Jihoon…”
“I’m here,” he whispered with an encouraging smile before letting you burrow into his embrace. On most days, he would have much rather dug a hole and crawled in there than let anyone show him this kind of affection in public. But he was willing to make an exception for you.
Then he spotted the familiar baffled face of Soonyoung from the corner of his eyes and cringed: he would never live this down.
“I’m so nervous about my presentation,” you whispered into his jacket and all of his attention was back on you as if by magic.
He scoffed out a laugh, unable to believe your words. “Are you kidding? You’ll be great.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen you give presentations before,” he reminded you with a gentle pat on your head. “You did great the last time, I doubt this time will be different.”
You wanted to cry at the memory, completely unable to see it the way he did. “I stuttered the entire time and mixed up the slides.”
“Yeah, but it was still fine.”
“It was so embarrassing.”
“It was endearing,” he argued immediately. “Besides, you laughed it off and you still got the maximum grade. Sometimes mistakes happen, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be the end of the world.”
You leaned out of his embrace to chuckle hopelessly. “I can’t decide if you’re really good or really bad at giving motivational speeches.”
“But do you feel better?” You nodded and he grinned brightly. “Then that’s all you need. Now go on in and show them what they’re missing in— What class is this?”
“Environmental Anthropology,” you answered with a sigh and he grimaced: it sounded far from appealing and he didn’t even dare ask if it was an elective or a mandatory subject.
Deciding to just go with it, he forced on a smile (his eyebrows still high on his forehead as half of his brain tried to figure out what that course even dealt with) and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Go get them, tiger.”
You laughed at his expression and nodded, feeling a little better already. You turned to head into class, but turned on your heel at the last moment, catching his eyes. He raised a single brow in question and you asked, “Can we go out to eat after this?”
He frowned, eyes saddening. “I wish I could. I have work in an hour. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.”
However, he could never stand the look of disappointment that grazed your face every once in a while. And when it made an appearance once again, he wanted nothing more than to comfort you. “But,” he started and you seemed to lighten up already, “you could come to the café and hang out with me there. My treat,” he promised before pointing an accusatory finger at you, “but only if you ace that presentation.”
“I… I can do that,” you nodded, more to convince yourself than him. “Yeah. I can definitely do that.”
Jihoon spent the next two hours panicking on your behalf.
Even as he took orders and made cup after cup after cup of coffee, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He couldn’t help but feel like he could’ve done more to boost your confidence. Hell, who wants to hear they were ‘endearing’ during a presentation they felt like they messed up on?
When the third hour of waiting began, he was half-sure you wouldn’t come to the café. Perhaps you had failed miserably or maybe you really did have a heart attack in front of the classroom. Jihoon was on the verge of spiralling.
“Okay, you’re going to burn your hand at this rate,” Seokmin scolded before ushering him away from the espresso machine. “Just man the register. I’ll deal with the coffee. God, what’s up with you today?”
Jihoon let out a soft whine of protest but followed the orders, waddling over to the register. It was a slow day and he was still messing up – what were you doing to him?
“So?” Seokmin asked again after delivering a customer’s flat white.
“What?” Jihoon was barely even paying attention to the fact that he was being spoken to. His eyes were constantly stuck on the door.
Any moment now. Any moment you’d walk in, a smile on your face, telling him you passed. Any moment.
Seokmin raised a brow. “What’s bothering you? Seriously, you’re not usually this aloof. Why are you staring at the door?”
“(Y/n)” was all Jihoon managed to mumble.
But it was enough for his friend. Seokmin laughed. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”
“What if she isn’t?” Jihoon whispered, still stuck in a dazed mix of anxiety and hope. “What if I messed up?”
Before Seokmin could even begin to comfort him, Jihoon felt like he could breathe again. There you were, practically running towards the café in your rush to get to him. He didn’t even realise he was leaning further and further towards the door, leaning against the countertop under Seokmin’s amused eyes.
“Jihoon!” you called out once you made it to the café, dashing up the counter to pull his face to yours and press your lips against his. After pulling away again, you smiled brightly. “Guess what?”
He forgot all the vocabulary he had acquired over his life. Your name was the closest thing to a word in there. He was just glad to see you again.
You rolled your eyes at his silence but still laughed. “Jihoon, I told you to guess.”
He cleared his throat and prayed his ears weren’t too red before he found his voice. “You passed?”
“I passed,” you confirmed with an excited fist pump in the air, “and the professor said I had the best presentation in the whole course.”
“Whoa, go, girl!” Seokmin cheered, bumping his fist against yours in celebration.
Jihoon matched your bright smiles and told you, “I knew you could do it. Come on, pick what you want to eat. My treat.”
As you excitedly went to check out the cake options, Seokmin stared at him in awe. Jihoon shrugged. “What?”
“How come you never treat me?” his friend sounded almost offended.
“You never asked.”
Seokmin frowned and turned to you. “Did you ask him to treat you?”
“Nope.”
He turned to glare at Jihoon again. “Favouritism. Clear favouritism. I’ll remember this.”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Jihoon argued with a puzzled frown of his own.
[W.JH.: tie her shoelaces]
Walks in the park or even just around the campus became a routine for the two of you very quickly. More often than not, your shared study sessions in the library would lead to a shared knowing look, standing up in silence, and heading out the door for a break. Always hand-in-hand, like puzzle pieces.
The weather was windier than usual that day, blowing dead leaves and hats around the park grounds. Who knows how long it would be before snow would join the items flying in the wind – the temperature of the air certainly suggested it would happen soon.
Jihoon barely managed to catch your scarf before it fell victim to the wind.
“Maybe not the best day for a walk,” he concluded with a sheepish laugh while wrapping the scarf around your neck a little tighter than before, making sure it wouldn’t fly again.
You laughed along. “Yeah, maybe we should’ve gone to the café instead.”
He sighed deeply – as a joke – before narrowing his eyes at you. “Just say you’re dating me for café discounts. Admit it.”
“Well,” you hummed, “your staff discounts are definitely a bonus.”
He chuckled and nudged your side. “Do you want to go to the café then? Maybe some cocoa could warm you up.”
“But some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not,” you repeated his own words back to him with a mischievous smile.
“Is that–?” His jaw dropped. “How do you even remember that?”
“It was a very memorable quote by my favourite author,” you joked and pinched his cheek before grabbing his hand to lead him to the café.
You barely made it two steps before he was tugging you to a stop, his gaze lowered. You blinked. “Did something happen?”
He didn’t reply. A message from Junhui flashed in his mind. Was he allowed to follow his advice like that? And if so, what was the best way to go about it? Crouching down? Leading you to a bench and making you lift your foot? Fully kneeling in front of you like the simp he was?
Ears burning under your questioning stare, he finally leaned down onto one knee, his fingers reaching for your shoelaces.
Your heart skipped a beat as realisation hit.
With what you could only assume was practised grace (because who knows how many times he had repeated this exact gesture for his friends – Soonyoung alone must have accounted for at least twenty), he gently pulled your foot closer to himself and gently double-knotted the laces. He decided to re-do the other shoe as well if he was already on task.
Once both shoes were undoubtedly tied and unable to come undone without permission again, he hummed in approval and stood back up, brushing the dirt off his knee before his gaze lifted to meet yours. He offered a sheepish smile at the dazed look on your face.
“Why?” he laughed.
“You’re seriously–” you began but never finished, reaching for his hand instead.
[K.MG.: give her a nickname]
Jihoon wasn’t very fond of nicknames. He wasn’t like Jeonghan who could come up with a new dumb nickname for every person he met or like Soonyoung who could react to any nickname thrown his way. Jihoon was just Jihoon and his friends were just his friends – no nicknames needed.
So, when he read Mingyu’s message, he froze. A nickname for his girlfriend? It felt like such an enormous task.
Stuck in an endless loop of processing even weeks after, Jihoon still couldn’t come up with a nickname that felt like you. Nothing sounded quite as pretty or as melodious as your name. Nothing came even close in his mind. When he thought of you, it was always just (Y/n).
And it wasn’t like you had given him a nickname either. He would’ve noticed if you had – he noticed everything you did.
If anyone saw into his brain, they would’ve seen a suspicious number of facts and quirks of yours. They would’ve thought he was a spy trying to steal your identity. But he was nothing of the sort. The only thing he aimed to steal was your heart (and maybe a kiss, or two, or two hundred).
Frankly, Vernon was sick of the sound of Jihoon’s pen rolling back and forth, struggling between gravity and Jihoon’s strength, on the slanted desk of their shared room. If having to contemplate cheesy pet names with a distraught Jihoon was the answer, Vernon was willing to sacrifice a bit of his sanity for a different background audio.
“Maybe see if a pet name would work,” he suggested upon seeing his misery.
Jihoon blinked. “Pet name? Like Fluffy?”
“No, like–” Vernon’s brows furrowed. “Dude, are you okay? Should I call a doctor?”
Jihoon only groaned and slumped over his desk, fully resting his cheek against it now.
“I meant nicknames like babe and sweetheart and the sort,” his roommate explained, brows still set in a concerned frown. “Why would you call her Fluffy?”
“At this rate, I might as well.”
Vernon was scandalised. “Call her Fluffy?!”
Jihoon sat up straight to frown at Vernon. “No, see if I find a pet name I like for her. What is wrong with you?”
“You started it!”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, what do you have to offer?”
“Let’s start with the basics,” Vernon suggested, leaning back on his bed happily now that the pen was no longer obnoxiously rolling. “Babe?”
“Gross.”
“Baby?”
“Even worse.”
“Sweetheart.”
Jihoon hesitated. “I– Maybe? Let’s put that under maybe.”
“Great! That’s progress,” Vernon cheered with a smile before resuming his position. “Then, what about dear?”
“Sounds so old-fashioned. I don’t want to sound like an English grandma whenever I call for my girlfriend.”
Vernon froze before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you definitely have a point there.”
They were both tired of the guessing game by the time fifteen minutes passed. They bid each other farewell and headed their separate ways. It was only noon.
The solution? Non-existent. Jihoon still didn’t know what to call you.
And to add to his problems, he soon realised he hadn’t heard from you all day. Your chat was no more full than the previous evening, his call history was even worse off. He hadn’t even seen you on campus.
Worry got the worst of him and now he was taking the first step instead of you. His worry won over his hesitation and he called you, lifting his phone to his ear all the while glancing around campus anxiously.
You didn’t pick up the first call. Nor the second. Before pressing on the screen to call a third time, he silently swore he’d run through all of your usual spots if you left him hanging like this. Heck, he might even call the police.
“Jihoon?” he then heard your voice through the phone and a stone fell off his heart.
He sighed in relief. “(Y/n), are you okay? I was worried.”
“Dorm,” you whispered meekly into the mic, elaborating no further no matter how much he prompted you.
His frown only grew with every passing moment of silence on your part. “Do you want me to come over?”
“Please,” you whispered once again and then he heard the most heart-breaking sound: a soft sob. You were crying.
He cursed under his breath. You were crying and he wasn’t there. “Hold on a little longer, I’ll be there.”
He wasted not a second more and sprinted to your dormitory. With his hands shaking from both worry and exhaustion, it took him two tries to get the door code right, but once the door clicked open, he dashed up the stairs and to your room.
The door of your room was unlocked and ajar when he arrived and he just about fell through it in an attempt to lean against it for a quick breath. He stumbled into your room and his heart dropped some more, so close to shattering.
“(Y/n), darling,” he whispered before practically throwing himself into the spot next to you, already pulling you into his embrace, “what happened?”
You didn’t say anything, quietly crying into his sweater instead. Jihoon almost wanted to cry with you. “Talk to me. What happened? What can I do to make it better?”
“I fought with my roommate,” you whispered eventually. “I might have to move out.”
“Move out?” he wondered. “Was it that bad?” You didn’t answer, only letting out another soft sob as you further burrowed into his arms. He sighed. “Oh, darling.”
You remained in his arms for a while, stuck between crying over a lost friendship and relishing in his comfort. “I thought she was my friend. God, I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” he protested immediately, perhaps even a little too forcefully for your fragile emotional state. He sighed once again, deeper, before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Do you want me to help you find a new place to stay?”
“I could just ask to be assigned to a different dorm,” you mumbled. “It’s no big deal.”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to get your own apartment though?”
“I mean… It would be nice.”
“I can help you pay the deposit,” he offered. He wasn’t sure if he was always this kind or if seeing you so broken made him overcompensate more than usual – come to think of it: there was clearly a pattern forming.
Either way – he mentally ran over the numbers in his bank account –, he could afford to help.
You sighed. “You don’t have to, Jihoon, it’s fine–”
“Don’t argue with me,” he warned half-jokingly. “Do you want to get your own place or not?”
Still leaning into his chest, you looked up at him. “You’d– You’d do that?”
“Of course,” he shrugged as if he had only offered you a candy bar. “Besides, if you get your own place, I benefit too.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Vernon not letting you sleep in again?”
“I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so bad,” he whispered while squeezing his eyes shut. “And he’s so messy. I need a break every once in a while.”
“So, your only condition is that I let you sleep over?” you chuckled and kissed his cheek which promptly turned red. “Why not just move in with me then?”
He blushed harder. “I think it’s too early for that. Maybe in a few months.”
You pouted at that. “You’re so mean. I was so ready to celebrate moving in with my boyfriend. Tsk.”
“Give me a few months,” he whispered – promised. “I’ll be with you in just a few months, darling.”
[J. WW.: take her on a picnic in the park during your free period. i hear the cherry trees are blossoming.]
Sandwiches, cake from the café, a thermos full of your favourite tea, a blanket – was anything missing? Well, other than his courage, because he had been staring at the basket for at least half an hour now as if his feet were nailed to the kitchen floor.
Even Vernon, as patient as he was, had begun to contemplate how to unglue Jihoon so he could freely access the fridge again.
“Dude,” he finally sighed, “can you move? I’m hungry.”
“There’s food on the stove,” Jihoon mumbled off-handedly, still in a panicked daze. Vernon glanced towards the stove and found nothing on it.
Why was he so panicked anyway? It was one thing to hesitate before kissing you, but this? This was worse. He was paralysed by fear and he didn’t even understand why.
It’s not like this was your first date.
“Have you never taken a girl out on a date before?” Vernon wondered, brows furrowing as he attempted to make sure his roommate hadn’t been replaced by a faulty android or a hologram.
And just as the words left Vernon’s mouth, Jihoon seemed to wake up. His eyes widened. “I’ve never taken a girl out on a date before.”
Vernon blinked. “You’ve been dating her since, like, fall.”
“Yeah, but she initiated everything,” Jihoon whined, suddenly hyper aware of the way his knees felt like jelly and his hands trembled.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“First date?”
“She took me to the movies.”
“First kiss?”
“She went in first.”
“Who asked the other one out?”
“She asked me.” Jihoon let out another whine. “God, I’m so bad at this whole boyfriend thing. Isn’t there, like, a manual or something?”
“If there is, you’d probably be better off,” Vernon pointed out with a chuckle. “Dude, if she’s stuck with you this long, then she’s not going to break up with you over you taking her on a picnic.”
“But what if she’s actually busy or it rains or–”
“What’s with you and all those what-ifs? Just get out there, take her hand and have a picnic.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Jihoon whispered and hung his head in shame.
“Because it is that easy.”
It was not, in fact, that easy. Jihoon tripped almost three times just on the way to meet you at the park – that’s how nervous he was. And it’s not like he was afraid of you or your reaction.
He just wanted everything to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And if he couldn’t be perfect with or for you, what was even the point?
Still, even as his nerves threatened to make him throw up in a nearby garbage can, he braved through the anxiety and made his way over to you. He forced on a smile as he approached you, but it soon melted into a genuine one upon seeing your excited grin.
“Hi, darling,” he whispered before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Did you have a good day?”
“It’s barely afternoon,” you joked. Jihoon grimaced: first strike. Two more and he’d pay someone to throw him off a bridge. (He noted that Seungcheol or Joshua seemed like a good choice for that.)
“So,” you rubbed your palms together after helping him set the blanket on the ground, “what are we eating?”
He breathed out shakily before opening the basket. “So… there’s sandwiches – I didn’t know which ones you’d like more so I made a bunch of everything, but if you don’t like any, I’ll run to the store and–”
“Jihoon,” you stopped him with a stern smile and a pat on his cheek – strike two –, “baby, stop acting like it’s the first time we’ve interacted. There’s no need to be shy with me. I love you regardless.”
“I’m sorry, I just–”
“Stop apologising.” Strike three – might as well decide on a bridge now.
“I just want everything to be perfect for you,” he admitted with a sad smile, “but I guess I get too in my own head about it and then–”
You leaned forward and kissed him before he could go any further. When you leaned back, his eyes were wide in disbelief.
“You– Why did you do that?”
“You were rambling too much.” You smiled at him again, sweeter this time, before kissing him once more. “Everything is perfect already. This picnic is perfect. The weather is perfect. This moment is perfect. You’re perfect. Don’t worry so much. Just breathe and enjoy.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours once again: a gift because you always knew exactly what to say.
“So,” your smile never seemed to fade, “can you stop worrying about everything now?”
He breathed out a defeated sigh and nodded, earning a cheer from you.
As the two of you began eating, he made conversation, “So, how’s your apartment search going?”
You shrugged. “I’ve found two places. I’m going to see the second one tomorrow, but the first one is very nice. Like, way too nice for that price.”
“And that’s bad somehow?” He laughed.
“It’s way below market rate. It’s too good to be true,” you told him with a soft sigh, closing your eyes as he mindlessly reached to play with your fingers. “I wonder what the quirk is. Like, why is it so cheap? The landlord seemed like a sweet woman and all, but there’s bound to be something weird about that place, right?”
“Maybe it’s haunted,” he joked, making a ‘scary’ face as he stared at you, only to prompt a laugh.
“Will you come and save me if it is?”
He grimaced. “Hell no. Ghosts are scary business. You’d have to find a different boyfriend.”
“Fine, fine,” you laughed and patted his cheek, “leave all the saving to me instead, then. I’ll protect you.”
“My hero,” he swooned, a hand over his heart.
You stared at the ceiling of your new bedroom, practically vibrating with anxiety about the day to come as well as the added responsibilities of adulting outside of a dorm.
Jihoon, having agreed to stay a few nights for mental support (and a Marvel movie marathon), gave you a weird look.
“Sorry,” you apologised and willed your body to stay still, sure you had annoyed your boyfriend into leaving, “I guess I’m just more nervous about tomorrow than I thought.”
“I think you’re overthinking this,” he chuckled and leaned over to brush a stray hair off your forehead. “It’s just a seminar. You’ve been to those before.”
“Yeah, but this one’s in a foreign language,” you whined and rolled over to hide your face in his chest. “You know my French sucks.”
He scoffed but was thoroughly amused. “I’ve never even heard you speak French.”
“Exactly. Point proven. Now let me suffer in peace.”
Jihoon sighed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to your head. “Is there any way I can help you feel better?”
You shook your head ‘no’ and burrowed further into the comforting darkness his sweater provided. You had no interest in being comforted – what you needed was to go to sleep before 3 am and not wake up with nightmares. Unfortunately, Jihoon couldn’t do that for you, as amazing as he was.
He was just as stumped, but less in the mood to give up. In fact, he was rarely in the mood to give up.
Still feeling you shaking in his arms, he reached his free hand to get his phone and text the group chat once again, begging for help as he had done so many times before. The help came faster than ever before, as if his friends had a shared 7th sense for Jihoon’s girlfriend troubles.
[C.VN.: bro, arent u good at singing? have u sung to her?]
[but… what do i sing?]
[K.SY.: a song.]
[whaT SONG?]
[X.MH.: you’re literally a music major, i’m sure you can think of a song or two??]
[i’m a uni student, not a jukebox??]
With sleep still unwilling to claim you, you sighed deeply. There was no room to further burrow into your boyfriend’s comforting embrace. An idea hit: maybe a cup of nice peppermint tea could calm you down.
“Ji, can we go make–” you quietly began but were interrupted by a soft rumbling of his chest. And then you heard it: he was humming. You lifted your head to watch him, unable to tear your eyes from the way his lips oh-so-gracefully parted to sing to you, even as he was still searching for the lyrics on his phone.
Suddenly realising you had said something, he paused, eyes widening as he looked at you. “Sorry, did you say something?”
You shook your head no and continued staring at him.
Awkward under you gaze, his ears flushed red. He avoided your eyes and turned back to his phone, scrolling through it as a distraction: ads had never looked so interesting before.
“Keep singing,” you whispered to him, hoping he’d hear your plea and fulfil your wish.
He took a deep breath, his hand freezing on the tiny screen. And just as you had hoped, his lips parted again. This time, he really sang, lyrics and all. His voice carried through your room, echoing back from the yet-to-be-decorated walls and filling the space in a comforting manner.
As you listened to him, you realised he had never sung to you before. He had hidden this part of himself for so long. And yet you were already enamoured with it.
When he finished one song, his lips pursed back together and he hummed a mysterious melody that you could only suspect he had come up with on the spot to fill the silence. Then he began a second song, then a third.
By the fifth song, you were blissfully unaware of your daily troubles and the seminar waiting for you at 10 am. You were deep asleep in his arms, feeling the safest you ever had.
Upon realising you had finally succumbed to the call of dreamland, Jihoon chuckled and locked his phone. His newly free hand reached to stroke your cheek.
“Little Miss Can’t Fall Asleep falls asleep a lot easier than she claims,” he joked to noone in particular and craned his neck to press another kiss to your temple before settling back down and closing his own eyes.
[S.SC.: go shopping with her. i’m sure she needs some things for her new place. she might appreciate the company.]
“I still don’t understand how you don’t have a car,” you started up the topic for the third time this hour.
Jihoon had never considered you annoying before – not even to the mildest extent – but he was slowly starting to get annoyed. He sighed. “Getting a licence seems like such a hassle.”
“It’s freeing,” you argued, amused by your new-found ability to annoy him even the tiniest bit. “You don’t depend on public transportation or your friends anymore. It’s great.”
“I can get everywhere on foot just fine.” He rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to cover your mouth as you began to speak again. “Didn’t you say you needed new towels? I’m pretty sure we walked straight past those.”
Unable to form proper words under the weight of his hand, you just hummed and let him lead you back to the towel aisle. It was only once you were there that he removed his hand again, wiping it against his hoodie. “Why do you need new towels anyway? It’s not like the ones you’ve used so far are contaminated.”
“It’s the principle, Jihoon,” you told him while scanning through the options. “New place, new me – that type of deal.”
“Sounds like a trick of capitalism,” he joked and leaned his torso forward against the shopping cart you had already half-filled with baskets, blankets, cushions and pillows of all shapes and sizes.
You turned to glare at him. “Are you my boyfriend or my financial advisor?”
“Both, if you pay me well enough.”
“Whatever. What colour towels should I get?”
He shrugged. “I’m a big fan of the colour black.”
You sighed. “That’s so boring. How about blue?”
He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “I could be persuaded.”
“I’m taking that as a yes,” you sang and picked up two of the larger fluffy blue towels – one lighter and the other darker in shade. You barely managed to fit them in the cart before your eyes lit up with a new quest in sight. “Oh, we need slippers too.”
He only hummed and swiftly (or as swiftly as one can move a shopping cart that clearly has never been maintained in the 10 years it's been in use) manoeuvred the cart to follow after you. Once he finally found you in the footwear aisle, he was confronted by two pairs of slippers – one black, the other baby pink – in his face. He tilted his head to offer you a confused look.
Without any malice behind it, you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Pick a colour.”
“Black.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I know you’re waiting for me to tell you ‘pink’ and I’m not giving you nor Mingyu that satisfaction,” he countered before nodding towards his colour of choice again. “Black.”
“Fine,” you sighed in defeat and placed the pink ones back, only to pick up a different size of the same colour and place it in the cart.
His eyebrows rose. “What are you–?”
“What size slippers do you wear?”
“Me?” He frowned. “Why would my opinion on any of this matter? It’s your apartment. Why are you making me choose the colour of the towels and the shower curtain and the–”
He fell silent, his mouth still ajar in wordless awe as the realisation hit. You tried your hardest to act cool under his disbelieving stare.
“I– I’m not moving in with you,” he whispered, his eyes softening as he reached for your arm as if to comfort you. “We talked about this. I still need some time.”
“I’m not asking you to move in yet,” you laughed sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “I just thought it would be nice if you could visit without worrying about bringing your things. You’re my boyfriend. I just want you to be comfortable when you come over to stay the night or when you don’t feel like going back to your and Vernon’s place after a long day and–”
Your words faded to the background as he continued staring at you. He was so used to being the one full of hesitation, overthinking his actions, trying to act nonchalant when he finally committed. Seeing you do the same? His heart grew two sizes larger and suddenly he couldn’t contain himself.
Without thinking about it, he pulled you into a hug, effectively silencing your doubts and rambled justifications just like you had done for him so many times before.
“You should’ve just said so, silly,” he laughed and held you even tighter.
[C.VN.: u know, i heard study dates are popular with the girls]
[you’re just trying to get me out of the dorm, aren't you?]
[C.VN.: u cant prove anything]
Sitting across from him in the living room, you watched in silence as Jihoon tapped away at his keyboard. His fingers seemed to fly across the keys at the speed of light, typing out a word and then deleting it. He did so a thousand times before huffing out a sigh and leaning his head back to glare at the ceiling.
“Have you tried taking a break?” you asked him softly, wanting not to scare or irritate him.
His head lolled back to a normal position and he offered an unamused raise of his brows. “Have you seen me take any breaks?”
You grimaced. “Then maybe it’s time to take a break now.”
“Sorry, darling,” he sighed and shook his head, “I need this essay finished by midnight. I’ve been putting this off for too long as it is.”
You glanced at the clock. “Midnight’s still 10 hours away though. You have time to take a break.”
He rolled his eyes and glared at his laptop screen. A blank page with only the title ‘Western Philosophy 101 Final Essay’ mocked him. “A break from what? I haven’t even done anything.”
“You’ve been thinking hard.”
“Darling, I don’t think you understand how essay-writing works. There’s no use in thinking if no writing comes out of it.”
You reached over to take his hands off the keyboard. His fingers instinctively wrapped around yours, squeezing them just enough to comfort the both of you. “Writing will come out of it if you just relax and just take a break, I promise.”
Jihoon wanted to argue, he really did. But then he looked up from the screen and into your eyes, tempting him to just agree. And while he wasn’t one to give up easily, he was definitely someone who wanted fulfil every wish his loved-ones ever made.
And so, he gave up this time. Defeated, he slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Alright, what do you have in mind?”
“How long do you have?” you asked, feeling mischievous all of a sudden.
He glanced at his watch before shrugging. “An hour, maybe.”
That was all you needed to pull him towards yourself by the hands. He stumbled a little, just about falling into your lap with a whine of protest before settling exactly where he landed, too tired to care further. His eyes fell closed the moment he felt your warmth against himself.
Without even thinking about it, you reached down to play with his hair. The silky strands ran through your fingers with ease and Jihoon could only hum in appreciation at the gesture. While this wasn’t the cuddle position you had had in mind, you couldn’t say no to the rare chance to dote on your otherwise independent boyfriend.
“This is nice,” he sighed softly and nuzzled his face against your belly, happy to hide from his horrible philosophy final. He lazily opened one eye to look at you, admiring you with the same love as you did him. “We should do this more often.”
“I would love to,” you told him with a sweet laugh and he was glad that he was lying down because his knees felt a little weak all of a sudden. “See, I told you you needed a break.”
He hummed in agreement, closing his eye again. “I feel like I might fall asleep though. And then who will finish my essay? You?”
“How about I just wake you up in, like, 40 minutes instead?” you offered.
With a cheerful giggle, he hid his face further into the fabric of your shirt. His voice sounded muffled as he spoke, “You don’t like philosophy either?”
“Cried my way all the way through the midterms and swore to never take anything philosophy-related again.”
“That’s good. I should do that,” he slurred his words and before long, all you heard were his soft snores.
Jihoon liked to think he wasn’t particularly clingy. He didn’t need constant assurance from his friends that he was still loved and wanted – he knew they liked and wanted him around. He knew that you liked and wanted him around.
But when your near-hourly updates about the randomest things you had seen and done were replaced by radio silence, Jihoon grew more and more anxious. Though he knew it was silly to think so, he couldn’t help but worry he had annoyed you into leaving him.
Throughout the day, he kept glancing at his phone. Even just a single message – heck, even an emoji – would make his day infinitely better. When he wasn’t staring at his phone, begging for any notification with your name on it, he was looking at the people around him in the hopes of seeing your familiar face among them.
The day went by without as much as a sign from you.
He felt silly. He felt dumb. He felt like he was going to cry very real tears if you didn’t respond to his text before midnight.
He let out a loud sigh of relief when your nickname finally popped up on his screen. The tears gathered in his eyes dissipated slowly as he shakily unlocked the phone and tapped on your newest message.
[darling ♡: oh my god. i’m sorry for not answergi !! so sorry!!!]
Jihoon blinked away the remnants of his anxious tears and smiled at the sight of your words. You hadn’t left him just yet. He still had a girlfriend who cared for him.
[it’s okay. did something happen?]
[darling ♡: yeah hahah funny story actually…]
[darling ♡: i think i caught something and i’ve been trying to sleep it off haha]
And just like that, his anxiety was back. Jihoon straightened in his seat, one hand still typing while the other blindly searched for his jacket.
[youre sick?,??m???]
[darling ♡: a little bit…]
[i’m coming over-]
Before you could send a message of protest, he shrugged his jacket on and headed out the door. Even though he realistically knew that he wouldn’t be much help and would just end up sick himself, he couldn’t just let you suffer all alone.
As he practically galloped down the stairs from his 3rd floor dorm, he texted the group chat for help and assurance.
[L.SM.: she’s sick?! make her dinner! what’s her favourite soup??]
Jihoon paused mid-step. What was your favourite soup?
He arrived at your apartment just ten minutes later, a bag in hand. You greeted him at the door, bags under your eyes, skin dull and lips dry. Jihoon couldn’t help but pout at the sight.
“What happened to you?” he asked, reaching up to brush his thumb across the cracked skin of your lips. “Have you been drinking water at all?”
“The fridge is too far from the bed,” you told him with a defeated sigh before practically melting into his embrace. “I told you not to come.”
He scoffed out a laugh and began rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. “Well, I’m here anyway. And I’m making you food. How does tomato soup sound?”
“Like you don’t know how to make chicken soup,” you answered with a suspicious squint of your eyes.
He laughed at that, ears turning red at the way you had caught onto his scheme. “Alright, I think you should go back to resting.”
“You should go to sleep too,” you argued. “It’s past midnight already and you have classes tomorrow.”
“I can skip a day.” He said it with such ease and carelessness that you couldn’t help but wonder who this man was because your boyfriend hadn’t skipped any classes in the entire time you had been together.
Still, you were too tired to care. Soup sounded better than sleeping on an empty stomach for another 12 hours.
“Can I at least help you cook?” you practically begged, hanging onto his arm as he began preparing in the kitchen.
A little taken aback by your affection, he laughed nervously. “Aren’t you tired?”
“I think I’m starting to feel better actually,” you half-joked, watching with starry eyes as he expertly washed and then chopped the tomatoes. “Seeing you has recharged me with energy.”
“Yeah?” He hummed in thought before offering you a mischievous smile. “Then do you have enough energy to go and rest a little?”
Your face dropped. “Why can’t you just accept my love?”
“Because I’m pretty sure you’re feverish and standing up for long won’t do you any good, darling,” he whispered before pressing a swift kiss to your cheek and returning to his task. “So, go rest on the sofa. I can go get your laptop so you can watch something, if you want.”
“But what if I want to cuddle?”
“Cuddle a pillow.”
“You’re cruel.”
He rolled his eyes at your dramatic antics. Clearly the fever was affecting you worse than he had feared. “When I literally ran across the district to come here and make you soup at midnight?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “Fine, you can stay,” he paused and gave a warning glare, even if it looked far less threatening with the smile playing on his lips, “for now.”
You let out a soft cheer and cuddled back into his side, resting your cheek on his shoulder as he made you soup. You marvelled at the graceful movements of his hands. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of his friends he had made food for. For now you were just glad to be one of them.
“I hope I recover fast,” you whispered. “Or maybe I should just stay sick forever.”
“Why?”
“I have a stupid presentation next week. I haven’t even started reading to prepare for it.” You buried your face into the fabric of his hoodie. He took a moment to press his cheek against your head in an act of assurance. You sighed and mumbled a final, “Stupid finals.”
He laughed at that. “I’ll get you some medicine tomorrow so you can recover fast.”
With a groan, you straightened up a little again to side-eye him. “Can’t you just leave me here to suffer? Or help me fake my death? What kind of a boyfriend are you?”
“The kind that wants his girlfriend to be healthy for our end-of-the-semester date night,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
His confidence really made you wonder if you had forgotten about this clearly existing tradition between the two of you. But no, you were pretty sure he had just made this up. Or perhaps you were too loopy from paracetamol to remember.
Either way, you let yourself get carried away into a fantasy of sharing a date night with only your boyfriend and no university stress. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought.
The end of the semester came faster than Jihoon or any of his friends would have liked. It snuck up on them between the despair and sleepless nights of the exam session. And he could not have been happier about it.
Once he had submitted the final essay of the semester – the very last graded project he’d have to submit before a well-deserved break –, he slammed his laptop shut and looked at you, still hunched over your laptop on the bed, re-reading the last paragraphs of your own essay.
“Hold on,” you told him upon feeling his eyes on yourself, “I’m almost done.”
“No rush,” he replied with a sweet smile before letting out a soft giggle of relief and falling back onto your mattress, his arms spread out as if to soak in the freedom.
As if the sight of your boyfriend basking in the glow of no more exams had motivated you to finish sooner than you planned, you hurriedly rushed to upload your final assignment. A green check mark appeared on the screen to indicate that you could finally join your boyfriend.
With a loud cheer, you closed your own laptop and crawled over to where your boyfriend was lying. Immediately you burrowed into his side and sighed happily. “This semester sucked.”
“You can say that again,” he agreed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders like he had done so many times before. “But at least it’s over now.”
You hated to be the wet blanket but… “Unless one of us fails.”
He groaned and used the same arm to roll you away from him. “I hate you. Go away.”
You laughed at the way he scrunched up his face in distaste as if he had swallowed bitter medicine. “I’m just saying. We’re not safe yet.”
“We’re safe enough,” he declared and waved your negative thoughts away. “God, I hate you, now you’re making me anxious.”
“You don’t actually hate me,” you sang and rolled back over to him, settling right on top of him, your nose against his own. “In fact, you like me.”
He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasped and sat up, resting your hand on his chest as you leaned upright to glared at him. “Unfortunately?!”
He laughed at your theatrics, giggling with his whole body, shaking so hard in the process that you lost your balance and fell back right on top of him. His arm came to rest around your shoulders again. Once he was out of giggles, he continued smiling and caressed your cheek. “You’re so freaking cute. It’s unfair.”
“Take back that ‘unfortunately’ and I might get even cuter,” you told him, a suspicious glare set on him.
His smile never faded as he leaned up just a little, resting his entire body weight on one arm just to press his lips to yours. “I take the word back.”
“Good,” you decided and joined in his laughter before kissing him again, “because I kind of love you, actually.”
He froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, his lips parted in a silent gasp of surprise.
He stayed like that for long enough to make you worry you had made your move too fast. He liked to take it slow – you knew that. He had been taking it slow all this time. And now you’ve confessed and he probably thought you were ridiculous and dumb and–
“Darling…” His lips curled into a smile, his eyes turning into joyful crescents, and then he leaned in again.
His hands came to rest on your cheeks, squishing them just a little as he pulled you to his lips. He kissed you again and again and again.
He kissed you until you were dumb. He didn’t stop kissing you until you were sure you couldn’t form a single word that wasn’t his name.
Then, eventually, with both of your lips swollen and eyes dazed, he leaned back and nuzzled his nose against your own. “I love you so, darling, I really do.”
It took you a moment to understand what he was saying. He had kissed you so dumb that you could’ve sworn he was speaking in another language. But finally, your brain caught up with the situation and a smile appeared on your face, bright and proud and full of adoration for your boyfriend.
“You should kiss me like that more often,” you told him, teasing, trying to see what he’d do.
He replied with a playful roll of his eyes and another kiss, a single one but much longer than the last twenty.
“I love you,” you whispered again against his lips.
His smile only seemed to brighten even more at that. “I love you too.”
But as he was about to go in for another kiss, a loud vibration sounded from somewhere in the sheets. The two of you glanced around as the vibrations continued, breaking you from the romantic daze.
“Is someone calling you?” he wondered.
“My phone’s been on silent since the dawn of time, babe,” you told him easily and helped him look for his phone. “It must be yours.”
Just when you said those words, the vibrations abruptly stopped. And then another vibration came, short and gentle this time.
You found his phone under the pillows, Soonyoung’s contact name appearing alongside the missed call symbol and a minimised text message on the screen.
“It’s your tiger friend,” you told Jihoon and turned to hand the phone to him when the phone vibrated again with a new message coming in.
It wasn’t your fault that the whole screen flashed to life with the message – what were you supposed to do? Not read it?
[K.SY.: oh, nonie said u’re with y/n?]
And then another message arrived before he could take the phone from your hands.
[K.SY.: have u told her u love her yet ??!?!!]
[K.SY.: the chat is rootin for u!!!! u’ve been good at following our advice this far. u’ve got this!!]
A mischievous smile appeared on your face as you read the message. Jihoon didn’t realise what made you react this way until he took his phone and read the message minimised on his lockscreen. He groaned as the realisation hit.
“Don’t start–”
“You told your friends that you loved me,” you beat him to it, reaching over to squish his cheeks and kiss his nose. “And you asked them for advice? You’re so goddamn cute.”
His ears got progressively more red with every word. He quickly swiped the messages off his screen and threw his phone as far away as he could without potentially breaking it. “It wasn’t like that–”
“I’m just teasing, baby,” you laughed and pulled him into a comforting hug. Poor man was mortified. “I do have to ask though: what kind of advice did you get from them?”
“Well,” he hesitated as you looked at him expectantly, “I wanted to be a good boyfriend, so… I asked them how to be a better boyfriend…”
You pressed your lips to his. “You’re a good boyfriend, Jihoon, I promise. You’re the best, actually.”
“I had to ask my friends for help just to get the courage to initiate a kiss,” he confessed, squeezing his eyes shut as the urge to cringe and hide away under the bed overcame him. “I’m a mediocre boyfriend, at most.”
“I strongly disagree,” you told him and pulled him in for another kiss, “but we’ll work on your confidence, my love.”
♡ THE END! ♡
#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#svt scenarios#seventeen fluff#woozi x reader#woozi scenarios#woozi fluff#lee jihoon scenarios#woozi
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Evidence that Krerdly will/could in fact become canon
So usually when I ship something Im like yea this is not going to be in the actual thing but I always see other people all like "PLEASE LET THIS BE IN THE ACTUAL THING" and I genuinely can't tell if they're joking or not like do we actually care that much are we stupid do we need mental help
Anyway here's my evidence as to why it will (could) be(come) canon because fuck you.
Berdly saying he has a crush on Susie is extremely unreliable, as he just kind of randomly decides he has one out of the blue and it's obvious she doesn't like him back and he's stupid very smart and terrible great at reading the room and therefore thinks she does anyway.
the following dialogue is after the queen battle:
(some trivia: dextrose refers to a type of sugar, I think our little boy was trying to sound clever with a big word and didn't use it right, or he meant to say "dexterous" which he would ALSO be using wrong btw, as it means "clever" and right now he wants to be stupid which makes him calling them clever out of character. )
There's his first lot of dialogue. Then interact with him again and he says this shit
His reasoning?
There's a lot to unpack here.
Berdly tells Kris he must turn them down because he thinks he likes Susie and is under the assumption that she likes him back. Nowhere is it implied that he is not actually interested in Kris; it is only indicated that right at this moment Berdly's sights are set on Susie because there are things about her that he really admires, and so his interest is set on her. Notice how he refers to his life as a VN. That means visual novel. He sees himself as a man amongst a variety of love interests, and believes he can only choose one, as is the case with a typical visual novel, which indicates that Berdly thinks he is monogamous (I say "thinks" due to the popular theory that he might not truly desire romance at all and just claims to since that is what he currently equates any form of intimacy to). Among the people he has marked as love interests are Susie and Kris, and so therefore he is not necessarily uninterested in Kris. He sees them as a potential match, but they are not the one he's focused on.
He says Kris is being insistent about something. While this could be him misinterpreting them showing concern for him for romantic affection, as he does have this weird fixation on romance, this line of dialogue is actually really weird for a variety of reasons if we really look at it.
He says that Kris is being "insistent" on something, and that he "must turn them down." While it is easy to assume interacting with him caused Berdly to think that showing him additional concern by talking to him means you like him romantically, you must also consider the fact that throughout the game Kris is implied to say things on their own, but we ourselves never actually get to see what they are saying. Take for example here:
I'm certain this is the case with non cutscene moments, too, where you interact with NPCs and stuff. I can only really think off the top of my head to how even when u interact with one of the swords in ur inventory Noelle tells you to stop hitting you with it, and also there are times where Kris is moving on their own despite the soul not having wandered off like in the offscreen Ralsei dialogues, plus there's Kris removing their soul sometimes which always follows us controlling them... essentially they DO still have some control over themselves even when we are controlling THEM and they can still talk on their own, which I don't see how that doesn't include interacting with NPCs outside of battle or cutscenes. I just am too lazy to open the game up again and scour it for more NPC's responding to something we didn't hear Kris say, so instead I gave you an elaborate explanation of how Kris works and it works just as well so fuck you. But feel free to look for examples of NPC's outside of battle or cutscenes responding to something Kris probably said anyway and rb this with your findings that would be great.
Back to Berdly turning Kris down. Both of Berdly's dialogues are in response to something. This second line in particular looks really suspect, and makes me believe Kris may have actually done something overt in order to cause Berdly's focus to shift towards romance, and the reason Ralsei never says anything about it is so we don't notice that our character acted on their own- as he is definitely judging them for saying that LOL. I just don't see how it makes sense for him to just say that unprompted (granted, he is a weirdo, but in a cute innocent sort of way, and not the perverted incel freak some fans make him out to be but); it just feels to overtly a reply to something said to him than it does to him SIMPLY being interacted with.
Counterargument for this second point now: it's very possible that when we interact with Berdly, Kris did something to just comfort him, like put their hand on his shoulder or something like that, and them doing it more than once causes Berdly to mistaken the gesture for a romantic advance, and I was just over analyzing it because I ship them and I relate to Berdly which means I'm a nerdy idiot genius just like him. This still does not negate point number one, though.
3. Berdly is not disgusted by the prospect of romance with Kris. His reasoning for turning them down is because he's focused on Susie; nowhere is it said that it is due to their gender or appearance or anything like that at all. I assumed he was doing some hetero-normative thing with how Noelle and Susie are both girls and he's a boy but Kris lacking a gender and him not being like "eww no" to them indicates to me that he wouldn't necessarily mind something queer going on.
I want to look at the visual novel thing some more because I've honest to god never seen anyone else talk about it.
I think that he sees Kris, Susie and Noelle as potential partners. He's not interested in Noelle himself and says that he only pretends to be because he thinks she is. It's obvious he thinks that if he were to not, she might leave him, as this romantic interest he thinks she has in him is what he believes is the reason why she even tolerates him in the first place. Were she to ask him out (she wouldn't; this is from his perspective), Berdly undoubtedly would say yes, even if it isn't really what he wants, because what he really wants is to keep her around since he literally relies on her for his studies. He confesses to not liking her in chapter 2 because he wants her to know that his sights are set on Susie and doesn't want that to break her heart.
Susie is a new one, as he suddenly finds himself admiring her and confuses this admiration for her for romantic affection. He is undoubtedly going to continue trying to pursue her until he is inevitably not only shut down but learns about her and Noelle.
Lastly, there's Kris, who, besides Noelle, is one of Berdly's only friends. While he is their rival, he does show a lot of affection for them throughout the game, even back in chapter 1. In the library he tells Kris that he was worried about them.
He also offers them a random discount on the overdue book just really randomly, which is so sweet of him honestly. There is a layer of pretentiousness, smugness, and condescending-ness throughout his dialogue in the library, which is just him trying to prove himself better than Kris.
youtube
It is implied/shown that he sees a lot of potential in them. He refers to Kris as the third smartest student in class, which, despite seeming like an insult at first, is still a bit of a compliment in its own way. Talking down to Kris is sort of a defense mechanism for him. I think this is displayed really well in the scene below:
He does, however, really care about Kris at the end of the day and it's clear he values them. I really want to bring up the scene where you give him the present. First, he doesn't even EXPECT you to be gifting him, and walks into the scene assuming you're not on his side, taking it personally when he sees you with Susie. Then, when you do give him the present, he's initially shocked, then genuinely really happy and appreciative of it, to the point that he kind of almost drops the snarky attitude. I also really want to note that he doesn't even say thank you. Like he doesn't even know how to react. Poor guy.
youtube
Throughout chapter 2, we see that the two of them have played video games together, that Berdly trusts Kris enough to want to do puzzles with them while he's struggling to do them alone in the mansion, and so yeah, it can be concluded that despite Berdly's attempts to push Kris away and prove himself as their superior, he does genuinely care about them a lot.
So, Krerdly.
Krerdly.
The only thing getting in the way right now is that Berdly is focused on Susie. Though he might think what happened was a dream in the pacifist route, he probably is going to be fixated on her both there and in the neutral route due to now assuming he has a crush on her and her liking him back; he doesn't realize that he's mistaking his admiration for and desire to get closer to her for a crush. What will kill this for him is when he finally gets to see her with Noelle and realizes neither of them liked him romantically. He'd probably then turn to Kris and ask them if they liked him, since they're the one other person on that list of love interests I just did. And regardless of whether or not you say yes, he'd still be left thinking about them a little bit, and start to seek intimacy with them since Susie and Noelle are now fixated on eachother, and Berdly thinks he needs romance so he's looking towards someone who could potentially bring him that as well: his close friend who is still single.
And then you can date him and yay Krerdly real.
That's my theory.
Goodnight.
#krerdly#kris deltarune#kris dreemur#kris dreemurr#berdly#analysis#deltarune#deltarune analysis#deltarune chapter 1#deltarune chapter 2#susie deltarune#krispy chicken#suselle#noelle holiday#ralsei#theory#speculation#shipping#Youtube
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P.J.Hogan's 'Peter Pan' is still an underrated masterpiece 20 years later
Peter Pan is a live-action fantasy adventure film directed by P. J. Hogan that reimagines the classic story of Peter and Wendy. The screenplay was written by P. J. Hogan and Michael Goldenberg and was released in cinemas in December 2003. The screenplay is based on the 1904 play Peter Pan, or The Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Upand the classic novel Peter Pan by J.M.Barrie, which was originally published under the title Peter and Wendy.
The film tells the story of a young Edwardian girl, Wendy Darling (Rachel Hurd-Wood) and her two younger brothers John and Michael. On the night she is told she must grow up, a wild, fairy-like boy called Peter Pan (Jeremy Sumpter) flies into her room with his high-maintenance fairy Tinkerbell. When he learns that she tells stories, he whisks Wendy and her two brothers away to a magical Island called Neverland — where you supposedly don’t “grow up” — so that she can mother his henchmen, the Lost Boys. There she fights pirates led by the evil Captain Hook (Jason Isaacs), meets mermaids, dances with fairies, falls in love and grows up.
I have strong family connections tied to Peter and Wendy and J.M.Barrie. My great, great uncle Nico was one of the sons of Sylvia Llewelyn Davies'. He and his other brothers "the Lost Boys" were adopted by J.M.Barrie; which ultimately inspired him to write Peter Pan. Nico’s daughter Laura — my cousin — who I met for the first time a few years ago, told me that she was flown to Australia for the filming of P.J. Hogan’s Peter Pan because she was J.M.Barrie’s goddaughter. She told me that she was thrilled with the cast, especially Jason Isaacs, who played Captain Hook and Mr Darling. She also mentioned that Jeremy Sumpter, who played Peter Pan, was a lovely boy. However, she said she was very surprised and sad that the film wasn’t a big success as she really liked what they did with the story. I have loved the fairytale of Peter Pan from a young age, and learning that I am literally part of the family that inspired the story was very exciting and I’ve only begun to internalise it more as I’ve grown older.
When I was in my mid-twenties, I was diagnosed with a high level of Autism. One of my main symptoms was labelled “ageless”, which in simple terms means that one half of me is still a child that I can’t mentally leave behind. I can’t do many things that most adults can do, such as pay bills, drive a car, look after my own well being etc. I flap my hands when I get excited. I bounce. I sometimes speak in a baby voice. I overcommit to things I enjoy. I admit that it was hard to come to terms with the diagnosis when I first received it. But over time, I’ve come to believe that the two can coexist in a healthy way. I believe that I am an adult who is able to develop and grow while still carrying the child within me, and that this is not seen as a bad thing. I think Peter and Wendy can be seen as a reflection of that.
I was first introduced to P.J. Hogan’s Peter Pan a few years after it was released (I was maybe nine or ten years old), and I absolutely loved it. It wasn’t only one of my favourite film adaptations, but one of my favourite movies of all time. What surprised me most about the film at that age was how dark and gruesome it was, and full of this underlying sexual tension that I hadn’t expected at all from Peter Pan. Even today, this film still has a special place in my heart. It is made with so much passion and love for the original text that I can automatically put myself back into the story. After watching the film again as an adult, I almost immediately opened my copy of Peter and Wendy and started reading. I would even go so far as to say that I prefer the film to the book. However, part of me wishes that the age rating had been set much higher, as the dark and gruesome moments were some of the strongest parts of the film adaptation. This is possibly why some critics and viewers had difficulty categorising the film at the time.
However, I often consider P.J.Hogan’s Peter Pan to be the same equivalent as Joe Wright’s Pride and Prejudice. (which came out a few years later in 2005, starring Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen). The film moves at the same dreamlike pace. It is light, dark, colourful and deeply romantic.
I also often prefer P.J.Hogan’s Peter Pan to the 1953 Disney Animation of the same name, even though it’s the version I grew up with and liked. I find it much less straightforward and innocent. Also, the 2003 film is much closer to the original source material, which I loved reading as a teenager, and to J.M.Barrie’s original vision. The film manages to reflect the same intellectual subtext and depth of the novel while retaining the whimsy and magic.
Magical Realism
Peter Pan was a perfect blend of fantasy and realism. A lot of media these days focus too much on “realism” and make their sets and CGI look bland and washed out. It’s a common myth these days that no one likes whimsy anymore; it’s somehow seen as too childish. As a result, much of the magic of fantasy is lost. But in this Peter Pan, a lot of colour was used in the set design and cinematography. Everything was so brightly and colourfully lit. Most fantasy films these days, including the new live-action adaptation of Peter Pan and Wendy on Disney+, are all so gloomy and dark. You almost have to light up the screen to make out the actors’ facial expressions or what’s happening in the scene. But this film understands that a viewer who watches fantasy wants to be swept away, but also wants a certain amount of believability. Although the film contained a good amount of darkness, it did not shy away from being cartoonish either (which I think was partly inspired by the Disney animation), i.e. characters blushing or bouncing on the clouds.
The design of Neverland was breathtaking. I think the CGI, although criticised by some, made the island and creatures look more dreamy and fairytale-like. It was a good combination of CGI for the landscapes and real backdrops for the jungle, so there was enough magic and believability to transport the viewer into the story. A bright colour palette was used for the landscapes, while down-to-earth colours such as browns and greens were used on the ground, such as in “The Lost Boys Hide” under the tree, to give a sense of realism. The costume department also reflected this, from the majestic reds and blacks of the pirates, to the earthly colours of blue and red for the Native Americans, to the natural greens and browns of the Lost boys. I noticed that the colours in Neverland were used as a contrast to the Edwardian London back home, which is realistic but dull compared to the island.
One aspect I liked was that the lighting on Neverland always changed depending on the mood of the scene- unlike the naturalistic lighting on Earth. It was almost as if the island was a living being. For example, when there was a fight on the ship, the lighting was red. When Peter took Wendy to the mermaids, who were scary and frightening, the lighting was dark and blue. This created a surrealistic atmosphere, almost like a fever dream or a kind of nightmare.
Sometimes the environment changed depending on Peter Pan’s mood in the respective scene. I particularly liked how Peter Pan influenced the weather on Neverland. Just his mere presence when he flew to the island changed the entire atmosphere in an instant. His feelings also determined whether it was summer or winter. In other words, its suggested in the film that the longer he has been there, the more the island has become a part of him, so that he can no longer leave it. It’s almost as if the island has transformed him into a magical being.
The exuberant musical score by James Newton Howard: I’ll never forget that. I think that was one of the first movies I saw where I actively noticed the music because it was so brilliant. Even today, the “Flying” soundtrack still gives me goosebumps. It perfectly encapsulates the whimsy, joy and imagination of Peter and Wendy. I loved that there were always different variations. One of my favourite pieces from the movie is ‘Fairy Dance’, which starts off cheerfully and moves up and down depending on the characters’ conflict/what they’re saying in the scene.
Cast
The cast of this film adaptation was magnificent. The look of all the actors not only matched the book description, but also the mood, especially with the Darling family. One of the standouts was Olivia Williams as Mrs Darling. She captured the gentleness of the character perfectly. I also loved the new addition of Aunt Millicent, played by Lynn Redgrave. She fitted into the story so well that I was surprised not to find her in the novel. She had the perfect amount of ridiculousness and hilarity that suited J.M.Barrie’s style.
One particular member of the cast we can probably all agree on that was perfect, was Jason Isaacs, who played both Wendy’s father Mr Darling and Captain Hook. He was certainly a star in this film for sure. I just can not think of anyone who could play him better, especially in a live-action film adaptation. He was particularly good in the role of Captain Hook. When I first saw the film as a child, I did not know that Captain Hook and Mr Darling were played by the same person until my dad pointed it out to me because he was so good. I loved how they portrayed Wendy’s dad as shy and reserved, as opposed to Captain Hook who was flamboyant and sinister. Mirror versions of each other in different realities — that’s a common theme throughout the film. As Captain Hook, Jason Isaacs perfectly captured the essence of viciousness, deviousness and brutality that was necessary for the character. But also the deep loneliness and frustration behind it all. I have seen a quote that was supposedly cut from the film (and never should have been) that provides so much context for his hatred of Peter Pan:
“Imagine a lion in a cage and into that cage flies a butterfly. If the lion was free, it would pay no heed to such creature. But the lion is not free…and so the butterfly drives him slowly insane.” — Captain Hook
They did a really good job of showing how Peter Pan and Captain Hook are mirror images of each other. Peter Pan is a child who secretly wants to be an adult, while Captain Hook is an adult who secretly wants to be a child. Both fight each other for different reasons, but the goal is the same. For example, there is a great scene towards the end where Captain Hook uses his wits to defeat Peter in a fight. Here it becomes clear that there is deep symbolism for the inevitability of adulthood and the loss of childhood. Jason Isaacs really showed off his acting talent here. I liked that he wasn’t portrayed as a “dumb villain”, which he easily could have been.
There were also some great performances among the adults. Most notable was Richard Briers as the ‘pirate’’ Smee. But the child actors, especially the lost boys, really held the movie together. Their solid performances made it so believable that the island was ruled by children. I loved Theodore Chester as Slightly. He was very charming and funny in that role.
Another member of the cast I thought was brilliant was Carsen Grey, an indigenous actress of Haida descent, who played Princess Tiger Lily. I liked that they let her speak her ancestral language, Mohican, in this film. Although this film came out in the early 2000s, it is the only version of Peter and Wendy in which Native Americans are neither erased nor white-washed even though the representation is far from great. Considering how they’re treated in the novel, it’s perhaps for the best overall that they limited some of their scenes. However, I liked how firey she was in this adaptation and not the damsel in distress she was portrayed as in the Disney animation. I think it was a wise decision to cut the infatuation she had with Peter Pan, as it was really just one line in the book that would have added unnecessary drama, and all in all, it would have fallen short if all the female characters were jealous of each other.
They also downplayed Tinkerbell’s jealousy in this regard, portraying it more as her trying to protect Peter Pan’s youth from romantic advances, as hinted at in the novel, and also being sad that Wendy is attracting all of Peter Pan’s attention. Ludivine Sagnier has, in my opinion, succeeded well in making Tinkerbell equally repulsive and endearing, as befits the character.
Wendy Darling
Rachel Hurd-Wood was the perfect cast for the role of Wendy Darling.I was actually surprised to learn that this was her first film role ever, because she was a natural. She effortlessly possessed the same caring nature and charm that makes Wendy so endearing. She is exactly how I imagine the character when I read the story. When people talk about Peter and Wendy, they always mention Tinkerbell, Pan or Hook, but personally I am always drawn to Wendy. She is the real heroine of the story. After all, she was the main reason for Peter to bring her and her brothers to Neverland.
What always amazes me about Wendy’s role in the story is the fact that Wendy literally doesn’t spend much time being a “child” in the time she spends in Neverland. When she’s not escaping death at the hands of mermaids or pirates, she acts as a mother to the ‘lost boys’ and her brothers. She asks herself what she really wants from life. In comparison, she was allowed to behave more like a child at home in Edwardian London. Neverland is not a place where you never grow up. It’s the place where she chooses to grow up. Many people have described Neverland as a manifestation of Wendy’s subconscious as a result of trauma, and I’ve never found that to be more true in this adaptation.
One of the reasons why I think P.J. Hogan’s Peter Pan is the best adaptation of the novel is the fact that the film revolves around Wendy’s coming of age. I loved that they expanded on her love of storytelling and also gave her a tomboyish streak. Instead of just being on the sidelines, she’s able to get involved and fight pirates while retaining many of her feminine traits such as her maternal instincts and romantic feelings for Peter. She makes mistakes and sometimes gets dragged into things she knows she shouldn’t do. But in the end, she triumphs.
In many film adaptations of Peter and Wendy that I have seen, Wendy is either only present in passing or not at all. Characters like Peter Pan, Captain Hook and Tinkerbell always take centre stage, which I think is a strange decision as they are part of Wendy’s story and not the other way around. Peter Pan is meant to metaphorically represent the childhood she does not want to give up (which is why the character is always played by a woman in the original play, as he is a mirror image of Wendy). And Captain Hook (J.M.Barrie also wanted him to be played by the same actor as Mr Darling) represents the dark side of her father, or rather what she imagines adulthood to be. This is particularly emphasised in this film adaptation because he is an important factor in her being told to grow up. The father, the concept of adulthood, and Peter Pan, her childhood, are at constant war with each other.
“You’re not supposed to be like Peter, who kept every good and bad aspect of being a child and can’t tell right from wrong. You’re not supposed to be Hook, either. He let go of everything childish and loving about him and became bitter and evil..You’re supposed to fall in the middle, to hold onto the things about childhood that make it beautiful — the wonder, the imagination, the innocence — while still growing up and learning morality and responsibility. You’re not supposed to be Hook. You’re not supposed to be Peter Pan. You’re supposed to be Wendy Darling.” — @maybe-this-time
The 2023 film Peter Pan and Wendy took a different approach, by making Wendy a kind of powerhouse who always saved the day and outshone Peter Pan overall. In my opinion, the 2003 film adaptation emphasised very well that Wendy really is the yin and yang. She's allowed to be romantic, be rescued by others and at the same time determine her own destiny and stand up for herself. Because that’s what her journey in the adaptation is all about. She is pressured by all the adults in her life to grow up. She allows herself to be seduced with the prospect of an eternal childhood by Peter Pan. Then she realises that it is not self-fulfilling. She is tempted by Captain Hook with the concept of adulthood. And finally, she finds a balance between these two extremes on her own terms. By the end of the film, Wendy has made her peace with growing up while still remaining a child at heart. That requires a certain mental strength that we should all strive for.
Peter Pan and Wendy Darling
In most adaptations of Peter and Wendy, such as Hook and Syfy’s Neverland, the focus is on the title character Peter. In the more recent film adaptation Peter Pan and Wendy, the focus is on Wendy. This film adaptation of Peter and Wendy, on the other hand, sticks more closely to the original source material, as the story focuses on Peter and Wendy’s relationship. This is perhaps the reason why I always hesitate when I watch other adaptations, because these two characters are supposed to go together. It’s definitely a relationship that can be portrayed in all sorts of ways because they are symbolically the same person.
Although there is no romance between Peter and Wendy in either the original novel or the play, Wendy quickly develops romantic feelings for Peter which, as a prepubescent child, he does not consciously reciprocate as he has no concept of love other than that of a mother’s. Although Peter cares deeply for her, he ultimately only longs for her to be the maternal figure that is missing in his life. One could go into the symbolism that Peter and Wendy are one and the same, and that this is an expression of Wendy learning to love herself. But in a literal sense, J.M.Barrie had unintentionally created this very strong potential between the two characters. And I personally feel if your'e going to make an adaptation of Peter and Wendy that potential needs to be explored in some way, even if it’s not necessarily romantic.
Hogan recognised this potential and developed the romantic elements, e.g. ‘the “thimble” from the novel, into a very real and tangible plot. In other adaptations, Peter and Wendy’s relationship is rather one-sided. But in P.J. Hogan’s film adaptation, however, it is not at all. Over the course of the film, Peter and Wendy fall deeply in love with each other.
Rachel Hurd-Wood and Jeremy Sumpter had a remarkable on-screen chemistry for young actors, which helped give the adaptation its own identity. Whenever they interacted on screen as Peter and Wendy, it was — like the glittering pixie dust of Tinkerbell — simply magical. The off-screen chemistry between the two definitely helped make the romance so believable as well. When I was younger, I didn’t like romantic subplots in family films. I personally found that they clogged up the main plot because the “romance” tended to be very one-dimensional- but Peter and Wendy in the 2003 film version were simply enchanting.
In the original novel, J.M.Barrie alludes to the possibility of a romance between the two. In the film adaptation, they go all out. Their love story was written so beautifully and profoundly, while staying true to the original text and J.M.Barrie’s themes. This made the conflict hinted at in the novel of “staying in Neverland with Peter or growing up on Earth with Wendy” even more poignant and relevant, because in reality there was only ever one option. They couldn’t find a way to have both. That made the ending even more “heartbreaking” for me as a child, because even though they had the chance to be happy together, she couldn’t give up on growing up to stay. And he couldn’t give up being a child to leave, even though it was a natural progression for him.
Peter Pan
Jeremy Sumpter delivered a fantastic performance as Peter Pan. Not only did he perfectly match the illustrations, but he also managed to perfectly capture the essence of the charismatic, mischievous little boy from the novel. What’s more, of all the versions I have seen so far, he is by far the most accurate, right down to the clothes made of skeleton leaves, the dirty fingernails, the feral mannerisms, the traumatised soul behind the charm and the downright creepy insinuations. By today’s standards, you could almost take Peter Pan for a grown man who consciously decides not to behave like this.
However, when I watch the film again as an adult, I can now understand why he has reservations about growing up in Edwardian England and would rather remain a “child” in Neverland forever. As Peter says in the film, “Would they send me to school? And then to an office?” I feel like most of us today have so many choices as we get older, but back then it was much more limited. The choices were very restricted in that “heterosexist” environment. You could only be a certain thing, and it was much harder to hold on to the pleasures of life. I can now also understand the initial reactions of Michael and John to Peter: He must have seemed scandalous to people at the time. His bright colours, his inappropriate clothing and his behaviour are repulsive to the boys, but Wendy is immediately fascinated and attracted. I think it was a deliberate choice that he is the only character with an American accent to set him apart from the rest of the cast; to emphasise the wildness of the character and his non-conformity to the people of Edwardian London.
Another small aspect I liked was the suggestion that the Lost Boys, although they lived with Peter and obeyed his commands, lived in constant fear of him and did not worship him as in other adaptations. (A fear that is justified as Peter tries to kill them more than once in the film). What the 2003 film adaptation captured perfectly about Peter's character was: how terrible of a person he really is. Peter Pan is a hero when he goes on adventures and fights pirates. You could argue — via the quote “Leave Hook to me” (which Peter says to her in the film) — that Peter is Wendy’s split self who can fight her father (Captain Hook) for her, just like antibodies do with germs when we can’t handle them ourselves.
However, when it comes to understanding emotions, caring about others, even his henchmen, the Lost Boys, and doing anything that inconveniences him, Peter Pan is possibly as bad as Captain Hook. This makes Wendy’s decision to leave him all the more powerful. Although she was initially seduced by his adventurous life, she soon realises that his “life” of joy and adventure is not fulfilling at all. Because in reality, there is no real joy. There is no real adventure. In reality, his life is empty because it is not earned. In addition, she realises that she is gradually losing her memory of the outside world, including her parents - a sign that she is “slowly awakening from the dream”. This leads Wendy to realise that she wants more than what he can give her in Neverland (e.g. romantic love) and decides to leave. Being alive means feeling, accepting and growing. However, as long as Peter remains a boy, he can never truly be alive. Peter Pan conveyed this important message, whereas earlier film adaptations, including the Disney animation, did not.
One of the reasons why good adaptations of Peter and Wendy are so hard to come by, especially in this day and age, is not only because they adapt a performative story that exists in layers of subtext. They also work with a protagonist who doesn’t change. Who doesn’t develop in any way, neither negatively nor positively. Not even just physically, but also mentally. (Even Eli from Let the Right One In, the child vampire, changes in the course of the story). At the end of day, Peter Pan is ultimately there to serve someone else’s story. It works in a fairy tale format. But it doesn’t usually translate very well to the screen because it often leads to one-dimensional storytelling. Even if it seems so natural, it doesn’t come naturally.
However, this adaptation allows Peter Pan to grow. The writers expanded on the small aspect from the book, which is the moment when Wendy enters Peter’s life; he begins to feel emotions. Not just love. But anger. Fear. Sadness. Pain. Disgust. And above all: self-awareness. Almost like a version of puberty in condensed time, as if the change suddenly caught up with his body. When Wendy brings this up, Peter immediately rejects it out of fear. I think most of us can all relate to this when we were in the midst of growing into a young adult. We experience feelings that are scary and new, that we can’t yet fully understand or even want to. For Peter Pan, falling in love is exactly what he is afraid of: growing up and no longer being a child. This adds to an interesting conflict that arises between the two when she asks him to leave with her.
“The thing about Peter Pan is, he’s a coward. Had the chance of a lifetime and he bottled it. Just fucked off back to Neverland. All alone, forever he was, by his own hand. Poor old Wendy, she had to grow old without him.” — Skins, 6x07 “Alo”
In the original novel, the reason Wendy can’t take Peter Pan with her (apart from the fact that he refuses to grow up) is the same reason Lyra in His Dark Materials can’t take Pan — the animal manifestation of her soul — on the boat to the land of the dead. She has to split in order to grow up and leave a part of herself behind. She can’t keep both in order to move on. But that does not mean I always agree with the ending either. In which Peter remains a child and takes Wendy’s future descendants to Neverland and back to look after him. It leaves an icky aftertaste, but at least it fits in with the story J.M. Barrie wanted to tell.
Even though the adaptation conveys the same message, that Peter Pan is the manifestation of Wendy’s youth, even to the end. In this version of Peter Pan, that is no longer the case. By the end of the film, the way he holds himself is different. The way he looks wistfully through the open window and solemnly says, “To live would be an awfully big adventure,” : a sign of self-awareness, while Wendy happily reunites with her family. So much so that Tinkerbell has to pull him by the hair to stop him from joining them and reconsidering his decision. Peter is now old enough to know that he loves Wendy. Maybe he’s also mature enough to know what he’s missing, but he knows he can’t have her the way he wants, so he does the most selfless thing he’s ever done in the whole film by letting her go.
There is no such conflict at the end of the 1953 Disney animated film. Peter Pan is described by Wendy as “wonderful”. In reality, everyone else gets their happy ending, except him, because he deliberately chooses not to. Peter Pan very much turns himself into a tragic figure because he is afraid of the most natural thing in the world. He is afraid of life. And I feel like this version of the story knew that and expressed it strongly, which makes me conflicted now as an adult. I’ve seen endings like this before, where two people fall in love but do not end up together because they grow apart or they are both interested in different things, and it’s very important to reach those points in different ways. It very much reflects real life and is also reminiscent of first love. How that love never really fades. It reminds you of simple times, even when you’ve grown up and moved on. That a part of you is still at that age when you look back on it. These endings happen because people grow — which Peter Pan does not.
“Peter in the books lives in oblivious tragedy. He may suspect that he’s not fully happy, but he tends to forget about it… yet this Peter doesn’t… Wendy leaving him and growing up to be a wife of another man is his unhappy thought…It’s the loss of innocence since Peter could not forget this…It’s the process of growing up…all but confirms that Peter’s character arc in the film is one of accepting the fact he too must grow up to be happy.” — @rex-shadao
And I think that’s the real reason why his character is both the strongest and the weakest part of the adaptation. The writers didn’t make it clear enough that Peter Pan forgets in their version of the character. In the novel, Peter Pan forgets everything automatically, which is why he can exist in this limbo of childhood and not go mad. However, as mentioned earlier, this version of Peter Pan is old enough to remember and, more importantly, to feel. Even though he is the closest to J.M. Barrie’s original vision, unlike his counterpart in the book, he is capable of evolving. That’s why the ending sometimes feels strange to me as an adult.
It was hard to say why I had a strange feeling at first, but I realised that a lot of my mixed feelings stemmed from having seen the film adaptation fresh after reading the novel. Since Peter Pan fully reciprocates Wendy’s love in this version, he ends up being a different character than in the book, which is why I now disagree with them keeping the original ending instead of having him grow up with Wendy. It would symbolise that childhood can co-exist with adulthood, that you don’t have to leave a part of yourself behind. That you can be your true and complete self if you find the balance between the two extremes.
The original ending still works however, in all its bittersweetness. I know what it means and understand what it stands for. Wendy basically says goodbye to her childhood and promises never to forget it. There’s a reason it made such an impression on me when I was younger. It could just be because I’m trying to pick up all the pieces of my broken heart from the floor. But personally, as an adult, I just find it weaker compared to the novel. Sometimes I like to imagine an ending to this version of the story where Peter Pan comes back, having quickly realised that he has outgrown Neverland, but doesn’t meet Wendy again until they are both much older, at a time when Wendy is coming to terms with womanhood and the idea of marriage. Or she even meets his real earth counterpart (if we were to delve into the psychology of Neverland being Wendy’s dream). And their relationship is subjected to the natural test of time and growth.
Peter Pan is an almost perfect adaptation. It matches the humour, the tone and the vision of J.M.Barrie. But I can certainly understand why the film didn’t do so well at the box office. In the month it was released, there was an unfair amount of competition, namely the film Lord of the Rings — The Return of the King. And as an adult, I can now understand why it’s not the film people think of or remember when it comes to Peter Pan adaptations. And it’s not just because it doesn’t fit the elfish, jolly trickster persona that Disney has created.
The film adaptation suffers more from what it doesn’t do — such as maintaining a stable tone and consistent editing — than from what it does. It’s one of those films that would have benefited from being much longer. That way, the inconsistent tone and some of the rushed parts of the adaptation would be much more balanced. It feels like it was missing an extra twenty minutes. For example, the film is narrated by an older version of Wendy, but without the deleted ending where it becomes properly clear that it’s her telling the story to tie everything together, the ending feels a little abrupt. Say what you will about Tim Burton’s adaptation of the Series of Unfortunate Events, but the audience could see where the film’s narration was coming from the whole time. I think if they knew the alternate ending wasn’t going to work (that scene is a classic example of something working well in the novel but not in the film), they should have removed the narrator altogether with the deleted ending and adjusted the film accordingly. They should have extended some scenes so that parts of the film weren’t rushed, such as the introduction, and the story would have been left more up to interpretation as there was no voiceover throughout.
Despite its weaknesses, P.J.Hogan’s Peter Pan is still an underrated masterpiece 20 years later. It is an irresistible film that captivates and warms the heart. The film adaptation has certainly stood the test of time, staying true to the original while adding its own flavour to the story. It is full of magic, wonder and heart. It was clearly made by people who loved the origins of the story and explored where they came from, while also digging deep into the text to reshape the character arcs in a fresh and meaningful way. They succeed in capturing J.M.Barrie’s original message, which is that growing up is a natural progression of life, but that doesn’t mean leaving childhood behind entirely. That it is important to maintain a healthy balance between the two: Taking responsibility while appreciating the joys of life. From the vibrant colour palette to the goosebump-inducing music to the solid performances and gorgeous chemistry between Jeremy Sumpter and Rachel Hurd-Wood, my love for this adaptation will never end, no matter how old I am.
#peter pan#peter pan 2003#jason isaacs#jeremy sumpter#rachel hurd wood#peter and wendy#j.m barrie#peter x wendy#wendy darling#analysis#tinkerbell#captain hook#disney#peter pan and wendy#disney +#hook#James Newton Howard#olivia williams#novel#classic literature#filmmaking#film#cinema#culture#movie review#darling pan#finding neverland#film review#peter pan (2003)#peter pan live action
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No Lies
─ Papa Emeritus II Secondo x F! Reader ─
rating: 18+ Explicit | MDNI
word count: 2.4k
summary: You're too shy to tell Papa about your recent guilty pleasure. He has a plan to make you see there's nothing to be ashamed of.
warnings/tags: feminine reader, vaginal fingering, nudity, sexual penetration, rough sex, spanking, submission, slight choking, praise kink, erotic literature.
a/n: Just an idea that was rattling around in my head. Passages from the book mentioned are not mine. They are from The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice.
ao3 link
tag list: @ghu-leh
You finally had a day off.
It had been a mentally taxing week of helping Sister Imperator with clergy paperwork, so you wanted to enjoy your spare time as much as possible. Starting your morning off with a good book in a peaceful setting was perfect.
As you walk towards the entrance of Primo's gardens, Secondo's familiar voice stops you.
"What a delight to see you rise so early, sorella."
"Papa!" You turn and greet him with a warm smile.
His mismatched eyes peer into yours, traveling from the top of your veil to your toes. He was wearing his usual skull makeup coupled with a casual long-sleeve shirt and pristine black trousers.
A strong friendship blossomed between the two of you when you joined the abbey a year ago. Feeling alienated, he made you feel comfortable and welcomed in the strange, new place. Sharing a genuine love of literature, he began to show you around the Ministry's old library and even read with you during his breaks. Being Papa and leader of the flock, he was extremely busy, and as you got accustomed to the rules of the Unholy church, you noticed he was particularly selective of whom he spent time with. Most siblings kept their distance out of fear or respect, but the more you talked, the more drawn to him you became, seeing past his grim exterior. As a result, he became almost like an older brother, except for the arousing effect he had on you. Lascivious fantasies had invaded your mind on numerous occasions, but keeping them hidden away in the safety of your room at night was better than disgracing yourself in front of Papa. How could you? After he'd shown you so much kindness? You had a hunch that he knew, how could he not? But it was customary for him to make the first move if he so desired, and since he hadn't, your lust-filled dreams had to stay, well, exactly that … just dreams.
"What are you doing so early, bella?" He asks, his body close enough that you can smell the wonderful scent of his cologne.
"Oh, um, I was just heading over to the garden to read." You answer, gesturing in the direction of the intricate, decorated archway.
"The garden, hm, and reading what?" He pries, his eyes catching a glimpse of the book tucked in the crook of your arm.
You hesitate and stay silent for a moment, unsure if you should reveal the intimate details of your recent literary indulgence. It wasn't that you couldn't tell him, you knew he wouldn't judge you. But that fearful, self-conscious voice in the back of your mind kept you silent.
"Why so shy, sorella?"
You wish your eyes didn't give you away so easily. If you had known he would be asking about it, you would have picked a different genre. Erotica out of all things? You want to smack yourself silly.
"It's a mystery novel, Papa." You lie, instantly regretting it.
He notices your blatant deception. Secondo always notices.
A sly grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as his piercing gaze intensifies, making you squirm under its scrutiny. You knew that look. The one he gave you when he wanted to teach you a lesson or reprimand you somehow. He was planning something.
"I see. Bring the book to my quarters when you're done today, sorella. I've been looking for something new to read."
"Yes, Papa." You whisper silently as he turns and walks away.
Fuck.
—
You weren't keeping track, but you guessed it probably took you almost ten minutes to read one unholy paragraph. You could hardly concentrate, thinking of the awkward conversation that awaited you. Yes, Papa, I love getting wet from reading these stories. I love picturing you doing all sorts of filthy things to me. Oh yes, can you drag me around like a slave and punish me like a little slut? Your mortification would reach the stratosphere. You might as well never show your face around the abbey again.
Rather than put yourself through the torture of waiting, you decide to make your way over to his chambers and get it over with.
—
It felt like you flew to his room. You couldn't explain how you got there so quickly, as if some unseen force propelled you forward with a supernatural speed. The thumping of your heartbeat crushes against your chest as you enter his room.
"Sit. Make yourself comfortable, ____. I'll return shortly."
You do as you're told, sitting in one of the plush leather chairs next to his bed. The room looked somewhat familiar. You had only been to his suite once before. Months ago, Sister Imperator had required some assistance with a few antique paintings he was restoring, and she had quickly gathered them from his room with your help.
You remember the gorgeously adorned four-poster bed. You stand and run a finger along its thick mahogany frame. A thrill snakes up your spine as you imagine yourself pinned underneath him while he fucks you senseless.
You notice the glass windows that look out onto Primo's gardens, and you get lost in the marvelous view for a few minutes.
"Admiring the flowers, bella?" He asks behind you. "Once I became Papa, I had my choice of suites. This one was perfetto (perfect)."
Before you could say "I totally would've chosen this one too" he speaks.
"Did you bring the book?"
"Yes." You smile sheepishly and hand it over.
He looks at the cover and flips through the pages, inspecting it for what feels like hours in your anxious state. The tension in the air makes your stomach do somersaults.
To fill the silence, you decide to apologize for earlier. "Papa, um, I'm sorry for–"
"This is far more stimulating than a simple mystery novel, sorella," he interrupts with amusement, "I like it."
A tinge of relief. Not as dreadful as you imagined.
"Now, come. Read me some of your favorite parts." He requests, beckoning you to sit on his lap.
What?! Satanas, please drag me to hell.
"Papa, I-I don't remember--" you stammer out weakly.
"Don't lie to me again, bella," he warns. "That's beneath you. Now come on." He taps his thigh.
Nervously, you walk over and sit, rigidly, on his lap. It makes your insides melt to be so close like this. You had pictured being on his lap many times before – bent over, with your rear on display and fingers exploring your most sensitive parts.
"You're stiff as a board, cara mia. Relax. Just like the other books we've read together, si?"
"So-sorry, Papa. I know. It's just-I'm nervous. This book is diff--"
"I'm aware. Open it and start reading." From his tone of voice, you know it isn't a suggestion, more so a command.
You pick up the book, wishing you wouldn't have dog-eared your preferred pages, but you also feel your pent-up desire unraveling. You love his curiosity for your guilty pleasure. Was reading it aloud the lesson? To make you realize there is no reason to feel embarrassed? No need to hide?
Clearing your throat, you begin.
"But she wanted him so badly. And when she saw him rise up over her, she felt not the hot throbbing pain in her body," you pause briefly, already feeling a hot red warmth upon your cheeks, "but a flood of juices between her legs and a new moan coming out of her as she opened herself to him."
“Bene. Continue."
You breathe in, pressing your lips together, trying your hardest to calm your rising pulse. "He knelt over her, removing his--"
You stop again, fidgeting just the slightest bit on his leg.
"Continue, sorella. Per favore (Please)."
"— his erect cock from his breeches, and then he brought her up on her knees and impaled her upon it."
Then you feel it- his hardness poking your ass through the fabric of your habit. The sensation awakens your desire even further, the tension inside your core slowly building.
"— She cried out. Her head fell back. It was a great hard thing inside her sore and quivering orifice. But she felt it bathed with her juices, and as the Prince forced it in deeper and brought her down upon it, it seemed a spit that rubbed against some mysterious core in her–”
His leather-clad fingers toy with the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. Was he just teasing you? You shift your hips, pressing your ass firmly on his growing bulge, and resume your reading.
"-- sending ecstasy washing through her so she was giving great guttural moans in spite of herself. The Prince's thrusts--"
A nibble on your neck makes you gasp in surprise, sending a chill through your body. His hand lifts your habit and you feel it slither inside your slick-covered panties, slightly pushing them down. So quickly your body melts against his, and you spread your legs wider for him. His warm breath tickles your ear as he gently slides a finger inside your aching sex.
"Papa…" you close your eyes and moan softly, pushing back against his chest, enjoying the feel of the leather inside you. The book is quickly forgotten as you lower your arm.
"So wet for me already, principessa." He coos in your ear, his voice thick with lust as his finger starts pushing into you with perfect pressure. "Continua. No shame, si?"
You lift the book back up, the written letters become increasingly blurred as your mind tries to focus on the fire igniting down below. But you obey, wanting to please him desperately.
"The Prince's thrusts came faster and faster and then he too gave a soft cry and held her close to him…her breasts aching and pressed to his chest…his lips on the back of her neck, his body…softening slowly."
You give him soft, little whimpers as his fingers delve into you hungrily, your desire flooding your senses so beautifully. "Mia principessa atormentatta (My tormented princess)." You are so good for your Papa. So eager to please." He praises you, and your hand finally lets the book drop to the floor.
Two fingers slide in and out of you easily, lulling you into a pleasure-filled dream. His breath gets more ragged, and with a quick movement, he lifts your hips and flips you around to hover your pussy over his cock, teasing your entrance.
"Do you think of me when you read these books, sorellina?" He asks urgently, as if he had been wishing for this even more than you. The tip of his cock glides up and down your folds so delicately, his strong fingers keeping your hips in place.
"Ye-yes, yes, Papa!" You answer, looking down at his erection, thick and standing at attention. Just for you.
"Look at your Papa when he talks to you, bella." His heated gaze calls to you, his pupils dark with longing.
"Do you orgasm while you read these books? Dimmi (Tell me)." His questioning has your mind reeling, the little movements with the head of his cock driving you mad with lust.
"Yes, Papa…I-I need you, please--"
"How long have you longed for this, cara mía? How long have you been pleasuring yourself without me?!" Was he mad? No. Disappointed. You knew.
"For so long… months, Papa. Please, I--" You whine, your eager hole desperate to be filled by him.
"Are you going to lie to me again?!" A gentle threat.
"No, Papa! Please!"
"Please what, bella?"
"Please-please fuck me!!"
"Brava ragazza (Good girl) ."
You feel your lungs cry for oxygen as he slams himself into you. A loud moan leaves your lips, and you hold on tightly to his shoulders.
He hums, savoring the feeling of your wetness wrapped around his hardened length. His fingers dig into your hips with immovable force, and a surge of heat radiates through your whole body.
"Cazzo (Fuck)!! You feel so fucking good on my cock. Prendilo tutto (Take it all)." He purrs against your ear, kneading at the flesh on your back, pushing into you mercilessly.
His thrusts grow more intense, and he lands a sharp slap against your bare ass, making you tighten around his cock. You yelp, feeling like some sort of rag doll being taken over and over, your body defiled only for his pleasure.
"Do you like your Papa's cock inside you, mía puttanella (my little slut)?" He asks, the heaviness of his voice and filthy words making you grind on him even faster. It's intoxicating.
"Yes!! Fuck ye-yes, Papa!"
"You kept your delicious little cunt away from me bella, why, oh cazzo (fuck), volgio adorarti! (I want to ravish you!)" He snarls, kissing and biting your neck passionately. Another slap lands on your ass, the sting even more intense. The mix of pain and pleasure is all-consuming, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
"M-More, please, Papa!!" You plead, wanting more friction, the feel of his cock overwhelming your mind like a drug. He pulls out slowly and then slams his entire length back inside you so quickly that you lose balance and fall forward, taking him deeper into you. His hands are quick to grab your arms, pinning them behind your back and holding you up. He controls your body, grabbing your throat, and thrusting into you fiercely. "My perfect little whore." His mouth is on yours, savagely kissing you as you moan obscenely into him, tears falling down your rosy cheeks.
You feel you're about to explode from every sound, movement, and sensation. Your walls tighten around his swollen cock, your heart thrashes violently, a symphonic fury inside your ribcage.
"Papa! I'm-I'm going to cum-!" You cry out, your breath coming in short gasps.
"Yes, bella," he roars, "come all over my fucking cock. I'm going to fill your tight little hole." You feel him spurt his cum deeply into you, the feeling of his hot seed sending you over the edge. The sound of his orgasm fills your ears as you clench around him, every nerve in your core pulsing with ecstasy. You fall apart on his cock, trembling wildly over him, keen moans erupting from your lips. A thousand times better than anything you could've imagined.
Gasping for breath, you collapse against his chest. You feel his body relax with the slowing of his heartbeat.
After a while, you hear him hum contentedly. "Ti amo, principessa (I love you, princess). Bene miso (My happiness)." You lay on his shoulder, basking in the truth of his confession and feeling like you might just faint.
"What should we read next, piccolina (little one)?" He asks tenderly, lifting your face and pushing loose strands away from your eyes.
"Biochemistry?" You reply with a weary smile and tired eyes.
"Fucking boring." He says with a smirk, pulling your exhausted body against him and kissing your forehead as you both burst into laughter.
♡
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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍
summary: Sunghoon has never felt any spark in his heart, none of that silly love he’s read about in novels in his free time. No one interested him, and it wasn’t like his father, the king, would let him have friends, male or female, for fear of being betrayed or developing feelings for them. He lived a life of isolation, excited for nothing – neither the idea of being married to a pretty princess nor becoming the next ruler of the Park kingdom. He most certainly did not expect you, his new guard, to change all that. He did not expect you to brighten his days and light up his heart.
includes: death, murder, war/battle, attempted murder (kinda), breaking in, royal au, romanticized medieval setting of sorts, forced marriage/proposal, a lot of time skips so it moves somewhat quickly, brief mention of a toxic ex, death by illness, joking mention of jumping off a balcony, blood, wounds, denial of death kinda, graves, lmk if i missed anything!
genre: angst
pairing: prince! sunghoon x guard! fem! reader
word count: 8.1k (woah)
taglist: @kflixnet @kpopslays @jvjsssnaa
a/n: it’s finally here! i sacrificed sleep for this and i do not regret it at all. this fic has two milestones for me - being my longest fic + a fic i’m kinda proud of. i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it <3
PLEASE REBLOG/COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED THIS FIC 🫶
Sunghoon was reading over some papers pertaining to the kingdom’s matters when he heard a knock on the door.
“Enter.”
One of the guards came in, before bowing upon seeing him.
“Sire, his Majesty wishes to see you.”
He nodded and set the papers in a neat stack. He then put them in a drawer and locked it for security. He then stood up and followed the guard, maintaining a neutral expression.
His mind was working much faster than normal though.
His father was very strict, and the slightest mistake meant an extremely harsh lecture. He flicked through his memories, trying to remember what he could have done wrong, and what he should say as his apology.
He pursed his lips as a thought crossed his mind - was his recent trip to the colder regions made known to his father? He had gone for administrative work, but he couldn’t resist spending some time there ice skating, which the king always considered useless since it benefited only the person skating, not the country. He had done his best to keep it under wraps, but maybe one of the guards reported this to the king. Damn it.
He mentally slapped himself for using such crude language. Those were the words of peasants and did not suit a prince like him. Holy moly…buckling barnacles, great heavens…such lengthy words to express frustration, he thought. ‘Damn it’ was only two syllables.
As he snapped out of his reverie, he entered the Throne Room. His father was seated on the grand throne at the end of the airy space. The seats where the ministers sat were empty. Court was always in the morning, and it was probably lunchtime by now - the prince wasn’t sure.
He stood a few feet away from his father. The guard bowed and left, and Sunghoon made eye contact with the old man in front of him. He didn’t seem angry, so the younger relaxed a bit, letting out a sigh.
“Why have you called me here, father?”
“I’ve received some proposals from other kings. They’ve sent me paintings of their daughters. A lovely selection of princesses, I must say.”
Sunghoon had to physically hold himself back from rolling his eyes.
“Father, I’ve already told you this. I am not ready for marriage and I am not interested in this topic.”
“Yes, but it’s good to start early. Maybe you’ll change your mind after-”
“I’m sorry to interrupt you Father, but why have you actually summoned me?”
The king narrowed his eyes at his son but didn’t say anything more about the topic.
“Well, I’ve decided to get you a personal guard. There have been many threats of attacks on the palace, so it’s better to take this precaution.”
“Interesting. Will he be with me all the time or-”
“She.”
“What?”
“Your guard is a female.”
To say he was shocked was the understatement of the century. His father? Hiring a woman? As his bodyguard? What if he-
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. She is very capable and I’m sure she will protect and serve you well. I trust you to keep your relationship with her strictly professional.”
It wasn’t like he knew how to have a non-professional relationship with anyone outside of his family anyway.
“Yes, Father. Will she be with me at all times?”
“Indeed she will, except for when you are sleeping. At that time, she will stand outside your door and guard you.”
“What about her food and sleep?”
“That is not your concern.”
“But-”
“Silence!”
He immediately bowed his head slightly as a sign of remorse for stepping out of line. This was going to be interesting, he thought. He had little to no interaction with women outside of his mother and sister, and the small talk he made with princesses and duchesses of other kingdoms was always awkward. Now he was having someone of the opposite gender, a woman, watching over him nearly 24/7.
He slowed down his train of thought. Why was he thinking like a teenage boy ogling over a girl? He was the crown prince, he was better than that. It was going to be a new experience, that was all.
“May I meet her now?”
“Of course. She’s arriving as we speak.”
Just then, the door opened, and you entered, a male soldier on either side. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but nothing came out of it.
He was having a cultural shock of sorts. All the women he had met were all dainty, graceful and poised - the epitome of perfection. You, on the other hand, had an air of authority about you — rough and firm. A few scars were on your face, probably from battle. You bowed the full 90 degrees, and he could only respond with a small nod.
Oh fuck, you were gorgeous.
And he used foul language again. Stupid Sunghoon, he reprimanded himself.
He didn’t take back what he said, however. Your beauty wasn’t the type written in books or sung in ballads, but it had to be known to the world, somehow. He was almost tempted to write one himself.
Hold on, why was he thinking all this? His father had just told him to not think anything about you that crossed the lines of professional, and thinking about how pretty you were was not within those lines.
“This is your new personal guard, Y/N.”
You came over to him and bowed again, although at a smaller angle than before.
“N…Nice to meet you, Y-Y/N.”
Did he just stutter?!
“It is an honor, my prince. I swear to serve you to the best of my abilities.”
“I’m sure you will.”
He managed a small, formal smile, looking completely pleasant and unfazed.
Which he very much was not. He wanted to jump off the nearest balcony when you said ‘my prince’. He didn’t know why - you weren’t the only one who addressed him in that manner. You might’ve even learned it from someone in the palace, so why was he so hot and bothered with the way you said it?
“Your duties start today, guard.”
“Yes, your Majesty. I will not let you down.”
He was going crazy. You were just his new guard. Nothing less, nothing more. He would just have to rein in his thoughts and get it all together. Not a difficult task at all.
As you stood behind him as he walked through the kingdom’s streets a week later, he seemed to keep a little distance from you, which was unsafe. Anything could happen within a few meters.
“My prince, you must slow your pace.”
He turned his face to look at you as he stopped walking.
“Oh? Why is that?”
“There’s a gap between us, and anyone could attack you with that.”
“Ah. I see. In that case…you can walk next to me. Or something.”
You stood next to him now. He quickly looked at the fruits a vendor was selling, trying his best to avert his gaze so that you wouldn’t see his reddening cheeks. It was unknown to him as to why he was so flustered. You were only doing your job, and that was it.
“Our kingdom seems to produce good crops.”
“Indeed they do, my prince. The farmer and the cultivators work very hard. It always seems to go unnoticed for some damn reason, though.”
He heard the angry tone in your voice and the curse word you said. This seemed to be a sore topic for you. He was curious, so he decided to ask more.
“What do you suggest, then?”
“We export more crops so that they get more revenue and in turn, they get paid as well. Increase the demand.”
You shrugged before turning your attention to a little kid who was clinging to your leg. You leaned down and patted his head, smiling a bit. The kid laughed and ran away. Sunghoon watched this interaction with interest and it dawned upon him that you cared about the people and their welfare, like a good ruler.
Wait, why was he thinking about you being a ruler? You were only a soldier, and with the hierarchy now, there wasn’t much chance you could become more.
It did make him wonder, however, what you would do if the people rebelled. He shook his head, not wanting to think so dark. Your suggestion was smart, though. It made more sense the more he pondered over it. He’d mention this to the old man and see what he’d say.
“Shall we move on, guard?”
You stood up properly before nodding.
“Yes, my prince. Apologies for slowing you down.”
He dismissed you with a wave of his hand.
“Nothing of the sort. Come, let’s go.”
You both continued your stroll and for some reason, his heart was beating very unnaturally. He only had this issue when he was agitated, but there was no reason for him to be scared now, so why was this happening?
It had only been two months since you became his personal guard, yet you were his closest and most trusted friend. He took all your ideas seriously and told them to the king who somehow accepted them, and called him ‘ingenious’ for supposedly coming up with them. He hated taking false credit, but he knew that he couldn’t tell his father that you were the mastermind of them all — he would then question Sunghoon as to why he was talking to them in the first place, which would lead to you being removed from your post and replaced with a boring male soldier.
He didn’t want to lose you, not when he finally found a change in his monotonous life, someone to brighten his dull days, someone to call a friend, even though it was only known to the both of you and no one else. He couldn’t bear to have you gone.
He was sitting underneath a tree, looking up at the sky in the comfort of the gardens reserved for his family and visitors alone. His father never came here out of his own accord - he always considered it a waste of time. His mother was in her room, and her sister was in another kingdom discussing alliances. This was a moment very rare, just you and him, with no one to interrupt or catch you two slacking.
You were sitting next to him, only a few inches away. The wind was blowing gently on his face. He closed his eyes and smiled, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Your presence next to him was oddly comforting. He opened his eyes again, turned his head, and looked at you, wanting to ask you something.
“Guard, you know how I always give your suggestions to the king and how he always says ‘I’ did a good job thinking about them?”
Your face tightened the same way it did every time he took credit for your ideas in front of his father. He sighed.
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, I wanted to apologize for that.”
You tilted your head at him, clearly not understanding two things - why he was suddenly saying sorry, and how you doing that simple thing made him go insane. You took over him, body and soul. All he could think of when he tried to sleep was you. It was just two months. Two months, and he was already attached to you. He was convinced, however, that it wasn’t love or anything stupid like that. No, it was simply him forming a close connection to the first person who cared about him. Not everything was romantic affection. He had never tasted this emotion, obviously, but he’d say that he knew enough about it to confirm this wasn’t it.
“Why now, my prince? I’m sorry- I just didn’t expect you to, y’know…actually apologize. Never met a royal who’s done so. They’re all usually stuck-up snobs who think their shit is worth the entire kingdom.”
He snorted at that. It wasn’t like you were wrong, most of the royals he met were indeed very arrogant. He didn’t dare anything about it though, simply doing his best to not behave like them.
“It’s not right of me to take credit for something I don’t even have the brain for. I don’t mention your name for your security. If my father knew I was talking to you about matters like these, then…”
He made a motion of him cutting his own throat, complete with the sound effect. You grinned a bit, which was enough for him to be over the moon, but then you laughed. Not just a ‘teehee’ or a ‘haha’ - an actual, proper laugh. His heart swelled, maybe his jokes didn’t suck that much. Your laugh was indescribable. It was a delightful sound to listen to. It was short, but he wanted to hear it every day at least once for the rest of his life instead of those ballads that were sung in the court all the time.
The way your eyes formed crescents, the way your face was half in the light and half in the shadow, the way the wind put an orange leaf in your hair like it was an accessory - it was making him sick in a good way. He rarely saw you smile, let alone laugh like this. He knew that you had to keep your expression serious all the time - all the soldiers had that training - and this was a proud moment for him to see you loosen up. He couldn’t help the small smile on his own face.
“My prince, is he really that harsh? I’m aware that he is super damn strict to us soldiers, but that’s expected since we have to be toughened up to protect the land.”
His smile faded before he shook his head in agreement.
“I’d say so. It’s for my good- I am the next in line, after all.”
“I don’t think forcing your child to have no friends is how you raise him to be king. He won’t know how to have proper social interactions.”
There you were again, hitting the mark accurately with your observation. He sucked at interacting with other people. Slowly, he was starting to dislike his father more. The faults he never saw in him earlier were becoming visible, the saint-like image he had of the king since childhood fading away. Was this meant to happen? He wasn’t sure.
“Right. I’m living proof.”
You shook your head in alarm.
“Oh shit- please don’t be offended by my idiotic statement, my prince…I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, really-”
He chuckled at how you were panicking and made a motion with his hand for you to calm down.
“It’s okay. I didn’t take it that way.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
He saw your body relax as he rested his head against the bark of the tree again. He gazed at the sky, eyes fixated on the clouds and the way they moved in the direction of the breeze. Two questions lingered in his mind, and his mouth suddenly blurted one out.
“Do you ever sleep?”
It was random, sure, but he had to know. He was concerned for you. He never saw you leave his side, except for when he was asleep, and he already knew what you did then. You were still staring at him, but he didn’t notice.
“I do. I’m a normal person, my prince, I can’t function without food and rest. That’s impossible.”
“When?”
You let out a slight laugh at his curiosity, and his heart started pounding faster again.
“You don’t notice, do you? That means I’m performing the stealth part of my job well. When you’re in the dining room or a meeting surrounded by the best soldiers. That’s when. I also don’t stand watch for you every night. I alternate with another guard.”
His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in understanding. He didn’t notice it at all, which meant that either you were a master of stealth, as you said, or he was just blind. It was most likely the former since he had no doubt in your abilities.
“I see. I was very worried for you, honestly.”
“I’m honored that I was an object of your concern, my prince.”
He scoffed at your slightly surprised expression.
“Of course, I would. You’re my personal guard, what reason is there for me to treat you inhumanly?”
That stupid fucking slip of his tongue.
Shit, he just cursed.
Damn it, again.
His tutor and family would go crazy if they could read his thoughts.
Of course he had to refer to you as his, like you were property. Of course he had to emphasize on that word as well. You were making him loosen up too much. It shouldn’t have happened, not at all. He couldn’t continue like this, what if he accidentally cursed in front of people? He would never be heard of again.
“I’d say I had expected that, but you’re different from other royals, so not really.”
“I understand. Also, you don’t have to call me ‘my prince’ when we’re alone. Just Sunghoon is enough.”
Your eyes widened in astonishment.
“My prince, I wouldn’t dare to-”
“Really guard. It’s fine.”
“But his Majesty-”
“He doesn’t have to know. Our secret.”
“If you say so…it’ll take me time to get used to calling you by your name, princ- I mean, Sunghoon.”
“Already getting there.”
“I guess so. In that case, you can call me by just my name. No need for ‘guard’.”
“Your wish is my command, Y/N.”
This was new. Not referring to someone by their title was disrespectful. He learned from a ripe young age that if he didn’t call someone by their title, he could end up with his head on a guillotine block in some places. Were you seriously making all his long years of education unravel? Silence fell upon the two of you before he spoke up again.
“What do you think love is like?”
You must’ve been taken aback, and he expected to see such an expression on your face. Instead, when he stole a glance at you, it was something else. Wistful? Longing? He couldn’t name it exactly.
“Books don’t give it justice. Neither do ballads. It’s…more than that.”
He was intrigued by your response. He raised an eyebrow, signalling you to continue.
“Oh? You’ve been in love before?”
You stared at him, a sad smile forming on your lips, a look flashing in your eyes. One of remorse, he recognized.
“Yeah. It was depressingly…beautiful.”
His chest tightened at your words for some reason.
“Heartbreak?”
“Kind of. We fought a lot…our personalities were very different. Then when we finally reconciled…he died. An illness took him away.”
Your eyes were filled with so much hurt, it almost made him cry. This was his first time seeing you emotional, vulnerable, and while he was honored that you trusted him enough to show you this side of yours, he wondered how much you were hiding away. All he wanted was to protect you so that you would never have to go through something as painful as that. He made a resolve to make sure that he was never the cause of the agony in your eyes.
“I’m so sorry that happened.”
“It’s fine. It was just- unexpected. It’s been a year anyway.”
“I hope this doesn’t bring back memories you buried, but…how would you describe love?”
You rested your chin on your palm, thinking for a bit.
“Love isn’t only about the physical signs. For me, love is always wanting to be by someone’s side, being so head over heels for them that even the littlest things like…I don’t know, something stupid, makes you remember them. It’s being their biggest supporter, but also telling them when they’re wrong. Love is wanting to keep them safe from all the bad in this world. It’s when even the simplest thing they do brightens your day, like a smile or a small act of kindness. Love is when you put their needs and wants above everything and everyone else. There’s obviously more, but that’s my personal experience.”
Holy moly. Sunghoon was in love.
He was in love. That emotion many desired to feel at least once. All his previous notions and confidence about it being platonic flew out the window. He very clearly did not learn enough about this feeling. He didn’t know whether he wanted to be happy that he could say he had loved once in his life, or scream in frustration that he fell for someone out of his league and not some princess who he was supposed to want like this.
God, he hated himself.
“Pri- Sunghoon, are you okay?”
Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He couldn’t let you know, he was a hundred percent sure that you didn’t feel the same. Plus, he was the prince, and if you both were caught, it would mean bad for him and catastrophic for you.
“I’m fine. Come, let’s go. We might get caught if we stay any longer.”
He stood up immediately. You were confused but followed his orders. What he said, you obeyed.
It had been eight months since you became his personal guard, and half a year since he realized that he was in love with you. He tried to distance himself, but one look or word from you and his resolve faltered. He was so deep in this pit, and he didn’t know whether he wanted to dig deeper or climb out. He wanted you to stay away and he also loved the way you destroyed every single one of the walls he built around himself subconsciously.
He matured, and he was no longer the shy boy who didn’t know how to talk to someone of the opposite gender. He was a confident and charming crown prince now, the man of many’s dreams. You were the only one on his mind though.
His father was now eager to get him married off, and he had to comply with his wishes, He was no longer the king who served the people anymore - he was corrupted, only thinking about power. Sunghoon did his best to undo the damage inflicted on the population, but the situation was getting tense, and he knew it. Rebels were raising their heads and it was his job to keep them in check. It was difficult, but you helped him through it.
Presently, he was sitting in the dining room with his family, the king, queen, princess, and officials of the Hwan kingdom. This was the proposal his father liked the most because the Hwan kingdom was rich in resources, and this alliance hidden as a marriage would give the Parks access to those coveted precious stones. He was hoping, however, that the other king would say no for some reason and he’d be free.
He had no interest in the princess, however. She was too boring for him. They had zero common likes, and the only thing they related to each other on was the struggles of being next in line. This was probably the worst match he had ever met. She seemed like she wanted this much less than he did. She was at least trying, he had to give her that.
You stood behind him on his right side. He so desperately wanted to turn around and see your reaction to all this. Your face had to have no expression now, obviously, but you both shared secret looks with each other in odd situations, and he was sure you’d find this amusing. The chatter across the table died down suddenly, and all the attention was on the two kings in the room.
“We’ve agreed on this marriage. Prince Sunghoon and Princess Hyeju are now betrothed!”
Sunghoon’s hands, which were tapping the table, stilled. He froze in shock, every voluntary muscle in his body stopping movement.
No, this couldn’t happen.
This was a nightmare, a terrible dream. He pinched his thigh underneath the table and ended up proving to his dismay that he was wrong.
This was the worst day of his life.
His father droned on about the details of the wedding. He tuned it all out. He tilted his head just a little to see your face and noticed that you were gripping your spear much tighter than necessary. You knew that he didn’t want this, not at all. Maybe you were angry on his behalf.
He couldn’t do anything about this, however. This was just his fate, and he resigned to it immediately.
The meeting ended, and everyone, including Sunghoon, stood up and exited the room. You followed him as he went straight to the gardens to clear his head. His family would be occupied with entertaining the guests and making more plans, so it was just you and him. Again.
He sat in his usual spot underneath the same tree. He buried his face in his hands, frustrated. He heard the sound of you sitting down next to him, before feeling your hand lightly grip his shoulder.
“Hey, Sunghoon?”
“You don’t have to say anything. It’s fine.”
“I know how much you don’t want this. Trust me, I don’t want it either.”
The second sentence was uttered in a more quiet voice, and he moved his hands away from his face to look at you in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
Your lips formed a thin line, your body language making it clear that you were saying this with hesitation.
“I don’t want you to marry her.”
You removed your hand from his shoulder. You looked down at the grass, fresh and green from the new spring season.
“Why? I mean- other than me not wanting it personally, there’s no reason you should hate it…this is an amazing opportunity for the people and the kingdom! We will prosper-”
“Fuck the people and the kingdom- I want you, dumbass.”
His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.
“What…do you mean.”
“I love you really badly. That’s what I mean.”
He couldn’t believe it. You, the very person he always desired desperately, his forbidden fruit, loved him back? Wanted him? This wasn’t real. He must’ve been knocked out after the marriage announcement and slipped into a pleasant dream.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You want me to prove it?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t know what to expect, but you grabbing his face and crashing your lips on his was the farthest from his vague idea of what might happen.
It lasted for a few seconds before you pulled away suddenly. You noticed his dazed expression and started to panic.
“Shit, shouldn’t have done that, please don’t kill me, I-”
Your voice snapped him out of his haze before he placed his hand on your waist and pulled you in for another kiss. His hand tucked one strand of hair behind your ear and you melted into the action, calming down instantly. He was so gentle, so careful, he was holding you like you were a delicate object that was to be treated with utmost care at all times. When you both parted, his face wore a lovesick smile, his eyes sparkling like stars.
“I feel the same.”
“Yeah, it was obvious.”
He chuckled at your comment, before frowning.
“You know this is dangerous, right? We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Your shoulders slumped at his words, knowing that he was completely correct.
“I do. I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess. I just didn’t…know how to tell you.”
He shook his head. To him, you could do no wrong. It was his fault. He should have gotten rid of you so that he could nip the blooming flower in his heart from the bud. He shouldn’t have been such a coward.
“I understand what you mean now. I don’t know how to stop it, though.”
“That’s…fine. Just knowing you feel the same is enough for me.”
It wasn’t. Neither for you, neither for him, and you both knew that. The fact that he couldn’t be yours and you couldn’t be his simply because of both of your duties was like a nasty, sharp torn ledged in the soft flesh of his heart. You and him were not meant to be. Your romance was only a fantasy, to be never fulfilled.
“Precisely. This is all it’ll ever be.”
It was night. He had one week until his wedding with the Hwan princess, and he was dreading it. Seeing your face became unbearable for him sometimes — you reminded him that he had everything a commoner could only dream of, but even the poorest of poor could love and he couldn’t. He was ready to throw his entire life away and disappear with you, but his fear of what would happen next to the country held him back.
He stared out the window in his bedroom which gave him a perfect view of the private gardens. The place where it all started and ended. The moonlight shone on the trees and flowers, giving it a peaceful aura, different from the cheery one it had in the daytime. Even in the comfort of his silk night clothes and soft blankets, he was in a state of unrest. He wanted to run, wanted to be free, wanted, wanted, wanted. He lay down, resting his head on his pillow as he waited for sleep to find him while he closed his eyes. Thankfully, the night was kind to him, and he dozed off almost instantly.
Sunghoon was rudely woken up by you frantically shaking his figure, pleading with you to wake up. When he came to his senses, he heard alarms sounding in the palace and immediately understood that it was an emergency, although what might’ve exactly happened was beyond him.
“Y/N, Y/N, I’m up. What’s going on?”
He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and slapping his face for good measure.
“Rebels. Come, we need to run.”
The first word was enough for him to be fully alert. He foresaw them coming, so it wasn’t a big shocker for him. He put on his slippers and looked at you with determination. He was actually trying to mask his fear, but you didn’t need to know that. You grabbed his arm and ran out of the room. He was a bit startled at your speed at first, but quickly matched your pace. When you both reached a corridor, you slowed down, wanting to be careful of surprise attacks.
“Hide your face to the best of your ability. I’m not sure if they’ll recognize you in non-prince clothes, but it’s better to be safe. They’ll aim for me instead since I have the palace uniform.”
His chest tightened. You were ready to give up your life for his. He knew that was protocol for all soldiers - royals over their own lives. He knew, but you were different. He didn’t want you to die, he couldn’t imagine a life without you. You were his oxygen, he’d suffocate if you were gone.
Suddenly, he noticed a flash of light. He heard a whoosh and he saw the way your hair moved in the direction of the sound. He assumed it was a gust of air along with the lights of the palace shining weirdly, but then he looked at the wall in front of him and realized what it was - an arrow. It was embedded in said wall, and you had missed it by a hair’s breath. Literally. It had scratched your face, but other than that, you were fine.
You pulled him down to remain on the floor, before you stood up and ran to the rebel that shot it, your hands gripping your sword tight. You engaged in combat with her. She was rather buff, and even though she only had a bow and an arrow holder on her, she was slowly gaining ground in the fight. She was blocking your thrusts with her bow, catching your moves with its string. She landed a harsh blow on your chest, and he gritted his teeth seeing your sharp flinch. He had to do something and fast.
He crawl-walked across the floor, making sure to stay unnoticed. He moved to stand behind the rebel before forcefully grabbing her neck. She was gagged, and the sudden lack of air caught her off guard. You took the opportunity and struck her in the heart, and he let go of her.
You both ran off, eager to get to the safe room specially built for situations like this. Barely some distance away, he raised his head, neck aching from the constant strain, when you suddenly pushed him to the ground and covered his mouth with your hand. He was about to protest, feeling kind of hot and bothered with his position, but then he decided against it. You definitely did this for a reason, and he could repress his feelings for a while.
Your head turned as you stared at a rebel passing by, praying he wouldn’t notice you both. He was blind to your movement thankfully, and as soon as he left, you got off of Sunghoon, pulled him up, and ran. You pushed the door of the safe room which was behind a cupboard open with your shoulder, and he then realized that he was the first one to reach. The door closed, and he glanced at you, relief and gratitude clear in his eyes.
You gave him a thumbs up and turned to leave to assist the other soldiers with getting the rest of his family to the room when he suddenly grabbed your wrist. You looked at him with confusion, and you opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing when he placed his lips on yours. You let out a soft gasp when he held you closer, one arm around your waist, the other hand on your back, holding you close. This wasn’t like the last time you kissed — this was desperate, filled with emotion. He let go of you too soon, eyes shining with tears.
You both knew that there was a chance you wouldn’t come back to him, and this could be the last time he saw you.
You squeezed his hand in an attempt to reassure him. He just nodded at the door, knowing that you had your duty. You bowed and left as he watched you in fear, praying that you’d make it.
After the attack by the rebels, there were always new questions about the palace’s security floating around. Quite a few lives were lost. None of them were you or his family, but Sunghoon still grieved for them mentally. He couldn’t imagine the agony their families must’ve been going through, and he managed to convince his father to give all the deceased’s close relatives compensation.
The wedding was called off for now, much to his delight and his father’s despair. The old man had accused him of doing something to sabotage it, but he had grown a thicker skin, thanks to you. All efforts were now being put into strengthening the forces of the kingdom, and the actual matters of state were being ignored. This would lead to more rebellion, but his father didn’t seem to care. At this rate, he could die if he stepped out of the palace grounds — the people hated him that much. Sunghoon was already preparing to become the next ruler since that future would become a reality pretty soon.
A surprise attack was inevitable, but he didn’t expect the aggressor to be the damn Hwan kingdom.
They must’ve heard about the damage inflicted on the palace from spies and knew that the Park kingdom would be focusing its efforts on repairing it, thus taking advantage of the situation. It was smart of king Hwan, Sunghoon would give him that.
He rode his horse while inspecting the soldiers preparing for battle. None of them were properly ready for this. Many veteran soldiers were on break and were called back suddenly. They all did come, and he was grateful to them for that, even when they had the right to refuse. The troops were arranging their positions quickly, and a little bit of his anxiety relaxed. Their army was strong, they could face this.
As he rode back, he saw his father, who was seething with rage at being betrayed, Sunghoon’s brain was in overdrive. Many of these brave soldiers would sacrifice their body and soul for a stupid fight that wouldn’t bring much to the land that could have been easily prevented. He knew it would happen, but didn’t do anything that was enough to fix it. He couldn’t keep falling short of what was necessary, that wasn’t what a future king would do.
Not wanting to talk to the old man, he rode a little further where you were on your own horse, surveying the battlefield. He relaxed a bit more upon seeing you and moved to be next to you.
“This will be a tough fight, Sunghoon.”
“I hope it remains a fight that ends today and not a war that stretches over days.”
“Where we are victorious.”
“Obviously.”
“My- Sunghoon, what will you do in case your father…is killed?”
The slip-up and the way ‘my Sunghoon’ rolled off your tongue so perfectly made him miss your actual question for a moment. He let out a soft giggle, before manning up to think. He hadn’t considered that possibility at all. If that happened, then he would automatically become the next king. He’d rule the land and hopefully lead better than the previous king and his reign would be peaceful. He’d make sure of that.
“Be the next ruler, of course. I’d promote you to my personal advisor.”
You cracked a small smile at that.
“Not enough brain. Plus, what if I don’t make it?”
“Won’t happen. You’re too sexy to die. Your abilities are top tier too, you’ll survive.”
You laughed now, and he smiled fully at you. This was a situation unheard of — right before a whole battle, he was here flirting with you and laughing. So very serious.
He leaned his head closer to yours, hair falling over his eyes. They were pleading silently with you to steal one last kiss, one last secret gesture of love before you both left to fight, one last chance to hold you. You shortened the gap, about to comply, when the war horn sounded, signaling the start of the battle. He frowned, angry at the lost chance, but quickly kissed your forehead. You pecked his cheek in return, before putting on your helmet and riding off.
The sound of hooves hitting the ground and the sight of dust flying from them brought him back into the moment, and he rode in the same direction as his own army, intending to lead the fight. His father was weak and made dumb decisions, so it was up to him. He moved directly to the frontlines, pulling out his sword from its hilt as an enemy soldier charged at him. He fought with ease, and soon a dead body was on the ground.
He should have been desensitized now upon seeing gore and corpses, but it still disgusted him. He gritted his teeth and averted his gaze as he parried with more enemies. Soldiers were dropping left and right from both sides. Blood splatters were on his own face from fighting so fiercely. It was a miracle that he was still standing with only minor injuries, the Hwan soldiers were vigorous.
Time was passing quickly, although for him it felt like an eternity. He just wanted to go back after all this ended. He didn’t care if he had to marry the Hwan princess, all he wanted was for this bloodshed to end. The sound of arrows being shot, horses neighing, grunts of hurt and dying soldiers — it was all too much for him.
All of a sudden, a more experienced soldier was attacking him, he could tell by the moves. His entire focus was on fighting back because this guy could actually kill him, that much was clear. He didn’t notice the other soldier charging towards him from his left with a spear until he heard a clang.
His eyes darted in the direction of the sound for a second, only to see you had blocked the attack and thrown the soldier off his horse. He was impressed and inspired by you, and with renewed strength, he killed the veteran. He gave you a thumbs up, before looking to his right as someone else ran to replace the deceased soldier. He was ready to fight that person and everyone else with you and for you.
Then, tragedy struck.
An arrow was heading in his direction. Occupied with the current fight he was in, Sunghoon was in no position to dodge it, and you took the blow. Pushing his horse with your own, the arrow lodged in your chest instead. The only reason he noticed it was because of the sound of pain you made. He finished off the man fighting him, and then turned his head to look at you. Your head was drooping slightly and your grip on the reins of your horse had faltered.
No, no, no, this can’t happen!
You were supposed to stay with him, you were supposed to be by his side forever, he was supposed to get more chances to love you, even in secret, not just lose you like this.
He immediately shoved his sword back in its hilt before grabbing your torso to steady you. You were very faintly there, you just had to keep going a bit more for him, and he knew you could.
“Y/N, hold on, okay? Don’t close your eyes, please.”
“Try…ing.”
Fuck, your voice was so weak, you really were trying. He’d end your suffering soon, he promised silently.
Coincidentally, the war horn sounded once more, signifying the end of the battle. It was his kingdom’s, which meant he had won, just like you wanted.
But you weren’t conscious enough to realize it.
He promptly sat you on his horse in front of him, one arm around your waist holding you close and tight. He galloped fast to the palace medic, the best one in the entire region. He ignored the weird looks and the shouts of his name, traveling with urgency. He had to move fast for your sake, and also for his own. He’d lose his shit if you…no. You weren’t going to, he was sure of it.
“Try to not focus on the pain, we’re almost there.”
That was stupid advice, but he had to say something, anything to save him.
“This doctor will fix you up, I swear. Just- don’t give up yet, Y/N. I beg of you. It’s all I’ll ask for this badly from you.”
Your head was now tilted back, and it rested on his right shoulder. You opened your eyes slightly to look at him, which he took as a good sign.
Then you spoke.
“I won’t…won’t make it. It’s…no point…denying it…my…Hoon, I…love you.”
At your words, Sunghoon’s lips formed a thin line as he squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds to force his tears to stay back. He could feel the blood running from your wound and collecting onto the sleeve of his suit, but he refused to accept it. You would make it, you couldn’t die.
“Shut-Shut up. You’re not dying, not when I’m here. Look, we’ve reached- you’ll be okay, I swear.”
He got off the horse, your limp body in his arms bridal style.
He wished he could be holding you like this in a different, more happier situation.
The doctor rushed out of her house and knew that it was urgent upon seeing the prince at her door. She took you in and he waited outside, pacing around nervously. He was so certain you’d survive, but the wound could be a major setback for the rest of your life. He’d have to make adjustments to accommodate you at the palace. He wouldn’t mind though, it was for you after all.
The doctor came out after a few minutes, and he waited for her to say something along the lines of ‘she survived, but ___’. Not to see her shake her head with a soft sigh.
“I’m sorry. She didn’t make it. She was gone when you came here. We tried our best, but…the arrow was poison tipped, which reduced her chances of surviving to zero.”
No. No no no no no. This lady was old and wrinkling, she was probably cuckoo and playing an unfunny prank on him.
“Can I see her? Alone?”
“Of course, sire.”
He rushed inside immediately, expecting to see you on the bed bandaged up and smiling at how well the prank worked on him-
She was right. You really were gone. You took your last breath in his arms. Your arms rested limply by your sides. The arrow was removed, but the blood stains were on your armor as evidence that the fatal injury did indeed happen. Useful reminder for a delusional ass like his. Your helmet was off your head now.
He sat down on a chair next to your bed and held one of your hands gingerly. It was already turning cold, and he hated it. He felt freshly made cuts and bruises along with older scars on your palm. His gaze fell on your face. The scratch you got from the rebel’s ambush was still partially healing. He took in your features with intense concentration, engraving them in his memory. He despised the fact that you looked so much at peace right now – when you just left his entire life in turmoil. He needed so badly to shake you back to life or something, but he knew that there was no point now. He lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing it in a tender manner, a weak replacement for the one you both missed maybe an hour or two before.
Just when he let go of your hand, the doctor rushed in with news.
“Sire, his majesty has passed away due to a…similar poisonous arrow shortly after victory.”
Both the people he knew wanted to win the most were dead just after it happened. Ironic, he thought - this was worthless now.
King Sunghoon walked through the cemetery for soldiers who had sacrificed their lives for the country. He stopped right in front of one which had many flower bouquets, a lot of them from his own previous visits, all of them your favorite flowers. He got on his knees on the right side of your gravestone, head bowed in respect and hands folded in his lap.
“Hello, Y/N. I know I’ve come to see you many times before, but I can’t help it. I miss you so much. You left too soon. I still believe that I should have taken that arrow instead of you…although it was for the better in hindsight. At least your last memory was of me and your pain ended quickly.”
Silence. He quickly wiped his eyes.
“I love you, Y/N. I still do, so much. I should move on by now, but it’s hard. Not when you meant so much to me, not when you changed me. A little for the worse, mostly for the better.”
He laughed dryly, looking at his hands. An expensive ring gleamed on his ring finger.
“I married a queen who I liked a lot. Not the Hwan princess, although she and I keep in touch often. We’re allies now. Kind of ironic, since I lost you and the old man in a war against that same kingdom’s old ruler.”
He wasn’t willing to let himself break, what if someone walked in on him sobbing over a dead soldier's grave? What would they think? He poked his eyes with his fingers, still in misery. No matter how much he tried, everything in his brain led back to you. While he didn’t want you to fade or leave his mind exactly, you were only meant to be a guest, visiting occasionally, not a permanent resident, not someone he still needed. When he calmed down, he quietly lifted his crown off his head and put it on top of your gravestone. He placed a solemn hand on it, closing his eyes.
“This is a love stained crown, tainted with you and I, along with all our memories. Your affection will never wash away, no matter how much I try. I miss you and I love you, and I hope you’re doing better, wherever you are.”
#mallow’s works#mallow’s oneshots#divider by fairytopea#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen royal au#enhypen angst#sungoon#park sunghoon#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon angst#sunghoon royal au#enhypen fic#sunghoon fic#sunghoon prince au#sunghoon enhypen#kflixnet
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Sunset & Vine
PART ONE | PART TWO
SYNOPSIS: one year was all you had, and the winners of the previous hunger games. You didn’t know them that well, but they were still youre only friends. Now you’re thrown back into the Games with some new confusing feelings.
FANDOM: The Hunger Games
PAIRING(S): Peeta Mallark x Victor!Reader
RATING: G
CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Coriolanus Snow, Johanna Mason, Finnick Odair, Effie Trinket, President Coin, Gale Hawthorne
GENRE/AU: Dystopia, Angst, a very small amount of comfort,
WORD COUNT: 5.2k
WARNINGS: Katniss is slightly OOC, Canon divergent in some ways but not others, CATCHING FIRE AND MOCKINGJAY SPOILERS, Reader won the 74th hunger games and Peeta and Katniss won the 73rd.
A/N: Jjj, I’ve really got to stop writing stories with ending like this. Lemme know if you want part two. FYI!!! Changed a few words that completely changed the context and set up for the next part.
DEDICATIONS: Peeta my beloved
CREDITS: Taylor Swift for the name (Gorgeous - Taylor Swift)
It’s a woman, standing with her back to you— she has similar hair to yours and an almost protective stance to her. A haze of colour surrounds her… oranges, purples and yellows swirled into an indescribable but beautiful mess.
Peeta Mellark may be a fellow victor, and he may be one of your neighbours, but you know nothing about him. Except for this beautiful painting that he gifted you.
She wears a dress that flows in some sort of assumed breeze, and has a hand tentatively braced in her hair; there’s something so familiar about this scene that you can’t place— something familiar about the woman in particular.
You can’t place it.
You run your fingers along the small note that Peeta had left with the painting, hovering over the loopy cursive of his signature; it’s the same on the painting but it’s too beautiful to touch like that.
Last year, you won the seventy-fourth annual hunger games, and became a legend for getting district twelve two wins in a row— right alongside Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, Who won the seventy-third hunger games.
Thank god the months of parading you around were over and you could settle happily into your gigantic house by yourself.
Well, happily might be an over statement— you had no family, and certainly no friends… unless Haymitch counts but you don’t think he does.
So this painting feels extra special— a warmth in an otherwise cold and unfamiliar home.
“Where should I put it?” Muttering to yourself, you mentally scan the layout of your house; you’d want it to be in a place where you could see it often, but also somewhere where any house guest would be able to see it… yeah. House guests.
After shaking your head uselessly, you settle on hanging it in the entryway. For sure people would see it there.
You’d been putting off doing this for a couple of days, just because you hadn’t had a whole lot of energy to do anything but sit in a chair and half-read a novel.
So, after a few minutes of fiddling and messy calculations, the painting is hung in the entryway.
You take one last glance at the swirling coloured background once more, and then turn away, leaving the comfort and fantasy behind.
……
Victors are supposed to have immunity, they’re supposed to be done with the games for the rest of their miserable, trauma ridden lives.
But the seventy-fifth hunger games brings back all of the worst parts of last year— you know that out of the three other victors, you’re the female they want to get picked. You’re the easy decision, the loner that nobody cares about.
You know the Capitol loves Peeta and Katniss far too much, and you, not enough.
This, stacked on top of everything else the Capitol has put you through… it’s too much.
You’re pulled from your thoughts when there’s a knock at your door.
“Hello?” You say as you open it; Peeta Mellark is standing there with his lip turned down just slightly, his eyes center behind you for a moment before his face softens and lightens.
“Hey. You got the painting.” A smile melts onto his face, and you swear he looks… beyond words when he smiles.
After a long moment of silence, you clear your throat. “What brings you here…?” You stammer awkwardly, cringing at your choice of words.
He sort of— laughs? Chuckles? at you. “We’re talking strategy for the Quarter Quell and we figured we should include you.” His face falls again, and he looks like he’s holding something back.
Your back straightens. “The Quarter Quell isn’t for another few months—”
He nods slowly. “But we’re going to have to do the pre-tour… and they’re pulling names in just a couple weeks.”
The band around his ring finger gleams brightly in the sun, which sends some sort of jealous feeling rolling through you.
You shake your head because you don’t know Peeta Mellark, and, even if he is gorgeous, you don’t get crushes on people you don’t know.
Plus he’s in love and engaged to Katniss Everdeen, even if you did know him well enough to develop a crush.
He glances down, and then quickly yanks the ring off. “It’s, uh— just for the camera’s.” Then he gestures to the painting behind you. “That’s you, you know. I know you’ve never worn a dress like that, but I saw a screencap of you in The Games and inspiration just kind of… hit me.” he trails off at the end and fiddles with the ring in his hand.
“It’s… me?” You say slowly. “We barely know each other, why would you paint me?”
He takes a small breath. “You’re really beautiful, Y/n, I’ve always thought so.”
A breath hitches but you genuinely can’t discern if it’s him or you over the roaring of blood in your ears.
“So…” he starts again. “If you want to join us, we’re heading over to Haymitch’s now.”
“Okay.” You say, sounding more winded than you did before; you stare at him for a few more moments before you step out of the front door and shut it.
You walk silently beside him, trying not to take in his messy blonde hair or pretty blue eyes—and also, failing miserably—
Just as you reach Haymitch’s doorstep, you stop and tug on Peeta’s sleeve to get his attention. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Peeta.”
He looks down at you, the air around you charged with some kind of something that you can’t name, and just as he’s about to reach over to you, the door swings open.
“Why are you guys just standing out here?” Katniss says with her nose scrunched, she eyes you up and then eyes Peeta up in a similar fashion.
At least it wasn’t exclusively you.
Both your heads snap toward her, while Peeta smoothly comes up with a reason. “Y/n was feeling nervous, I was just trying to help calm her nerves.”
Haymitch raises an eyebrow from behind Katniss, and gives Peeta a look.
“Hey, Sweetheart.” He says, as Katniss steps aside and lets the two of you in. There’s a tenderness to his voice that you hadn’t realized you missed so much.
“Hi.” The three of you shuffle into what you think was once a living room but it’s chillingly messy in Haymitch’s house.
“Couldn’t we have done this at someone else’s house?” Peeta says, eying the empty bottles on the floor.
“No.” Katniss shakes her head, shooting Haymitch a glare. “Because everytime we have to talk to him, we have to wake him up with a bucket of water.”
You snort. “I’m sorry— a bucket of water?”
Haymitch cuts in. “Why do you think my hair’s wet? I definitely didn’t take a shower.” There's a water stain that makes his shirt sag, and you wonder how you didn’t notice before. Haymitch clears his throat. “Moving on; if it’s Katniss and Peeta then we can still milk the whole star-crossed lover thing— if it’s me or Y/n… that won’t work.”
“Y/n shouldn’t go.” Peeta interjects; you’re taken aback by it.
You fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I really thought I was the best person to go.” You pause, looking up at the three of them. “It’s not like there’s anyone here that will care if I don’t come home.”
Haymitch gives Peeta a scrutinizing look. “Look, Lover-boy, we know you have a crush but that isn’t enough for Katniss to volunteer herself if Y/n gets picked.”
Peeta looks to you and then back to Haymitch. “Katniss and I are the Capitol’s favourite couple right now, if we went we’d probably be much better off in terms of sponsors and parachutes.”
“And you don’t want her to go.” Haymitch gestures in yours and Katniss’s direction.
Peeta sighs but doesn’t deny it. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want his fiancé to go back to the Games.
“Peeta is right,” Katniss starts, “but, Haymitch, if you get picked… Peeta should stay. Either way.”
Peeta shakes his head. “No. I’m not staying.”
You cut in. “There’s no good reason why I should stay.” You’re basically the only clear answer; if you get picked you’ll go, and, if Katniss is picked, you’ll go. “I won’t.”
Now all three of them are staring at you. “If I get picked, Katniss can’t volunteer and if she gets picked, you can’t stop me from volunteering.”
Katniss huffs. “You can’t stop me from volunteering either.”
Really, you could all argue this for hours.
…..
The four of you had never come to a conclusion, and now it’s the day of the Reaping.
Effie stands uncomfortably at the bowl; she doesn’t seem happy about having to pull your names, despite her chipper facade.
“The female tribute for District Twelve is…” she says, digging around in the two slips of paper in the bowl. She finally pulls one out and reluctantly reads it out. “Y/n L/n.” She almost sighs your name.
Katniss’s fingers twitch nervously, like she wants to say something but you shoot her the strongest glare you can muster.
She doesn’t volunteer, and you’re glad for it.
You walk up to the stage, head held high; you know this is the start of the end of your life, so you might as well act more confident than you truly are.
Effie looks at you sadly once you’re settled behind her, and then turns back to the audience. “And… the male tribute for District Twelve is,” she spends another five minutes routing through the two names. “Haymitch Abernathy.” This time her sigh is one of relief.
But the relief does not last long.
“I volunteer!” Peeta says, stepping forward; Haymitch grabs his arm and says something too quiet to hear, and Peeta says something back. His face is full of determination as everyone watches him walk up the stage and stand next to you.
Everyone in your little group wears a look of defeat. Even you.
Only one of you can go home, and you’re going to do your damn best to make sure it’s Peeta Mellark.
…..
“I’m not ready for this.” You say quietly, as you walk down the corridor to your bedrooms on the train. “It’s hardly been a year, Peeta.”
He nods solemnly, not looking at you as you arrive at your door. His is just across the hall.
Peeta gently takes your hand in his and squeezes. “I know. It’s too soon.” He looks angry. “We were never supposed to have to do this again.” He drops your hand before you can reciprocate in any sort of way.
You do feel a little less nauseous though.
“It‘s okay.” You whisper, twitching your fingers and slapping it onto the doorknob. “It’ll be okay.”
Peeta’s eyes rove over you in a scrutinizing manner as though he’s trying to figure some meaning behind your words, but there isn’t one to figure.
Just that it will be okay. Peeta will, if you really just be specific. Peeta will return home, happy and safe.
Ready to live his life with the woman he loves… Katniss.
And you will fade into false glory and distant memory.
…..
“Finnick, Right?” You fidget with your fingers in front of you; Finnick Odair was an attractive man who oozed with confidence and smooth words.
“Want a sugar cube?” He asks slyly, holding one out to you. “They're supposed to be for the horses but— we’re going to die anyway, it won’t matter after that.”
You nod carefully. “Of course, because that would obviously matter if we weren’t already set for death.” You still take the sugar cube from his hand and pop it in your mouth.
You almost gag from it. Pure sugar was… a lot. “Ugh. That’s disgusting.”
Finnick chuckles. “But liberating.”
You shake your head but a smile still spreads across your face. “Liberating indeed, Finnick Odair. My last act of rebellion is eating a sugar cube.”
“Devastating, really. To the Capitol, I mean.” He smiles easily at you, before someone catches his attention and he saunters off.
Claudius Templesmith stood not far from you, crooning about something with one of the older tributes.
The older man— Betee, you think— stood, looking indifferent but also invested in Claudius’s ramblings and unnecessary questions.
You were dreading the questions he’d ask you during your second round of interviews.
The last time was time enough for you.
“What’d he want?” Peeta asks, walking up behind you and pulling your attention away from the other party-goers.
“Oh, you know,” you say flippantly, “sugarcubes, secrets, and sarcasm.”
Peeta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion but the smile remains on his face. “Sounds like an interesting conversation.” He extends his arm to you. “Shall we?”
You sigh. “Not like we have much choice.”
….
“I’d give anything to know what’s going on inside your head.” Peeta says softly, fidgeting with the rope in his hands. You’d both decided that learning how to tie some knots would be beneficial.
You chuff, an awkward laugh. “What do you mean?”
His fingers work steadily, and somewhat clumsily, with the rope; there’s something alluring about how sure he can be with his hands.
It makes you think of the painting in your house— the one that you’ll never see again— how patient he must’ve been to complete such a beautiful piece, how still and sure of himself.
“What are you thinking right now, Y/n?” He looks up at you, with those beautiful blue eyes of his.
You shrug. “I was thinking about…” you trail off, because you absolutely cannot say that you were thinking about his hands. A half-truth will have to do. “Your painting. How I’ll never see it again.”
Hip lips pull into a frown. “You’ll see it again, I’m going to make sure of it.”
Sighing deeply, you stand. “You’re the one who has to go home, Peeta, not me.” He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “It has to be you.”
….
You don’t have the time to argue about it for the next couple of days, you hardly even see each other.
Now, Cinna is preparing you for the arena. You know that everything he gave was meant for Katniss, he had obviously expected it to be her, or that he wouldn’t style you.
He hadn’t been your stylist, but yours had opted out of this year’s games, claiming it was too painful to watch you go back in.
You hadn’t liked her much the first time around, wanted to change you too much in ways that you most definitely did not like.
Cinna, though, you liked him. Though this would be the last time you saw him.
You were dressed in whatever mandatory suit that they designed for this game, a skin tight suit that looked like you were about to go scuba diving.
“It’s time.” Cinna says, glancing back to the tube at the back of the room. You turn back to it.
“Thank you, Cinna.” You say, bowing your head for him. “It was nice getting to know you.”
He smiles half-heartedly. “It was a pleasure, Y/n.”
You exchange a final goodbye and step into the tube. The sixth second countdown begins as the tube starts to ascend.
It's all water, just water and water and water in a large circle around them. There was also thin sand bars that connected the tubes and the Cornucopia, but you knew you wouldn’t be braving that.
Peeta stands three tubes down, with a morphling, a Career and Johanna between you two.
Twenty seconds.
You stare at him desperately, hoping he’ll stick to the plan and swim towards you; you catch his eyes and he smiles reassuringly. It’s not a genuine smile but it still calms you all the same.
Ten seconds.
You ball your fists, clenching hard.
Nine.
Eight.
God, it’s going to be difficult to get out of the water.
Seven.
Six.
You’re not the strongest swimmer, maybe you should go to the Cornucopia.
Five.
Four.
And it’s a long way to swim, even for someone who does know how. Only experienced swimmers, like Finnick, would have an easy time of it.
Three.
Two.
Then, it occurs to you, maybe those sandbars go all the way to the shore; if you get to the Cornucopia, Grab, well, anything, and then flee via the sandbars, you just might be okay.
One.
The pads everyone stands on recede into the water and dumps everyone straight in.
It makes you realize that most of your competitors do not know how to swim.
Peeta is just barely floating thanks to the bright purple belt that had been strapped around all your waists.
You know how to swim at least a little bit , so you unbuckle yours and swim over to him; once it inflates fully, you give it to him and try to drag him towards the sandbars.
It dawns on you all over again that Peeta is a tall guy, and he’s not exactly small either.
He’s strong and his weight definitely shows that; he tries to keep himself afloat but ends up making it worse.
Eventually, you make it over there, and he pulls himself up onto the loose sand; it takes a bit of effort because it’s slippery and keeps moving under your weight.
It’s barely stable enough to be a viable option. Just barely.
You leave him there for a minute and swim to the cornucopia. There's fighting going on on its small platform, but you just snag a small waterproof bag that sits a few yards away; a knife comes flying in your direction, and knicks your face.
The salt of the water stings as it mingles with blood.
When you spin back towards Peeta, he’s struggling and Finnick is approaching him.
You race back as fast as you can.
Finnick already has some pretty gnarly weapons strapped to him.
You’re about to draw the knife on him when shakes his head. “Relax, Y/n, I’m saving his ass.” Then he lifts a hand out of the water and flashes some sort of bracelet at you.
It’s the alliance bracelets that Haymitch had mentioned.
Oh.
“I-”you start, but you never really had a sentence to begin with.
You just lag silently behind as Finnick helps Peeta to the shore. The closer you get to the shore, the wider the sandbars get, and the sturdier they are as well.
Until they're eventually higher than the water, and wide enough for both Peeta and yourself to walk side by side.
You collapse onto the sand when you finally reach the shore and stay there for only a second.
That’s all you have before the three of you are up and running into the forest in front of you.
….
When Peeta’s heart stops, you're sure that yours does too— you’re sure that, as you stand there in a state while Finnick tries to resuscitate Peeta, you’re also unresponsive and silent. Dead.
True enough, in a way.
The longer you stare at Peeta’s face, still twisted in pain from the shock, the more you feel like dropping to the ground and sobbing.
You tried to imagine the way he painted with camouflage training stuff, drawing intricate designs onto both his and one of the morhpling’s arms.
It had washed off by the next morning but you had spent the whole night longing to touch it, run your fingers along his arm, trace the shapes and swirls.
Beyond the paintings, you recalled his magnetic smile and the way he always made you feel safe and calm, the steady air that he radiated.
You weren’t ready for him to die, he was the one who was supposed to win this, after all. You had resolved that Peeta Mellark was going to be the winner of the 75th Hunger Games and you were going to do whatever you needed to to make that happen. You were even prepared to turn into somebody you weren’t, just to make sure Peeta went home. Or at least, you thought you could if you had to come to it.
But now, you’re ready to give up. Finnick or Johanna could win— and they should. Literally anyone else but you. Everyone who had a life now that Peeta is gone.
You’re just about to collapse to the ground when Peeta starts to cough erratically, and he manages to sit straight up.
“Peeta!” You cry as you fall to the ground next to him, and wrap your arms around his neck. He seems disoriented for a moment before he hugs you back, right. “I really thought you were gone.”
He gently strokes your back, as you fuss over him, double checking that he’s okay and checking his burn.
…..
You hear a loud sickening crack from somewhere else in the arena that makes everyone but Johanna and Finnick jump. You feel Peeta’s hand wrap around you protectively and pull you closer to him in the single instant that you’re all reacting to the noise.
It takes a few delayed seconds before each one of you realizes that it’s just the lightning in 12, before you realize just how having Peeta’s hands on you makes you feel.
His fingers slip from your waist, brushing softly as they fall away and leaving you feeling just slightly feral.
You pull yourself away, and dig your nails into your thigh to ground yourself. Getting used to this clock thing was going to be agonizing.
You’re waiting patiently as the lot of you— You, Peeta, Finnick, Johanna and Beetee— come up with a plan to take down the force field and take out the Careers at the same time.
You can barely focus on the conversation because you itch to have Peeta’s hands on you again, to feel his fingers against your skin again.
In fact there’s so many things you’d like to say and do with Peeta that you know you will never have the chance to; not to mention that he is in love with someone else and would never be interested in any of those things with you anyways.
You’re pretty sure you’d been staring at Peeta but you only notice because Finnick shoots a look at you— you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking but it must be something about that.
You try to zone back into the plan.
….
Trying to trap the careers failed miserably, and the person most experienced with a bow was you, but only thanks to Katniss’s training.
Everything was a blur as the force field came down; chaos, fire everywhere— you couldn’t see or hear Peeta.
You worried about him and you laid pathetically on the ground, half out of your mind. You wondered if he was having trouble with his prosthetic leg, or having run from Enobaria or one of the other careers. You wondered if he’d make it out okay, even though it was obvious you wouldn’t.
You wondered and worried for what felt like forever until an airship appeared above you.
Great. You thought, the Capitol has come to torture you and everyone you’ve ever loved until the couldnt anymore and all of you was nothing more than a shell of a person. Until the only option was avox or death.
You can’t move, or fight it as the giant claw, scoops you up.
All that effort and you still managed to condem each and everyone of you to torture.
…..
“Relax, Y/n!” Haymitch snaps, as Finnick restrains you.
Katniss sits on the other side of the table, looking just as devastated as you.
“What do you mean, you didn’t get Peeta? You can’t just leave him there, they’ll hurt him worse than any of us could ever imagine!” You say, still struggling to get away from Finnick.
Katniss actually argues in your favour. “I did say I would only do this thing if you got both her and Peeta.”
Plutarch, the game maker shakes his head redundantly. “Peeta and Johanna were just to far away for us to locate before the Capitols airships came; I’m sorry, we’ll get them back eventually.”
Finnick finally lets you go once you’ve calmed down. He has a solemn look on his face. “I’m sure they’ve got Annie too. We need to save them as soon as possible.”
….
As soon as possible turns into several weeks, several heartbreakingly, agonizingly long weeks.
You can’t help but think about Peeta every moment of every day . You imagine all the terrible things Snow is doing to him, you wish it was you in his place.
Peeta was the one person who never deserved any of this, over anyone else. You and Katniss had been willing to do whatever you needed to to survive, you’d done things maybe you weren’t particularly proud of. But Peeta? He had never let the Games change him.
He had always been the same.
Safe, steady, comfortable, strong.
You don’t even have any hope that they’re showing him any mercy.
They aren’t.
You know now, you know by the way that last interview they aired went— how he was struck just as the cameras shut off, how your heart broke when you looked into his eyes, when you saw just how much they’d hurt him already.
You were just about ready to burst into Coin’s office and tell her that you were getting Peeta now, regardless of the consequences to Thirteen.
Gale and Katniss were fighting a lot lately, tension was heavy between them; and not in a good way. You didn’t know Gale well, but the comments he made about Peeta made your skin crawl and your hands itch to throw a few punches.
Actually they were arguing now, about Peeta, and you were listening.
Gale’s head snaps to you randomly and he barks at you; “and you! Why the hell are you so invested in Bread Boy?”
You startle for a moment, but then narrow your eyes. “What do you mean why am I invested? He’s my— friend.” You say, sounding unsure even to yourself.
Katniss huffs. “I mean, come on, Gale, you know that our relationship has been fake from the start and we—” she gestures between the two of them. “—we’re friends, Gale, we always have been.”
He scoffs, and says something else in a bitter tone but all you can hear is Katniss’s words replaying over and over in your brain.
Our relationship has been fake from the start.
“Shut up for a second!” You snap at Gale, and turn back to Katniss. “Your relationship was fake the whole time? Yours and Peeta’?” You almost feel like an asshole for asking, just in case it is real; but so many things Peeta has done and said make so much more sense recontextualized like this.
Like when he said their rings were ‘just for ten cameras.’ Or when he told you he always thought you were beautiful. Or even the way he tried so hard to convince not to go back into the games.
Both of their faces fall flat, Katniss’s in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” She says.
You shake your head slowly. “No, I-” you stop yourself because you're at a loss for words.
“Y/n, we didn’t try to hide it from you, how did you not know? Even Haymitch said right in front of you that Peeta had a crush on you!”
You deadpan once again. You had blatantly misread everybody’s words in that conversation. “I just assumed that was about you!” You stare at each other for a second longer before you stand up abruptly. “I have to go.”
There was a lot of thinking you had to do and then a lot of planning— and a bit of yelling too.
…..
You were deemed too invested in the mission to actually go on it, and Finnick was too distressed over Annie to be allowed.
So you had been sitting together in silence; the silence was comfortable but the insane amounts of stress running through your veins was enough to make the tension in the air as sharp as a knife. Not between each other but to any other person.
Especially since Gale was allowed to go on the mission, and you felt that was entirely unfair— Gale doesn’t even like Peeta.
It had turned into a whole day of waiting, and only twenty minutes ago, they had returned with Johanna, Peeta and Annie.
The anxiety had grown tenfold when you were both informed you weren’t allowed to see them yet.
Now, you’re standing outside the door where Annie was resting, watching her through the one way window.
Finnick’s eyes are filled with so many you can only pick out one or two; you wonder if your eyes will look similar when you enter Peeta’s room.
You wish him luck and watch as he enters the room; Annie looks like she screams his name and then jumps him. He holds her up, looking like it’s the happiest moment of his life.
Watching them makes you much more excited to see Peeta, although you're not sure it will be quite that exuberant of a reunion.
You walk a couple doors down, glancing in the windows as you do; but you stop when you see Katniss and Johanna in one of the rooms before Peeta’s.
Why in the world is Katniss in the Hospital? What happened?
You push open the door gently, and Katniss doesn’t stir— you take note of the morphling drip in her arm, that must be keeping her knocked out.
You see Johanna is also asleep, her head is shaved and she has the worst tortured expression on, even though she looks to be sleeping soundfully— physically, anyways.
If she’s looking that bad, you can’t help but wonder about Peeta. You’re always wondering about him.
You don’t want to disturb either of their healing so you quickly leave the room, shutting the door as quietly and calmly as you can.
Finally, as you walk out, you spot the guards in front of Peeta’s door; you think it’s a little strange, considering neither Johanna nor Annie had security at the door but you walk towards the door anyways.
The guards hold out a hand as you approach.
“Restricted access, you can’t go in there.” The guard says, almost heartlessly.
Just as he finishes speaking, the door opens and Haymitch steps out and away. You would look through the window but the blinds are down.
“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, you can’t see him.” Haymitch takes your arm and leads you back down the hallway. “The Capitol… they tortured him so bad he—” Haymitch stops, and looks away for a second before looking back. “He tried to strangle Katniss, and kept yelling about how Katniss was a liar. He’s not himself right now.”
So much for your heartfelt reunion.
All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.
#peeta mellark#the hunger games peeta#thg peeta#peeta x reader#peeta#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark x you#thg x reader#the hunger games x reader#the hunger games#catching fire#mockingjay#spoilers#mockingjay spoilers#catching fire spoilers#thg spoilers#the hunger games spoilers
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König Headcanons
Warnings: Implications/mentions of smut, mention of pegging, König is a sub/bottom, FLUFF, implications/mentions of masturbation, no pronouns used for reader except for 'you'.
This man is W H I P P E D for you.
Regardless of whether he met you in a civilian setting or on the battlefield, you have captured his interest immediately.
And every time König sees you, hears you, his mental image of you grows, his daydreams become more vivid.
Over the course of a month, König’s light daydreams, wonderments of the type of person you were, what you’d be like as friends, became more frequent.
And, as a romantic at heart, the daydreams became gradually…well, romantic.
König didn’t mean to! The slip into an alternate universe wherein you and him lived happily together, holding hands, sharing secrets, laying close together felt natural and easy.
He was ashamed of himself, to say the least.
He felt awful that he’d even dared think of such quite frankly wholesome scenarios about the two of you without you ever having even met him.
Though, König had to admit that the more loving his daydreams because, the more he felt satiated.
After all, the life of a soldier in his position was a lonely one, especially considering he could tell practically no-one about it.
As the weeks trundled on, König tried putting you out of his mind. Tried focusing on hobbies instead.
He’s a big fan of crochet.
It calms him down.
Though, he struggles sometimes due to his anxiety making his hands shake.
He's also a big fan of literature, particularly 19th century romantic.
His favourite book is definitely Pride and Prejudice.
But alas, even his hobbies fell just short of fulfilling him.
And, luckily, he didn’t have to suffer for much longer.
Your meeting was purely accidental.
König had dropped his almost withered, well-loved copy of Pride and Prejudice and you, appearing out of nowhere, picked it up for him.
“Here, sweetie,” you said, passing it to him.
König’s heart dropped into his stomach.
His face blew up into flames yet his body felt as if it were encased in ice, frozen and stiff.
He could scarcely hold his book in his hands, shaking.
“Th-th-“
Speak, you fool!
You smiled up at him, your tone as sweet as your face.
“Hey, are you okay?” You tilted your head, body contorted in an air of concern König had never experienced first-hand before.
He’d seen it in romance movies and novels, but never this close and never in real life.
Don’t get ahead of yourself; say something, god damn you!
“Th-ank you!”
Nailed it!
You kept smiling. König’s heart skipped a beat.
And thus König’s liking-from-afar grew into a night full-blown obsession.
You had quite a lot in common!
Your love of books, appreciation of art - things of that nature.
After your initial encounter and your bonding over the book he dropped, you gave him your number.
Given that you didn’t have König’s number, he had to make the first move and call you.
He sat by his phone, shaking, poised over the ‘Call’ button with your number typed in.
After much deliberation and thorough consideration of every conceivable way he could get rejected by you, he clicked ‘Call’.
The phone rang.
Once. Twice. Thrice-
“Hello?”
König’s heart skipped at the sound of your voice.
“H-hey,” he said, voice thin and wavering. Watery.
You chuckled on your end of the line. “Hey, sweetie. Thought you weren’t going to call me for a hot minute!”
Never, König wanted to say. Oh, all the things he wanted to say.
His daydreams could not compare to the anxious joy he was experiencing in this moment.
And every moment together you shared after.
The two of you began to hang around together, more and more frequently as the months progressed.
And all the while, König could feel his heart swell with nothing short of euphoria whenever you were near.
He watched you more than he read his book whenever you got together for library visits.
He studied you as a writer would literature, committing your every quirk and preference to memory.
On days when you weren’t together, König would spend every spare waking moment thinking of you, fantasising about you.
His daydreams grew more and more vivid, almost seeming to bleed into his real life.
And König absolutely believed he was hallucinating one day when you asked him out on a date.
He couldn’t say no. Every fibre of his being urged him, screamed “Yes!”
König had never been more anxious in his life.
He was terrified he’d mess the date up, arrive in the wrong attire, say the wrong thing (or nothing at all).
But when he arrived and saw you, saw how wonderful you were with him, holding his hands in yours as you recounted stories, how you looked him in the eyes whenever he spoke, his anxiety just seemed to melt away.
Though you may not have known it yet, König loved you.
He’d fallen for you long before, yet he never expected you to feel for him even a fraction of that which he felt for you.
Your relationship began not long after.
He worships you.
Can’t stand to be without you.
And when he returns from his post and you’re together.
Oh boy.
He’s nervous to ask at first at if you’d like to do the deed.
Would try and transition into it.
Do the classic yawning-arm-around-the-shoulder trick.
You clocked what he was doing, and, wanting to spare him the torture, cut straight to the chase.
“König, are you too shy to say you want to sleep with me, or are you just a terrible, unintentional flirt?”
König froze. His kind went blank.
Long story short, you ended up sleeping together.
And König had never known anything like it.
Man has absolutely zero rizz, zero experience.
He was quite insecure about that, but you made it difficult for him to think about anything else when you got started.
König loves being topped, btw.
Likes feeling vulnerable when you peg him.
Definitely cries because you make him feel so good.
Your pleasure is his top priority, though.
He's absolutely massive so it's not difficult for him to fill you.
You can see the outline of his cock when he's inside you.
And if you poke him or clench while he's buried, oh my god-
This man's a moaner. No arguments.
König could hardly see by the end of the experience, convinced he could see smells and taste colours.
And there you were, beside him, panting, smiling.
And it only confirmed what König already knew.
He wanted to be nowhere else but with you.
After that, he’s basically horny 24/7, brought in solely by the thought of you.
Nothing else can get him off (not that he’s tried; he’s too loyal for that; more on this later ;-) ).
You share and partake in hobbies together.
König teaches you how to crochet. Or, if you already know how to, he’ll just crochet beside you.
Makes you things 🥺.
You try and help him with his brain freezes whenever in a social situation by getting him to read his favourite literature to you out loud whenever you're at his apartment.
You make it bearable to just be in public, reassuring him or speaking on his behalf when he’s overwhelmed.
He loves holding hands.
Lives for your soft touches.
Forehead kisses send him absolutely silly.
He goes feral whenever you rake your fingers through his hair.
Will start muttering in German, probably moans too tbh.
Loves laying his head in your lap/on your chest.
Is fully aware of how large he is, though. So he tries to hold back some of his weight so he doesn’t crush you.
You tell him to relax, that he doesn’t need to withhold anything from you.
And that’s why he loves you,
You love him for him for who he is.
You’ve never teased him for his height, or his stutter when he’s nervous, or his social anxiety.
He tells you how much he loves you daily.
“I can’t live without you, maus,” he’d say while you played with his hair.
“And I you,” you’d say, pressing a kiss to his temple.
Power couple.
König uses his sheer mass to protect you from people who even look as if they want to hurt you.
He may be socially anxious, but he has absolutely no qualms about killing someone for you.
Considering that death is part of his job description, he’s accustomed to it. Kind of enjoys it, to be honest.
It would take a while for him to come clean about his occupation, afraid he’d scare you off.
He loves and trusts you, but he doesn't want to lose you.
He ended up admitting his occupation to you after he’d been called back into action.
Knowing he couldn’t just up and leave without telling you where he was going, he confessed.
You didn’t even blink an eye.
“Alright, cool. Now, do you want pie or curry for dinner?”
Whenever he’s away, he’s always thinking about you.
Calls you whenever he gets the chance.
Thinks of you in...compromising ways when you’re apart for long periods of time.
The first time he did so, he ended up admitting it because he felt so guilty.
You just laughed on your end of the call, a delightful habit of yours.
“Don’t worry,” you reassured. “I do the same.”
He spent a lot more time in his room after that.
The thought of you keeps him going, gives him a reason to live rather than survive.
Whenever he's in a tight situation, he imagines you there with him, telling him everything will be fine.
Btw, please validate him.
Call him a good boy, tell him you're the love if his life - anything.
Makes him feel like his efforts are being rewarded.
König can’t imagine his life without you.
He loves you, you love him.
And he’ll do anything to keep you.
Please reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself out tremendously :-)
Masterlist
Masterpost
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I think it's very hypocritically of them to do this.
MaoMao shows herself to have similar if not worse afflictions to the world as she poisons herself and enjoys doing so for the tests.
But Lakan is considered a weirdo for having a interest in his own daughter and Giving her a master puzzle to prove she's his.
Also the anime versus the light novel versus the web novel are different when it comes to MaoMao mother.
In the light novel she contracted syphilis during her time as a streetwalker before she was eventually redeemed By Lakan and marries him.
In the web novel she dies during his three year absence.
But he's vilified more in the anime.
People seem to hate Lakan because he did what he did to her mother but most have only seen the anime.
The anime hasn't even shown us how her mother Felt about all this.
Even in her decreased mental state at the mention of him being their at the place she began to set up the Sho board to begin to play.
If she didn't want his child though their were several ways to rid herself of MaoMao long before her birth.
The fact that MaoMao can't stand him tells me she has her own feelings on the man who is her father not helping her.
Who very likely found out about her long after she was numb to feelings of love.
She is also only a 17 year old girl.
People seem to forget she is a young Girl who isn't full matured.
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megumi reminds me so much of autumn . . . the leaves turning frail and crunchy, the outdoor air carrying a cold breeze that shakes wind chimes, the days fall short whereas the nights stills longer, warm maroon coloured sweaters, vanilla and apple scents follows in bakeries and candle shops . . .
this time of year cast a lovely veil over megumi’s life which temporarily reliefs him of his duties as a sorcerer. he chooses his spare time wisely and doesn’t take it for granted, since you occupy most of his thoughts its only warranted he spends his lazy saturdays with you by his side.
the first saturday of october, you both visit a secondhand book store after grabbing tea at a cozy cafe. megumi buys a agatha christie novel, the murder at the vicarage, you on the other hand buy a r.l stine goosebumps book. he sighs with a soft smile of his face, “typical…” he mutters to himself.
the second saturday of october, you, yuji, and nobara somehow grouped megumi into playing with an ouija board. after countless attempts of asking questions to the actual thin air, the planchette moves to the ‘yes’ side of the board after you and nobara jokingly asked: ‘does someone haunt the dorm room in the male east wing?’ the room was soon filled with screams of terror . . . needless to say you spent the night in your boyfriend’s dorm cuddled up in his arms.
the third saturday of october consists of going into tokyo for a street festival. traditional snacks, candy apples, cinnamon rolls and the smell of caramel wafts throughout the street. going hand in hand manoeuvring through the large crowd while looking at the cool vendors and displays and occasionally saying, “look 'gumi let's check this one out!”
with the fourth and final saturday of october, you currently reside in the commoner kitchen sitting on top of the counter watching megumi use halloween-themed cookie cutters on pre-made dough. the plan for tonight was to stay in and watch hocus pocus, after some time you break the comfortable silence, "so... since when do you like halloween?" a small smirk plays on his lips "who said i didn't?"
“you don’t seem like the type, you know?” you take a neatly rolled up piece of cookie dough off the baking sheet to prop it in your mouth, “if i didn’t know you well enough i’d probably think your favourite holiday was something boring like new year’s.” he snickers at your claim but covers it up with a fake dry cough not wanting to give you that full satisfaction.
he ends up choosing to ignore your comment, “there’s a lot of things to do around the fall time that entertains me. that’s all.” you teasingly wiggle your eyebrows clearly fascinated by this new discovery. “did you ever dress up for halloween?”
“gojo used to dress me and tsumiki up all the time when we were little. one year we went as oompa loompas and he dressed as willy wonka.” his eyebrow slightly twitches in annoyance by the faint memory.
you hold in your laughter mainly to protect megumi’s ego and make a mental note to ask gojo for proof with pictures later. “i’m glad you wanna spend this month with me it seems like it means a lot to you.” you blurt out suddenly while fondly smiling at him as you softly trace over his chuckles with your finger.
his breath gets stuck in his throat and he can practically feel the blush climbing from his neck up to his face. you always seem to do this to him; make him awestruck and flustered like an idiot with a freshly new crush. but in hindsight, he doesn’t think the puppy love phase will ever end, at least not for him, you still make his stomach flip and tumble after many months together.
contrary to popular belief, megumi believes that the month of love doesn’t take place in february, but in the month of october. where the orange, yellow, and red is a far more appealing set of colours than pink and white.
reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3 a/n: in honor of it being september
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#megumi x reader#jujutsu megumi#jujutsu kaisen megumi#megumi fushiguro#megumi fluff#jjk megumi#jjk scenarios#jjk drabbles#jjk x you#jjk smut#jjk headcanons#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji fushiguro#gojo x yn#megumi fushiguro headcanons#megumi x y/n#megumi x you#fushiguro megumi x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#megumi smut#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi fushiguro fluff#megumi fic#megumi fushiguro imagine#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen spoilers#jjk x y/n
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Part thirty-one of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.
Ao3 link.
Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty
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They've landed in Wutai after a frankly miserable plane ride in a windowless, seat-less troop carrier - which, why even call it a troop carrier when it's clearly not designed to be carrying people? The thing is filled with boxes and stuff, there was barely enough room to move!
Guess that's what happens with last minute takeoffs - you get what you get.
The first few minutes onboard were fine and kinda novel - being on a plane at all was kind of a mind trip, because, heh, plane, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, eat your heart out! But then it became just hours upon hours of boredom in a rattling tube of metal. Sword flying is clearly a superior mode of transport.
"We will have your things delivered to wherever you're going to be staying," Reno says, waving them off the plane, hiis attention fixed on one of the bigger boxes. "Rude, come give me a hand with this…"
"We should -" Rude starts to say, looking at the SOLDIERs.
"Yeah, yeah, now come give me a hand with this."
Angeal gives them an awkward, slightly relieved smile and then claps Sephiroth on the shoulder. "We better get out of the way," he says, and together they exit the plane.
Sephiroth had been bracing himself for a warfront, Angeal had even told him what to expect, but he… didn't actually know what that entailed.
Shinra troops had taken over a small town at the foot of Tamblin Mountain sometime in the past and are now using it as their forward base. That's where they land - in a dirt runway cut into the forest, just by the town. And it's…
It reminds him of old movies, the mixture of vaguely mixed Asian style buildings, with these modern canvas tents pitched in between them and on the roads. There are trucks that totally aren't jeeps that have worn grooves into soft streets, unprepared for such traffic, making everything messy and muddy. They've erected fences all over the place, sectioning parts off, and there are floodlights everywhere. There's also robots patrolling the place.
In the distance, on the rolling hills somewhere to the west, there are rice paddies and behind them mountains. All around them there's a lush wall of green that looks almost like a rainforest. It actually might be rainforest! It would fit the allegory!
The mental, ethnic vertigo is so strong for a moment that Sephiroth doesn't know which way to turn to look. He doesn't know what to think. Mostly he just feels kinda… unnerved.
Angeal returns to his side before he even realises he'd gone somewhere. "I talked to the Colonel. Come on," Angeal says, clapping him on the shoulder. "They've set up a place for us. We'll… debrief there."
"... Hn," Sephiroth answers, and follows him.
There's a lot of Shinra troops milling about, infantry mostly, but some SOLDIER Seconds and Thirds too. They all stop to stare. Some of them look excited, but most just look tired and dirty and worn.
Sephiroth wonders if the Colonel is in charge of them. Actually, it might be that they're now in charge of everyone here! They're SOLDIERs First Class. Isn't that the highest rank? He can't remember if Sephiroth being a General was fanon or canon, but hasn't he been involved with the war since the beginning?
Would he have to give orders now, orders to march, to fight… to kill?
Angeal shows him to a house that was clearly someone's home before Shinra took the place over. It's a single room with tatami floors and rice paper walls, and the military bunks clash with the aesthetic horribly. Their pillows are clearly seat cushions.
There's a fancy looking kimono stand that's being used to hang bags and ammo satchels.
"What happened to the people who lived here?" Sephiroth can't help but ask, staring at the stand and wondering where the kimono had gone.
"They abandoned the town ahead of the troops," Angeal says.
Sephiroth looks at him and then at the room. Did they really, or is that a nicer thought than they were all executed? "... Right," he says and picks up the seat cushions from the bunk, piling them up in the corner - wondering if there was a table here, and what happened to it.
"Are you alright?" Angeal asks.
Probably not! "What's our mission here?" Sephiroth asks, picking up bags and satchels from the stand and carrying them outside.
"... We have a day to acclimate. After that, there's a number of things that need to be accomplished," Angeal says, subdued, and takes out his phone. "We can start slow - there's no major engagements being planned just now, no one will mind."
"Mn, and what does starting slow mean?" Sephiroth asks, as he picks up stuff around the hut and gets rid of it.
"Well, there's a number of monster extermination requests around here - Wutai wildlife is high-level, and it's rumoured that they're being intentionally bred by Wutai people. They've been attacking patrols."
Sephiroth gets rid of most of the random crap in the hut and then considers the bunk beds. They're ugly and probably unpleasant, but… they have to sleep somewhere.
It takes just one swing of Masamune to improve the situation immensely.
"Um," Angeal says as Sephiroth finishes separating the beds and moves one of them to the other side of the hut. "... Why?"
"I am not sleeping in a bunk bed," Sephiroth says simply and looks around. "... Do you think they have folding screens around here?"
Angeal arches his brows. "I don't know for sure. I suppose we could ask around? I think there's a storage house where they've put the collected, um," he clears his throat. "Things that will be sent to Midgar eventually. Maybe we can requisition some of it."
Things to be sent to Midgar… that's nice. That's a nice way to say the spoils of war, huh.
Sephiroth looks away. It's the way of war, he knows that, nothing unusual about it. It happened in PIDW too - cut out all the smut and stupidity, and all Binghe did was plunder and loot and pillage. When he wasn't being handed tributes, anyway. It's just par for the course! Right? Right…
"You…" Angeal starts and then sighs and puts the phone away. "How about I'll go get a screen for you, if there's any available. Do you want anything else?" He sounds very indulgent and understanding.
"Two screens. And a table," Sephiroth says without facing him, feeling like a sullen little kid being placated. "... Thank you. Can you ask someone to get rid of the - stuff outside?"
"I'll take care of it," Angeal promises. "You just… take a moment to make yourself comfortable, okay? There's no rush."
Aka, pull yourself together, man, you're looking really pitiful right now. Thanks, Angeal-bro.
Sephiroth's waits until Angeal is gone before sinking down to sit on one of the beds, putting his head in his hands.
Though they'd not seen much from the plane, what with it not having windows and all, he can see it in his mind's eye now. Burned villages smoking in the jungle, scorched fields, muddy paddies ruined. He'd never cared much for any kind of war stuff, but he'd seen his share of first person shooters and letsplays.
It all feels very real all of a sudden.
And he's supposed to be the Big Bad here! The Demon of Wutai! Who knows how many people he's already killed in this war! And sure, it is a war, and that's what happens, and yeah, he has killed before as Shen Qingqiu, but -!
Going to war on behalf of the America-allegory of the situation? The invader, the hostile occupier, the - the evil planet-sucking dystopian megacorporation?!
Dragging his hands down his face, Sephiroth sighs and looks up.
There are calligraphy scrolls hung up on each side of the door. One reads Integrity and the other Honour. Sephiroth stares at them miserably for a long moment.
Yeah.
He's so going to end up defecting here, isn't he? Four days, four days in this world, and he's doing to fuck up the whole plot, right here and now. It must be some kind of record! But where the fuck will be even defect to? The Demon of Wutai, hello?! The locals probably want his head on a spike!
"I am so fucked," he mutters wretchedly and hangs his head.
#Fanfiction#ff7#ffvii#svsss#Sephiroth#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#angeal hewley#reno of the turks#rude of the turks
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Chrollo Relationship/Romantic Headcanons
Now for these headcanons, this is where my opinion might really differ from the rest of you guys. Of course this isn’t all but just some of my favorites. I will be putting a clear NSFW warning for when I start to talk about him in bed. 🔞
I do want to add that some of my headcanons would change depending on his partner. If they’re a Nen-user or not, exactly what their ability is, if they’re in the Phantom Troupe, and how long he’s known them, etc. These are just as neutral as possible haha. Even some of what I say here contradicts how I’ve written him in certain ships because I knew exactly how he would act for those specific love interests.
✥ Right of the bat, Chrollo is bi-romantic, having very little preference of gender when it comes to his s/o. And sexuality wise, he’s definitely on the demisexual spectrum.
✥ Chrollo never really planned on being in a long term relationship or ever settling down with someone when he created the Phantom Troupe. It was just another aspect of life he was prepared to sacrifice. So giving a genuine relationship a shot he’d have to really love the other person.
✥ It would take forever for Chrollo to actually recognize he was feeling romantic attraction to another person as the entire thing is foreign to him.
✥ This man’s charisma goes out the drain when trying to flirt with someone he’s genuinely interested it. Tapping his fingers as a stim while he awkwardly flirts. It’s painfully adorable.
✥ Before making things official, he may do extensive research on his s/o. Background checks, verifying friends and family members, overall borderline stalking. It’s a safety measure. He doesn’t want to risk falling for someone who works for an opposing group or who might betray him.
✥ In a relationship, his s/o would be a source of comfort, especially if the relationship is long term. He’ll relax in their arms after a heist or cuddle up to them when he has a nightmare.
✥ I said in my last post but I’ll say it again here. Chrollo is a little spoon!
✥ It’s not too often Chrollo will verbally tell someone he loves them, his main ways of showing affection are quality time, and gift giving. And for his special someone, he wouldn’t just give them random things willy-nilly, he’d put thought behind each one. Say his partner mentions needing new shoes because their current ones are really worn out. You bet next time Chrollo sees them he’s bringing two pairs of brand new shoes.
✥ He loves to be able to lay his head in his s/o’s lap and have them play with his hair while he reads. He might even purr if given the right setting.
✥ Chrollo can be touch avoidant in general. If anyone touches him and he hasn’t given that person mental permission he will move away, shudder even. So if he’s actually allowing another in his space it really is a sign of fondness.
✥ This man definitely takes notes from romance novels he’s read when it comes to dates with someone he’s head over heels for. It can be cheesy.
✥ Chrollo isn’t a chef by any means but on occasion he’ll attempt to cook for his s/o when staying in. Might as well put some of his cook books to use after all.
✥ The times Chrollo is with his partner, things can be quite pleasant. However he can still be emotionally distant. He often wonders what he did to deserve all of this. To be able to love and be loved. It’s a mental battle he might struggle with quite often in the relationship and he wouldn’t be too open to communicating that, leaving his s/o confused. Just some general reassurance could go a long ways.
✥ I feel like a lot of people go for the idea that he’d like others with similar interests or are like him in general, and I could see potential in that mindset however I much prefer the “opposites attract” trope. I think Chrollo might have a bigger interest in someone different than him who can really show a different perspective on certain things. Or even test his mindset and show him new interests.
✥ He’s protective of his s/o, knowing with the life he has, anyone might try to hurt them to get to him so Chrollo wouldn’t be one to really “show off” his partner unfortunately. They relationship could be pretty private.
✥ Assuming his s/o isn’t in the Troupe, Chrollo may ghost them while he’s away on the job. He’ll let them know he���s working, but no calls or texts while he’s away. He won’t even give a location. He wants to keep his personal life separate and doesn’t want to risk revealing to an enemy his relationship or possibly get distracted.
NSFW BELOW ‼️
✥ Before the relationship, Chrollo didn’t really like sex (as I mentioned him being demi), he viewed the act as a chore used on jobs to get information and didn’t find it all that gratifying.
✥ With his s/o, Chrollo much prefers to make love as opposed to casual sex. He likes the intimacy of being with someone he truly loves and not just an act of pleasure.
✥ He prefers bottoming though is open to being a verse. Acting as Boss all the time he really just likes to relax in his personal life so in all honesty it wouldn’t be rare to catch him being a pillow prince in bed.
✥ Chrollo’s not the biggest cock wise, probably just reaching average. He’s uncut being from Meteor City but trust and believe he keeps that shit clean with his pubic hair trimmed.
✥ He’ll almost never out right ask for sex, he’s honestly fine if his partner doesn’t have any interest in the act either. Though if they make a move he’s more than happy for a session.
✥ He’s got VERY sensitive nipples. Give them a little tug with your teeth and he’ll mewl.
✥ Aftercare is always a given between him and his s/o. If Chrollo just got done bottoming, cuddles and praise are a must. He’d especially melt if given a massage.
#hxh#hunter x hunter#chrollo#chrollo lucilfer#kuroro#phantom troupe#hxh chrollo#kuroro rushirufuru#chrollo headcanons#hxh headcanons#romantic#relationship headcanons#i’m down bad for this man#he’s a softie at heart#chrollo x you#gender neutral insert#genei ryodan#smut#gn reader#reqs open
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Venus, Art, and Feelings to Create
I wanted to make a post talking about how to use Venus to make art, since it rules over aesthetics. I tried not to focus too hard on things like painting, drawing, etc and but couldn't cover all types of art forms, so we're going with colors, feelings you can create, and some places to start if you want to give it a try.
DISCLAIMER: I'm not a pro at this, and may have explained things weirdly. Feel free to ask any questions you may have :). The pallets look different on my tablet vs phone, so tablet/computer could show up more brown and on phone it could be red etc. ALSO check your rising as well, along with aspects to placements (look to the ruling zodiac) :)
✿ 1st House - Making art revolving around yourself, personal style, and putting your personality into the art is key. Using yourself as the canvas is something you can utilize, as this is a public house. Similarly to 10th and 5th house, you are connected to your art visually, so your art and brand is associated with you, but unlike the other two houses, staying true to yourself is very important.
✿ Aries/Color Palette - Using tones of red, feelings of confidence and taking charge should be the feeling you evoke with any art you make. Empowerment is key. The viewers of your art and the things you create should be eye-catching, confident and energetic. Make people want to create art too. Don't be afraid to take the lead in any project you take part in.
• Makeup Artist
• Hair Stylist
• Creating Self Portraits
• Those body painting things
✿ 2nd House - Money, opulence, and values should be shown with your art. Whether it's expensive/shiny things, fashion, or houses, general luxury items is a start. The things you make should scream expensive, no matter how much it cost to make. Modern art reminds me of this placement. Showing what you value could also be shown.
✿ Taurus/Color Pallet - Pastel earth tones are a good place to start, along with channeling that luxurious and "stubborn" (idk a better word my bad) sort of feel Taurus gives. Pairing that with the thought of values, sticking to one practice or taking your time on one thing at a time may work best for you.
• Personal Stylist
• Antique Curator
• Value Setting art
• Jeweler
✿ 3rd House - Graphic novels, images to match poetry, or simply portraying people communicating are good topics. Causing a conversation with how you show your art is something that could appeal. Conversation starting art. Drawing people talking in a cafe or showing off your mental activity in an artistic way.
✿ Gemini/Color Palette - Yellows, light greens and complimenting cooler tones go with the themes of mental stimulation that Gemini needs, along with 2 things once - pairing two artistic mediums together would benefit this placement, like writing your own poetry and making the art for it, or commentary on mental things with the audience to bounce off of. Taking inspiration from another thing would also be nice.
• Comic Artist
• Poet
• Whatever the fuck Andy Warhol was doing
• Conservation Pieces
✿ 4th House - Family life, nurturing/cozy environments, ancestry and roots could be a main focus. Things that create the feeling of home is key. Working from or for the home works well for this native. Creating things that give warmth and love, even if it's just for you.
✿ Cancer/Color Palette - Warm and loyal blues, the depth this water sign has should be a calming one. Understanding and comfort should come from this art-even if it's though provoking. Creating comfort with even bad thoughts that this art should create (like reincarnation after death if that makes sense). Understanding yourself and others should come from this art.
• Knitting
• Family Portraits
• Home decor
✿ 5th House - Performance, romance, and showmanship is what comes with this house. Things such as theater, singer/song writing and painting should carry ego and pride with the art. This house has the opportunity to create something out of someone else's work (theater or movies and such). Showing off your skills in a physical sense could be appealing, and making sure you're the art is key. Just don't get too egoistical.
✿ Leo/Color Palette - Oranges, golds and champagnes shine here, along with glittery things. Anything that draws the eye. Under this sign, the focus is on you, and what feeling YOU create rather than what you can make. Ghostwriting and self removal and de-glamming is not ideal with this placement. Embrace any artistic qualities you may have and inspire others to do the same, or they can watch the show.
• Actor/Actress (comedy or drama)
• Singer or Songwriter
• Face of a Brand (yours or others)
✿ 6th House - Calmer and more mundane things may appeal to this house as it rules work life, health, and pets may be your style. A focus on still life, and things that remind us of the little details are the way to go. Like Cancer and Family Portraits, you may like taking photos for things like yearbooks, scrapbooks, or newspapers. Remind people of the little things they should remember. Pet portraits are also good for this placement, drawn, painted, or photographed.
✿ Virgo/Color Palette - Back to earthy tones, and more blendable colors take focus, as Virgo focuses on the little things. Curating something that shows off the skill of observation and thought is key here as it's ruled by Mercury like Gemini. But you may want less of an external conversation and more of an internal one. Don't leave out little things. People will appreciate the care you've put in.
• Pottery
• Still Life Study
• Embroidery
✿ 7th House - Marriage, business deals, and maybe even enemies leave a lot to work with in this house, ranging from a courtroom artist, painting portraits for marriages, getting business deals with any art or creating discussions on social relationships (even bad ones) are themes to work with. Anything interpersonal is up for grabs in this house, as long as it focuses only on smaller groups. Creating reflections of the viewer could work here, along with showing how to obtain balance (even with people you don't like).
✿ Libra/Color Palette - Pretty, bright and feminine colors like pink work at it's best, as to aim for as much balance and easy viewing as possible. Like Taurus, beauty oriented things shine in this zodiac. Showing the beauty in what you do is important, and creating something that means peace to you is key. No matter the medium, even though I've said it a billion times, peace and the beauty of things is what's important and works for this sign. Optimistic art.
• Courtroom Sketch Artist
• Decorative Art
• Runway Fashion
✿ 8th House - Transformations, s*x, and death are themes to work with in this house, as getting to "the bottom of things" is a key element. Do not create something that doesn't have meaning. Fake depth does not work with this placement-which is different from creating just to create. Making art to explain something or bring an intimate feeling could be something that appeals. Darker topics can easily be explored with this placement, and self exploration is needed to create.
✿ Scorpio/Color Palette - Blacks, darker reds, browns and purples are colors to use, anything that could remind you what it's like to be hidden. A sense of mystic and magnetism comes from you and the art you create, and could leave people wanting more or just pain interested. Show people it's not bad to get their hands dirty when it comes to more personal themes, and general/self investigation is always good. Leave them questioning something they always needed to.
• Horror Art
• Special Effects Makeup
• Art Therapy
✿ 9th House - Dreams and inspiration of overseas, religion and philosophy is important. Creative freedom and learning and expression is big for this house, and a releasing of any chains artistically would be good. Generally pushing people to discuss things that are important to them and their own views of life is something that comes to mind with this house. A painting, a poem, or even just teaching about religion through your art is something that could work. Keeping things as open to ideas as possible is key. Inflexibly is something to avoid.
✿ Sagittarius/Color Palette: Shades of strong purples, and general vibrant shades work for this zodiac. (Personally I do associate this color with oranges idk why just thought I'd throw that in). Freedom and foreign things are things to show off. Sagittarius are known for wanting and fighting for freedom, and invoking a feeling of elsewhereness is nice. Even in forms of things like comedy, making someone feel like they're not where they are is the goal. Putting heavy emphasis on the comedy, though. Y'all are funny lmao.
• Religious Art
• Philosophical Artworks
• Making Art Abroad
✿ 10th House - Achievement, Status and how people view you is at play here, having the public eye being the main thing to keep in mind. You may pay attention more to personal aesthetics and style, keeping a leash on how people see you and your art. You could also be very focused on art in general, maybe even wanting it to be the first thing people see when it comes to you. Display your skills as in this house, like 5th, you're connected to your skills. Hard work and displaying it is important. Staying committed to projects be nice. Even being known for how you dress, your specific style or how you wear your makeup could be appearing, so leave people in awe of your dedication.
✿ Capricorn/Color Palette - Grays, dark greens and browns are colors that may suit you. Out of all of the earth signs, to me, Capricorn screams commitment. Showing off the work you've put into anything you make, and creating stability with your craft is something you want to provide. With the art you make, show off your natural ability to make something consistent and how you evolve into something better. Self betterment and achievement is something a Capricorns may like showing off in their work, regardless of what it is. Things like pencil sketching, and single tone art could be appearing. Avoid laziness, but remember to take breaks.
• Personal Stylist (like in a Law Roach kinda way)
• Sculpting
• Fashion Trendsetter
✿ 11th House - Community, hopes and dreams, and general aspirations themes shine here, and giving hope for the future could be something you like to create. Group projects, and getting everyone to feel involved are things to work with. Commentary on life and what it's like to be a part of something works best here.
✿ Aquarius/Color Palette - Electric/darker blues and light grays work with Aquarius. Using tech for your art could be something you work with, and showing off individually and futuristic ideas to create a head of time art pieces to make people hope for a better/cooler future is something you could like. Future is the keyword to create with this zodiac, as looking forward to create something new and never seen before is something desirable, and giving a change to viewers is the goal. Things such as game design, beat creating and such is something to work with. Remember while individuality is important, you don't need to create something ENTIRELY new for it to be good.
• Game Design
• Script Writing
• Art Teacher
✿ 12th House - Isolation, mental health and things that are hidden are the themes, creating the most personal depth out of all the water houses. While 1st house is presenting your outward self, 12th could be hiding it or simply dissecting your own brain and fears. Your art could be darker, more in tune and create more personal feelings to the viewer. They may even keep their love of you to themselves, or you could also not feel the need to show off your art, and keep it close to home.
✿ Pisces/Color Palette - Light greens, and watery colors are the go to for this zodiac sign, anything reminiscent of the beach is something you may feel drawn to. Beaches, liminal spaces, and dreamy effects may appeal to you, wanting to create something that, like Sagittarius, makes the viewer feel like they're somewhere else, but in this case, it's a more watery and head in the clouds elsewhere. Dream states and a feeling of calm is something to make the viewer feel. Remember to stay grounded, don't just daydream about your art. Do it.
• Journaling
• Art Autobiography
• Ghost Writer
Kind of a long post but I hope you liked it!! Hopefully I worded it correctly, I've been thinking about this post for a minute. Let me know your placements, I'm a Libra Venus in 8th House :D.
#astrology#venus#astrology art#astrology aesthetic#astrology observations#astro notes#astrology notes#zodiac#color palette#colors#aries#taurus#gemini#cancer#leo#virgo#libra#scorpio#sagittarius#capricorn#aquarius#pisces#astrology aspects
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