#thank you for this ask!! i loved hearing what your thoughts surrounding this season were
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Issa byka rūklon [Daemon Targaryen x Wife!reader]
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Other HOTD stories
Summary: Daemon is feared among men for his battle prowess, finding solace and love in his pure sunshine of a wife. One serene evening, amidst impending war, they steal a moment alone. His wife with gentle hands and a heart full of affection, braids Daemon’s hair, weaving delicate flowers into the strands…
*This was a one shot request from a very special person of mine, my bestie @mrsdaemontargaryen I had asked her to send me a prompt because I have been on such a long hiatus from writing. Writer’s block has not been fun {among personal things but let’s not get into that}. Please enjoy this Daemon one shot and soon enough, I will be taking requests again in time for season two. 🖤*
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You placed a hand on the ghost of your swelling stomach, your violet eyes shining from the fireplace’s flames. The incident was still fresh in your mind, your sister’s screams of calling you a traitor ringing in your ears. It wasn’t a surprise to see the twins together in Storm’s End, having been inseparable since birth, but you never thought Adryana* would try to murder you.
You turned your head slightly, hearing the footsteps, letting out a soft sigh, and feeling your husband wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back into his chest. “Is it done?”
Daemon nodded, nuzzling his nose into your silver hair. “Soon enough, she will feel the pain you felt.”
You took a deep breath, looking ahead. When Daemon was writing to his friends in the capital, you had mentioned to him how you wanted Adryana to feel the same pain you felt when she took her unborn babe from you. He added, “Along with the usurper’s son, take the life of his brother’s son.”
“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Daemon whispered in your ear as though he could read your mind. “Those green cunts didn’t feel anything killing Luke and our child. You shouldn’t either.”
You nodded in agreement, furrowing your brows. “Can we go on a walk?” You knew this would be the last calm moment before Westeros is thrown into chaos.
You turned in Daemon’s arms, smiling a small smile when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course, my love.”
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You wrapped your hands around Daemon’s arm as he led you down the familiar path toward Aegon’s Garden. During the day, it was a favorite spot for your young son, Alyster, to play in; he especially enjoyed the cranberries that grew there. The eye of the dragon statue glistened in the moonlight the closer you got, lifting your dress slightly so it did not drag too much through the grass.
You thanked Daemon quietly when he helped you into the plush grass, a hum passing your lips as you began to pick at the small white wildflowers surrounding you mindlessly. Since you’ve woken up from the incident, the two of you have rarely spent time alone, with Alyster not leaving your side and Daemon being preoccupied with the small council. For the first time in a long time, you felt peace.
Once he sat down, you moved to sit behind your husband, your fingers gingerly taking a section of his hair and beginning to work it in a braid. His hair was not as long as it once was but manageable. You smiled, hearing the light chuckle coming from him.
“What?” You asked as you grabbed one of the wildflowers you picked, placing it carefully within the braid.
Daemon kept his eyes ahead, a small smile forming on his features. “I’m only thinking back to our wedding day.”
“Our wedding day?” You repeated while beginning to braid another section of his hair, adding the little flowers as you went.
Daemon hummed in response. “You wanted to braid my hair that day, too.”
You smiled at the memory. You had a traditional Valyrian wedding against your mother’s wishes. You were never one to listen to your mother, to begin with, having gone against her wishes to become Rhaenyra’s ward at fifteen, shortly after Laena’s funeral, and two years later becoming Daemon’s third wife. Now, at the age of three-and-two, the two of you had a six-year-old son, a son your mother and father only met once.
“I’m hoping this war will be over quickly,” Daemon spoke quietly, breaking the silence.
You hummed, leaning back to examine your creation. “I do not want to talk about war this evening, my love,” You said softly, placing a few more flowers in the braids with a soft smile.
You enjoyed the calm moments while you could, not knowing if this would be your last one together. The war began when Aemond and Adryana struck in Storm’s End, and you knew Daemon would be restless until every one of their heads was on spikes. You were to cherish these moments while they lasted.
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You hummed as the sun filtered through the windows, stirring slightly only to feel the side beside you cold. You furrowed your brows while rubbing your eyes as you sat up, your stomach still sore from your injuries.
“You do not want to go to the small council like that?” You asked teasingly, seeing Daemon picking out the white flowers, having slept in them.
He chuckled, looking down at the small pile forming beside him at the vanity. “I’m not sure it would be proper attire for a small council meeting.”
You scrunched up your nose while slowly getting out of bed. Wrapping your silken robe around you, you walked up behind your husband, meeting his violet eyes in the mirror.
“Issa byka rūklon*,” Daemon said softly, placing his hand on your arm when you wrapped them around his neck.
You hummed lightly. “I prefer when you call me aōha vēzos*.”
Daemon laughed. “No one else can hear that.”
You smirked, moving back so Daemon could get up. You straightened his doublet for him, scrunching up your nose when he placed two fingers under your chin, making you look up.
“I love you, Y/N,” Daemon whispered, moving his hand to your cheek.
“I love you too,” You replied, meeting his lips in a short, sweet kiss.
You watched him pull away after a moment, a small smirk forming on your features. You noticed the stray flower tucked in the waves of his hair.
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“You’re late, Daemon,” Corlys spoke up, seeing the Prince enter the council chambers.
“You should already know that I enjoy making late, dramatic entrances,” Daemon replied simply, sliding into the empty seat on Rhaenyra’s right.
Rhaenyra eyed her uncle curiously, tilting her head. “Daemon,” She called to him, clearing her throat while motioning to her hair.
Daemon furrowed his brows, reaching up to feel the soft petals of the single wildflower he had forgotten about. He untangled it from his hair, looking down at it with a soft sigh.
“Is the Rogue Prince going soft?” Lord Celtigar questioned with a laugh.
“I believe he is,” Corlys agreed.
Daemon only scoffed as the Black Council erupted in laughter, Rhaenyra even adding a giggle of her own. He sighed as the jesting continued around him, his eyes staying on the wildflower in his hand. He twirled it on its tiny stem, his mind wandering back to his wife, their son, and the babe they had lost.
There was no guarantee of surviving this kin war, but Daemon was determined to win it so that he and his family could finally live the peaceful life they had long desired.
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*Adryana: Adryana Targaryen is my original character for House of the Dragon. She is the youngest daughter and fifth child of King Viserys and Queen Alicent (The reader is the eldest daughter and child). She is wed to her twin brother, Aemond, and they have a set of twins together; a son named Vanar and a daughter named Vhaenys. She is known to have a short temper and often accused her eldest sister of abandoning her to live with Rhaenyra on Dragonstone. She also felt hurt when she sided with Rhaenyra's children during the Driftmark incident. Her temper overflowed when her eldest sister made a comment about how their father would be disappointed in the twins and their actions after reuniting in Storm's End, ultimately resulting in Adryana attempting to kill her and the unborn babe. The eldest sister lived, but the unborn babe did not, leading to her and Daemon planning revenge on Lucerys and their child.
*Issa byka rūklon: High Valyrian for my little flower.
*aōha vēzos: High Valyrian for your sun.
#hotd#house of the dragon#hbo house of the dragon#hbo hotd#fire and blood#house targaryen#targaryen#daemon Targaryen#Prince daemon#prince daemon targaryen#rogue Prince#daemon Targaryen one shot#daemon Targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen fanfiction#daemon Targaryen fluff#daemon Targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x fem!reader#daemon targaryen x female reader#daemon Targaryen x wife!reader#daemon Targaryen x you#daemon Targaryen x y/n#team black#Matt smith#a song of ice and fire#ASOIAF#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#HOTD fanfiction#HOTD fanfic
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omg im seeing so many people talking about dropping the show and?? that's fair i guess?? if it's making you unhappy, by all means drop it. but i guess i just didn't think it was. that bad? idk maybe it was me going in with a couple spoilers (spoilers that, until they happened, i doubted were true. for the most part. i was convinced on you know who's death, like i was sure it was happening.) like i was still surprised with a couple of things that i didn't like, but most of the surprises were things i really liked. so maybe it was that i had time to prepare for a lot of the stuff i wasn't super happy with, and all the stuff i loved was new to me. but idk i really dont think these episodes or the season are. bad? i'm also convinced they're gonna clear eddie's name in season 5. like there wouldn't be time to do that in two days but they left a lot of threads unresolved and i really don't think the gang will just let that perception of eddie hang around if they can do anything about it. there are other unresolved threads that i'm not confident in them wrapping up properly, but that is one i have faith in. (crossing my fingers that i am not wrong on this). i do feel dread thinking about max not being a part of the season tho she'd better wake up in episode 3 at the latest. i am not going to be satisfied with only seeing my girl for a short time during the final season.
Yeah I mean volume 2 was so grueling it makes sense some people would want to just try and forget about it and move onto something else but it is sad to see. I agree, I genuinely really loved it. There were some things I really disliked, obviously. I saw leaks before volume 2 was released and just tried to ignore them and pray they were fake but they were all real. I guess I was prepared a little in that sense, I knew about Eddie’s death & Max’s coma but I wasn’t too sure. It still hurt like hell. If anything, it just made me anxious leading up to the release and depressed after lol. The only things I didn’t like were Eddie dying, Mike’s bullshit monologue/the discarding of Will’s character and feelings & the weird stancy shit they had going on for no fucking reason. Apart from that, my god was this season incredible. I’m also convinced they’re going to clear Eddie’s name because I can’t bear to think of the alternative. It just hurts way too fucking much, I can’t think like that. I can’t cope with him being remembered like that, I just can’t. I won’t be happy until they either have Eddie be another fake death (which I think is a lot more likely than people think. There are a few things pointing to that possibility in my opinion) or his name gets cleared and he gets a funeral. I need him to have a proper send off, for him to be remembered as a hero like he deserves. I need them to let him rest peacefully otherwise I just can’t deal. As for Max, yeah. I need her to wake up so badly, I’ll be really upset if she’s not in season 5 much. I need her to wake up happy and relieved surrounded by her friends. I’m interested to see what condition she’ll be in after she wakes. I don’t know much about medical shit so I’m not sure if she’ll have movement in her legs and arms anymore after the breaks. I don’t know how bad bones have to break for movement to be permanently restricted. As for her sight, whether it heals or she’s permanently blind and to what extent if she is we don’t know yet. Obviously I want her to be in the best condition as possible so she’s still able to do all the things she loves that require sight and movement to the same extent as before but I will be kind of pissed if she’s perfectly fine after since that feels a little unrealistic and ableist. Overall, I really liked volume 2 and I’m hoping that season 5 can give Eddie & Max a happier ending whatever it may be, just better than being in a coma and being hated by the town you died to protect.
#thank you for this ask!! i loved hearing what your thoughts surrounding this season were#st4 spoilers#stranger things#eddie munson#max mayfield#asks#anon
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healing the inner child - mv1
pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader
summary: healing max‘s inner child was something you’d do again and again
word count: 1k
warnings: jos verstappen (because he deserves a warning on his own), a bit of angst maybe
note: it was inspired by a post i read earlier here on tumblr and it reminded me of something my therapist once told me; healing the inner child is the greatest way of healing trauma
masterlist / taglist
Max didn’t have a good childhood, Jos ruining the most of it. When you met Max he just won his first championship. You saw him in that nightclub, smiling from ear to ear and glowing like a light bulb. And then there was Jos. He was standing next to Christian Horner, having a heated discussion with him. Christian was seemingly uninterested, rather watching Max having the time of his life. You couldn’t hear what Jos was saying to him, but the fragments you did understand weren’t exactly nice things about his son. If you didn’t know that Jos was Max‘s father, you would think he was his biggest enemy. And that’s exactly what you thought.
You had no idea who Max was at first, you knew he was some big smoke show. But what he actually did, you couldn’t have guessed. You were visiting Abu Dhabi with some of your friends, only just agreeing to the night out, if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have met Max. At first, he didn’t notice you, a timid shy young woman, standing at the bar and waiting for a bartender to give you your drink of choice. He walked up to the bar, wanting to order a new bottle of champagne. The bartender immediately noticed him and came to his service. You scoffed, how the hell have you been standing there for nearly 10 minutes and no one asked what you wanted, but he just walks up and everyone runs to serve him?
„Everything alright?“, he was asking you, already drunk and careless. Nobody could do him wrong that night, not even a visible angry and confused lady. „I was just standing there for 10 minutes, or more probably, and couldn’t order anything.“ You rolled your eyes. You were annoyed, annoyed with your friends for taking you to this place and annoyed with him and the busy bartenders.
„What would you like, I‘ll put it on my tab and you‘ll have it in a matter of seconds.“ He only meant it nice but to you it seemed cocky. „No thank you, I’d rather wait 10 minutes more, or better, I‘m just going to leave“, you muttered. „Hold up, I only meant it well. What’s going on?“ Max was visibly confused, blending out all of the other people around him, even the upcoming bartender with the new champagne bottle. „None of your business“, you told him, but Max didn’t let go.
You ended up leaving with him, nothing happened that night, just you two talking. He was sharing things with you he never shared with anybody. Things that included Jos. Feeling bad for Max you gave him the card of your therapist, but he just laughed at you and told you he didn’t need a therapist to help him. You once again rolled your eyes. You couldn’t believe what he just told you, everyone needs a therapist, but you couldn’t argue with him.
And one leads to another and you and Max got together. You tried to help Max as much as you could, but Jos didn’t agree with your relationship and always got in your way. It was hard, constantly hearing bad things about you, Max and your relationship with him from Jos. Max noticed your mood change every time Jos was around, so he changed the rules for him. He was only to come to races when you were not around. You didn’t want Max to change anything from you, but you were glad Jos was not attending a race. Not for you but for Max. Max deserved to be surrounded by people who loved and supported him.
You made it a habit to celebrate after every race, no matter what position he placed. You went out for ice cream, waffles, pasta or dumplings, everything he couldn’t have regularly during the season. One time you went out for dumplings, soup dumplings to be specific. Lance knew this great place for dumplings in Montréal. Celebrating his wins were always the best. You smiled and laughed a lot together and on nights like this, where everything was perfect, you didn’t want it to stop.
„Darling, you’re making a mess“, you laughed and looked at your boyfriend. He was trying to eat the dumpling in one go, but the dumpling exploded and the hot soup burnt his mouth, which led to him having soup dripping down his chin. He just smiled at you, ignoring the burning sensation on his face or all the looks he was receiving from the other guests. With you by his side, everything was okay.
„I don’t care, it’s delicious“, he smiled and looked at you. „Do you think we could go to the parc afterwards?“ He was looking at you with hopeful eyes. This was the other ritual you had; playgrounds were there to be played with and if Max felt like playing, you two played. And that’s what you did.
You two sat on the swings, giggling and laughing together. Max was feeling free, free from the pressure and free from anything negative. He was feeling just you and the wind in his face. Everything felt like it was perfect.
And when he won his second championship that year, you didn’t go out to party. Max took you by your hand and pulled you towards the nearest ice cream place, where he ordered himself the biggest sundae they had. You had laughed when he looked at you and asked what you wanted. You thought he was ordering for you two, but turns out, he wanted that ice cream all for himself. You simply took some ice cream in a cone and told Max, you’d eat the rest of his sundae. „I will finish this, believe me“, he told you. He infact did not finish it.
Max was your greatest gift that kept on giving. Healing his trauma was just one way of showing him how much you loved him. He appreciated it and after a while he felt like a little child who had the best childhood. You two had a relationship that wasn’t unusual, helping each other and being there was normal. And Max was definitely glad to have you by his side.
°°°
taglist: @ironmaiden1313
#f1 x reader#f1#formula 1#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x f!reader#angst with a happy ending#jos verstappen#red bull racing#red bull f1#childhood trauma
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Tear stained pillow case p2
Pairings- Drew Starkey x Fem!reader
Summary- It doesn’t take Drew long to realise he messed up.
Warnings- language
A/n- thank you to the anons who sent in what they wanted to see happen, apologies I couldn’t give you all what you wanted! There will be another part after this which will be longer 🖤 sorry this one is a bit short.
Part 1
Drew was struggling, he found it hard to get out of bed most mornings. He wasn’t putting his all into filming, the creators of outer banks had pulled him aside multiple times to try to figure out what was going on with him.
By the end of the month, everyone on set knew he was going through a break up. The boys tried to cheer him up, took him out to parties, and took him to theme parks. Took him anywhere that might get his mind off of you.
But nothing was working, he kept slipping further and further into himself. He knew he has messed up, the moment his lips touched Odessa he knew he fucked up.
He knew he had to suffer the consequences, he couldn’t expect to kiss a cast mate, then go back home and play happy couples, not when you were at home tearing yourself apart from all the hate online.
“Drew”
He was pulled from his thoughts, Austin standing in front of him with a cup of coffee. He hands the cup to Drew who gives him a sad excuse for a smile.
“You need to reach out to her man” Austin states, taking a seat next to his friend. Nobody was game enough to bring you up around him, but Austin was worried about Drew.
“She won’t answer my calls or texts”
“well, let’s go to her then. Go to her mums house and beg her to listen to you”
Drew shook his head, he couldn’t do that to you. He knew you’d hate it if he just showed up, especially when your sister was unwell and resting at home.
“Okay then, let Maddison invite her to dinner with the girls. We can get her alone and you can talk to her”.
Drew wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, it was still showing up unannounced. Something you hated deeply, but it might be the only way for you to listen to him.
He needed to express how sorry he was, beg for you to forgive him. Beg for you back, promise he will work on himself and be a better boyfriend.
He couldn’t throw away 4 years of memories with you, you are the love of his life. You are the one he pictures beside him at red carpets, eating breakfast in the morning, having kids with.
“Okay, let’s do that”
You weren’t going to meet up with the girls, they worked with Drew and you didn’t want to get between that, you considered them dear friends but you just wanted to cut everything out from your life that was associated with or reminded you of Drew.
Yes it was harsh but how was you expected to move on when you surround yourself with everything that reminded you of him. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t even cut Drew from your life. Sure, his texts went answered and your phone was on silent most of the time.
You spent every waking moment thinking about him, looking him up online, checking if he was okay from his parents. It was unhealthy.
So that tiny voice in your head that told you it was a bad idea got pushed further into the back, you found yourself getting ready and hoping they would bring him up in discussion.
It was you, Maddison, Mariah and Carlacia. Madelyn was busy filming at the moment, you all had a glass of wine and was waiting on the food to be brought out.
No conversation of Drew which hadn’t bothered you, no one had brought up the break up. But they had given you individual hugs that were like they were saying I’m sorry about the news.
Conversation was flowing and it was turning out to be a really good night, it felt good getting out of the house. Good having a conversation that didn’t consist of your sick sister, the breakup and work.
It was fun hearing about their projects and how filming of season 3 had been going, you had to bite your tongue a few times to stop yourself asking how Drew was.
“Y/n”
You froze at the sound of Drew’s voice, you could tell it apart from anyone. Your eyes widened, meeting the gaze of Maddison in front of you. She gives you an apologetic smile, your body stiffens when his fingers brush over the tattoo on your shoulder.
“Please look at me”
You close your eyes briefly and pull yourself to stand, you couldn’t ignore him. There was an ache in your belly, you needed to see his face. “Hi drew”
“Hey” he breathes a sigh of relief. Tears build in his eyes when you finally turn around, the wind gets knocked out of him when you give him a soft smile. He wants to grab you by the jaw and kiss you, express his undying love to you.
“How are you?” He asks, he can’t help himself and pulls you into a hug. Your body melts under him, wrapping your arms around his waist.
Your breathing in his scent, memories flooding your head. You can hear the thud of his heart against your ear, his arms feel like they are shaking.
“I’m… okay, you?”
“Been better”
Silence falls over the two of you, your eyes searching his. “What are you doing here?”
As he opens his mouth to speak, a group of girls come barging over. “Omg Drew”
“Hi girls, I’m just busy at the moment”
“Just one photo please?”
“Not right now”
Their eyes go to you, silently begging for you to tell him to take the photo. A sickness washes over you, if you didn’t do what they wanted, they would spread more hate on the internet.
“It’s fine, I was just leaving. Take the photo” you give them a polite smile.
“No no, I need to speak to you”
“Another time, girls”
They don’t give him time to speak again and they flutter around him. Shoving their phone into his face, you take this opportunity to grab your bag and jacket.
“I’m sorry…I have to go”.
You're rushing out of the restaurant before anyone can stop you, your shoes hitting the pavement faster than you thought was possible. The rain splashing up against your calves.
“Y/N!”
Reaching your car you fumble with your keys, his hand grasps yours. A sob escapes your lips as the rain falls around you both, you can feel his body against your back. “Please don’t leave”.
“I don’t know if I can talk to you Drew”
“Please… I need to apologise, I need to fight for us”
You turn and face him, water runs down your face. Your hair clinging to the sides of your face and neck. He can’t help himself and he grabs your cheek, staring down at you as he sorts out all the words flying around his head.
“Drew”
“I’m sorry okay, I shouldn’t have kissed Odessa… fuck I shouldn’t have done a lot of things, I was such a shit boyfriend towards the end”
You can’t find the words to respond, you don’t know if you want to hear this yet. You don’t know if you can forgive him, move on from the events.
“I don’t know Drew”
“Please y/n”
He’s pressing his lips to yours before you can say anything else, you let him slip his tongue inside for a moment before pushing him away roughly.
“Stop!”
Rubbing your hands over your face, the rain makes you feel uncomfortable. “You can’t just kiss me Drew!”
“I’m sorry…. Fuck! I’m sorry!”
You shake your head, turning back around to unlock your car. “I have to leave”
“Please don’t.. let’s talk”
“Not right now Drew, give me time”.
He lets you get inside the car, pressing the palm of his hand to the window. You can’t look back at him, you would cave. You’d hop out of the car and kiss him again, you’d forgive him without really overcoming the betrayal you felt.
You're driving away without another word, watching his figure disappear in the rear view mirror. Your body shakes as you sob, tears dripping down your face.
Part 3
🏷️- @vigilanteshitposting @drewstarkeysleftfoot @cameronmedia @pedrisgatorade @teresalesbian @users09 let me know if you’d like to join my Taglist
#drew starkey one shot#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you#drew starkey smut#drew starkey fic#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey angst#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey#outerbanks angst#rafe cameron angst#outerbanks drew#outerbanks cast#outerbanks fanfiction#outerbanks rafe#outerbanks#outerbanks x reader
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hello!! i saw you were looking for steamy stuff with daryl and was thinking about leaving him some steamy pictures with a polaroid, maybe they slip it to him at the worst time and he gets flustered and embarrasses himself or stick with steamy and he decides he wants to take his own pictures of them 😏
anyway, i hope you have a lovely day/evening 🥰
Sinful Distraction
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: You decide to leave a little surprise for Daryl. A little sinful distraction while he's away.
Warnings: umm... mentions of naughty photos? tiny bit spicy, fluff?
Set in Season 9!
Word Count: 1,2k
a/n: Thanks for the request, nonny! 😁 I loved it, hehe. Hopefully you like what I wrote! 🧡
Tagging: @km-ffluv @stitchintimefan @sweetpeapod @loz-3 @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @bookofsecretjourneys @azanoni @fuseburner @hotgirlsshareaccounts @in-this-minute
Masterlist
A cheeky smile danced across your lips as you put the Polaroid you coincidentally found on the last run back in its hiding place, before you sat down on the bed and admired the pictures you just took. You bit your lip. They were perfect - and hopefully able to distract Daryl just a tiny bit.
Your man was going out for a few days, probably a week, helping Rick out, of course, to build the bridge, and you decided to not let him leave without a little... surprise. A gift, rather. He just had to find it. You'd hide the pictures in the back pocket of his baggy jeans, hoping that he'd need the red rug he always carried with him in that pocket. A perfect plan, wasn't it? You bit your lip, smirking; proud that you had this idea.
"Y/N?" Daryl's voice echoed down the stairs towards the basement you and Daryl called home. Hastily, you hid the pictures in your pocket, thinking he was coming downstairs. "I'm here! Yeah?!" He wasn't. "We are goin' in a bit! Thought ya might wanna come up and say goodbye?!" "You can bet your butt on this! I'm coming, baby!" You heard Daryl snort out a laugh. "Thought ya need my butt?! Ain't got nothin' to hold on when it's gone!" You couldn't prevent a rather loud giggle leaving your lips. You loved when Daryl once in a while got all humorous and sassy. He had such a dry sense of humour - and you loved it. "Well... Point for you, hon!" "I'll be outside!" You could hear the amusement in his voice. He was definitely smiling. You took a last look at the pictures, before you hid them again and quickly made your way up the stairs and out of the house. Daryl sat on the stairs on the porch, clearly waiting for you. As soon as he heard the door close shut, the archer stood up and turned around, facing you. "Ready?" He asked. You knew exactly what he meant. He asked it every time, just like you gave him the same answer - every time. "I'll never be ready to be separated from you." Daryl bit the inside of his lip - a habit you loved so much. "I know. 'M sorry. I hate leavin' ya, 's just..." "You have to, I know." You nodded, smiling and stepped with him down the stairs. When you and him hit solid ground again, you immediately reached for him; took his big hands into yours. "It's okay. It's who you are and what you do. I-I mean, I would've accompanied you, but Michonne needs me here a-and..." Now Daryl was the one who nodded, giving you a soft smile. "She does," he said. "Alexandria does." You smiled at him as well, touched by the utter sweetness of this man.
Daryl squeezed your intertwined hand and looked from side to side, checking his surroundings and making sure nobody was looking, before he dipped his head in order to give you a sweet kiss. Showing affection in public was still something he had to get used to, but you didn't complain, gave him all the time he needed. You leaned in the kiss, of course, trying to make it last as long as possible; even letting go of his hands, in order to wrap them around his neck. You were successful, keeping the archer's lips locked onto yours for a little while longer, before he withdrew, blushing ever so softly. He is so cute, you thought, suppressing an upcoming giggle. Then you suddenly remembered the pictures, which were still in the pocket of your jeans. That had to change, of course. So, you scanned the street again, pulling Daryl in another kiss and catching him quite a bit by surprise. Now that he was distracted by your lips on his, you reached for the pictures in your pocket, wrapping your arms around your man's broad torso, lowered your palms on his ass and finally managed to slip the cargo in his back pocket.
Daryl jumped at your sudden bold, intimate move and ended the kiss, looking at you with slightly widened eyes and an even darker shape of red on his cheeks. "What ya doin', woman?!" You giggled, remembering the conversation you had earlier with him. "Makin' sure it's still there. Testin' if I can still hold onto it, ya know." You said and winked, causing him to playfully roll his eyes.
After saying once again thoroughly goodbye to Daryl and the others who accompanied him, you retreated back to the little basement apartment you shared with the archer; hoping that your mischievous, cheeky plan was going to be successful.
After travelling to the bridge, alongside Aaron, Rick and Carol, Daryl went immediately to work. After all, the bridge didn't build itself. The archer didn't quite like to work with the Saviors. Former enemies, now turned allies, but he didn't have a choice, did he? They needed every help they could get. It was a big task and couldn't be done just by Alexandrians. Working in the heat of the summer wasn't exactly great as well, but that was also a thing which couldn't be changed.
It took Daryl almost two days to find the surprise you had hid for him but eventually, he found it...
"Daryl?" The archer lifted his head, looking up to face Aaron, who stood a few meters away from him. "Yeah?" "Have you got a rug or something with you?" Daryl nodded, sat back on his heels and reached for the familiar red rug in the back pocket of his jeans - only to find something what definitely didn't feel like his rug. His rug was there, too, but also something else. He frowned, but took the rug first, throwing it towards Aaron. "Thanks!" Daryl gave his friend a nod, before standing up and reaching for the other items in his pocket - which he had identified as Polaroid pictures, but the man didn't have a single clue what were on them, of course. When his gaze landed on the three pictures, his heart almost stopped beating for a second, eyes widening. He expected a lot - but not seeing you on them half naked, or well... very scarcely dressed. Goddamnit, woman, he thought, feeling his cheeks literally burn with how hard he was blushing. If he'd have found them in his tent, back at the camp, it wouldn't have been a problem, but out here? In 'public'? With all the men around him? No, he couldn't help himself but go as red as a beetroot. Nevertheless, he also couldn't help himself, but to skip through the pictures. The temptation was just too big. Just because he was slightly embarrassed, didn't mean that he didn't like what he saw... Quite the opposite. Daryl rather had to fight against the upcoming issue in his pants... On the backside of the last picture was something written on it, like he noticed. 'Thought you might need a bit distraction some time... ;)' Naughty girl, the archer thought, shaking his head. "Jus' ya wait 'til I get home..." He muttered under his breath. Revenge was sweet, after all, wasn't it?
#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon#twd#twd fanfiction#twd fic#twd oneshot#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon oneshot#daryl dixon x reader smut#twd smut
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enchanted
genre: regency!au (with some tweaks ofc), (not so)enemies-to-lovers!au, viscount!Jaehyun (kind of slowburn, hurt/comfort elements?, angst? mutual pining, reader is an oldest daughter guys)
pairing/s: Jaehyun / Reader (ft Yuta, Johnny & other ocs)
word count: 23k+ (guys. be fr its me we’re talking abt here)
tw: reader and jh both have a tense rs w their parents? brief mentions of a parent’s death (not reader/jh’s), reader doesn’t exactly look after herself very well, lmk if I missed out on anything!
summary: in a world where marriage is nothing more than an economic proposition, and where a person is no more than what they can offer, you and Jaehyun rediscover what it means to be with each other, in the very essence of the word
a/n: this is really funny cause... so far the fics i have for my ‘tswift for the neos’ discourse are all johnjae.... life is like that, i guess. anyway. 3rd installment! this was a LONG time coming and i rly hope u guys enjoy it! took me a while to get back into the rhythm of writing so thank u all for bearing w my radio silence HAHHA this is based off of enchanted and gold rush (and any other easter eggs you find hehe- i’d love to hear if it reminds u of other tswift songs), reblogs are VERY appreciated!! happy reading loveys~
read this on ao3
You ached for rest. Not the kind that sleep guaranteed, no. This rest you ached for felt much deeper, much further from reach. Much like a stranger you wished to know.
“Do you remember what we discussed?”
Each inhale of yours didn’t seem to satisfy the ache in your chest, feeling as though your ribs were caving in, unsure if it was anxiety or the carriage or your clothing that was making you taste your last meal, and even that seemed like it was ages ago.
“Your posture,” the whisper of your mother brought some of your awareness back to the question she’d asked.
What did you discuss?
You tried to dismiss the impending feeling of doom that grew stronger as you noticed your surroundings, the carriage all of a sudden seeming to be moving too quickly, your grip on your gloves tightening as you tried to recall what your mother was trying to remind you of.
Right.
Be obedient. The carriage rounded the corner, jolting you from the familiar bump in the road. Don’t immediately launch into literary discourses out of panic. Your mother took your gloves out of your weak grip, slipping them onto your hands with an assertiveness that shoved you further into your seat, resisting the urge to shiver at the feeling of her cold hands on your skin. Have good manners. You could now recognise the music echoing from the building, a piece you were sure you’d heard your sister play before. Mind your facial expression. Along with the sound of music, the chatter and giggles intensified. Don’t scribble funny names onto your dance card. You thought about your little sister at home, probably sitting by the window reading a book from your father’s library as she waited for you to return home. You thought about your father who was in his study doing God knows what. As if like a trigger, a wave of clarity washed over you; you’d suddenly felt unfortunately sober.
Find a marriage partner.
“There will be many eligible suitors present. After all, it’s the first ball of the season,” she spoke, more for herself than for you.
You were treating this like a game of sorts, anything to make the process feel more distant from you. You needed to go in, find someone who had status, money and could offer protection to your family, and play your part to see it through for the rest of your life. Sure, it could be seen as a game. A very long, tedious game.
“Right,” you swallowed, still feeling as though you could hurl at any given moment, though your mother would’ve never sensed your inner turmoil. You’d become somewhat of an expert at masking it. Perhaps it was all the times you heard your parents telling you to ‘use your words’; you’d become all-too-familiar with manipulating them as you pleased.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt, your mother already preparing to alight as you followed behind her. Taking in a deep breath of (rather fresh smelling) air, you wondered momentarily if that was all you needed, feeling much better than you did in the carriage as you followed your mother up to the entrance of the ball.
You’d barely paid attention to your name and your mother’s being announced to the room upon your entrance, hyper aware of the attendees and trying your best to suppress your discomfort, hoping you could somehow mentally dissuade them from approaching you for a dance, though you knew you would never let yourself allow that. You had more pressing issues at hand.
Your relief from the fresh air was short lived. A stocky middle aged man who, according to your mother, owned an extravagant amount of land and had just gotten out of his second marriage, actively looking for a third.
Masking your discomfort, once again, you’d complied when the man had asked for a dance (though it wasn’t like you had a choice, your dance card bare as ever). Though you didn’t remember what you talked about as you danced, you were too focused on counting your steps to distract from his lack of teeth and the damp warmth that sank into your clothes where his hand was placed.
“Do you do much sewing?”
“A fair amount,” you grunted, feeling out of breath from supporting his weight with how much he was leaning into you while dancing. Sewing surely didn’t give you enough strength for this.
“That is good. It would help to dedicate yourself to such productive activities. You could contribute much more to the household with that, compared to all the folly of reading or academic learning. Unnecessary, in my opinion, when I am more than sufficiently equipped in that area.”
You couldn’t help your blank stare, hoping your tired sigh wasn’t obvious as you nodded with a hum.
“Is that so?”
The man let out a grunt, seeming to think you were speaking sarcastically, “A woman like you should use your beauty to your advantage. It is your crowning glory.”
You forced out a smile, telling yourself to take his words as flattery even though you were desperate for this dance to end.
The truth of the matter was this: you were made to do all sorts of things at the start of your day, things that were considered ‘productive’ and would aid in attracting a husband. Needlework, dancing, singing, drawing… but when the afternoon came around you were free to do your other ‘less productive’ activities.
You chose reading, naps and the occasional letter writing. These pastimes were the only form of rest you were accustomed to, though you would always end up somewhat unsatisfied, feeling as though these forms of resting didn’t satisfy the desire for rest. Perhaps it was like a writer trying to find the right word for a situation and ending up settling for one with the most similarity—it still wasn’t the right word, but there was always a thought that perhaps you were looking for one with an entirely different meaning.
Sewing? You found it all too troublesome and required all the patience that you didn’t have, leaving it for those few hours in the morning that were dedicated to building up your ‘accomplishments’. But were you proficient at it? To answer simply, you were proficient to the extent that you felt it was necessary to attract a marriage partner.
Your promise to your mother not to write random names on your dance card was growing less and less serious with each forced smile you let out to acknowledge the man’s strong beliefs.
It was by your (you weren’t sure, actually, it seemed as though you’d danced more this night than in your entire lifetime) dance that you were starting to feel lightheaded, stepping aside to find your mother for a drink. It was as your dance partner led you back to your mother that your eyes couldn’t seem to help themselves, constantly glancing at the dance card hanging from your wrist, the empty spaces and the little pencil dangling from it simply calling out to you to put them to good use.
You only had about four spaces left on your card— thank goodness for that, you didn’t think you’d be able to last any longer. Your fingers fiddled with the little pencil as you walked, careful to keep your fidgeting out of sight, overhearing giggles and murmurs about a certain viscount that was rumoured to be attending tonight’s ball.
Viscount Jung? You almost scoffed at the way they seemed as if they were talking about the Queen. Whoever he was, it was absolutely tempting you, the offer of his name that was as easily tossed around as it could be written down on your silly card.
“He’s gorgeous , you’ll have to take my word for it. Beautiful features and physique. I saw him once when he came to my estate for a meeting with my husband. He’s an architect, and a very skilled one at that.”
You purse your lips, already concocting various images in your head of what he looked like. Tall? Amicable? Perhaps he had a nice smile, you always found that to be rather charming. Perhaps his movements were slow yet precise, his moves carrying the same kind of regal elegance of the buildings he designed.
“Well, I would think he has potential marriage partners lining up for him if that’s the case, hmm?” you heard, almost nodding in agreement.
As you scanned the room, you pursed your lips at the mental image you got of how any of these girls would behave if the tall, handsome architect you pictured in your brain were to show any attempt of courting them. Maybe not even to the extent of courting… perhaps just a passing glance, a brush of his hand against yours, to feel his imposing presence just like a Midas touch as he walked past.
You let yourself wonder, just for a moment, if he would ask to be introduced to you, if you would find his personality charming while you danced, if he would take a liking to you and engage in more than just superficial conversation on your accomplishments, how you would feel to be at the receiving end of attention that was not unwanted for once.
Though it was short lived, your mind had taken the liberty of playing the rest of the sequence of events—your mother’s meddling, heightened tension between you and her because of said meddling—you cut the daydream-turned-nightmare off before you made yourself bitter for no good reason.
You were already getting too invested in this conversation, the image and elaborate backstory you’d created for him in your head. But it wasn’t exactly your fault, there was hardly any real entertainment to be found here. You held your dance card open as much as you could without going noticed, beginning to write the usual names you fell-back on when you grew tired of dancing.
“It’s near impossible to catch his attention, though,” you tuned-in to the conversation between the two mothers from before, “he wouldn’t even spare a glance at anything other than his sketches when he was visiting my home. I’d assume one would have to be nothing short of perfect to even get noticed by someone of his calibre. I can’t imagine he would settle for anything less.”
“Do you think he's coming tonight?”
“I heard he responded with his attendance, but Lord, have mercy on our daughters… I doubt he’d even cast a passing sigh their way,” you heard one of the chaperones sigh, shaking her head.
“What’s his name again?”
You tapped your pencil against the inside of your fingers absently, frustrated at the way your mind was blanking as you tried to recall another name you could use to fill the last empty space in your dance card.
“Viscount Jung Jaehyun.”
You hummed. Jung Jaehyun . You figured it was a safe bet, it wasn’t as if he’d actually ask you to dance.
You worked quickly in scribbling his name, along with many others you usually fell back on, onto the paper. The feeling of pencil against paper had never been as satisfying as it did now as your feet ached, clothes felt uncomfortable against your skin and throat feeling dry as sand.
Unfortunately for you, that victory didn’t seem to last very long.
“My dear, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” your mother cooed once you’d reached her, her tone making you feel as though you’d just been cued to say your next line.
You shot her a look, putting on a friendly smile as you greeted the people she was with, a few women you definitely did not recognise and a man with a very charming smile, clothes and jewellery that looked like he definitely lived… comfortably .
You were introduced to this man, addressed as Mr Nakamoto, a young-looking man who was supposedly from a reputable family from overseas, back from his travels around Europe. All of which was unimportant to your mother, of course, who simply hinted that he had money and was looking for a wife, the only things she claimed you should be caring about.
Perhaps that was true. Contrary to how it seemed, you were a lot more targeted in your search for a marriage partner. If you sifted through your mental list of men you’d danced with thus far into the night, your best potential marriage partner was either Mr Nakamoto (from what you were hearing), or the widower Baron who told you your silence was pleasing to him.
“Would you do me the honour of a dance?” He smiled, already extending a hand to reach for your dance card. In your panic, you withdrew your hand just slightly, only having it snatched away again by your mother, whose eyes zeroed in on the newly-added names.
You didn’t have time to react before the woman standing next to her had peered over as well, practically exclaiming with delight, “Oh! The viscount has asked you to dance? How fortunate! You must not dawdle, then.”
Your eyes widened, about to protest with some reason you hadn’t quite thought up yet, using that split second to contemplate the repercussions and how willing you were to deal with them if you were to confess that it was a fake name. That is, until your gaze landed on the man currently being led (or pushed) towards you.
Barely being able to protest before the both of you had been abandoned on the dance floor, the man looking nothing but irritable as he glared at you. You were assuming this was the man who was the centre of all the hushed giggles and gossip of tonight.
The image you had in your head of the mysterious Viscount Jung was almost instantly shattered and made new again, as if the previous image had never existed and this was the only one that could ever exist. How, for some reason, it made sense .
“This would all make sense if you let me explain,” you blurted out, seeing him quirk an eyebrow at you. Even his eyebrows were pretty.
He let out a huff at your expression, wondering how you could still seem so unremorseful after causing him such inconvenience . The last thing Jaehyun wanted here was for people to assume he was actually interested in somebody.
“You owe me an explanation, regardless,” the man’s voice had shocked you.
Deep and smooth, capable of lulling you into a trance if you weren’t already so on edge, even if his tone was curt and dripping with annoyance, “You’ve somehow managed to get the whole room staring at us.”
He let his gaze flicker briefly over the necklace you were wearing, back to your mother who was standing at the side looking on with evident disdain. Delicate looking Amethysts decorating your neck made Jaehyun wonder where you’d gotten them from. He only recalled Rubies to be quite popular among the girls in the other towns, according to his closest friend Johnny.
As if reminded of where you were, you tried to ignore the stares as you reached a hand up to his shoulder, swallowing the gasp that almost escaped at the feeling of his hand going to your back, tensing up visibly as your brain processed the music playing.
He let out a sigh as the both of you began to dance. It would’ve been an amusing sight if you were someone else looking on, both of you clearly not wishing to dance yet being whisked along to the upbeat tempo of the music, executing the dizzying choreography with what could only be described as trained movements.
A hint of a smile graced his features, though it definitely wasn’t directed at you.
“Anytime before my death, please,” he spoke, seeming to find his little joke amusing from the little huff of laughter he struggled to contain.
You scoffed, for some reason not feeling as inclined to offer him the same grace you would your other dance partners. Rolling your shoulders back, you kept your stare steady and refused to look down, lest he think he succeeded in making you feel small.
“That’s not a lot of time,” you quipped back, “Besides, your sour attitude is what will earn you an early death, if anything,” you muttered, audible enough for him to hear.
“Yours isn’t any better, in case you haven’t realised,” he huffed, eyebrows furrowing slightly in disdain.
“You don’t know me,” you huffed.
“And neither do you,” he was quick to reply, earning a sigh from you.
“Look, I wouldn’t be dancing with you if I had a choice,” you scoffed, figuring he was at least mildly offended from the way his eyes seemed to widen just momentarily.
“Oh, but you had a choice in writing my name on your dance card, didn’t you?” He bit back with a sarcastic smile, making you suck in a breath. That was definitely caused by your annoyance, not the dimples on his cheeks that you noticed with his smile.
“Just so we’re clear, I wouldn’t be dancing with someone as ill-mannered and arrogant as you either. Or dancing at all, for that matter. You’ve somehow seemed to spoil both of those outcomes,” he drawled, a wistful sigh that he masked with a soft smile.
Almost like a child, you’d wanted to mutter something about how you weren’t ill-mannered, but you figured what you’d shown him thus far wouldn’t exactly help your case in proving that.
You could hear girls swooning as you passed them.
“And you had the choice to show up to the ball, did you not? What did you think was going to happen here if not dancing? Did you think we’d have a canvas laid out for you to do some drawing?”
You struggled to maintain your gently pleased expression, finding your words to be quite amusing. Judging from the genuine huff of laughter you’d let out, to anyone else you two would’ve seemed to be really hitting it off.
“We could spend the entire night airing out our… grievances ,” he sighed, “but you still haven’t explained how we have ended up like this.”
You closed your eyes just briefly enough to roll them, opening them to see his jaw clenched as he glared at you.
The sigh he breathed out in annoyance succeeded in drawing your attention to your proximity. Only then noticing how differently you felt dancing with him than you did with your previous dance partners who felt as though they would collapse on you at any given moment. Somehow, the viscount felt steadier, making you unconsciously lean into him as you danced. Almost like your body recognised its ability to be dependent in this moment, no matter how minuscule the moment was. Like muscle memory.
Lifting your gaze up to his face, you tried not to let it linger for too long on his lips, their colour reminding you of a rose and hinted at the softness of a rose petal. Feeling the tap of his fingers against your back was what nudged your gaze to his eyes, understanding a little better why the gossip about him usually involved the word ‘beautiful’.
“I might be able to die and resurrect before you start explaining—”
“If I must explain,” you cut him off, earning a huff from him, “I usually write fake names on my dance card because eighteen dances are simply eighteen-too-many bouts of dancing with strange old men. Your name just happened to grace my ears when I was doing so.”
Jaehyun huffed, “And what did you think was going to happen here if not dancing?” He repeated your words back to you with an all-too-smug tone.
You let out a deep sigh, funnily enough, almost stumbling but feeling his hand on your back keep you standing upright.
He did have a point (as annoying as his execution was) but you weren’t going to admit it, of course. It was much more than just ‘dancing’. What happened in these balls could very well determine the future of yourself, your family and your unborn children, as you’ve been so generously reminded time and time again.
It was as if your mother was in your head, telepathically communicating these reminders to you whenever you were on the brink of letting yourself enjoy what you were doing. You had a responsibility to fulfil as the oldest daughter of your family. Him, however? To be able to waltz in here and expect to leave without dancing and know no one would bat an eye?
You huffed, fixing your gaze on the space between his eyebrows just so you could look as though you were deeply attentive.
“Must be nice not having to worry about your future,” you rolled your eyes.
That seemed to have struck a nerve with the Viscount, who frowned slightly at your words, an uncomfortable silence falling between the both of you.
“Was that the real reason you wrote my name down?” he finally spoke. His gaze seemed to truly hold offence now, feeling even more distant from him even though you were standing so close to him. The realisation that he truly was a stranger sinking in deeply, filling you with discomfort.
You didn’t seem to catch on to his implication at first, only realising after you’d recalled what you said to warrant such a reaction from him.
“I’m not after your money,” you told him plainly, seeing his frown grow deeper.
“You expect me to believe you?”
You glared at him, frowning slightly, his expression only mirroring yours.
“It seems I would be better off not expecting anything from you,” you huffed, “but you cannot expect anyone in this room not to be after you for your money. You’re surely smart enough to know that when you step into this room...”
You shook your head, each word seeming more for yourself than for the Viscount, a reminder that even now you were still meant to be playing your long, tedious game.
“... you are no longer viewed as yourself, only your eligibility, how well you’re able to act out your role. And if we were to go by that, I would be dancing with Mr Nakamoto there instead.”
The viscount followed the direction you had gestured in with your head, spotting the man standing next to your mother and chaperone.
“That’s Mr Nakamoto?” The viscount murmured, something almost akin to recognition in the man’s eyes as they met his own. The name seemed to ring a bell with him, though there was still a sense of unfamiliarity in his thoughtful expression. He didn’t think it was the kind of familiarity he would feel from a recent memory. Perhaps he would ask Johnny.
“Yes. Do you know him?”
There was no reply. A part of you was curious, wondering why his silence irked you so much.
At the viscount’s silence, you had only then realised the song was coming to an end. He let go of you as quickly as the song allowed, bowing out of courtesy and leading you to where your mother and Mr Nakamoto were, a certain discomfort in his expression that you could not seem to place, “By all means.”
And just as you said, he’d left the ball right after, no one batting an eye (but almost everyone running their mouths).
Still recovering from your exchange, you fixed your gloves, huffing at no one in particular, seeing Mr Nakamoto direct a rather amused smile towards you.
“Are you feeling alright? I hope dancing with the viscount wasn’t as dizzying as it looked.”
Your eyebrows raised, mustering a polite smile as you shook your head, determined to leave thoughts of the Viscount behind.
“Oh, no. Not at all. Yes, I’m perfectly fine.” Or you hoped to be in a while, at least.
Mr Nakamoto, you discovered over the rest of the evening, was nothing short of a perfect gentleman (going by your sister’s manuals). You struggled to find a flaw (and trust me, you were searching hard for it).
Beneath his extravagant clothes, confident demeanour, good dancing and how well-read he was about topics you could definitely see your father being eager to discuss over meals, you found that he was everything your mother was looking for. But other than the boxes he ticked off of her ‘Ideal son-in-law checklist’, there was nothing that compelled you to grow more acquainted with him. There wasn’t that… spark of attraction you would imagine was a non-negotiable aspect of the romance novels you read and plays you watched. The closest you’d gotten to feeling that tonight was in your sheer annoyance towards the viscount.
Unfortunately for you, there was much longer left for you to endure before you would be able to return home, but Mr Nakamoto’s company proved to be… sufficient.
Mr Nakamoto (whose first name you later heard from your mother was Yuta), kept you busy for the rest of the ball, occupied and mildly entertained with many stories about his travels (most of which you couldn’t differentiate between truth or lie). You would’ve even considered it a plus with how much he was talking, you were free to eat your supper in peace, undisturbed by other men due to Yuta’s riveting tales.
“I haven’t travelled much myself, but whatever you described does sound very lovely,” you would comment once in a while, feeling as though you were talking to the little children you would see at the market. You would smile, nod and coo at their stories without much care if they were reality or fiction. It was almost like an escape from reality, one you welcomed with open arms tonight.
“Do you have any siblings?” he asked suddenly, making you straighten up after a while of quietly enjoying your supper.
“Yes, a younger sister,” you murmured, “she’s not out yet, though.”
Yuta hummed over a mouthful of food, swallowing it with a wince before continuing, “Are you two close?”
You smiled, a small huff leaving you as you shrugged, “Well, yes, I suppose that is one way you could describe it.”
Yuta huffed, smiling as if recalling something (a story you assumed).
“Did I say something amusing?”
Yuta smiled, shaking his head, “No, it just reminded me of these siblings I met while I was in America…” setting off into yet another story about his travels.
Though you really didn’t mind, he was just giving you more stories to tell your sister once you got home.
You were at your wits end when it was time for the ball to be over, feeling as though you’d used up all your energy for the season from just dancing and listening to Yuta’s stories. You’d wanted nothing more than to simply curl into bed and sleep the rest of the week away.
Exchanging greetings as you parted ways, you tried hard to ignore the way your mother was looking at you as you returned to your carriage, head feeling heavy yet still feeling tension in your limbs, unable to fully relax with your mother in the carriage with you.
“He’s a very pleasant man,” she murmured, gaze trained outside the window as if she could see anything other than trees and empty road.
“Who?” you frowned.
“Who else? Mr Nakamoto.”
You let out a deep sigh, the breath you took in not satisfying the breathlessness you felt, nodding.
“He is,” your reply was curt, leaving no room for elaboration, though that didn’t seem to stop your mother.
“I heard from one of the ladies that he’s planning on staying here for a while. Planning to buy the estate near the park. You know, the one with the balcony that overlooks the lake. It’s an expensive property.”
You hummed.
You wanted to be interested, you really did. But the movement of the carriage was starting to make your head pound and you didn’t think you had any energy left in you to pretend to be bothered about whether Yuta’s potential estate overlooked anything .
Deeming your fatigue as a sort of defiance, your mother’s tongue clicked sharply as she shook her head at you.
“How can you be so… “ she scoffed, shaking her head, “need I remind you that you are doing this for the family? You need to start taking ownership of your responsibility in this whole affair.”
You sighed, shifting in your seat and directing your gaze towards her, “I know.”
Though you tried your best to remain respectful with your tone, your irritation got the better of you, “I am taking ownership. Am I not allowed to be tired after a whole night of dancing and socialising?”
“This is not just ‘ dancing and socialising ’. You need to realise the gravity of what just one dance could affect, for your family’s sake.”
Of course you knew that, but it wasn’t as if you could get her to see things from your perspective. She was your mother, and the last time she’d seen from any perspective other than that was before you were born.
You huffed, suppressing the many words you’d wished to have her hear, trying to remind yourself that words were unlikely to get you anywhere near an understanding with her. That would suffice for the night until you slept off your anger.
Nodding in hopes that it would appease her, you focused on your breathing, hoping it would somehow ease your headache that was coming on stronger than you’d wished. Unfortunately for you, you’ve come to learn that your mothers worries were only ever vented through such exchanges with you, though they weren't much of an exchange to begin with.
“Think of your father,” you couldn’t help the wave of discomfort that washed over you at the mention of him, as if you could feel his presence in the carriage at the mere mention of him, domineering and tense.
“He slaved away for his whole life to ensure his daughters could be viewed as respectable ladies in society. It is a privilege to even attend a ball like you just did. And yet you act as if we’re putting you through torture!”
Torture was one label for it; your long, tedious game.
“You are the oldest, you are to set an example for your sister. I do not wish for you to taint her innocence with your… your insolence .”
You nodded, almost wanting to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. With how much they fed her those manuals on what a respectable man and woman should be, how they kept her in the house as much as possible, allowed not even for her to paint because of how it would dirty her clothing, it was a wonder how they thought anything could possibly ‘ taint’ her at all.
Though at the same time, you would be lying if you said you didn’t wish to live as quiet and simple a life as she did, out of the loop of all the burdens and worries that seemed to follow your family for generations, growing more complex with each cycle it made.
“I know,” you stifled your sigh lest she use that as another example of your ‘insolence’, “I’m sorry,” you murmured, a foolproof way of appeasing her you’d come to learn after a lifetime of experience. Whether you meant it was an entirely separate matter.
Your words seemed to have their intended effect, allowing you to sit in the quiet tension of the carriage ride until you felt it come to a stop, hearing the rustling of the footman moving to open the carriage door, exiting with haste that only came with the feeling of a successful escape.
Your sister was quick to meet you in your bedroom as you reached your bedroom, timed with a precision you both knew came with too much time spent at home.
“I didn’t expect you to be awake,” you huffed, earning a shrug from her, a book you recognised to be from your father’s library in her hands, her finger tucked between the pages she stopped at.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes that you supposed held all sorts of hope to hear stories of love and romance, “I suppose I was too excited for you.”
You sighed.
“I hope that was a good sigh,” she inched closer, dog-earing the page she was on and tossing it aside, the book thumping softly on your stool.
She shifted on your bed, making herself comfortable as you changed out of your clothes leaving just your nightgown, glancing at her through her reflection in your standing mirror.
“I hope it was too,” you huffed, allowing yourself to be amused at your own joke, even though you didn’t very well feel like making light of your horrible night.
“How was it? Did anybody catch your eye?”
Your thoughts ran first to the Viscount (and his rosy lips—this wasn’t your fault, really.) It upset you, how he of all people had left a lasting impression on you even though you’d spent hours and hours talking to Mr Nakamoto. It upset you how you just knew that even if you did tell others about his lousy manners or his condescending demeanour, no one would have wanted to believe you, everyone already believed he was what they wanted him to be; a gentleman straight out of one of your sister’s manuals.
“There were… some , I suppose,” you spoke as vaguely as you could, hoping that would be enough to satisfy her (even though you knew it wouldn’t).
“Handsome?” The lilt in her tone was awfully hopeful.
You sighed, turning to her with a knowing look, “Handsomely rich .”
Her mouth fell open, features pulling into a frown, “You know for a fact I didn’t mean money. Were they charming? Attractive?”
“I suppose one of them was… not ugly,” you felt embarrassed saying it, for some reason, as if you could anticipate the viscount’s reaction if he’d heard your words. The way the corner of his lips would curl up in a smirk, tilting his chin up at you with all the arrogance and cockiness in his being.
For some reason, you were afraid to voice out your thoughts on him. Perhaps it was the fault of the little nagging voice that persisted in your head, telling you that it truly didn’t matter if you thought he was physically attractive, because you didn’t stand a chance to begin with. Voicing it out almost seemed like a jinx, a nail in the coffin that forced you to face this reality instead of living in the hope that he could have harboured good feelings towards you too; simply for the pleasure that came with being perceived by someone like him.
You figured now wasn’t the time for you to start getting comfortable with hoping.
Turning to your sister with a shrug, you spoke, “But he had the worst demeanour.”
“I heard a Viscount asked you to dance. It couldn’t have been him, could it?”
Perhaps it was those very manuals that led her to this assumption.
Though it was for her own good, you found yourself not wanting to burst her bubble. She needed to know that it wasn’t about whether they were a Viscount or not, but that the men she would encounter in the marriage market in general weren’t as fairytale-like as they were written out to be. The likelihood of marrying someone you found even mildly attractive was rare. Yet the hope she held was important, precious almost.
Although the growing desire to find a love match was gaining popularity these days, you didn’t consider yourself to have that luxury. It seemed all too indulgent, saved for people who could afford to worry about things like love. Not a lady like you, the eldest daughter of her family carrying her parents’ burden on her weary shoulders.
“Do you think all viscounts are handsome and kind?” you laughed, beginning to undo your hair.
“Don’t know. Never met one before,” she sighed, “which is precisely why I’m asking you. ”
You hummed, “Well, the other man I spent most of the night with wasn’t exactly better. He spent most of the time talking about himself, but I suppose it was good entertainment.”
“So he wasn’t the handsome one?”
“The viscount?” you frowned.
Your sister’s eyes lit up, her smile growing, “So, you think the viscount’s handsome?”
Realising your mistake, you narrowed your eyes at her, “I think it’s best you forget about him.”
Somehow, the words left a bitter taste on your tongue, your sister’s expression of confusion making you feel almost frustrated, “I’m only saying this because I don’t think we’ll be seeing much of him after tonight.”
You made your way over to your bed, getting into bed and shifting to find a comfortable position, your sister still sitting next to you and looking at you with that same thoughtful expression.
“Are you that upset about it?” you huffed, trying to read into her emotions, “It’s nothing to worry about, really. Mother seems to have found a man that’s to her liking, you know, finances, property, intelligence and manners all included.”
She shook her head, mustering a small smile, “No, It’s not that. I was just wondering… how difficult it’s probably going to be for me to find a husband.”
You frowned.
“You have loads of accomplishments. You’re going to be fine,” you assured her, choosing gentle words that paved a way for a peaceful conclusion as always, though your words seemed to have weighed heavier on her, a small sigh leaving her as she toyed with your bedsheet under her hand. You would be lying if you said it didn’t spark some sort of competitive urge to prove that you could find better words to dissipate her worry.
She sighed, briefly glancing at you before looking away, mumbling in a way that was almost reluctant to be heard, “Love is important too, you know.”
You fell silent at her words, the ache in you growing obvious again. That ache for the kind of rest that went beyond physical things. One that seemed natural for you to forego, for everyone’s sake but yours.
You nodded, swallowing the dryness in your throat. You sifted through your archive of neutral, concluding words, words that you didn’t necessarily believe for yourself, but words that would suffice for now.
“I’m sure it will find you,” you murmured.
There was nothing but silence in the room afterwards. feeling yourself starting to get drowsy as your sister got up, walking over to your bedside stool to retrieve her book.
“What’s his name?” she murmured.
At your silence, she continued, “you know, maybe I can keep my ears open for any gossip when I go to the flower market,” she insisted, eager to have a little bit of adventure in her otherwise mundane days, clearly.
You thought about it just for a moment, wondering if your pride overpowered your curiosity on what kind of gossip she would hear. You figured that in this moment, you couldn’t deny your curiosity.
“Jung Jaehyun.”
Only after she left, you realised she hadn’t specified who she was referring to.
===
The ache did not disappear when you woke up near the afternoon, as much as you wished it did. Frankly, you didn’t manage to get much sleep at all, the sound of your door bursting open being what jolted you awake.
No words were exchanged, simply your mother rummaging through your drawers she used for storage for something she couldn’t seem to find, returning empty-handed to wherever she came from.
Figuring you could have something to eat before returning to bed, you got dressed, heading to the dining room. You saw your sister and your mother there eating breakfast, the staff clearing what you assumed to be your father’s used plates and utensils. It was almost strange how you felt yourself relax at the knowledge of not having to sit through a meal with him.
“Good morning,” your sister’s grin was on full display as you sat next to her, “there’s a surprise for you in the drawing room.”
“Surprise?” you frowned, taking a bite of your food even though you weren’t all that hungry, knowing it would set your mother off if you weren’t eating.
As if it were orchestrated by some divine power, you heard the low vibrations of what could only be a man’s voice in your otherwise female-occupied household.
Men, as in, plural?
You stared at the doorway of the dining room, a strange feeling in your gut as you heard the voices grow louder, your sister seeming to catch on as she grabbed your hand, forcing you to abandon your breakfast as she led you to the drawing room.
“A fresh one,” she smiled, her clues not giving you any idea of what awaited you in the drawing room.
“Living and breathing?” You weren’t sure why you were breathless, but you became sure when you saw the man standing next to your father, whose gaze had met yours with a certain finality and hadn’t bothered tearing itself away.
Living and breathing, right in front of your eyes.
“Roses!” your sister chipped in, “pink ones. And white clovers too.”
Viscount Jung Jaehyun, standing just a few paces away from you and your sister in your drawing room as your father talked his ear off about the renovations he wanted to make to the estate.
It irked you how your thoughts had almost instantly shifted to the rosy lips of the viscount, allowing yourself to wonder just for a moment if the flowers were from him. It gave you whiplash to think of him gifting you such romantic flowers after the exchange you both shared just hours before.
Perhaps they were meant as some sort of an apology? Perhaps the viscount had dug deep within himself to find that his behaviour was far from pleasant. Yes , if that was the case, maybe you were right to think he wasn’t as horrible as he seemed, maybe the viscount had some decency in him after all.
“The name on the card didn’t sound familiar, but I figured you would know once you see it!”
That seemed to have caught Jaehyun’s attention (as much as he tried to hide it), though he masked his curiosity well as he pretended to be fascinated with the interior of your drawing room.
Rolling your shoulders back, you fixed your posture, reaching a hand out to the little card that was perched delicately in the midst of the flowers, a simple handwritten card that read:
- To thank you for the pleasure of your company -
Nakamoto Yuta
“Are they from the viscount?” your sister asked loudly, earning a sharp nudge from you that sent her stumbling, your gaze darting to the viscount and missing the smirk that had graced his lips.
You shook your head, murmuring, “The other man.”
Your sister wasn’t doing a very good job in saving your face in front of the viscount, making no move to hide her dismay as her lips parted with a sigh of disappointment, “The boring one?”
Grabbing her hand quickly, you led her back to the dining room, making sure your voice was more than audible as you walked past the viscount.
“The only man from the evening who was worth remembering,” you commented, suppressing your satisfaction when you heard the viscount clear his throat, suggesting to move to your father’s office for a more conducive discussion.
Just as you’d settled back into your seat at the dining table, feeling more of an appetite to eat now after your little success in irking the viscount, your mother spoke from where she stood by the doorway, glancing out of the window briefly as she fixed her gloves.
“Get dressed, we should be ready to entertain callers soon.”
“Callers?” you couldn’t help but frown, hearing your sister grunt from where she was beside you.
“I’ve invited Mr Nakamoto for some tea, perhaps the two of you could go for a stroll in the late afternoon.”
You inhaled deeply, something about the proposal not seeming to entice you as much as your curiosity as to what was going on in your father’s office with the viscount. It was a shame even boring estate talk could seem more appealing to you than conversation and a stroll with an attractive, eligible suitor.
“Well that’s my cue to leave, then. Wouldn’t want to be caught in the crossfire of mindless talk,” amusement left your sister in hushed giggles, her chair screeching against the wooden floor loudly as she got up, making you cringe at the sound she was otherwise unaffected by.
Your mother hadn’t bothered acknowledging her departure, though you heard your sister’s footsteps bounding up the stairs, the sound of her bidding your father goodbye before the same thumping down the stairs echoed till the front door was shut.
You sighed, looking out of the window at the cloud cover that kept the sun from gracing anything beneath it, choosing once again to push your feelings behind you for the sake of your mother who wanted to ensure security for your future. For the sake of your father who longed to retire. For the sake of your sister who was still trusting that there was love and hope in her world.
You would receive Mr Nakamoto and you would do so gracefully. Another step towards the end goal in your long, tedious game.
===
The afternoon went perfectly. A little too perfectly, if you were being honest.
It was almost frustrating, how there was barely anything to complain about when it came to Yuta. He was on his best behaviour today, even managing to start and sustain a very well-developed conversation with your father when he had come down with the viscount briefly while they made their way to the other part of your estate.
And there you sat, like a jilted lover during the whole exchange, frustrated at the fact that Yuta had somehow managed to have everybody smitten for him, except yourself. A little nagging in your gut had tried to convince you that perhaps that was how Yuta wanted to go about this; winning over your family so he wouldn’t have to try so hard to win you over, as if this was his strategy in his own long, tedious game.
Even as you went out to promenade by the lake, you struggled to be present to the man next to you.
“Did you like the flowers?” he asked, earning a blank stare from you till you managed to register his question.
“Oh, yes I did. They’re lovely flowers.”
“Do you happen to have a liking for them? I saw many arrangements in your house when your mother was showing me around.”
You shook your head, the sudden recollection of your sister’s words about mindless small talk coming to mind as you dismissed them with a huff, “Not particularly. I mean, I do like them, but I wouldn’t go as far as making arrangements and whatnot. That is more of my sister’s hobby.”
Yuta hummed, “Do you have a favourite?”
Glancing up at Yuta, the way his smile was relaxed, his attention seemed to be solely focused on you. Something about it threw you off guard, wondering why he’d taken a liking to you when you were sure his smile and his charm would have any girl in your neighbourhood begging for his attention (perhaps just not yourself included).
“Lilacs.”
Yuta’s smile grew, looking somewhat pleased with your answer.
“Is first love something you hold dear to yourself?”
You let out a huff at that, impressed that he was familiar with the language of flowers, the thought of his pink roses from the morning making you feel somewhat uncomfortable at his pursuit.
You shook your head, “I’ve never actually… experienced it before.”
Yuta’s next words had stilled your fingers over your umbrella, wondering if he’d taken the words straight out of one of the romance novels in your bookshelf.
“I’d like to think it feels like this,” he sighed, a serene expression on his face as you walked together, “being able to share this with you.”
You were holding your breath, you were sure of it. But why wasn’t this feeling as heart-fluttering as you were expecting? Sure, his words were nice to hear, but was it because you were too distracted at the moment?
Now, you were frustrated. It wasn’t as if you could go back in time to ask him to repeat himself in the hope that you would feel something. Perhaps you were just tired, you told yourself (even if you knew that really wasn’t the reason behind your apathy).
“Shall we head back?”
Even as you were walking back, Yuta didn’t seem to let up as easily. His demeanour was vastly different from how it was at the ball. This time, he was asking you more questions about yourself, as if he were specifically orchestrating dialogue sequences that would allow him to insert romantic one-liners like the one before. Though they were flowery, and by the nature of the word you figured flowery would mean they were pleasant, but you were at a loss with the way they left you feeling well… not exactly pleased . You were hearing him, definitely, but you were stuck feeling like he wasn’t really hearing you.
As you were walking back, you reached your house just as the viscount’s carriage was leaving, tensing up as you saw your father standing next to the little flower garden behind the gates of your house as he saw the viscount off.
You avoided his gaze, hoping you would be able to walk past him without being stopped, but it seemed that wasn’t the case with how Yuta greeted your father with much more enthusiasm than you’d seen him bear all day.
You’d taken that as your queue to enter the house first, the sound of the piano echoing from the walls indicating your sister was home and that made you all the more eager to be in the company of someone you actually wanted to see today. Your father and Yuta followed behind you, not seeming to be affected by your absence as you drew closer to your sister, finally feeling as though you could relax slightly more in her presence.
“How was it?” she whispered, glancing not-so-subtly at Yuta, earning a small mustered smile from yourself.
“He was lovely,” you told her, (which in fact, wasn’t a lie).
She grinned.
“He’s handsome too, I must say. But even so, he can’t be compared to the man father was talking to this morning. They each have a different… air,” her shoulders lifted as she spoke, arms moving in the way your old piano tutor called ‘with emotion’ as she played, “you know, in the way they carry themselves.”
You let out a deep sigh, nodding slowly, “You do know that man is the viscount I mentioned the night before, don’t you?”
Her playing faltered abruptly (though your father and Yuta were too distracted to notice), slowly picking up where she’d left off, “ The viscount? The one named Jung Jaehyun? He was the man father was talking to?”
Her amazement was obvious, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t understand why she was so shocked.
You nodded, “The ill-mannered one.”
She frowned, “That’s unfortunate, then. He really did live up to what the townspeople were saying about him. Beauty and grace and elegance… a man that looks like everything he touches turns to gold.”
You rolled your eyes, amusement hinted in your smile, “Not everything gold is worth wanting.”
“Would you say Mr Nakamoto is the exception, then? More worth wanting than the Midas-touch-viscount himself?” She scoffed.
You didn’t have an answer for that, maybe because you weren’t convinced of the one you were going to offer her.
“We’ll see. He just might have to be.”
She giggled, seemingly satisfied with your answer as she resumed playing the piano, the lilting melody carrying you elsewhere for the moment until Yuta was done with the conversation he was having with your father, bidding you goodbye as he left.
As your father made his way over to you, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, resisting the urge to look away and fidget in your discomfort.
“I’m going to be away in the afternoons for business over the next few days, so you’ll be handling the meetings with the viscount on the estate. I trust that you’re already well versed on what needs to be taken care of.”
“Will mother be joining—”
“What good will that do?” he huffed, “Do not waste your time with these silly questions. There is no need to get her or your sister involved and cause them unnecessary stress. You are capable enough of handling it on your own.”
You sighed, watching him leave in the direction of his office, leaving you to slump onto the sofa next to where your sister was, curling into a comfortable position for a nap as the gentle melody worked on lulling you to a place where your worries were far away and rest seemed within reach.
===
If Jaehyun was surprised to see you the next day, he didn’t show it, simply glancing at you as he entered the house, nodding his head as if he’d expected you to be there (even if he really didn’t).
“I trust my father has briefed you that I'll be handling the estate matters while he’s away?” you were first to break the silence, watching as one of his hands moved to touch the pads of his fingertips, looking somewhat preoccupied. Or perhaps, he was recalling his exchange with your father, looking at you curiously. Though that curiosity had left as soon as it came, replaced with a playful glint in his eyes.
“My apologies,” his tone was anything but remorseful, punctuated by the little smirk that was playing at his lips, “I figure you’d much rather be… well, handling Mr Nakamoto.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, “D’you fancy yourself a comedian, my lord?”
Jaehyun had simply shrugged, showing some modesty in the small shake of his head.
“Good. Because you’d be a very poor one.”
You began to lead him to your father’s office, Jaehyun noticing the way your steps had slowed as you grew nearer to the door, the deep breath you’d taken in before your hands had met the doorknob, turning it and pushing only to be met with a smell that was unmistakably like your father.
Hints of a pipe smoked hours ago, the smell of his library books, ink on his desk, the musk and citrus and alcohol that blended together to form the imposing presence of your father even when he wasn’t here. Your posture had straightened and your steps became quiet and wary almost instinctively.
You stayed far from his desk, as you had always done, surprising Jaehyun with the way you’d simply taken the documents you needed and sat yourself on one of the chairs in the office, legs crossing uncomfortably as you gripped the papers in your hands.
Eyeing you carefully, Jaehyun made his way to the chair nearest to you, pulling out his own blueprints that he and your father had discussed the day before.
“Did my…” you began, throat feeling dry all of a sudden at the sight of the documents before you, “did my father tell you what I had to go over on his behalf?”
Jaehyun simply tilted his head at you.
“We’ve gone over it actually, he… just told me to ask you for the stamp and to clear the financial documents. He mentioned that you took care of the family’s accounts.”
You figured you shouldn’t have been surprised that your father didn’t actually want your opinion on his decisions. You’d just let yourself get carried away thinking he wanted to know what you thought about the things he made you responsible for.
“Oh, so my business here is simply for the seal, am I correct to say that—?”
“No, actually, I would appreciate it if I could go over these plans with you once before you approve them. It’s only sensible if—”
You shook your head firmly, Jaehyun stopping himself at your gesture, eyebrows furrowing as if the situation was upsetting to him.
“That won’t be necessary. I would rather not impose on his… plans,” you sighed, averting your gaze from his as you stood up, making your way over to your father’s desk for his seal.
“Impose?” he quirked an eyebrow, wondering why it was that you seemed to withdraw so easily when it came to your father, “You had no problem imposing on my plans at the ball.”
Rolling your eyes, you struggled to keep your hands steady as they sifted past the papers on your father’s desk.
“I would be sorry if your initial plans were any good to begin with,” you murmured distractedly.
It was strange, how you felt as if you were doing something you weren’t supposed to. As if you were secretly rummaging around in his desk while your heart was thrumming wildly at the thought of him walking in and catching you red-handed, feeling the disappointment that would meet you in his gaze, rendering you a little child again who had more familiarity with these belongings than she did her father.
“If you’re not sorry about that, you could be sorry about the fact that people seem to think I’m courting you now.”
You debated ignoring his statement, glancing at him only briefly as you arranged the papers in your hand.
Humming, it seemed your urge to cover up your nerves had shown up in snappy retorts aimed towards Jaehyun, strangely unfiltered with him even though you figured you should’ve been.
“Of course, because a man like you should be able to show up to a ball simply for the music and drink.”
Clenching and unclenching your fists, you went about the process as calmly as you could, Jaehyun’s watchful, curious eyes unnerving you even as you made the seal.
“Are you alright?” he spoke suddenly, earning a sharp inhale and a glare from you in return, your grip tightening around the seal. Whether it was because the question felt out of place, or whether it was the fact that he had caught on to your discomfort, you would rather not admit.
You shut your father’s desk drawer with a quiet click, habitual movements from many instances of sneaking in here as a child for writing materials.
“What does it matter to you?”
“No, just… does my presence here make you uncomfortable?” his eyebrows furrowed, what seemed like genuine curiosity taking over his features once again.
Trust you to be defensive, though.
A scoff left you, the thud of the beaten book that you used to keep track of your family’s accounts dropping against your father’s desk echoing through the room as if that were your form of exerting your dominance over the room and everything it represented.
“Has the thought only crossed your mind now? Besides, don’t flatter yourself,” you scoffed, “your presence doesn't have that much of an effect on me.”
That would’ve done it , you figured. You could imagine the way his lips would curl into a sarcastic smile, or how he would simply scoff and announce that it was about time for him to leave. Anything but what followed next.
“Maybe not mine, but your father’s seems to.”
Somehow, you almost wished your sister was here to defuse the tension in the room, or to crack a joke to save you from having to face such an observation. But she wasn’t, and the truth of the matter was that you were sitting here facing a stranger who seemed confident that they could read you like an open book.
And maybe, his confidence wasn’t completely unfounded.
A silence fell between the both of you, tense and ridden with an understanding both of you were aware of but neither were willing to put down their pride first to admit.
You scoffed, waving him off in dismissal as naturally as you could, “You’ve never seen us interact.”
“I don’t have to,” he huffed, speaking matter-of-factly, “you’ve been… tense ever since I suggested having our meeting in his office.”
“I just don’t like being in stuffy offices,” you shrugged again, pretending to be busy with your notebook.
Jaehyun rolled his eyes, confidence in his stare as he leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs, “ Or the person the stuffy office belongs to.”
Your sharp gaze met his almost instantly, letting out a small huff of air through your nose. You were at a loss of a witty retort, though somehow that didn’t feel as damning as you thought it would; the viscount didn’t seem to be attacking today in the same way he was before at the ball.
“It’s not a crime, you know,” he murmured, cutting you some slack from the way he averted his gaze to fiddle with his sleeve, “you’re not expected to be amiable with him all the time. At least not in my book.”
You attempted to swallow in the hopes that it would make the lump in your throat feel less suffocating, to no avail.
“Amiable,” you echoed, huffing at his choice of words. Even on good days, you don’t think you could use a word like that to describe your interactions with your father.
Jaehyun searched your expression, reading into your silence, shaking his head dismissively, “Sorry if I overstepped, I don’t usually have the habit of voicing out my observations so… carelessly.”
You didn’t believe him, strangely. Everything about what had just transpired between the both of you seemed anything but careless. Instead, it came with all the intentionality of trying to understand someone. Somehow, that knowledge made you less inclined to hold back in front of him.
When you finally felt like your voice wouldn’t give, you spoke, “Are you speaking from experience?”
His eyebrows raised in question, “My father?”
You nodded, earning a huff from him. Now it was your turn to watch him shift in his discomfort, averting his gaze and swallowing thickly.
“Never really had much of a relationship with him or my mother… I uh… I lived with my aunt and uncle since I was a child.”
“Did you have much of a relationship with them, then?”
Jaehyun shrugged.
“Not as much as I did with my tutors,” he huffed, perhaps in some attempt to lighten the mood, “they were the ones I spent most of my time with.”
You hummed, hands stilling around the papers you had yet to hand over to him.
At your lack of an immediate response, he looked up, continuing, “It’s nothing to pity me for. They raised me as best as they could.”
“I don’t pity you,” you spoke.
Sure, it wasn’t exactly pity that you felt, but you weren’t sure what exactly the feeling that stirred in your chest even was. Perhaps it was a desire to be as grateful for your parents as he was? Perhaps it was an understanding of the little insistence that he didn’t want to be pitied. Perhaps it was the breathlessness that came with the way he was looking at you now, expectant for your reply.
Whatever it was, you found yourself recalling your conversation with your sister, feeling almost embarrassed at how even now, you still thought he was capable of turning things to gold.
“You don’t?” he questioned, his tone uncharacteristically gentle, unlike anything you’ve heard before.
“Do you want me to?” you weren’t sure why you were asking, simply curious how he would reply.
Jaehyun let out a huff through his nose, shaking his head. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to elicit from you. Although it was definitely something , he could say certainly that pity definitely wasn’t what it was.
“No, I don’t.”
You held his gaze, nodding. “Good, I don’t want you to pity me either.”
Before he could reply, you straightened up, handing the documents back to him with your father’s seal already in its rightful place. Taking in a deep breath, he stood up, taking you back almost immediately to what it felt like to dance with him at the ball, your proximity to him now allowing you to feel him towering over you, though strangely without the condescension that was present before.
“A lady like you shouldn’t care for my pity,” he murmured, the faintest of smiles playing at his lips.
And just like that, it was as if the exchange never happened, as if you both didn’t just bare a part of your souls to each other. Jaehyun straightened out his clothes, averting his gaze to the floor as you both allowed the façade of banter to mask the windedness that came from suddenly feeling all-too exposed.
“You won’t need to tell me twice.”
===
“You wouldn’t believe what I heard at the flower market,” your sister barged into your room as you were getting ready to attend a soiree that evening.
Your eyebrows raised, smoothing down your dress before sitting on your bed, giving her an expectant look.
“It appears Lord Jung is an anti-social man,” she began, “a few of the ladies at the flower market were talking about him, they said he’s rarely seen with people other than those he does business with. I interpreted that as the man having no friends, but that’s quite sad, isn’t it?”
You shrugged, “I figure something like that is subjective.”
Your sister didn’t seem convinced, “I think it’s lonely. Not having anyone to talk to about your life, about your struggles, about your joys… only being able to talk about your business wherever you go. I find that an awfully lonely way to live.”
Huffing, you got up from your bed, “He doesn’t seem keen on finding a marriage partner either so perhaps he’s more comfortable in this loneliness than you think.”
“I don’t believe it,” she grunted, “but it does make some sense. Maybe that’s why his manners aren’t the best, because he’s used to talking to cunning old businessmen.”
You let out a huff of laughter, “You sound like you’re defending him.”
Giving you a shrug, she hummed, “Maybe if you see him at the soirée later you can find out for yourself if he’s worth defending,” she smiled.
You could only sigh at that, glancing out the door when you heard your mother calling for you.
“That is, if Mr Nakamoto doesn’t talk my ears off before that.”
One thing about soirées, or these public events during the season in general, was that they didn’t allow for much privacy at all. It wasn’t like you were in the confines of your father’s study with the viscount’s full attention on you, no. You were in someone else’s house, with many many different eyes on you, at the receiving end of everybody’s attention except the very person who wouldn’t seem to leave your mind.
It was as if you were being shadowed by Yuta, your mother looking on with delight as your chaperone while the both of you conversed and you nursed your glass of whatever drink he’d handed to you. In such a setting, you couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of your posture, your manners, your tone of voice, the way you held your fan, even the way you would time your glances towards Yuta. All part of your tedious game, you supposed— to win the affections of a man you felt no real desire towards.
What did you desire, then? You wondered. His attention? His approval? You continued with the knowledge that even if you didn’t desire him, you wanted to feel worthy of his desire. It was messy, and it felt manipulative. But you figured those were things you’d signed up for the moment you started playing this game (however unwillingly).
You could see Jaehyun standing at the corner of the room next to the grand piano, looking intently at the multitude of sheet music next to the piano. The sight was almost amusing when you recalled your sister’s words, because indeed as you looked at him now, the sheer intent of his glare on the sheet music would be enough to intimidate anyone from initiating a conversation with him.
“Do you know how to play?” Yuta’s words had caught your attention, and you’d almost grimaced at the realisation that you’d been walking towards the piano. Stopping just a few paces away from the piano, you cast a brief glance at Jaehyun who was still glaring at the sheet music in his hands.
“No, no. I don’t, actually.”
Yuta smiled, “I would offer to play something for you, but it seems viscount Jung has beat me to it,” he murmured as you heard the melody start to sound from the piano. You knew this piece, it was the one your sister was playing when Jaehyun had visited your house the other day.
For some reason, the piece held much more melancholy than you realised, or maybe it was the way he was playing it, holding you (and all the other women in the room, you guessed) captive, unable to look elsewhere.
You weren’t even paying attention to what you were talking to Yuta about, feeling the words come out of your mouth but paying no attention to what you were actually saying. Little did you know that as focused as Jaehyun seemed on his playing, every word of yours was flitting into his mind and refusing to leave.
“I was always envious of people who could play the piano,” you sighed almost wistfully, earning a hum from Yuta.
“Were you not tutored for it?”
You shook your head, “It wasn’t something I was interested in when I was younger, but I suppose as I grew older, the music started to feel comforting to an extent. Only I was simply a listener, not the one who conveyed such comfort,” you huffed, attempting to make light of your feelings.
Yuta, as always, replied with his flowery lines, not being able to pick up on how you were really feeling and taking your words at surface level with a smile.
“Well, you certainly are an excellent conversationalist, so I would still consider myself accomplished if I were you.”
You hummed, brushing off your discomfort and mustering a smile, “Thank you.”
Jaehyun had to withhold his amusement, wondering again why it was that you were so willing to withdraw to men like Yuta, men who were all-too-familiar with manipulating their words to their advantage. If you’d simply bit back with half the amount of snark that you generously gave him, he was sure Yuta would be at a loss for words.
How frustrating. Surely, you could tell that Yuta was not a good match for you, couldn’t you?
Coming to the end of his piano piece, Jaehyun stood up, simply picking up his glass of wine that he had set on top of the piano, acting as if he wasn’t the one at the receiving end of the room’s applause.
Perhaps it was a stroke of divine timing, but one of the servants had approached Yuta, murmuring into his ear something you couldn’t quite catch. Yuta straightened up in response, casting an apologetic glance your way.
“Forgive me, I need to excuse myself for a moment,” he muttered, rushing off to somewhere you couldn’t truly be bothered to wonder about.
Jaehyun did not waste the opportunity presented to him, taking just the tiniest of steps closer to you and murmuring behind his glass, “Evening… are you alright?”
He noticed the way your shoulders were tense, your fidgety gaze around the room, the way you’d kept bringing your glass to your lips but the level of liquid in your glass was barely going down.
“Please, spare me. I am in no mood for needless bickering tonight,” you huffed, bringing your glass to your lips again to take a small sip.
Truthfully enough, the ache was back again as you stood in the room filled with chatter and music. The ache of longing for the ability to rid yourself of the façade of the perfect marriage partner that was growing more tiring to uphold. The ache that grew stronger when you conversed with Yuta, feeling as though if you were to enter a marriage with this man, the ache would only intensify. It was dangerous to entertain him in a place like this, because Jaehyun’s presence always seemed to draw you out of this façade.
“Bickering?” he scoffed, a faint smirk appearing on his lips.
“Was that not what you approached me for?” you turned to him with a frown, “I suppose the soirée was getting boring for you if you felt the need to take such a drastic measure as to approach me of all people.”
There you were , he mused.
Jaehyun shifted another step closer to you, something about his proximity making the conversation between the both of you more obvious, and you could tell from the way your mother was looking at you that it was indeed obvious that you had his attention.
“Oh, not at all. I was hoping I could be reminded what an excellent conversationalist you were,” he drawled, clearly proud of himself judging from the smile playing on his lips.
You rolled your eyes. “And you suppose you’re any better?”
“Of course, I am. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”
“You asked me a question? Must not have been worth remembering,” you sighed.
As much as you felt he annoyed you, you had to admit that it was somewhat relieving not having to be on your ‘best behaviour’ around him. You were sure any chance of marriage would be tossed out of the window if you were to speak in such a manner to Yuta (or any other suitor).
Jaehyun’s expression grew more serious, eyebrows lifting slightly in concern, “I asked if you were alright.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, suddenly feeling as exposed as you did that day in the study. It was strange how easily he managed to read into your feelings. You figured you’d been doing a good job at masking it.
“What does it matter? It’s not like you to be so concerned,” you huffed.
“So, you’re not alright?” he prompted, earning a shrug from you, looking into your glass as though it held the answer you were both looking for.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m feeling alright or not, the soirée is not going to end anytime soon,” you danced around his question, hoping the mention of the soirée would redirect his line of questioning.
He noticed the Rubies that were draped around your neck, something about it feeling off. He much preferred the look of the Amethysts you were wearing before, the first time he’d met you.
“New necklace?” he quirked an eyebrow at you, earning a grunt in response.
“A gift,” you muttered, “from Mr Nakamoto.”
“I see. You still haven’t answered my question,” his tone remained firm, eyebrows furrowed and gaze intent on you.
You clenched and unclenched your fist, turning to him with your eyebrows furrowed, throat feeling dry as you tried to wrangle your voice awake when you met his gaze, uncomfortable at the way his attentiveness tempted you to pour out your feelings to him.
“Is this really the reason you approached me? Look, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. What does it matter? ”
Jaehyun was undeterred, meeting you with the same amount of stubbornness and challenge, “It matters because you’re… different. You behaved… differently when you were talking to Mr Nakamoto.”
“Compared to what? When I’m talking to you?” the words left you quicker than you could process them.
“Do you not think so?” he retorted just as quickly, tilting his head at you with the confidence that came from knowing the answer without you having to verbalise it.
You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.
“Well… there’s no reason for me to act as though I’m trying to impress you.”
Jaehyun simply huffed in amusement, tilting his glass slightly as he contemplated uttering the thought that came to mind, going for it anyway.
“Somehow, that impresses me enough.”
Unsure what to make of his words, you shifted your gaze elsewhere, adjusting your grip on your glass because your palms had started to feel clammy. You remembered wondering what it would’ve been like at the receiving end of his attention, and now that you had it you were finding that even his words seemed capable of sprinkling gold dust on your heart.
“I didn’t know you could play the piano,” you changed the subject, your body starting to feel warm under your clothes, burning under the intensity of his gaze, wondering if this was how the sheet music must have felt under his gaze.
“I picked it up when I was younger. Out of all the instruments I've touched, I would say the piano is the one I tend to return to more.”
“It’s your favourite?”
He shook his head.
“What is your favourite, then?” You found yourself asking, genuinely curious this time instead of just a small-talk formality that you usually followed at such events.
You wouldn’t have known it, but Jaehyun was feeling the same unfamiliarity as you, feeling as though his body was moving before he could process it. He wasn’t used to holding a conversation like this with someone he barely knew, especially when it wasn’t about business or architecture. And for some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to care about the stares he was receiving as a result of such conversation.
“The violin,” he admitted almost sheepishly, as if he was embarrassed that he could play an instrument you could only dream of playing.
Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, gaze wandering to the violin that was perched nearby the piano, after being played by one of the guests when you’d first arrived.
“Why is it your favourite?”
He hummed, and by now you’d forgotten that Yuta had even promised to return, something in you not being able to find it in yourself to pretend that you were annoyed at Jaehyun’s attention, you truthfully weren’t. For someone as ‘antisocial’ as he was deemed, you found it was comfortable feeling like you didn’t have to present ‘textbook perfect wife’ answers for him. If only your sister could see you now.
“It was the first instrument I learned as a child… but I moved on to different instruments when I was older because my aunt insisted on me learning other instruments. You know, the more skills, the better. Somehow it’s…” he huffed, amused at his own willingness to share with you, the only person aside from his best friend Johnny that wasn’t keeling over begging to polish the ground he walks on.
It was refreshing, he was realising, to not be treated like he was perfect.
“It makes me very nostalgic. For that time in my life when there were no worries, you know? When all I had on my mind was the next piece I was eager to ask my tutor to teach me, waiting each day for her to retrieve the sheet music so I could play it until I knew it by heart.”
Jaehyun continued, “It’s strange, sometimes when I find myself picking up the violin again, it’s like the music just flows out naturally… and I realise I really did know it by heart.”
You hummed, nodding.
“Like muscle memory,” you offered, earning a soft smile from him unlike anything you’ve seen before. This one made you feel as though you were catching glimpses of Jaehyun as a child, the little boy whose only worry was for the day the calluses on his fingers would start to disappear.
“Can you play something now?” you weren’t sure what compelled you to ask, but the answer you were met with had surprised you even more.
“Oh, no no. It’s not… like that,” he huffed, still a hint of sheepishness in the smile that lingered on his features, “I don’t play it that often… rarely. Only when I'm really stressed, if there's too much on my mind.”
Nodding, you took a fuller sip of your drink, slightly more liberated now that your stomach wasn’t churning like how it was before.
“Your aunt must’ve really invested a lot of her fortune in your tuition, considering you were tutored for multiple instruments,” you hummed, earning a grunt from him.
“I suppose she had to, they received too much from my parents each month to not do anything with it,” he sighed, leaning against the bookshelf behind him, turning his head to look at you with tired eyes, “I still remember the way I would look forward to the letters they would send every now and then just to praise me for whatever competition I had won, or whatever certificate I'd achieved.”
“Do you think it was worth it? All the effort you put in?” you murmured, curious to how he would answer even though you knew you’d be at a loss if the same question was asked to you. Somehow, you felt like his answer would tell you more about him than small talk at balls or promenades would.
Jaehyun hummed thoughtfully, lips pursing slightly, “That was what love felt like to me back then, the love I felt for music and… their letters, so… do I think it was worth it?” he shrugged, a smile that bordered on bitterness had graced his features, “Do you?”
Perhaps it was the way you felt like you couldn’t hide under his gaze, or maybe it was the way you felt like he wouldn’t hold your grievances against you. Whatever it was, you found yourself wanting to share with him. And strangely enough, the idea of it had started to scare you less as time went by.
“My parents were like that too. You know, as the oldest daughter… no news was good news. My duty was to… to not cause worry, to be strong for the family, to take care of my sister, to perform well in all that I did for the family’s sake. For me, it was… like an instruction manual,” you huffed, finding yourself looking to him for affirmation that he understood what you meant, and the knowing smile and nod you received in return made your heart jump in your chest.
“Do all of this well and you’ll receive your parents’ love. Don’t do it and…” you trailed off, earning a hum from him.
“Tire yourself out trying and trying again,” he murmured, earning a deep sigh from you.
Did you think it was worth it? You weren’t sure, but you still found yourself trying nonetheless.
Jaehyun had succeeded in unlocking a part of you you’d never spoken to anyone about before, and like you said, something about it felt liberating, the solution to your ache starting to feel a little more within reach even if you still weren’t sure what it was.
“One of my friends, Johnny, has a pretty strong view about this… he says that people are fickle… that we can change based on the slightest of factors…”
“Your friend sounds a little bitter.”
The viscount laughed, “Quite the contrary, actually, I think he’s quite the romantic… just overly managing his expectations.”
“Is that so? What made him have such views, then?”
The viscount hummed, pressing his lips in a firm line before parting them to speak, “Money, I suppose. How people react to money, how he’s seen it change the way people treat a person. Sometimes, it’s difficult to tell whether a person is enamoured with you or the security your wealth provides. Though, with the way things are, it leaves a woman with no choice but to seek out security first, love being secondary to everything else.”
You hummed, nodding slowly as you processed his words.
“Sorry, I interrupted. You were saying?”
Jaehyun wasn’t sure why that made him smile, choosing to dismiss it and continue anyway, “anyway, his view is that when we’re constantly trying and trying to follow these instruction manuals on ‘How to earn love’... at the end of the day they can hold it over our heads and decide that there are more instructions, more requirements we haven’t met yet… he thinks it isn’t possible.”
You frowned, “What? To find love?”
Jaehyun nodded, “Genuine love, I suppose. I guess I understand what he means. Even though more people have been talking about a love match these days, it feels out of reach somehow. People still end up looking at you like a list of instructions, a list of qualifications, weighing who has a list that is easier to meet and going with that.”
“Do you think yours is difficult to meet?” you found yourself asking, earning a blank look from the viscount.
“That’s the thing,” he huffed, “People like us… who try and try and are tired of trying… we wish we didn’t have one.”
Somehow, you felt a certain conviction in your heart, shaking your head at him.
“Maybe we don’t, and we just haven’t realised that yet.”
===
You hadn’t seen Jaehyun at the next ball, or the next, and he didn’t return to your house for meetings with your father. You figured he was busy, so you tried not to wait. Though the ache persisted, coming and going like waves. With how often you felt it, you assumed you would have grown familiar with it. But in cases like these, the familiarity was unsettling, as if your body was crying out for help that you weren’t able to provide.
Yuta kept you relatively occupied, sending you flowers regularly, light and bright coloured blooms attached to meanings of affection and purity and fondness, accompanied with letters containing equally flowery words. Though it didn’t keep you occupied enough.
Time seemed to pass without much of your awareness, the only thing you were aware of being the way the flowers Yuta sent would slowly wither and your sister would replace them with the new bouquets he sent over. You were growing frustrated at Yuta’s perfection, because that demanded perfection from you as well. You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the liberation that came with your conversations with the viscount. Those were different, demanding honesty instead of perfection, and perhaps, perfection was found in that honesty.
“I think we can start thinking about discussing marriage with Mr Nakamoto,” your mother turned to murmur as you were having tea with Yuta in the drawing room, the man busy talking to your father about whatever literary piece they found they both enjoyed.
“Marriage?” you weren’t sure why the prospect seemed so daunting now that your mother had mentioned it, something about her words making you realise that her plans were solidifying and you couldn’t simply continue to play ‘tea party’ with Yuta much longer.
Your attention was diverted when your sister had entered with a stack of letters in her hand (presumably taken from the staff), her excited gaze meeting yours as she waved a single letter in your direction.
“Are those my letters?” your mother asked, earning a grunt from your sister.
“They’re father’s letters,” she informed tersely, making her way over to you and dropping a single letter into your lap, shoving the rest towards your mother in an attempt to distract her.
The dismayed expression on your mother showed it was somewhat successful, “You know, you really have to fix your manners when it’s your turn to debut,” she began, seeming ready to launch into a tirade of nit-picking towards your sister but you knew nothing could very well escape her watchful eyes when it came to you, eyeing the letter in your hands curiously.
“What’s that?”
“Sister’s letter.”
Your mother’s hand reached out quickly, grasping the letter in your hand and peering over your shoulder to look at it, seeing no indication of a sender other than an elaborate letter ‘J’ imprinted on the seal.
“J? Do we know anyone with that initial?”
Your thoughts ran first to Jaehyun, and the look you exchanged with your sister only proved your suspicions correct, though she was quick to cover for you.
“Johnson, remember? Betty Johnson? Sister’s old friend that moved overseas,” it almost surprised you how smoothly she lied through her teeth when she was never a good liar. You never had a friend with the surname Johnson.
“Yeah, you wouldn’t have remembered her. I used to play with her and sister outside the church grounds when we were younger,” you added, pleased with how your mother had bought your lie, shrugging as she turned her attention back to her cup of tea.
“If you’re going to start exchanging letters, don’t expect the money to come from your father and I. We’re already putting more than we can into your dowry,” she muttered, earning a sigh from you as Yuta and your father returned from his study.
“Shall we promenade?” he offered, and you glanced at your sister before looking back at him, rolled your shoulders back and gave him your sweetest smile.
Your sister leaned over, pretending to fix your hair so she could lean in to murmur softly, “I’ll put the letter in your notebook.”
And so you left to promenade with Yuta.
“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” he smiled, squinting his eyes as he looked up at the sky, with you holding your parasol above your head, simply giving him a small hum.
“Have any other suitors declared their pursuit of you?” Yuta spoke abruptly, earning a frown from you.
Shaking your head, you couldn’t find it in yourself to speak, something about your anxiousness swallowing your words. You could almost hear your mother’s voice in your head now, telling you once again to ‘ use your words ’.
“No, they haven’t,” you managed to force out, earning a solemn nod from Yuta.
“Really? Not even viscount Jung?”
Your frown deepened, “What makes you say that?”
“Nothing in particular… just figured he was the only other person that could have caught your attention this season.”
You huffed, even Yuta thought of Jaehyun highly. You, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get the image of the little boy playing the violin out of your mind when you thought of him, something about it was endearing.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but… do you know the viscount personally by any chance?”
Somehow your words seemed to have struck a chord with Yuta, his expression turning stoic and his gaze shifting elsewhere. He shook his head, “No, I don’t.”
“Are you sure? He seemed to find you familiar at the ball—”
“He must be mistaking me for someone else,” Yuta turned to you with a smile, though the firmness of his tone contrasted the gentleness of his smile. It was enough to deter you from asking any further. With Yuta, you needed to be careful, knowing something as simple as behaving in an ill-mannered way would be enough to make your family’s plans for security and stability fall through. It wasn’t as simple as it seemed with Jaehyun, who was always game for whatever you threw his way.
The mood had turned sour afterwards, the both of you remaining in relative silence (well, other than Yuta’s occasional utterances of praise for your parents) until you were both back at your house, the servant who chaperoned behind the both of you helping to take the parasol from your hands as Yuta got ready to bid you goodbye.
After he left, it was like your body moved faster than you could process. It was embarrassing , the way you felt like an excited child running up to your room and grabbing the book sitting on your desk, flipping it open and letting Jaehyun’s letter drop out onto your bed.
Tearing the little envelope open with your finger, you unfolded the letter, catching a whiff of something so unmistakably like Jaehyun that it almost felt like he was in the same room.
‘Ms Y/N Y/L/N,
My apologies for disappearing without a word. I needed to leave urgently because of my friend, the one we talked about the other day. His father passed and I’m aiding him with the handover of his father’s business and some of the family property to him, since I was previously closely working with his father for their family’s winery. Perhaps I should be more apologetic for the fact that now social events are sure to be dreadful for you without my presence.’
You scoffed, you could almost picture the smirk on his face as he wrote that.
‘I am unsure when I am to return, but I am sure it will be before the season ends. I suppose now that my friend’s father has passed, he is to be looking for a wife as well, though I doubt it would be easy to convince him to come back with me. With his status now as a Marquess, I suppose many would be eager to coerce him into marrying their daughters if he were to arrive in town. Something he seems very opposed to.
Again, I hope I have not needlessly worried you with my sudden absence. Though, I suppose my absence would be something that gains rejoicing from you rather than disappointment. Nonetheless, things are rather hectic here. I hoped that in writing to you I could gain some form of entertainment hearing about the progress in the marriage mart that I am unfortunately missing out on. You can write to me, but it will be addressed to my friend’s estate as I am staying here until I leave. I look forward to hearing from you. Do keep safe and in good health.
-J’
“I’d keep that locked up, if I were you,” you jumped at the sound of your sister’s voice behind you, a mischievous smile on her face as she shut the door behind her, crawling onto your bed and making herself comfortable there.
“So is it official? That he’s courting you seriously?” she asked, and you could see the way her smile fell as you pursed your lips, shaking your head at her.
Now that you heard her words for yourself, it made you wonder. You expected Jaehyun to be someone meticulous, someone careful, someone who knew exactly what the implications of sending a lady a letter was in this day and age. It made you wonder about the intimacy hidden behind his otherwise mundane updates, and for some reason, it made you long for more.
“I’m going to write back,” you spoke, more for yourself than for her.
Her smile grew, “This is a dangerous game you’re playing, sister. I suppose you found he’s worth defending after all?”
You hummed absently, already pulling out your writing materials to begin writing your response to him.
“Not quite yet, but something tells me this will be worth it.”
‘Dear J,
My condolences for your friend’s father, I can only imagine how overwhelming it is to have all sorts of responsibility thrown at you before you can even process your own grief. Truthfully, I hadn’t noticed your absence’ (you were lying, obviously)
‘Perhaps because things have been hectic here as well. Each day seems to be filled with entertaining Mr Nakamoto and going for promenades. I’m quite tired of all the walking, to be very honest.
The mention of your friend made me think of what you said that day at the soirée, about finding genuine love in a world where marriage is an economic proposition. I find myself searching sometimes, even though I know my efforts are probably in vain. I know the reason I have been entertaining Mr Nakamoto is not because I’m attracted to him. It is like what you said, I find myself seeing him more as his list of instructions, and what that demands of mine. Then, I find myself drawn back to my duty as the first daughter of my family, drawn back to the need to secure some sort of relief or security for my family. By then, there is no thought of finding love in a marriage partner, only the transaction of it all. Still, there is a part of me that wonders how different the whole process would be if I truly loved my partner, how much less it would feel like a game and more like life.
I am only asking because I have not seen you dance with anyone at the events so far. I suppose you are either picky or disinterested. But just out of curiosity, do you think it’s possible? For you, I mean, to find genuine love this season?
I hope this proves as entertaining as you wished for it to be, I won’t apologise even if it ends up disappointing you.
From, me’
===
‘Ms Y/N Y/L/N,
Thank you for your concern. My friend is doing much better now, and I hope this means the chances of him returning with me have increased. I would like for you to meet him, something tells me he would get along well with your sister, they both seem to have a penchant for the arts.
To answer your question, I believe it is possible. Whether it is wise of me to think so, or whether it is wishful thinking… that remains undecided. But I cannot be sure. Personally, I have not come across such love where you are seen for all that you are and still loved, but I would like to believe it exists. Whether I am able to find it this season or not, believing it exists makes it feel more like life, like you said.
With that being said, I do wish the same for you, as much as you may not believe me. More than just promenades, answers from manuals, accomplishments and duties, but life. Sure, duties are important, family is important. But in my honest opinion, I don’t think fulfilling your duties should mean sacrificing your happiness, especially when it isn’t very well your duty at all, but that of others projected onto you. Perhaps I would get stoned by your mother if I said so, but I mean it.
I have to be going now, but I can guarantee that I will be back soon. Perhaps in less than a month’s time you will find yourself bickering with me at the corner of a rich woman’s house again. Do keep safe and in good health.
-J’
You should’ve trusted the nauseous feeling in your gut when you saw Yuta arrive at your house that morning, having arranged a private meeting with your parents and leaving promptly after. There could have only been one reason behind it, and it worried you. Again, the ache intensified, feeling as though it would only solidify if your suspicions were proved correct.
It was during teatime when your mother finally addressed the elephant in the room.
“Your father and I are keen on you proceeding with Mr Nakamoto,” she spoke plainly, your hand halting around the handle of your teacup.
“Huh?” as pathetic as it was, was all you could muster.
“Weighing your potential suitors, Mr Nakamoto brings the most stability. He has property, he is of a suitable age, he has wealth, he is personable. He seems prudent,” she lifted her gaze from her teacup to glance at you, just the slightest of frowns as she met your wide-eyed expression.
You knew this, yet you weren’t sure why it shocked you to hear it verbalised so forwardly.
“I’m sure you have no complaints,” it came more as a warning instead of an assumption, enough to make your throat feel dry and your voice start to retreat, “you can expect him to propose soon, so I expect you to be on your best behaviour. The family’s reputation depends on your response.”
You thought back to Jaehyun’s words. If you were to reject Yuta’s proposal, would that make you wise or foolish? You knew what was riding on this decision. If you were to reject him, you would retain a little bit of your freedom, but you would damage your reputation. It wasn’t exactly ideal to be regarded as a jilt, much less to a man like Mr Nakamoto, who had many women in your town lining up for him. Weighing your other potential suitors, you weren’t sure if being married to a man older than your father was a better option.
Almost unconsciously, your thoughts wandered to Jaehyun, the feelings you associated with him— or more accurately, how different these feelings were from the ones you associated with Yuta.
It was starting to make you anxious, you realised that as you exchanged letters with him for a while now, he had grown on you more than you realised. The way you felt at the receiving end of his attentiveness. The way he seemed to read into your signals and cues and meet you where you were without expecting you to be perfect. The way he made you hopeful that you could find love… and perhaps wishful that you could find it in him.
You were anxious, because when you thought of Jaehyun, what was coming to mind wasn’t his credentials, his wealth, his family, or his status. But rather, it was him , the blunt yet gentle, aloof yet attentive, hardened yet tender-hearted person that he was.
You were anxious, because even as you were being told about your perfect prospect of marriage, you found that you only ached for him ; the man who was maybe a stranger to your textbook gentleman, but not a stranger to you.
You took in a deep breath, setting your teacup down with shaky hands, standing up and letting out the breath you were holding.
Use your words.
“I’m not feeling too well,” you murmured softly enough that you knew your voice wouldn’t give way, “please, excuse me.”
You struggled up the stairs, finding it difficult to focus on anything other than the way your heart was pounding and your head was starting to spin. Eventually, you found yourself at your desk, writing materials ready and already finding yourself addressing the only person you could think of at this moment.
‘Dear J,
My parents have been talking to me about pursuing a marriage with Mr Nakamoto, and in the position that I am, I am inclined to accept.’
===
This time, you didn’t receive a reply from Jaehyun. Previous times, you could always be sure that his reply would not take longer than a week. But this time was different, as the flowers Yuta continued to send withered and were replaced, there was no news of any mail for you. Even your sister was starting to grow concerned at the way things were going, starting to display Yuta’s flowers in places you wouldn’t pass as often when you were going about your daily routine. But you noticed, the flowers Yuta gave you were always light, bright colours in delicate blooms; nothing like the bigger blooms your sister tended to get.
The waiting was the worst this time, and you knew why. It was different this time, knowing you were anticipating his reply for different reasons. You couldn’t hide behind boredom, or curiosity as to how he would respond to your questions and words. This time your anticipation lay in hope, in your ache, and that was the worst kind of anticipation for you. Girls like you couldn’t hope, you had far too many responsibilities. You needed to be pragmatic, realistic, practical. There was no room for hope in your heart, yet you found that it was all you were doing these days.
Hoping that wherever he was, he was safe. Hoping that wherever he was, there wasn’t a perfect girl who was discovering if his touch could turn her worries into gold. Hoping that wherever he was, he was thinking of you.
You hoped it wasn’t too late.
The longer you waited, the more foolish you felt. Pouring your heart out to him in your letters like that when there was no real guarantee that he would feel the same way, when there was no real guarantee that he would take Yuta’s place.
As conversations about responsibilities, about being a good wife to Yuta had started to intensify, you gave yourself no choice but to bottle up the anxiety you felt, directing it inwards till you felt it start to take a toll on your mind.
There was a knock at your door before the door opened with a soft click, seeing your sister walk in carrying a vase containing new flowers, white lilies that filled your room with a scent that comforted you just slightly in your fatigue.
Setting the vase down carefully, your sister turned, stopping in her tracks when she realised you were awake, the slightest of frowns on her features, “Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.”
You shook your head, a sigh leaving you as you stretched your arms over your head, “I was already awake a long time ago, don’t worry.”
Padding over to your bed to take a seat next to your legs, her body angled towards you and her hand smoothing over the blanket that covered you, her gaze scanned your appearance.
“Still nothing?” You asked, earning a small sigh from her.
“Nothing,” she shook her head. Pausing, she shook her head, “maybe the letters just got lost in the mail?”
You let out a sigh through your nose, shifting your gaze to the Lilies perched next to your window, the light seeping through the glass making you almost dread the day that was to come. Another day spent waiting.
“I would like to believe that, but I've sent far too many letters to him to believe that,” you murmured, “perhaps it was foolish of me, you know?”
Her frown deepened, “What was?”
“Thinking that I could actually find a love match. Thinking that I could develop an affection for the viscount and remain unscathed,” you huffed, bitterness laced in your words that left an unpleasant aftertaste in your mouth.
Your sister hummed, “Do you think it is the affection you feel for him that is what is hurting you? Or the absence of this affection for Mr Nakamoto?”
There it was again, the wave that washed over you and forced you into sobriety, the ache for the rest that went beyond physical things that you were starting to give up trying to satisfy. You supposed when push comes to shove, you would find something to love in Yuta, you would simply have to.
“It’s been more than a month, sister. I cannot… I cannot afford to wait for him much longer. I cannot afford to keep avoiding Mr Nakamoto.”
She sighed, “I know. Father has been meeting him to discuss your marriage arrangement for a while now.”
Somehow, that was enough to solidify your decision for you, as reluctant as you were. Saying yes to Yuta’s proposal… perhaps it would be a wise decision in your trying and trying to earn the affections of your father. It would be wise for you to do what is pleasing to your family. It would be wise for you to be obedient, to continue to be dependable for them.
You heard the click of the lock, the door opening to reveal your mother, “Mr Nakamoto is here, dear. He has requested a private audience with you.”
Exchanging a knowing look with your sister, you nodded.
“Give me a moment to make myself presentable. I shall be down shortly,” you murmured, seeing your sister still wearing that same look of concern as you got out of bed, your mother leaving and shutting the door.
Getting ready, you stared yourself down in the mirror, glancing between yourself and the sight of your sister behind you on your bed, a now unreadable expression on her face.
“I’m not going to refuse when he asks,” you murmured, more for yourself than for her.
Perhaps she knew this, because the nod she gave you was all you needed to give you the little bit of conviction that you would go through with this, for your family’s sake.
===
Perfection was subjective, you knew this now. You knew it for a fact as you lay in bed, your head spinning and your heart feeling heavy, a week since Yuta had left town for business after your engagement.
The stress of it all was getting to you, the ache in your heart for rest, the ache to not have to be ‘on’ and be present to all the people and things that demanded your attention, the pressure you were putting on yourself to be the person your parents expected you to be, or maybe who you expected yourself to be, the ache to be able to depend on someone other than yourself.
You couldn’t even shake the fact that you were still wondering about Jaehyun, the last bit of desperation in you used to hope that he would return soon. It was amusing, considering that his return would probably be worse because you were already betrothed to another man. Somehow, you were still eager to write to him, asking your sister to help to pen down your messages because you were too weak to get out of bed. At least when you did this, you could say you still tried at the end of the day, because trying was what you were familiar with.
You could barely get yourself out of bed, wanting nothing more than to sleep away your days as you waited for Yuta to return, for him to seal your fate with your marriage. Each day, your sister would come in and attempt to get you to eat, but you couldn’t find it in you to have an appetite, simply eating a few bites to appease her before you were allowed to sleep the time away before your next meal.
Little did you know that your waiting for Yuta was in vain.
Jaehyun almost thought he was hallucinating when he heard the sound of a familiar laughter echoing a few tables away from him at the bar he was at with Johnny.
“Do you recognise him?” Johnny asked, evident disdain in his tone and the pointedness of his glare, earning a confused look from Jaehyun.
“Who?”
“That man over there, the conman, Nakamoto Yuta? was his name if i recall correctly,” Johnny gestured with his head to the source of the laughter, Jaehyun’s eyes narrowing when he realised that the man sitting at that table was very much familiar, and very much Yuta.
“Conman?” Jaehyun murmured, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he observed the woman next to him, the Rubies she adorned on her neck identical to the ones he saw you wearing at the soirée.
Johnny nodded, using his finger to trace the mouth of his glass, “I recognise him from my time in Paris. You see the woman next to him? Remember how I told you Rubies were popular among the women there?” Johnny gestured to his neck, “It took me a while, but I realised it was only because that was his trademark. Like a branding for the women he was set on cheating for their money in exchange for his affection.”
Jaehyun frowned. Did that make you one of Yuta’s targets, then?
“Are you familiar with his methods?”
“Too familiar, I wish I wasn’t,” Johnny sighed, “He tried the same thing on my cousin. You know, all these young girls looking for the perfect husband. He paints himself out to be little less than a saint, and they eat it up. The prince charming that came to sweep them off their feet when in actual fact his occupation is never revealed, his life is a series of carefully constructed lies that differ depending on who he’s talking to… he strung my cousin along for ages, doing ‘business dealings’ with my uncle that landed him in debt that my father had to pay off.”
“And your cousin?”
Johnny knocked back the rest of the alcohol in his glass, “Heartbroken, obviously. Once he had his fill of her and her family’s money he left without a single warning.”
“Couldn’t you file a suit against him for that?” Jaehyun’s mind was racing with questions, with a growing worry for you, especially since the last letter he’d received from you was talking about your likely marriage to Yuta.
“And what about the women? Wouldn’t they have warned each other by now? Isn’t it obvious when everyone’s receiving the same thing—the Rubies and flowers and all—from him?” Jaehyun continued, earning a deep sigh from Johnny.
“That’s the thing. She was too in love with him by then, she insisted that we couldn’t go after him. Plus, by the time he was done with them, they didn’t have enough money to file a suit even if they wanted to.”
“I mean, who wouldn’t want to be the centre of attention of a doting, romantic, young , attractive young man?” Johnny let out a bitter laugh, “You of all people should know it’s all business. When someone like Yuta comes along, he brings the fantasy of a desirable love match with him. It was never about what they were receiving, but who they were receiving it from. The perfect prince charming he made himself out to be.”
Johnny glanced over at Yuta with a sigh before raising his hand to catch the server’s attention to order another drink.
At Jaehyun’s lack of a response, Johnny noticed his friend’s face paling, his gaze fixed on the table looking deep in thought, “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”
“The girl,” Jaehyun rasped, clearing his throat and blinking his eyes harshly, “the one I sent the letter to…”
“Yeah? Didn’t you say she was getting engaged?” Johnny hummed, earning a grim nod from Jaehyun.
“It was supposed to be to him .”
Johnny’s lips parted, exchanging a knowing look with Jaehyun. He wasn’t daft, he knew Jaehyun’s affections for this girl ran deep, deeper than he let on.
“I… I need to go back,” he said finally, “I hope you can understand.”
At this, Johnny let out a laugh, an incredulous look on his face.
“Finally! I was wondering when you’d come to your senses.”
“Huh?” Jaehyun’s stare was blank, confusion written all over his face.
“ I’m not the one keeping you here… I think we both know that,” Johnny spoke slowly, nodding at Jaehyun, the latter who was already trying to form a mental estimate of how long it would take him to get to you.
“God, I feel so…”
“Foolish?” Johnny offered with a smile, earning a glare from Jaehyun.
“I can’t believe I was going to sit here and do nothing while she gets cheated by that man,” Jaehyun brought a hand up to wipe his face harshly.
Taking a sip of his drink, Johnny huffed, “Want me to hit him for you?”
Jaehyun scoffed, “Not if I get to him first.”
“I’ll tell them to prepare your carriage for tomorrow morning, you’ll be back in three days at most,” Johnny spoke calmly, amusement still lingering in his smile as he observed Jaehyun’s lost expression, the viscount seeming too blinded by the rage he felt towards Yuta to think clearly.
Johnny grunted, waving his hands in dismissal, “Don’t waste your time with him, go to your girl first.”
Jaehyun wasn’t sure what he was picturing when he imagined returning to you. He got your letters, every single one of them. He read every word to the point where he was sure he knew them by heart. Your letters told him about the town, about who had gotten engaged, gossip from the flower market, about the weather, the balls you attended. From the letters alone, he would have figured you were doing perfectly fine.
What he hadn’t expected was to have your sister answer the door and look at him as though he’d grown a second head.
“My parents aren’t here,” you informed before he could greet you, earning a huff from him.
“Sorry for uh… for paying such an unexpected visit, but… I was wondering if I could see your sister?”
Your sister thought to you, lying in bed grieving the loss of a future she dreamed of, wondering if the viscount’s presence here would put an end to that grief.
“She’s… sick.”
Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed, “Sick? With what?”
“Heartbreak, I suppose,” your sister replied tersely, giving him a pointed stare, unsure what to make of Jaehyun’s intentions.
Jaehyun’s eyebrows lifted, his thoughts immediately going to Yuta and feeling himself start to bubble with the same rage and concern that brought him here. Most of all, love.
“You can stay here, I’ll check if she’s willing to see you,” she spoke, still eyeing him cautiously as she led Jaehyun into the house, stopping him at the stairwell as she made her way to your room.
“Sister,” she knocked on the door, opening it and peeping her head in, whispering harshly with wild eyes, “The viscount is here!”
Your head snapped up from your pillow abruptly, only to fall back onto your pillow in immediate regret as it throbbed and pounded. Your headache was torturing you, but for Jaehyun, you supposed you were willing to brave through it.
“Okay. He can come up, but you have to stay in the room with us,” you said as firmly as you could.
Your sister hummed, turning to leave the room.
“Not unless he requests a private audience…” she murmured lowly, earning a glare from you (futile as it was, since she’d already left the room).
Jaehyun was more than impatient to see you, but the sight of you tucked under the covers of your bed, a cloth and small basin next to your bedside and the cold sweat on your face made his heart ache.
He wasn’t sure how to place himself as he entered the room, choosing to stand in front of the side of your bed you were facing, his lips curling ever so slightly in amusement when you had turned your body to face away from him.
“What happened to you?” his voice came out almost breathless, with traces of exasperation.
You didn’t want to open your eyes and look at him, you didn’t think your resolve would last if you could see the look of concern and frustration on his face he held now.
“Nothing,” you murmured. So much for ‘using your words’.
“Stress,” your sister cut in, earning a sigh from Jaehyun.
“I came because… I wanted to warn you,” Jaehyun almost winced, his words not coming out how he’d planned.
“ To warn me? ” your tone was strong even in your weakness, “not because you promised you would come back?”
Jaehyun shook his head, “I… look, you can’t go ahead with the engagement with Mr Nakamoto.”
You frowned.
“And what makes you think you can tell me what to do about my future?”
Jaehyun was growing frustrated now, “I’m not, but even if I was, I wouldn’t be the first one telling you what to do with your future,” he said pointedly.
“Why are you meddling? I never asked you to get involved,” you felt like a stubborn child, but you were more upset at the fact that it was him of all people, advising you not to marry Yuta.
You supposed that was what you wanted when you’d sent him that letter, but a very belated form of it, showing up in front of you now.
“My apologies, I did not ask for your permission,” he scoffed, “that isn’t the issue here, Ms Y/L/N, you cannot proceed with this engagement.”
“Perhaps your warning would be of more use if you’d sent it sooner in a letter,” you huffed.
You knew this was the sulky side of you speaking now, but it was the truth. Did he think he could simply waltz into your bedroom after months of silence, tell you not to marry the man you were engaged to and expect you to comply graciously?
“I don’t need your help with my marriage.”
“Marriage?”
Your sister wanted to avert her gaze, the tension in the room growing thicker by the minute, but it was impossible to look away, with the viscount looking unlike she could ever imagine seeing him. Desperate, frustrated, emotional . Nothing like anyone knew him to be.
“We’re already engaged,” you murmured, as if reluctant to solidify the truth by speaking it into existence.
“Besides, like I said. If I needed your… interference—”
“Help,” he corrected, earning an eye roll from you (not that he could see it, your eyes still being closed).
“Fine, help. If I needed it, I would have asked.”
“Is help only given when it is needed?”
You huffed, the bubbling of frustration within your chest growing stronger as you called to mind your emotions for the past few months.
“It definitely seems to be otherwise when it’s coming from you. Needed or not, I’d rather not have your help at all,” you forced your eyes open, immediately regretting it when you turned your head to meet his gaze.
Desperate, frustrated, emotional.
“You don’t mean that, I’m trying to warn you. You don’t know what kind of man he truly is.”
"Consider me warned,” your gaze was as firm as you could muster, not finding any reason to withdraw when it came to Jaehyun. This was yourself, in all that you were feeling.
“Don't patronise me. You don’t know what he’s capable of.” You almost faltered, almost . A small nagging fear started to creep up on you, telling you that you’ve made a grave mistake with Yuta.
“And you do?” you asked, slowly shifting yourself so you could see him better, unsure if you were being spiteful or curious now, maybe both.
“Better than you, it seems,” he huffed, taking a step closer to your bed, your sister pressing herself against the wall as if that would help the tension in the room, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she watched the dynamic between you and Jaehyun unfold.
It was nothing compared to how she saw you and Yuta interact, but something about this was interesting. It was like the both of you were simply hiding behind your true feelings, masking it with frustration and beating around the bush, focusing on unimportant details because you were both too afraid to be the first one to reveal your heart.
“And where is this understanding coming from?"
Jaehyun visibly hesitated, sighing before he told you the truth, "Johnny and I saw him when we were travelling."
“Johnny?” you frowned, “Oh, you mean the marquess that dares not show his face in this town?”
Again, the focus on unnecessary details to prolong the time before you had to finally face up to what you really wanted to hear and say.
“His title is not who he is,” was all Jaehyun could muster, feeling the tension in the room as he continued to hold your gaze.
“And by that same logic, I can say you don’t know my partner any better than I do,” you shrugged, the words sounding unfamiliar even as you said it.
That seemed to strike a nerve with Jaehyun, his tone rising slightly in his urgency and frustration.
“Would you stop calling him that? He’s not going to come back! You know why—?”
“What would you rather me call him then? My husband-to-be ?”
“—he’s too busy conning and cheating people like your parents in other towns for money now. Your family is going to be left in debt because of that man.” Though Jaehyun wasn’t shouting, his tone was filled with such urgency, such firmness, that he might as well have been. The implication of his words echoed louder than anything, louder than the sound of your heart picking up speed.
Your silence spoke for you, feeling as though a large wave had just washed over you and pulled you under. Your heart continued to thump quickly as you struggled to regain your bearings, as you struggled to gain control over yourself. Only one thought rang in your head, your mother had already given Yuta your dowry before he disappeared.
You glanced at your sister, her debut would need to be delayed now. Your family couldn’t afford to muster up another dowry so soon, not when you hadn’t gotten married yet.
“Now do you understand why I needed to come and warn you?” his tone softened, and without realising he began to make his way closer to you, daring himself to look closely at you in your shock, processing what he was feeling at the sight of it. Which, at the moment, could only be described as wanting to pull you out from under the waves, to dive in and look for you so he could bring you to the surface.
“I cannot—” he stopped himself, shaking his head, “I will not watch you let yourself be humiliated, waiting for that… that liar ."
Something in your gaze was hurt, vulnerable as you looked at him, wondering how he could say such words with such confidence when he was the one you were waiting for this whole time.
“I am not a stranger to waiting, you of all people should know that very well,” you said.
Jaehyun’s expression softened, still brushing aside what he wanted to say to you, his thoughts focused on how you must be feeling to find out you’ve just been conned by your fiancé.
“Why do you think I came here?” he asked, and the reminder that his purpose here was to warn you and not for other reasons was a bitter pill to swallow, so this bitterness showed in your response.
“In hopes to annoy me to death, perhaps.”
At his lack of a response, you frowned, “…. Why aren’t you saying anything? I expected a witty remark by now.”
What you didn’t expect was for Jaehyun to sigh, something in his expression akin to tenderness, which didn’t make sense to you at the moment. But it was a very tenderness that you always wondered about, what he reserved it for, how it would show, how it would feel. It seems all of those questions were answered now as you looked at him.
“Where do you think that man is? Right now, while you’re in this condition. Where do you think this man that you’re set on marrying will be after hearing of your sickness?” His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, though even if your attention was momentarily diverted, nothing could tear it away from his gaze. As though he had a million things to say to you, hidden inside of him, and you were only catching glimpses of it through his eyes. Yet they still managed to be gleaming, twinkling, pulling you out from under the waves.
“Yet here you are… destroying yourself for somebody who is incapable of loving you in the way you deserve,” he spoke almost bitterly, and the (not so) little hope within you had begun to surface again. Courage to make your feelings known, and hope that they would be received.
Jaehyun let his gaze shift to the way your hand lay on top of your covers, holding the fabric close to yourself for some sense of comfort. It surprised him, the way he wished he could hold you, to embrace you in his own comfort. The thought came naturally to him, as if that was his body’s natural response, to want you to be able to receive that from him and for him to give his love and affection freely to you.
“I’m sorry, I know it must be a lot to process. He had me believing his act too, I… should’ve asked Johnny sooner, if I did then you would not have to face such grief now—”
“It’s not about him,” you spoke, hoping your voice wasn’t quivering with how you were on the brink of tears, frustrated that you couldn’t tell what he felt for you even now, but filled with hope that you were sure you couldn’t hold your feelings within you much longer, “it was never about waiting for him, or… grieving for the loss of him .”
Jaehyun fell silent, lips parted slightly in shock as he held your gaze, your pleading eyes meeting his.
“Do you really think all these months have been for that man?”
“I wrote to you endlessly ,” your frown deepened, the ache in your heart worsening when you saw the way Jaehyun’s gaze softened, moving closer to you but stopping himself with evident restraint before he could get too close, “even when I could barely move myself out of my room the only thought on my mind was that I needed my words to reach you somehow, I needed some part of me to reach you… somehow.”
Your vision blurred, making you blink harshly. The fact that you couldn’t see him clearly behind your tears disconcerted you, “What else was I supposed to think when I didn’t hear back? What other choice did I have?”
Jaehyun paused, remembering your sister’s presence in the room, deciding that now would be the time where he stops dancing around the reason why he truly came back to see you.
“May I…” he turned to face your sister, “have the honour of a private audience with your sister?”
Her eyes widened, fighting the smile that threatened to show on her face as she gave you a knowing look, averting her gaze as her hand came up to cover her mouth, nodding. Gesturing a hand to you, she already began leaving the room, “Of course, of course. By all means.”
“As much as you may think I hate you, or… am here to meddle in your life or annoy you… I don’t like seeing you like this. I do not wish to see you in pain,” he let out a sigh through his nose, taking another step closer to your bed, daring himself to take a seat next to your legs, his body moving naturally as though this was what it meant to simply allow himself to be. Like muscle memory.
You huffed, “I’ve always been good at masking it, I suppose.”
He shook his head, displeased, “Or nobody has bothered asking if you needed to be relieved.”
“I’m sorry I did not write back to you. I just… in retrospect now I realise it was foolish of me but… from all your letters I just assumed,” he brought a hand up to run through his hair in frustration, “I assumed you were perfectly fine with Yuta. I had no right coming back and disrupting that, as much as I wanted to.”
“Believe me, I wanted to,” he huffed, “and it surprised me because, well, it was strange. It felt like you were seeing me for who I was… as if I was known for more than my wealth, my appearance, for everything in myself that was not perfect. But with you, it wasn't a matter of having to try to earn love, but to re-learn what love is, what it feels like.”
Your throat felt dry, something about his honesty making the ache in your heart grow, feeling as though what you sought to satisfy this ache was within reach, yet still at a loss for what it was that you desired.
"I did not know how to convey that in my letters. No words were enough, nothing... nothing was quite satisfying enough in expressing what I wanted to say to you. The thought of hiding what I felt beneath enquiries about the weather or about Mr Nakamoto made me sick to my stomach. That kind of intimacy that I felt when I was with you... It scared me because it only made me wish for more. I didn't think it was what you wanted."
“I thought that I could just separate myself from the situation, to resolve it that way before it could hurt me, but it was only when I saw that man when I was with Johnny that I realised,” his gaze flickered between your eyes and his hands, returning to your eyes and meeting you with that same hope.
Hope that gleamed, twinkled, that was not rooted in fear but in love.
“You deserved more than him, the love that you allowed me to discover was very much possible… the love you deserve. It would hurt me more if I had to watch you forgo that for the sake of others.”
Use your words.
“What do you suppose is this love that I deserve?” you dared to ask, somehow the use of your words did not feel as manipulative as it always did, it did not feel like you were trying to hide behind them this time, but to let your heart be known through them.
Jaehyun remained firm, and this conviction was enough to make you feel like you were slowly being lifted up to the surface of the water, the light seeping through the water making your surroundings feel brighter.
“... a love that remains forever.”
You weren’t sure if you were breathing, feeling the water get lighter as you followed the light from his eyes.
“And you suppose that is within reach for me?” your voice was barely above a murmur.
Jaehyun nodded, the hint of desperation lingering in his tone, “I promise you, it is within reach.”
“You cannot promise me a forever and not give it to me.”
There was a hint of amusement in Jaehyun’s gaze, the slightest of smiles on his face at your response. He wished you would remain this way, unafraid to use your voice with him, unafraid to assert yourself, to allow him to see, know and love you for who you are.
“I would not have mentioned it if I were not ready to give it to you at this very moment.”
Your lips parted slightly, “How do you suppose you will do that?”
Jaehyun wore the tell-tale expression that let you know he thought of something that either pleased or amused him, as if waiting for the right timing to say his smart line with a smug tone.
“By… asking you to marry me.”
If you thought his eyes gleamed and twinkled before, the smile that he wore when he saw the sheer relief grace your features. The feeling of being pulled above the surface of the water.
“It’s not too much to ask, just… be with me. Depend on someone other than yourself for a change.”
“My Lord, you know—” you began, turning your head abruptly and immediately regretting your sudden movements, your head beginning to throb even more. Jaehyun shocked you with the way he adjusted your pillow, helping you to lower your head back down onto the pillow carefully, smoothing your hair away from where it stuck to your face from your cold sweat.
“I want you to,” he nodded.
It was strange, being told that someone wanted you to depend on them when you were always used to being the one who was depended on. Instead of promising you gold, he was promising you the warmth of it, the value of it. Not the ‘Midas touch’ that took life away from things, but one that brought light and hope.
You wanted this . Not your long, tedious game, but the life he was offering you, a life of love, love even in imperfection, love that brought with it rest, love that was a state and not something to earn.
You nodded, “I want to…” your body felt warm under his touch, your gaze following his movements as he picked up the cloth draped over the small basin next to your bedside, wringing the cloth after wetting it and using it to dab the sweat from your face and neck.
You felt as though you weren’t breathing, a wave of emotion rushing through you at the feeling of being under his care. It was as though he was removing the little bandage you used to cover the ache that you felt, replacing it with a bandage that fit, one that wrapped around the ache instead of just trying to suppress it.
“I want to marry you,” was all you could muster, Jaehyun letting out a huff of amusement as he set the cloth aside, his left hand moving to your face, letting the pads of his fingertips trace the side of your face before letting his thumb smooth over your cheek gently. It was unmistakable, the feel of the calluses on his fingertips from what you assumed was his recent playing of the violin.
“Does my presence have that much of an effect on you?” he drawled, smugness laced in his tone as he brought you back to your exchange in your father’s study. His gaze flickering to your lips just briefly, making your heart skip in a way you’d never experienced before.
You rolled your eyes with affection, this time not feeling the need to ‘use your words’ to hide once again.
“Perhaps it does.”
===
‘My forever only,
Time and time again, I am reminded that I was foolish to think I could live the rest of my life without you when a day that passes by when I am not with you is filled with a longing I cannot imagine I could ever grow comfortable with, much less befriend.
Back then, I was used to being all alone. I found this solitude to be a companion, though loneliness is never a good lover. The sky gets ethereal for the things no longer living in chains. You allowed me to come to know what that truly meant, what it truly felt like. Love given freely is all I have to offer you, so I hope you’ll have me.
My love, I have not stopped thinking of the way you look at me, and each time I awake I find myself waiting for when I may be under your gaze again. The thought lingers before I am with you, filling me with an inexplicable feeling of love that refuses to leave even when we part. Forever sounds daunting but when I envision a forever of this love that you meet me with in your eyes, your smile, your presence, it becomes a boundless sea I wish to swim in for as long as my spirit exists.
All I ask of you, all I want is having you in my day. To keep you in safety, health, and love.
- J, your forever only.’
“Do you remember what was discussed?”
You were drawn from your thoughts, your sister handing you the bouquet of dark red roses as you started walking.
What did you discuss?
Right.
Be yourself. You felt the crunch of cobblestone beneath your feet as you made your way with your sister to the church. You are allowed to launch into unrelated discourses out of panic. You fixed your gloves so they fit comfortably around your hands and arms. Have good manners, unless provoked. You could hear your sister humming to the piano piece she’d been practising that morning. You are safe to express yourself. With the sound of her humming, the rustling of the big trees overhead and the wind caressing your face gently comforted you.
Reaching the doors of the chapel, you spotted your father who awaited you, though you couldn’t focus on anything else once the doors opened, your gaze immediately finding the man who stood at the altar, a smile adorning his face once he met your gaze. A wave of clarity washed over you; you felt peaceful.
There he was, not a marriage partner, not an economic proposer .
Jaehyun, your love match.
#jung jaehyun#jaehyun#nct jaehyun#nct#nct 127#nct u#nct aus#nct au#nct scenarios#jaehyun au#jaehyun scenarios#jaehyun x reader#enemies-to-lovers au#regency au#jaehyun fanfic#jaehyun x you#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun x y/n#jung yoonoh#nct fluff#nct angst#tswift songs for the neos
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Luke Alvez x Reader: Five Feet Apart
Request: “hey! I love your blog and your writing so much, so thanks for that! im not sure if you’ve seen season 15 yet, but could you do a fic based off from the episode where Luke and Matt are kidnapped by the unsub, except maybe it’s Luke and the reader that are kidnapped?”
Word count: 4.2 k
Warnings: kidnapping, suicide tw, blood mention
The first thing you notice when you start to wake up is that there’s something dripping onto your leg, it’s warm and slides towards the inner portion of your thigh. The thought is replaced by the searing pain in your forehead. You groan, quickly realizing the warm liquid dripping into your lap is your own blood.
The sound of your name is what forces you to finally peel your eyes open. You brace yourself for the brightness of the sun or fluorescent lights, but instead, you find yourself planted in a damp, dimly lit room.
You hear your name being called again, and you slowly turn your head in the direction of the sound, wincing when a sharp pain radiates through your head.
“Luke?” you gasp. He’s about five feet away from you, sitting on the floor against a beam with his hands tied behind his back. You’re able to get a better look at your surroundings, as you fight to get your bearings in what looks like an old warehouse.
He lets out a shaky breath. “Thank God,” he mutters, dropping his head slightly in relief.
You catch a glimpse of the bruise that’s taking up a large portion of his face and you shutter. “What happened?” you whisper. You feel your chest start to inflate with panic. “Luke- Where are we?”
“I don’t know,” he admits slowly.
He looks around the empty room for anything noteworthy.
“Luke–” you call out his name weakly, knowing that there was nothing he could do, but all the while desperately hoping that you were wrong. The more alert you become, the more panicked you become. Without even thinking you start harshly jerking against the ties around your own wrists, desperately trying to free yourself from their constraints. You can feel the rope digging into your flesh as you tug harder, but you don’t stop. The fear and frustration inside of you escapes your body through thick sobs. They echo through the room.
Luke’s trying to inch his way closer to you, he’s already figured out that his restraints are too tight to maneuver out of, but his body naturally gravitates towards you and your obvious discomfort.
“Hey, hey, hey–” he tries to soothe. Luke’s stomach drops, as he watches you panic from only five feet away. Luke wishes he could cross the room in a heartbeat and wrap his arms around you securely. He wishes he could scoop you up, cradle you to his chest, and just hold you until you could breathe again. “It’s okay. Baby, look at me– look at me.”
You steady yourself long enough to lift your head and move your gaze towards Luke. You try to ignore the cut above his brow, split skin that’s oozing blood, and instead focus on his eyes, which are wide and wild, but still soft. They’re a deep, brown– the color of the earth after a heavy rain. You’d looked into those eyes so many times before, but you’re still always amazed at how much strength they hold. Despite all he’d weathered and all he’d seen, they hold so much life.
Slowly, Luke starts to take deep breaths. He’s exaggerating the movement, like he wants you to follow suit. You match your choppy inhales to his smooth, methodical ones, and gradually, you feel yourself start to calm.
“Listen to me,” Luke whispers. You continue to breathe. “We’re going to be okay.”
…
“Wait a minute.” Spencer is standing in the parking garage stationed outside of the BAU and shakes his head, his arms crossed tightly.
He’s walking into the building with JJ and Garcia when he notices Luke’s truck parked in exactly the same position as Spencer had seen it the previous night.
“What’s up?” JJ asks, looking up from her phone and stopping to wait. Her and Penelope exchange questioning looks.
“Luke’s truck…” Spencer trails off as he approaches the vehicle. Nothing looks out of place. All the windows are intact– no belongings are scattered on the ground as if there’d been a struggle. But he can’t shake the feeling in his gut– the one telling him that something is wrong.
Spencer cups his hand around his eyes and peers through the glass of Luke’s truck. There is a steel coffee cup sitting in the cup holder, a cell phone charger dangling from the power outlet, and some gum wrappers scrunched up and discarded in the center console. But Spencer’s stomach sinks even further when he looks onto the driver’s side floor and sees the wallet and phone discarded hastily.
“Guys–” Spencer says suddenly. When he takes a step back he notices some dark, crimson stains on the cement ground. He squats down quickly, inspecting the trail of dots. “I think this is blood.”
Garcia gasps.
“Call Emily and Dave…” Spencer gazes underneath the truck, inspecting the area. His eyes widen when he sees a much larger pool of blood on the ground outside the passengers side. His voice lowers and he sounds out of breath when he speaks. “Call everyone.”
…
The surprised smile that erupted on Luke’s face when he saw you across the parking lot made getting up at three thirty to catch an earlier flight worth it. You were jetlagged and hungry and carrying bags under your eyes that were heavier than your luggage, but you forgot about all of that the moment that your eyes landed on him. He crossed the gap between you two in a hurry, shedding the bag he had strapped across his chest and discarding it carelessly. In just two, long strides, he was embracing you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and lifting you up excitedly.
You squealed when your feet left the ground, causing you to tighten the grip you had around his neck.
“What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow,” he asked breathlessly when he finally set you back down. He kept his hands placed securely on your lower back.
You drummed your fingers across his chest and smiled. “I wanted to surprise you, I switched my flight, because I missed you.”
“They just let you exchange flights?” he inquired.
You bit your lip. “There were a couple of fees,” you downplayed the extra hundreds dollars you had to spend for the ticket.
Luke smirked, sensing your secret.
“It was worth it though,” you paused, poking his chest. “You were worth it.”
Luke’s face broke out into another enormous grin, right before he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.
…
Emily runs. The way you run when you were late for a flight, and the speakers were announcing that the gates were closing. Or the way you ran to flag down a taxi about to drive off. Or how a mother would run if she heard her child crying in another room. She runs the way you’d run if your family was in trouble. Because hers is.
The blood rushing through her veins pulsates loudly in her ears, like a loud drumbeat narrating her every step. That’s all she hears as she races to the parking garage.
When she arrives, the rest of the team is already there, wide-eyed, and waiting for her leadership. She is surprised to realize that she isn’t even out of breath as she spoke.
“This is personal, the Bureau is not going to want us working this case.”
Before the rest of the team can protest, she lowers her voice and continues, “So we’ll do this quietly, and we’ll do this discreetly.”
…
“So tell me all about your trip. Did you bring enough scarves?”
You playfully hit Luke on the arm, punishing him for teasing you. “Yes, as a matter of fact I did,” you said cordially.
He smirked. “I told you three would be an adequate amount of scarves.”
You laughed, before leaning back against the flatbed of his truck. “It was good, the weather was nice. My brother and I only fought the entire time.”
Luke sighed, wrapping his arm around you. “I know it’s tough going home, but I know your mom appreciates it when you visit.” He pulled you closer to him and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I promise next time I’ll go with you, to gang up on your brother with you.”
You sighed and leaned closer into Luke’s touch, closing your eyes. You never realized how much you were going to miss him until you were away from him.
After a few moments, you reluctantly pulled away. “As much as I love our parking garage reunion, could we go home now? I’m starving.”
Luke smiled and nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I need to get away from work for a while.”
As you made your way to the passenger side, Luke skipped around his truck to retrieve his bag, which was still on the ground. You waited by the door for him to unlock it, your hand already positioned around the handle.
You stared at your own, tired reflection in the window, marveling at the fact that Luke found you desirable in such a frazzled state. You were so fixated on your own disheveled appearance that you didn’t even notice the man approaching you, until his reflection was right behind yours.
Before you could jump, before you could turn around or scream, before you could hear Luke yelling for you to “watch out”, your head was struck and everything went dark.
…
Spencer is in the process of drawing lines on a map when Matt and Tara walk into the conference room.
“So it turns out Y/N booked a six o’clock flight into D.C. Her cell phone records show she was in Quantico before the signal was lost.”
Reid narrowed his eyes. “So she wasn’t supposed to be there,” he thinks out loud. “Whoever took Luke took her too, but she wasn’t the target. He was.”
“Who would have it out for Alvez?” Tara wonders. She crosses her arms and shakes her head.
Right on cue, JJ walks into the conference room. She slams the stack of files she’s been holding on the table in front of them. “Take your pick,” she answers Tara’s question. “Looks like Luke made a lot of enemies during his fugitive task force days.”
The rest of the team hesitates as they gaze at the daunting pile of files in front of them. But Reid wastes no time before surging forward and ripping open the first one he can get his hands on.
Spencer is going to find Luke.
…
Luke is the strong one. He holds you during scary movies and can pick you up with such ease (despite your protests). He always sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door, and instinctively wraps his arm around you protectively anytime he senses danger. Hell, he literally fights bad guys for a living. He is a real life superhero.
This situation, as it turned out, is no different. While you sit, cold and shivering on the ground, crying silently, Luke comforts you, all while continuously searching for a way out of this mess.
He’s interrupted when heavy footsteps approach. Your eyes instinctively shoot towards the noise. A man emerges from behind some barrels stacked in the corner. You can tell that he’s tall and muscular, wearing combat boots that are tucked into his utility pants. He looks military.
“Alvez.” The word slips off his tongue slowly, like he’s savoring it. “Remember me?”
Something in Luke’s demeanor shifts when he catches a glimpse of the man before him. His eyes sink, the rest of his face quickly following suit.
“Ray–” Luke says the man's name like he still can’t believe it. But before he can finish his sentence, the man, named Ray, winds back and thrusts his foot into Luke’s stomach.
Luke lets out an unnatural grunting sound as he doubles over. Without missing a beat, the man kicks him again, and again. He kicks him until Luke is writhing in pain on the floor, hands still tied behind his back, defenseless.
You don’t even realize you’re screaming at this man to stop until Ray turns to look at you. Your gaze doesn’t leave Luke until the man approaches you quietly. You don’t care that you’ve basically made yourself a target at this point. You would’ve done anything to get him to stop hurting Luke.
“You–” the man says. He has a hint of humor in his voice. “We didn’t plan for you to be at the garage.What a pleasant surprise.”
Amidst his writhing in pain, Luke snarls from the floor. “Leave her alone!” His voice sounds gurgled, and you realize he’s probably talking through the blood in his mouth.
His lips tug into a smile once he realizes how protective Luke is over you. You can see on his face that he’s going to play off of that. He inches closer.
There’s nowhere for you to go, so you press yourself so far into the beam you’re tied to that it starts to leave an imprint in your back. For a moment, you think he’s going to start kicking you as hard as he’d kicked Luke, but instead he bends down in front of you and clicks his tongue.
You get a good look at Ray’s face, it’s covered in creases and craters. He stares at you without blinking. When he lifts his hand slowly, you can’t help but flinch. But gently, he pushes the strand of hair out of your eyes. Your breathing has become choppy and labored.
“Don’t touch her!” Luke spits out. Ray’s hand freezes on your cheek and he smiles again. This time, he’s staring directly at you.
Then he stands up, and quietly wanders behind you. You lock eyes with Luke, hoping to find some form of comfort. Instead, you just see anger and fear.
You sense Ray behind you. His footsteps click on the cement floor, when they stop, you assume he’s hovering. You expect to be hit again, or shot or kicked– but what you don’t expect is the pressure of your hand restraints to be loosened and then released all together. Before you can rub the skin that’d been rope burned, your arm is being grabbed and you’re roughly being hoisted up on your feet.
You stumble, Ray’s tight grip the only thing keeping you from falling. His arm bars across your chest and pulls tightly across your neck. He pulls something black out from his side and clicks the end of it. The cold barrel presses hard against your temple.
“Do you know what happened to me after I got arrested, after you got me arrested?” He spits at Luke.
Luke watches the scene folding out in front of him wearily. He has to choose his words carefully, or he could lose you.
“It was my job to put you away,” Luke says steadily.
The man shakes his head and repeats slowly, “Do you know what happened to me after you put me away?”
Luke’s shaken by the question. Ray can tell.
“They killed them,” he states calmly. “You see, it got out that I was caught, and by a fed no less. And my kind– they don’t take too kindly to the feds. They mistook my capture for a betrayal. So…” his voice trails off in the darkness. “So to teach me a lesson, they killed them.”
He clears his throat, his voice returning with a newly found sense of anger as he continues to speak. “Did you know that if you’re in prison, and your wife and son are murdered, you’re not allowed to go to their funeral?”
Ray lowers the gun from your temple. You’re about to inhale a shaky sigh of relief, hoping that maybe he had a change of heart, when he turns the gun, pointing it directly at Luke.
Everything inside of you ignites, like you’ve been set on fire from within. You press your hands into the arm still barred across your chest and try to get free.
“Stop it! Please!” You cry out. “I’ll do anything you want! Please don’t hurt him!”
Ray smiles, he releases you from his grasp and steps back. He leans slightly forward to caress your face. “Oh darling, I’m not going to hurt him.” He presses something cold and hard into your open palm. “You are.”
…
It’s in the evening when a file finally catches Spencer’s eye. He’s elbows deep in paperwork and case files, but this one stands out.
“Hang on,” Reed thinks out loud. He gets up from the seat he’s been planted in since the morning and makes his way to the drawing board. “This one– this guy, his name is Malcolm Ray, he was released from prison three weeks ago. His entire family was murdered just a month after he was put away by Luke. It says the killer was never found.”
“The last contact this guy has before he’s put behind bars is Luke,” JJ says.
Spencer nods. “He associates Luke locking him up with him not being there to protect his family.”
Emily sighs. “That’s certainly motive.”
…
You shake your head harshly. The tears falling down your face are making your vision blurry. “No,” you plead. “No, no, no.”
The idea of Luke being hurt is terrifying and unnatural. Luke doesn’t get hurt. Luke is the protector. Luke is strong. But the idea of you being the one to hurt Luke is unbearable.
“Shoot him,” Ray orders.
You shake your head.
Ray moves his hands behind his back and draws out another gun. This one, he points directly at the back of your head. You hear the click of the trigger. “Shoot him,” Ray repeats.
The cold barrel is pressed to your scalp and your adrenaline is surging through your veins. You’re staring at Luke now, desperate for him to give you some of his strength.
“It’s okay,” he speaks softly. “It’s okay, it’s okay,”
He’s giving you permission– letting you off the hook, so that way if you actually choose to shoot him, you can do it guilt free. Leave it to Luke to look after you, even while he’s staring down death.
You let out a shaky sob, your arms trembling with the weight of the handgun. You shake your head one last time and sigh, defeated. “No.”
The barrel of the gun pushes harder into your head while you hear Ray mutter, “You stupid–”
But his speech is interrupted when a strong voice echoes through the warehouse.
“Put it down, Ray!”
You turn to find the source of the voice, but before you can, you’re being grabbed again and pulled backwards.
Ray’s holding you to his chest, his arm across your neck, the gun that was pointed to the back of your head is now secured tightly on your temple.
“Drop it,” a familiar voice orders. For a moment, you think that Rossi is speaking to you. You quickly discard the handgun, letting it crash to the floor.
“Malcolm, I know what they did to your wife,” Spencer’s there too. He takes a step closer. Your eyes linger on him desperately. “And your son.”
You feel the grip around your neck tighten.
“I want him to hurt! The way that I hurt!” Ray presses the gun harder and harder to your temple. The angrier he becomes, the rougher he gets with you. You’re scared at what he might do if Spencer pushes him too hard.
“Making him hurt the way that you hurt isn’t going to bring them back, Malcolm. They’re gone.”
For a moment, the grip on your neck gets unbearably tight. So tight, that you have to fight just to inhale. And it’s in that moment that you realize you were going to die. It seems so inevitable. Spencer isn’t looking at you, instead his attention is focused on Ray. You wish he would look at you, offer you some sort of comfort. Your vision starts to go blurry and you find that you can’t even inhale anymore.
Just as you start to accept your new found fate, you feel the grip on your chest loosen. Ray’s arm relaxes and releases you. You lunge forward, your momentum too strong to combat, and tumble to the floor.
“You’re right,” Ray says. “They’re gone.” You’re barely able to crawl forward before you hear an earth-shatteringly loud bang, followed by the sound of Ray’s body hitting the floor.
You can’t help but turn around and face it. Ray’s body lays lifeless on the cool, cement ground. A pool of blood is already spreading around his own head.
You stay stuck like that, unable to move or breathe or think or do anything. You suppose this was what shock felt like– complete and utter numbness. Like time is standing still. Like your mind is no longer connected to your body.
A gentle hand lightly touches your shoulder and you’re awoken from your trance. You jump at the contact, to find Spencer hovering over you, a worried look on his face.
“Are you okay?” he asks, kneeling down so that he’s eye level with you.
You nod– a lie if you ever told one. But you aren’t concerned with yourself at the moment. You sit back on your heels, your hands resting in your lap. The air is suddenly hotter than it’s been all evening.
The red blood spreads so fast on the concrete floor. It oozes thickly in a perfectly round circle. You’re so open, so vulnerable. You don’t feel safe in the open like this. You want to bury yourself in your sheets at home, and wake up to find that this had all been a dream. But sure enough, when you place your hand on your own arm and start scratching vigorously, trying to wake yourself up, you can’t. This is real.
Your ears are ringing as you fall into a pit of darkness, nails digging deeper into your own skin. It’s getting unbearably hot. It’s terrifying how alone you feel.
In a muffled daze, you suddenly hear your name being called.
Once Emily frees him from his restraints, Luke wastes no time in hoisting himself up and rushing over to you. It’s hard to miss his girl sobbing on the ground.
You’re crying harder than he’s ever witnessed, and it makes his knees nearly buckle as he runs closer. Your nails are digging into your own skin and you’re unable to catch even a single second of breath.
When Luke reaches you, he can’t possibly move fast enough. With hands outstretched, he desperately tries to grasp onto any part of you that he can get. You’re trembling, and for a split moment, he notices you flinch from his touch.
“Baby, it’s me,” he assures you, choking on his own words.
It takes you a minute, but soon you realize it’s Luke kneeling beside you. Luke– with his hands on your face. Luke’s not hurting you. Luke’s would never hurt you.
“Shh,” Luke soothes, pulling you into his arms quickly. “I’m here, God– I’m so sorry,” he breaks off when you grasp at his bicep, fingers digging into the cloth of his shirt, craving to be closer and closer to him. “I’m here,” he repeats.
Luke holds you steady, his hand traveling up and down your back comfortingly. After a while, your tear ducts run dry and there’s simply nothing left but exhaustion. You rest your head on his chest.
Once Luke notices that you’ve calmed down slightly, he adjusts his grip on your body and stands the two of you up. “C’mere,” he murmurs. Without waiting for a response, he bends, wraps his arms around your knees and lifts you into his arms.
You wrap your arms around his neck, letting your sobs subside while he whispers how much he loves you in your ear.
“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Luke suggests.
You close your eyes against his chest and simply breathe him in as Luke carries you bridal style out of the warehouse.
You spent the rest of the night attached to Luke. The car ride home you’re glued to his side, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as he mumbles soft words into your ear. When you walk up to your shared house, Luke makes sure to guide each step you take, his steadiness making up for your shakiness. His strong hand resting on your hip. Only once you’re back in the four walls of your own house, do you venture away from him.
You find yourself crawling into bed still fully clothed. You don’t have the energy to do anything else. You’re staring at the blank wall in front of you when you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist. Luke rests his head on your shoulder. You leaned into his arms, finding his hand to hold tightly.
“It’s over.” Luke whispers in your ear.
The words made you relax slightly.
“It’s over,” he repeats. “He’s dead– he’s gone.”
Luke plants a soft kiss to your shoulder blade and you tug him closer against you. His warm breath is comforting and familiar on your neck. And you finally feel safe, in his arms.
“It’s over,” you repeat, exhaling the breath of air you’ve been holding.
#criminal minds#luke alvez#luke alvez fic#luke alvez imagine#luke alvez x reader#luke alvez x reader imagine#luke alvez x reader fic#criminal minds imagine#luke alvez x reader fanfic#criminal minds x reader
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Professional
Hello everyone! Answering a request made by an anon today:“And then I thought about this other scenario where reader and Ben had done a movie together and they are dating and now they are doing the press tour and they are doing the vanity fair lie detector interview. (you know what i’m talking about?) I remember Natalia Dyer and Charlie Heaton did this years ago while promoting Stranger Things and they were super cute. I just love fics about doing these kind of interviews, like the wired autocomplete interview, for example. (I sometimes imagine myself doing it, pretending I’m famous🙈 but if you ask me about that I’d deny it) + they try to play it cool and hide that they are madly in love and act as if they weren’t a couple but the whole game outs them completely and it’s hilarious and they laugh like mad about it Anyways, that’s it and I hope I’m not bothering💗”
Thank you so much for your request, anon! I hope that you like what I’ve written for you!
I hope you all like this adorable fic! Tell me what you think about it!
****
Pairing : Ben Barnes x reader
Warnings: Fluff. Tooth-rotting fluff. So adorable you might actually melt.
Summary: You and Ben answer the lie detector interview to promote the new season of SaB, where you have worked together. But the interview reveals a lot more about your relationship with Ben than what was intended to begin with.
Word Count: 2869
Ben Barnes’ Masterlist – Main Masterlist
You thought this would be fun, but Vanity Fair really does take this thing seriously.
The room you’ve walked into with Ben has something a little intimidating about it. Low lights, a simple table set in the middle of the room, a couple of chairs that face each other, and of course, a man setting up a lie detector in a corner. The journalist gives the two of you a warm smile and asks you who wants to start. She’s holding some papers, on which you have no doubt you’ll find a list of questions for both Ben and you.
Speaking of Ben, he turns to you then, his gaze questioning and the ghost of a warm smile on his lips.
He looks ridiculously handsome today, with a white t-shirt, some dark jeans and a brown oversized cardigan… But then again, you did help him choose his outfit for the interview this morning. You’re the only one to blame for your own suffering. The fact that he’s let his hair grow a little more these days, the curls starting to roll at the nape of his neck, doesn’t help at all.
“Do you want to start asking the questions or answering, Y/N?”
It’s weird to hear him say your name. You love it, of course, how it rolls on his tongue, deep voice filled with warmth as it leans on the syllables in a heavy British accent that you adore. Still, it feels strange because after dating him for so long, living with him… you’re used to answer only to love, darling, gorgeous, beautiful…
But then again, you remember Ben’s words from this very morning, while he was tying his shoes in the hallway, looking up at you while kneeling on the ground.
Today, we’re colleagues! No lovey-dovey reactions! We need to remain professional!
You smile. Professional. Of course, you’re an actress, you can do that.
“I’d rather start answering. Plug me in!”
Ben can’t refrain a chuckle at that, and you sit down, waiting for the wires to be tied around your body and for the camera to roll.
You’re more nervous than usual. It’s intimidating, to be surrounded with strangers, in a tiny room dimly lit, with wires connecting you to a lie detector. You won’t be able to lie to get out of a weird question. You feel a little safer though as Ben sits down on the other side of the table, picking up a sheet of paper and scanning questions with a focused frown on his brow. He looks warm and cozy, yet elegant. You’re not sure how he does it, but he does. You have to refrain your sudden urge to stand up and snuggle into his chest, arms around his torso to let him wrap his cardigan around you. He loves to do that, to wrap you around his coat and pullover to keep you warm. It gives him a good excuse to hold you close…
The interviewer gives Ben a thumbs up, and so he clears his throat to start the interview.
When he looks up at you, your nervousness is obvious, and his polite smile grows soothing, reassuring.
“You’re alright over there, Y/N? Comfy with all these wires?”
“It’s incredibly relaxing. I don’t feel at all like I’m about to be thrown in jail.”
He chuckles, shaking his head.
“The only threat is you revealing that you secretly hate me.”
“Oh shoot… I wanted to hide that.”
You both laugh, and you feel yourself relax a little. You focus on Ben, and all seems better again.
“Alright, I have a few general questions I need to ask for the lie detector to work. So don’t lie just yet,” he adds with a wink, making your heart skip a beat.
Damn, you’ve been together for a while now, yet, he still makes you feel like a lovesick fool every single time…
“Is your name Y/N Y/L/N?”
“It is,” you nod.
“You played a character in Shadow and Bone, correct?”
“I did, yes.”
“Are you ready to take the lie detector test?”
“Not really. I’m a little nervous.”
You chuckle, but you keep fiddling with your sleeve nonetheless.
You’re surprised when Ben reaches across the table to give your hand a reassuring squeeze.
“You look terrified,” he teases you.
“It’s intimidating! I can’t lie!”
“You never lie anyway, you hate it.”
“Sometimes I do lie.”
Ben suddenly wears an outrage face.
“Even to me?”
“Especially to you. You’re insufferable.”
He dramatically gasps, and you both laugh. You feel yourself relax a little more as Ben leans back in his chair, giving your hand one last squeeze before leaving your fingers.
You need to focus on him. It’s merely an interview, why are you so nervous in the first place?
The man on your right, who is looking at the results from the detector, tells you that the machine works perfectly. Ben can start asking you real questions now.
“Alright!” he gives a happy wiggle, clearly enjoying himself as he rubs his hands together. “Which of these are the most embarrassing…”
“Hey! Be nice! I’ll ask you questions too, after that! If you’re mean, I’ll choose the worst questions too!”
“It might be worth it.”
But he takes a couple more seconds to pick a question from the list, and you reckon he’s being kind. It’s nothing too embarrassing. Just a couple of general questions about your childhood, nothing to worry about.
You’re more relaxed now, and he notices it. Good, he can tease you a bit more then.
“You joined the cast of Shadow and Bone during the second season. Did you get along with your co-workers?”
“Yes, everyone was nice. I had a lot of fun.”
“Have you ever dreamt about the Grishaverse?”
“Yes. While we were filming, sometimes I’d dream about some scenes. And now as well, a little bit. Because we’re talking about it a lot in interviews and such.”
Ben nods at your answer, a dreamy smile on his lips as he takes you in. You look so beautiful today…
But he shakes himself out of his thoughts. He was the one claiming that the two of you ought to remain professional during this interview. He can’t catch himself thinking about kissing you like this…
He scans the list of questions again, more to distract himself from his urge to reach out and hold your hand and kiss your knuckles than anything else. But he explodes with laughter as he finds the perfect question.
He reckons you’re relaxed enough now for him to tease you a bit.
“Oh dear… what have you found now?” you ask, your voice cautious but an amused giggle bubbling on your tongue too.
He clears his throat, shakes the piece of paper with a flourish, his grin full of mischief.
“You have recently commented on the season finale. And especially, Patrick’s Gibson transformation…”
“Hmm…” you slowly nodded, waiting expectantly.
“You have pointed out that his appearance was… distracting.”
You both laughed at the phrasing.
“Yeah, I was a bit more direct than that, but that’s true.”
“Out of your castmates, which one do you think is the best-looking?”
You shake your head, feeling heat spread across your skin as you bury your face in your hands in embarrassment.
The little shit… He knows the answer is him. Of course it is, he’s the man you live with, the man you love, the man you join in bed every night.
You can read in his amused gaze that he’s waiting for your answer, that he’s waiting for you to say his name.
You won’t give it to him that easily. Lie detector be damn. He’s fishing for compliments and you won’t yield.
“Well… I can’t lie.”
“You can’t,” he shakes his head, struggling to hide a grin.
“Then… I have to be honest…”
“You do.”
“I think the most beautiful person of the cast is…”
He loves it… the way you’re struggling to keep a straight face, the way you look a little embarrassed and are fleeing his gaze… he loves it. You’re adorable like this.
But then you look up at him all of a sudden, and you’re the one grinning with mischief.
“… Lewis.”
His mouth falls open in shock, and you can’t refrain your laughter as you see him clenching his jaw.
That backfired alright…
He nods slowly, tapping the paper against the table.
“Fair enough,” he concedes. “Can’t compete with this guy.”
You’re still laughing, and think you’ve gotten away with it, when the man next to you frowns at the readings of the lie detector, and he lets out his conclusion in a cold voice.
“That was a lie.”
You and Ben exchange a glance, before both of you would explode with laughter.
“You’re so cruel!” Ben waves a finger at you.
“I tried! I tried! But then again, you were being mean with that question.”
“Mean? Me?”
“Obviously.”
“You still haven’t answered.”
“You know the answer.”
And you think that he’s going to drop it, because going on would reveal too much of your relationship, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, he leans a little over the table, tilting his head, a devilishly charming smile on his lips.
“Well, it’s still a nice thing to hear. Especially from such a beautiful woman.”
You’re quite taken aback at the obvious flirt in his tone. Not that it’s anything unusual between the two of you, but during an interview?
You bite on your lower lip as you smile, trying to hold back a cheeky remark, without a doubt; and he can’t control the way his heart swells with fondness and love at the sight.
God, he loves you so damn much…
And he knows he’s taking the game a little too far, that he’s fishing for compliments, but he can’t help it. Sometimes, he still struggles believing that you really think this of him… but you prove it one more time.
“You. I think you’re the most attractive member of the cast.”
The grin that’s plastered on his face and his proud, delighted little wiggle are worth your burning cheeks.
He turns to the camera.
“I’ve obviously paid her to say that.”
“He did,” you confirm.
But the lie detector expert chooses this moment to chime in again.
“It was the truth.”
Both you and Ben explode with laughter, just like everyone in the room.
“Well, thank you, Y/N,” Ben grins.
“When is it my turn to ask you questions so I can torture you?”
“Soon.”
“Good…”
“Actually, we’ve just run out of time. It was a pleasure to be here!”
“No! Ben! Absolutely not! I want to ask you shitty questions too!”
“Shitty questions? I’ve literally chosen the best ones. The last one was the only one teasing!”
You mumble something unintelligible under your breath, making him laugh fondly at you again.
“Okay, one last question, cause that’s a nice one,” Ben clears his throat, calming down again. “Do you think working on Shadow and Bone had a positive impact on your life?”
You think again of the first time you had met Ben for the script read-through. The way he smiled that day, all shy and charming. Your long afternoons spent learning your lines together, your evenings spent talking for hours while eating pizza, your sleepless nights as you told him everything about you, your first kiss in an empty street of Budapest…
And to that, you have to add all the friends you’ve made along the way…
You’re grinning as you answer.
“Yes, most definitely, yes. I’ve met amazing people on this project. I’m very lucky to be a part of it.”
You exchange one last smile with Ben, before the interviewer speaks up again.
It’s Ben’s time to answer questions, and you keep teasing him about it, as you browse through the list.
“So… which ones are the most embarrassing…?”
He rolls his eyes as his fingertips are being covered with wires.
“Very funny,” he replies, and with much maturity, sticks out his tongue at you, making you laugh.
But he does look quite uneasy as he sits down, although he’s still much calmer than you were.
“You’re alright?” you ask, your voice soothing now instead of teasing.
“It is quite uncomfortable to be plugged to this thing,” he admits. “It does feel… intimidating.”
“Right! I told you!”
“I swear, ma’am, I know nothing about the secret services.”
You laugh at that, shaking your head at his silly joke.
“Right, let’s begin!” you declare, as the journalist gives you a nod. “Your name is Ben Barnes.”
“It is.”
“You are British.”
“I am.”
“Are you ready to start the lie detector test?”
“I am. Fire away.”
“Confident!” you narrow your eyes at him. “Let’s find a terrible question to bring that cockiness down a notch…”
“Cocky?”
“Ha! Found one!” you ignore his protest. “Do you find an American accent sexier than a British accent?”
He frowns a little.
“No,” he answers truthfully, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips.
“Do you ever wish you could move back to the UK?”
“Yes, I do. My family lives there, and many of my friends too. It’s hard sometimes.”
“Do you prefer British or American snacks?”
“British.”
“Jaffa cakes?” you ask, rolling your eyes.
“Obviously. And these… chocolate biscuits you have with your tea… delicious.”
You go through the list, ask him a few questions about his role, but they are all rather tamed, and by the end of the interview, you’re not satisfied with how much you’ve managed to tease him.
Until your eyes read through the last line.
Ask a question of your choice.
Oh yes…
“Alright, last question,” you say, struggling not to smile.
You’ve got ‘mischief’ written all over your features, and Ben narrows his eyes at you at the sight.
“Oh… I’m in trouble with this one…”
“I’m using the last one.”
“Which one is it?”
You turn the paper around so he can read the line, and he bursts into laughter.
“Oh… that’s bad! What are you going to ask me?”
You put the sheet of paper down, and lean over the table.
“Ben Barnes,” you speak in a low voice.
“Yes?” he answers with a nervous giggle.
“Remember that you cannot lie.”
“I remember.”
“Ben.”
“Yes?”
“Did you eat the last of my chocolate chips cookies yesterday?”
He laughs at that, but you can see him blushing hard.
“Oh… no… I’m in so much trouble now…” he winces.
“Because, yesterday, you denied it!”
“I did.”
“And the truth is…?”
He bites on his lip, but closes his eyes.
He can’t lie anyway because of this bloody machine…
“I ate the cookie,” he confesses.
“I KNEW IT!”
“I was very hungry,” he argues.
“I knew it was you!”
He laughs at that, shaking his head at you.
“If you didn’t eat it, who else could it be, darling?”
Your eyes widen at the pet name, and so do his. He glances over at the camera, blushing more than ever, red spreading over his skin all the way to the top of his ears.
He clears his throat, but his voice sounds deeper now.
“Anyway, I’m the culprit.”
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you answer.
Damn be the interview. When Ben smiles again, he’s more relaxed, the flush leaving his cheeks.
Damn be the interview…
“I’ll buy you some more tomorrow, I promise.”
“You’d better not forget!”
“I’ll make you forgive me.”
“Cocky, once again…”
But he shoots you a smug grin.
“Confident, that’s all.”
“I’m sure I’ll hear all about your plan to reach forgiveness soon.”
Someone starts to detach all the wires from Ben’s fingers, and you both assume that the camera is turned off and that you can act like your normal selves once more.
“What about flowers, my darling?” Ben asks softly, so as not to be overheard by too many people in the room. Only the technician who is taking care of the lie detector seems to hear him.
“Hmm… that’s a good start.”
“You ate the last of my jaffa cakes last time we came back from London, remember? And my mom had bought them for me!”
“For us, honey. Your mom bought them for us.”
He rolls his eyes at that, before heaving a sigh.
“You’re going to use that to decide what we’ll eat tonight, won’t you?”
You nod, excited all of a sudden, and Ben wishes he could be annoyed, but he fails miserably. Your smile is too bright for that, it gives him butterflies and a stuttering heart and he adores every second of it.
“Very well, then. You can pick whatever you want.”
“Yes!” you wiggle happily, standing up to leave the interview.
Little did you know that the camera was still rolling, the mics still recording. When you watch the interview a couple of weeks later, you both laugh uncontrollably. The comment section is on fire, and you spend the evening with Ben, lying on the couch together, laughing at all the crazy reactions to the interview.
You don’t mind. You don’t mind one bit, and neither does Ben, actually.
Although, you tease him about it for weeks.
“So much for being professional, huh?”
***********************************
Taglist : @sergeantbuckybarnes @reg-arcturus-black @wolfmoonmusic
#ben barnes#ben barnes x you#ben barnes x reader#ben barnes x y/n#ben barnes fanfiction#ben barnes oneshot#fanfiction#fanfic#writing
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Real Life Disney Princess
Summary: You have always been good with animals, and this is why Daryl finds you, surrounded by wild friends, in the forest. You teach him how to befriend them, and become friends with him in the process.
Genre: Fluff 💕
A/N: Hi everyone! 💕 This oneshot is basically me fulfilling my dream of being a Disney Princess and having animal friends and everything! i love writing Daryl being soft with Reader, but still gruff and everything, I think it's just so cute! Also, early seasons Daryl has my whole heart 💕 Anyway, as always I apologize for the possible english mistakes, writing in english is hard ahah! Have a lovely day/night, and feel free to reblog this, or comment, it encourages me so much! Also my ask box is now open because I completely forgot to do it before lmao😭
Things at the Quarry tended to get a little too overwhelming for you. The other adults were always shouting at each other, and it seemed like nobody could ever get along with anyone, which made everyone mean. So when things got a little too heated for your taste, you went to the one place where no one would ever bother you. The forest.
As you were growing up, you came to realize you had a gift, something that made you truly unique: animals loved you.
They didn't just like you, they put their full trust into you. It was as if you were one of them. Deers had always let you caress their fur without being scared you would hurt them, and you had slept with wolves without any fear before, knowing they would have your back. And they had. You had woken up after a few hours, one of them licking your cheek. God, you loved animals.
So as Shane started yelling on Merle, Lori backing her boyfriend and Daryl backing his brother, you simply retreated to the woods. You had brought a knife with you, because your gift unfortunately had no effect on walkers, and a good book, planning on spending the afternoon in a calm environment. You advanced, a slight smile on your face, breathing slowly as the rays of the sun pierced through the leaves surrounding you. Everything felt better already. Soon enough, you found a log good enough to sit on, and opened your book.
It took a few pages for your first friend to arrive. A curious fox cautiously approached you, and you waited a minute before giving him your hand. He sniffed it, before leaning into your touch as you started petting him. You gave up on the idea of advancing on your book, knowing he wouldn't be the only one to come to you. So you gave him your full attention.
'Hi, baby!' You cooed at him, cupping his face between your hands.
You did not kiss his forehead, although you would have loved to. You had learned this the hard way, forest animals were full of things you did not want to catch. He looked at you with soft eyes, and you knew he would have started purring if he was a cat.
The fox didn't take long to sit on your lap, falling asleep. You petted him mindlessly, letting your mind wander around. As you thought about your friends at the Quarry, about Shane as a leader, and about how ungrateful everyone seemed to be with Daryl, who went on hunts almost everyday to make sure everyone was well fed, a few other animals started surrounding you. A full family of rabbits came to your feet, some squirrels went and said hello, and you could hear a few birds singing behind your back. With an asleep fox on your lap, it was hard to pet them all, but you managed to prompt them to come to you instead. As always, you thanked the Universe the carnivorous animals stayed calm when you were with them, because a fight was the last thing you needed at the moment.
As the minutes passed, some animals left and some arrived. You were focused on giving attention to the sleeping fox when you heard a voice behind your back.
'Yer like a real life Disney princess or what?'
You had not heard the hunter approach you. If your gift was impressing, his was even more: the man had managed approaching a dozen wild animals in silence without making his presence known. His voice startled you and your new friends, and you heard some birds fly away quickly, in panic. The rabbits left as well, and you were left with your sleeping rabbit, and a squirrel on your shoulder. You did not bother turning back, Daryl walking to you anyway, slowly and silently, as to avoid scaring the rest of your friends. It was truly astonishing. You did not hear any dried leave or twig crack under his heavy boots, he was in total control. You promised yourself you would ask him to teach you, one day.
'How'd'you do that?' He asked.
He had always seemed more talkative with you, which you appreciated a lot. He sat in front of you, his crossbow on his shoulder. You shrugged, a shy smile making its way to your lips. While talking to your forest friends was easy, talking to actual people was more complicated.
'I don't know, animals have always been nice to me.'
He nodded thoughtfully.
'Are things better at camp?' You asked, hopefully.
'Dunno, I left soon after ya. Wanted to bring some food. Didn't meet any animals, I guess they were all with ya.'
The remark made you smile. The squirrel left your shoulders, and you were alone with the fox. And Daryl. You would have loved to join the man on the ground, but the fox sleeped too well for you to wake him up. So you ignored your discomfort on the hard log, and Daryl spoke again.
'Is that why ya left? The fights?'
You nodded, the fox stirring on your thighs.
His eyes went from the fox to yours, a confused expression on his face, and you smiled.
'I hate seeing you all fight.'
'Don't like that either.' He admitted.
'You know, I don't think they thank you enough for what you do for us.' You said without thinking.
He shrugged again, as if he hadn't been the one keeping your group alive for the last few months. Without him, you would all have died of starvation weeks ago.
'You spend hours in the forest, everyday, to bring us food. And they're always mean to you anyway.'
'It ain't a big deal.'
'It is a big deal.' You simply said, and he dropped the subject.
You stayed in comfortable silence for a while, with you petting the fox, and him making sure all of his arrows were sharp, a knife in his hand. And as you were both concentrated, a raccoon made himself known by rubbing his tiny head against your knee.
'Hi!' You exclaimed fondly, carrying him against you as if he was a cat.
Daryl was astonished, seeing you in action. You were a natural, making sure both animals were comfortable on you and talking to them as if they were human babies. He did not dare talk, nor make any sudden move, scared he would make the raccoon afraid, and that he would hurt you while escaping. You noticed how cautious he was.
'You know, if he sees you don't mean any harm, he will probably let you pet him.' You informed him. 'You're with me. You're a friend.'
You smiled and watched as he approched his hand, the raccoon looking at it with curiosity. You put a finger on Daryl's hand, showing your friend that he was harmless. And somehow, after a few seconds, it worked. The raccoon let himself be pet.
He snorted, clearly not believing you.
'Try.' You insisted, sure of yourself.
'Yer gonna get scratched.'
'I won't. Try.'
And Daryl was absolutely bewildered. After years of hunting, he thought he knew how to understand animals better than anyone. You were the living proof he was wrong. He rubbed the raccoon's fur, and you beamed at them both.
You both spent hours petting the animals visiting you, and exchanging a bit about the whole flesh eaters monsters situation. And as the sun started to settled down, you both agreed on returning to the Quarry. You said goodbye to the animals, and walked home.
He looked like he was joking, and you hoped he was as you feigned indignation, swatting him lightly on the forearm.
'Hey?' Daryl asked with a teasing smile, as you were only a few meters from the camp.
'Yes?'
'D'ya think we could use your gift to find tomorrow's dinner?'
'No!'
He snorted, and entered first as you followed, happy as you were almost sure you just had made a human friend. Maybe your gift worked better than you thought...
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Happy holidays in advance ❄️ 🎅 🎄 ! Whenever and if u have time Pl share fics where stiles or Derek have the bad boy image. Thank u!
Hey you! Happy Holidays!! 🎄⛄️🎄 I love it when they're both bad, very 10 Things I Hate about you. 🥰
A High School Cliché. by halelujah | 2.8K
“Are you the one that played a porno in the Principal’s office?” A gruff voice asks.
“Depends if you’re the one that threw a dumbbell through a window.” He drawls, not bothered in moving from his comfy spot.
The Athlete & The Criminal by damnfancyscotch | 12.1K | Explicit
“What’re you doing here, Stilinski? Did you only score half the winning points at the last lacrosse game instead of all of them?”
Stiles snorts and says, “I thought you were locked up, Hale.”
Derek huffs a laugh and drawls, “Not quite yet.”
The Great Pretender by talktowater | 45.2K | Explicit
Stiles is the new kid at Beacon Hills High, class of 1958 and he's trying to make an impression. Derek can't figure out why this kid is so set on making such a bad one.
Six Minutes by CosmoKid | 4.3K
“What do you want?” Derek practically grows when Stiles is near enough to hear. He can definitely feel the werewolf vibes coming from the guy as well as the fuck off vibes that roll off him in tsunami-sized waves.
Stiles has one thing he needs to say to Derek, but he also has eight million questions to ask him about the werewolf thing and he can barely sort out his thoughts as it is, let alone when there’s a ridiculously attractive werewolf who’s basically Adonis staring at him. Derek takes another drag of his cigarette and raises his eyebrows at Stiles expectantly. He shivers and blurts out, “Six minutes.”
Finstock’s Wilderness Camp for Boys by rainsoakedshoes | 12.1K
“What happens if I don’t go?”
“You get charged with breaking and entering, and you will probably serve time in a juvenile facility,” the sheriff said matter of factly. “That’s if you’re lucky enough to be tried as a minor.”
“You’d send your own son to jail?” Stiles asked in disbelief.
“You broke into someone’s home, Stiles!” The sheriff took a breath to compose himself and ran a hand across his face. “And this isn’t the first time. I can’t keep bailing you out of trouble. I don’t have any favours left to call in. Either you agree to go to the camp and clean up your act, or you risk getting tried as an adult.”
Don’t Judge a Derek By His Cover by captaintinymite (augopher) | 4.5K
Stiles doesn’t care about the rumors surrounding Beacon Hills High School’s resident bad boy, Derek Hale. In fact, he thinks the rumors are total crap. Of course, being secretly in love with someone has a way of clouding one’s judgment.
However, he knew for a fact that Derek liked books. So when the two paired up for a final English project, he was excited (but also a little terrified).
But you know what they say…never judge a book by its cover. The same goes for people.
The Best Bad Things by TroubleIWant | 10.5K
“Fuck,” Stiles moans again, squirming desperately against Derek’s crotch. “You gotta - gotta give me something.” He does his best to slide a hand into the back of Derek’s underwear, and gets far enough that his middle finger brushes the base of his spine.
“I am,” Derek says, reaching back to grab Stiles by the wrist. He deftly pins both of the kid’s arms above his head and grins, all teeth.
Stiles goes quiet, then, chest heaving and eyes wide. This is what he’s here for, after all. To feel like he’s doing something dangerous.
"Five Days in Detention" (A Future Song by Stiles Stilinski) by alisvolatpropiis | 3.4K
It’s still preseason, sure, but he needs to be practicing. He led the team to the State semifinals last year, and he’s determined to not only make it to the finals this year, but to win the title. He should be on the field right now, practicing his play calls and prepping for next week’s season opener against Saint Pius.
And he can’t do that if he’s wasting his time in detention with these losers. There are a couple of burnouts lazing over some seats by the window, one kid with his face on a desk, hood over his head, and a few Goth kids are sitting in the back corner, looking surly and morose. Maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable if you didn’t listen to such shitty music, he thinks, turning towards his usual seat in the back of the room.
He pauses for the briefest of moments when he sees who’s already sitting there, in the second-to-last row, black-clad limbs spread out, acoustic guitar in his lap, long fingers casually plucking at the strings.
Stiles Stilinski.
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Twelve: You Deserve The Whole World
Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)
Till the wheels fall off Masterlist
Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?
Warning: low body confidence
As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️
My heart weighed heavy in my chest, the thought of Pops going into a home made my stomach churn. My head was spinning, I needed to get away from here for a while. After having a quick chat with Jax, I met Charles on the front porch.
“You ready to go, babygirl?” he smiled softly, linking his fingers with mine guiding me towards the Ferrari that was parked at the end of the driveway. He did not know the effect he was having on me right now, the way he called me babygirl caused my heart to flutter and my stomach to flip. Everything was different with him, it was like he was the calmness I desperately sought. He settled the voices in my mind just by being around; I was already dreading once he had to leave.
As we approached the car, I cocked my brow at Charles who was now putting one of Jax’s duffel bags in the trunk. I had so many questions, why did he have a bag? What was in it? What did he have planned? Charles saw the confusion on my face but just smirked at me. “Que voulez-vous faire aujourd'hui ? What do you want to do today?” Charles asked, holding the passenger door open for me.
“Tant que je suis avec toi, je m'en fiche complètement. As long as I'm with you, I don't care,” I mumbled, letting my body sink into the black leather seats. My eyes went wide as I took in the interior of the SUV. Everything about this car was sleek, it was everything you would expect from Ferrari. “This car is fucking amazing!” I beamed, feeling my mood lift slightly.
“Just wait until you hear her roar,” Charles smirked, setting up the sat nav before resting his hand on my knee.
The moment we got onto the open road, he flashed me a wink, placing both hands back on the steering wheel putting his foot down. The small smile on my face was growing wider and wider by the second as the sound of the V12 engine surrounded us.
There was no better feeling than being on an empty road with a beast of a car.
“I want this car,” I giggled, looking over at Charles, his smile was bright enough to light up the entire world, I quickly realized this would be the closest I would ever get to feeling what he felt every race weekend. I had always loved the thrill of fast cars and bikes but this had kicked everything up a notch or two. Adrenaline was rushing through my body as Charles controlled the car beautifully to say he didn’t know the roads but that was why he was one of the best when it came to racing, even though this season wasn’t going to plan. “As much as I don’t want you to slow down, it might be wise unless we want Unser chewing our asses off.”
“I’d doubt the cops would even catch us, babygirl,” Charles laughed, there was a mischievous look in his eyes, “but I guess I’d better behave.”
We had been out of the house less than half an hour and already I felt lighter, “thank you,” I whispered, running my hands over my face, “for everything, you came here to escape all the drama and get some down time, yet you have practically been my rock the last couple of days. You hardly know me, yet here you are doing everything in your power to make the world brighter again for me.”
“Sunshine, I don’t know how to fully describe this and it’s gonna sound crazy but the moment you walked into the bar it was like I already knew you,” he said softly moving his hand back onto my knee. “I don’t have a clue what it is about you but your soul is so familiar to me. It’s like our souls have been waiting a lifetime for our hearts to finally meet.”
His words were causing my heart to race, I knew exactly what he was saying because I felt exactly the same. Placing my hand over his, I let my fingers link with his, “it does sound crazy Char,” I whispered, pausing for a moment, “I get you, I dunno it’s like our souls collided in a past life ya know,” I smiled softly, brushing my thumb over the top of his hand. “Kinda like they would forever find each other in every life.” I whispered, brushing my thumb over the side of his hand, “God, I even feel fucking crazy admitting that.”
Looking out of the window I noticed we had pulled up at the docks. I hadn’t been here in over a year, in fact it was before Pops’ health started declining. “Have you been speaking to Jax?” I asked, turning my attention back to Charles who was grinning like he had just won the world championship.
“Maybe,” he winked, killing the engine, “come on, then Sunshine.”
“What are you planning, Leclerc?” I asked, cocking my brow at him.
“Get out of the car and you shall find out,” he grinned, unclipping his seatbelt before slipping out of the car, my heart fluttering, jogging around the bonnet to open the door for me.
I had no idea what he was up to; I was just grateful for him trying to help clear my head. I could feel my mood already lifting, even if there was a dark cloud still looming over me but I think that would be there for a while, especially with Pops looking into homes. I also knew I was going to be in for an awkward conversation at some point, I saw the confused look on Charles’ face when I mentioned the surname I had at birth.
Unclipping my seat belt, I flashed him a smile as I took his hand, “this better be good otherwise I am leaving your ass at the side of the road and I’m taking this car,” I giggled, trying to ignore the sparks running through my body.
“Oh babygirl, this is going to blow you away,” He smirked, helping me out of the car. Once I was out, he gently closed the door behind me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder guiding me to the truck to grab the duffle bag.
As we walked over to the boardwalk we were greeted by a guy in a white suit, “Mr Leclerc, Miss Teller, the Princess yacht is all ready for you,” the guy said, with a friendly smile on his face. “I will be your captain today, there are stewards on board who will take care of all your needs. So, welcome aboard and we hope you both enjoy your day.”
I knew my eyes were as wide as saucers right now, no one had ever done anything like this for me before.
He had hired a freaking yacht for the day!
Feeling my eyes fill with tears I turned to Charles, placing my hand over his heart. “C'est trop Charles, tu n'avais pas besoin de louer un putain de bateau pour moi. That's too much Charles, you didn't have to hire a fucking boat for me.”
“Bébé, tu mérites le monde entier. Baby, you deserve the whole world,” Charles whispered, brushing his knuckles against my cheek. I couldn’t stop the tears spilling over my lash line as I leant into his touch, “I just want you to be happy.”
“How did you manage to plan this? You were in the kitchen with me all morning,” I asked, as he guided me onto the yacht.
“I have my ways, Sunshine,” he smirked proudly.
I had completely lost track of time, this boat was absolutely amazing, Charles was really showing me a life of luxury, something I had always dreamed about. The interior of the boat had a clean, contemporary feeling to it but I wasn’t bothered about spending too much time inside. Especially not when the sun was wrapping my body in a warm blanket making me feel safe, like my world wasn’t currently on fire.
Unzipping the duffle bag I tried to find my trusty board shorts, praying that Jax had packed them along with my bikini top that was more of a sports bra, “come on, where are you?” I mumbled to myself, tipping the bag upside down letting the contents fall onto the light gray sofa.
The bright red bikini stood out against the other items that were now spread out on the cushion. I could have killed Jax, this bikini had been thrown in the back of my closet for a reason, the damn thing made me even more self conscious about my body. Running my hand over my face I let out a frustrated growl knowing it was all I had to wear. Grabbing the stupid bikini off the sofa I stormed into the bathroom quickly getting changed.
I was about to leave the room when I finally looked at my reflection. I couldn’t lie, this bikini made my chest look amazing but after spending years picking myself apart all I could see were the stretch marks that wrapped around my hips, my thighs touching, and the dimples from the cellulite. I always made sure I had some form of hoodie or cardigan on hand, something I could wrap around my body when the dreaded thoughts crept into my mind.
To make matters worse, the bikini was the same color as Charles’ Ferrari.
My dear older brother was so dead once I got back home.
Finally, I pulled my beach coverup over my body letting out a shaky breath knowing that I wouldn’t be able to keep my tattoo hidden much longer. I needed to face the fear that was bubbling away in my stomach; it was now or never.
Letting out another breath, I stepped out onto the deck of the boat feeling the sun kiss my skin, pulling my sunglasses over my eyes. I slowly walked over to Charles.
“Thought I was gonna have to send out a search party,” Charles hummed, propping himself up on his elbow.
“If I show you something promise you won’t laugh,” I whispered, sitting on the edge of the sunlounger fiddling with the hem of my cover up, “I got it done last year on my birthday after getting wasted with Jax. Happy had just finished doing a piece on him and I just couldn’t help myself.”
Charles watched intently as I slowly peeled the thin material from my body, my heart was pounding against my chest. Not only because of the tattoo but because this was the first time he would be seeing me, seeing my body, the one that I had spent years tearing apart, trying every fad diet that was out there.
It’s like he could hear my mind racing, “you don’t have to do this if you feel uncomfortable,” he whispered, leaning forward placing his hands on mine. The feeling of his soft gaze on me provided a calmness that washed over me.
“I’m not going to let this opportunity to top up my tan go to waste,” I hummed, moving his hands away from mine, “I don’t want to hide myself away from you Char, I haven’t always had the best relationship with my body but if I don’t do this now, I never will.”
Ignoring the feeling of my heart racing, I slowly pulled the cover up off my body tossing it behind me on the sun lounger. Taking a breath, I moved my gaze up to Charles to see his reaction, the moment I did, I felt my heart practically stop. He shifted his sunglasses to the top of his head whilst pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Babygirl,” he purred, running his eyes over my body, “magnifique, tout simplement magnifique, beautiful, simply beautiful,” he quickly moved to the end of the sunlounger so he was kneeling in front of me. His hands finding their way to my hips, the feeling of his touch sent shockwaves through my body. “I will personally hunt every single person down who made you feel bad about this amazing body and I will run them over with my car.”
“You are looking at the number one culprit,” I mumbled, focusing on the motion of the water.
“Oh baby,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around me, pressing a kiss against my shoulder, “if you will let me, I want to be the one who makes you see just how perfect your body is,” his voice was soft as he spoke, causing me to look at him.
I had never had anyone look at me the way he was; it made me feel giddy but there was also the deep feeling of sadness knowing that come the end of the summer break he would go back to racing, flying all over the world whilst I was stuck here in Charming.
“Now what was it you needed to show me?” he asked, changing the subject.
“This,” I whispered, turning my body to the side giving his full access to the tattoo that sat proudly on my ribs.
“Is that,” he trailed off, running his fingers over the skin, tracing the outline of the black ink.
“Your car, yes it is,” I said with a small laugh.
“I love it,” he hummed, leaning forward pressing a tender kiss against my ribs.
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#charles leclerc#Charles Leclerc x oc#Charles Leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#sons of anarchy#jax teller#jax teller x reader#jax teller imagine#sons of anarchy imagine
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𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃, 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐓
GENSHIN: Kamisato Ayato x GN! reader.
WARNINGS/ TAGS: Near death experience (?), angst if you squint, mostly fluff, mentions of death, first half of the story- Reader & Ayato are both children, Friends to lovers, Chinju forest has season changes here, not beta read [ 1.3K WC ]
── WHAT IF reader was a cursed human who only appeared in winter at a certain location? What if the only way to break their curse was for them to finally find love... In a place where not many dare visit in winter?
A/N: Just a quick writing exercise, don't come at me because I know this isn't my best work, I literally just word vomited this.
Tl;dr - Working on separate Ayato series, have this thing while I write.
Ayato remembers that day as clear as day, years ago when he met you in the depths of Chinju forest. What he doesn’t remember is why he wandered into the forest in the midst of winter. Ayato could remember himself shivering from the cold, only noticing that he was lost once he was too deep in.
Ayato was slumped against a tree, the coldness invading his senses, and his eyes heavy. He could hear footsteps going towards him, stopping just when they got in front of him. You placed your hand on his cheek, and Ayato looked up. All he could do was see your blurry figure as you lightly scolded him, though most of it had become white noise to him.
Once you realised all your scoldings fell on deaf ears, you pulled him up and slung one of his arms over your shoulders. Ayato can’t remember much about that part, except for a warning. Something along the lines of not going into Chinju forest alone in winter next time. The next thing he knew, he woke up surrounded by attendants, and his head hurting.
The attendants had stated that they found him just outside of the forest with a burning fever. Though, Ayato wanted to get out of bed. He wanted to know who you were. You scolded him about going into such a dangerous place alone. What about you?
Though… It was probably best not to go back alone. He didn’t want to relive the possible feeling of death by sending himself back, so maybe it’d be best to ask around Inazuma city about you first.
He walked around the city days later, asking around about you. Your face was blurry when you approached him, so he had to try his best to recall what you as a person looked like. He didn’t realise evening would fall so soon. Since it was winter, most of the stores had closed early, but he had only gotten one response.
“I’m sorry, I have not seen this person before.”
Maybe it was better to wait for spring.
The cold days and nights of winter faded as quickly as it came, bringing forth a new season. Ayato stood outside of the forest’s entrance, hoping that he’d be able to find you inside. He spent hours roaming around, only to be met with no results, and Ayato went back to the estate once again with it weighing on his mind. He felt guilty that he wasn’t able to give you thanks for saving him.
He tried to look for you after, a few times a week from spring to summer… It’s late autumn now. Ayato’s already long lost count of the failed attempts he’s had at finding you. Another day he walks out of the forest with an attendant with him. Was this unhealthy? “It’s okay,” he told himself.
He was just a child. He had plenty of time ahead to look for you.
It’s winter now. The first day had just passed, and Ayato had finally finished training. He asked one of his attendants to accompany him to Chinju forest once more, even though night would fall soon.
The attendant kneeled down to Ayato’s height, checking if he was dressed before he stood up again. “Be careful, young master.” Ayato nodded before heading into the forest for the nth time.
This time, he saw someone by the river. You.
“Excuse me!” Ayato’s voice rang through your ears, alerting you to look at him. “You again..? I thought I told you to not enter here alone during winter,” you said to him. You eyed him up and down before continuing, “I’m taking you back. Come on, it’s not safe to be here.” You grabbed his hand as you finished, heading towards the opening of the forest.
Ayato, on the other hand, tried his best to resist. “Wait,” he began, pulling his hand away. “I came here to say thank you!”
Thank you? Thank… you?”
Those words were foreign to you. He wasn’t the first person you’ve spoken to, but of all the people who you’ve met before, he was the first to say those words to you. You could recall everyone who you’ve seen before. They didn’t like speaking, they didn’t like moving. They liked laying in the snow, they liked catching snowflakes in their dry mouths.
“Oh.” You didn’t know how to respond to him. “Uhm, what’s your name?” you asked instead. “Kamisato Ayato, pleased to meet you.” You blinked once, twice, then said, “(Name).” Ayato’s face beamed when you finally told him your name. “Your name is very pretty! Let’s be friends, (Name)!”
Oh, you didn’t know how to respond to that either. You could only silently nod, earning a small cheer from the child.
“Young master? It’s time to go!” A voice rang out from beyond the entrance. The both of you turned your heads to the source of the sound. “I have to leave… Will you be here tomorrow? We can talk more then!” He said, turning back to face you. “Yes, I will,” you answered. He smiled at you again before waving goodbye and leaving the forest.
For the rest of winter, Ayato would keep visiting you, sometimes bringing you gifts from the estate. The rest of winter went by quickly, even quicker than usual. Maybe time flowed faster when you were with him.
The day before spring, you found yourself sitting in silence beside him. “You know I’m not going to be here tomorrow, right?” Ayato looked at you as you spoke. He seemed disappointed. “When are you coming back?”
Next winter.
Ayato had a frown on his face now. He still wanted to spend more time with you. “Promise me you’ll be here?” For the first time in the life you’ve lived, you flashed a small smile to someone else. “I promise.”
One, two, three years… Ayato’s been to that forest countless times now.
One day, Ayato ran into the forest, a devastated look on his face. You could only awkwardly hug him when he hugged you. He told you that his parents had passed, and that he wouldn’t be able to visit you much anymore because he was to immediately take over the duties as the head of the Kamisato clan.
And then, years passed. Nearing the end of his visit on New Year’s Eve, he said that he loved you. He then asked you if you wanted to watch the fireworks together, but you couldn’t. You could remember the look in his eyes when you responded with a “No, thank you,”
“I really want to bring you to see the sakura blossoms that bloom in spring,” Ayato said. You smiled. “Promise to bring me there if I can leave one day?”
“I promise.” Ayato looked at the time after making his promise, then stood up, preparing to leave. “I need to go now, (Name). See you next winter?” “Yes, see you, Ayato.” You stood up and walked towards him, grabbing one of his hands to capture his attention. “I forgot to mention this earlier,” you began, leaning in to give him a peck on his cheek. “I love you too.” Your voice was covered up by the loud sounds of the fireworks, and Ayato could only stare at the way your lips moved as you mouthed those words.
-
“My lord, there is someone outside the estate looking for you.”
Thoma’s voice interrupted Ayato’s train of thoughts as he worked. Ayato stood up from his seat upon hearing him. “Who is it?” Thoma smiled at the head of the clan. “You’ll see when you get outside. Now, excuse me,” he responded, excusing himself.
The moment Ayato walked out, he was dumbstruck. You, standing in front of him.
You were just as ethereal as when he first saw you when you were both children.
“I believe you said you wanted to show me the flowers that blossomed during this time of the year?” You asked, giving Ayato a small smile afterwards. He couldn’t help but walk forwards and wrap his arms around you.
“And here I thought you’d leave me to live the first days of spring alone again. How cruel you are, my love.”
Reblogs + Follows highly appreciated. <3
#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin ayato#kamisato ayato#kamisato ayato x reader#原神#genshin x you#genshin scenarios
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South Side Story
Shameless Fanfiction Season 1
Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.
MASTERLIST
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Chapter 6
“Desna, the man at that table has been waving for you for five minutes.”
“Thanks Tommy,” Desna said sarcastically, glaring at one of the Alibi regulars as she passed by, with three beers in her hands, “Why don’t you put on an apron and start to serve?” She said as she tell Kevin to get others two beers and a shot of vodka ready, then she move again to make her way towards the table where the guy was waiting.
“And since you are at it, another three beers!” She heard Tommy said.
That day the Alibi was packed with people, she didn’t know where to turn. Desna has been working three hours and still didn’t had a single moment even to go to the bathroom.
“Girly! Give me my beer!” She heard the voice of Frank Gallagher as he entered the Alibi, already drunk.
“I’m sure you’ll find your sit alone,” she said as she walked towards the counter, “Kevin!”
“I’m on it bug,” he said as he was filling other glasses of beer, before getting one ready for Frank.
“Hey sweety, where’s my shot?” Mickey Milkovich shout at her surrounding by his gang as he showed her his empty glass.
“Don’t call me that,” she said as she passed by, grabbing some empty glasses to bring them back at the counter.
“You are doing great,” Kev said happily when he passed behind her squeezing her shoulder.
“Glad to hear,” she answered filling some more glasses to bring to Milkovich.
“Another!” Frank shouted, and Desna gave him one of the shots she had in hand.
“I wanted beer,” he complained.
“It’s alcohol and Kev is taking ice,” she said for the countless time to bring the glasses she had prepared, “Enjoy it while he gets back.”
“Hey, love, my cousin wanted to know if your free later,” Mickey asked eyeing the boy next to him, sharing a laugh.
“I don’t think so,” she stated walking back hearing them laugh again.
“Can I offer you something?” She was ready to snap back when she noticed that who had made the question was Lip. As she saw him, Desna’s body relaxed and from her lips escaped a laugh.
“I can’t drink, sir,” she said smiling at him, “But for you I’d make an exception.”
“Oh yeah?” Lip smirked, but then Tommy called for her once again.
“Three more beers?” She asked as the man pointed at him and his companions, “Right on it!” She said before turning to Lip.
“Are you looking for Frank?” She asked pointing behind her back.
“Why? Is he here?” He answered with a frown, that made her chuckle.
“Desna!” Tommy called again, and she groaned before making her way to the counter, to fill new glasses. She noticed that Lip had gotten closer to the counter as Kev walked out from the back.
“Where were you?” Desna asked, “Couldn’t you find the way back?”
“I was about to give you five minutes of break,” he said and her eyes grew bigger.
“You took the time that it was needed,” she said sweetly.
“That’s what I thought,” he said as Desna smiled, before walking to Lip.
“Are you here for drink?” She asked him.
“Umm… no,” at his answer she took his hand bringing pulling him along side her as she exited from the back of the bar. Finally breathing as the cool air hit her face.
“Busy night, eh?” Lip said giving her a sigarette that she gladly took, quickly lighting it up.
“Everyday is a good day to drink,” she said taking a drag before passing it to him, who brought the sigarette in his mouth, “But it seems that they decide when be a pain in the ass all together.”
Lip laughed as he passed the thing to her once again.
“Why are you here?” She asked taking a drag.
Lip shrugged his shoulders, “Passing by,” he said and Desna nodded her head, blowing out the smoke.
“Are you free this Thursday, in the afternoon?” He asked her.
“There’s the game,” that Thursday Kevin was organizing the bar so to make it possible to see the game with the costumers, “Kev still didn’t ask me to help though, why?” She tilted her head to a side, observing him putting his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
“Fiona is organizing this thing where we are going to instal the new TV,” he explained, “Steve is coming, and she wants to ask V too.”
She frowned in curiosity “Then why did you want to ask me-”
“Told you, I was passing by,” he shrugged his shoulders. And she found herself nodding her head.
“If Kev doesn't ask for my help, I can make it,” she said throwing the sigarette on the ground and stepping on it with her foot.
“Yeah?” Desna nodded with a smile.
“Okay,” he said, giving a glance at the door before walking towards her. In a moment his lips were on hers and his arms around her waist. She was surprised by the action, but she didn’t complain as she brought her arms around his neck, bringing him close. He slowly pushed towards the wall, until her back hit the wall.
“Not here,” she muttered against his lips, then she noticed his gaze being deep in thought, and she brought her hand on his cheek.
“What is it?” She asked caressing his skin.
“I should…” he said, “I should really bring Karen too.”
“What?” She asked pushing him back, slightly.
“Yeah, no I mean, you’re both my friends, so,” he stuttered, “And-”
“You’re fucking both of us,” she challenged him, as she moved away from him.
“We said no jealousy,” he said, “You two are different,” but that made her laugh bitterly.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said as he shrugged his shoulders.
“What do you mean?” He asked.
Desna shook her head, putting her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, “Listen, do whatever you want, I don’t fucking care.”
“Are you angry now?” He asked making her stop as she was about to get back in.
“I don’t know..” she said sarcastically, “What if next time I bring the other guy that I’m fucking?”
“You’re not fucking anyone else,” he protested.
“Yeah,” Desna said, “Maybe I should.”
“Oh, come on!” Lip said stopping her by the arm, but she snapped it away.
“Why bring it up now?” She asked challenging him, who just scoffed.
“I thought about it, I said it,” he said simply.
“Bullshit!” She said and he laughed annoyed, pacing as he passed his hand on his mouth, “Why do you always do this?” Desna asked.
“Doing what?” He argued.
“Last time you brought me with you to see your so called friend suck your brother, because, what was it?” She said mockingly, “I don’t have to fear Karen. So, what? It is her turn now?”
“Karen is my fucking best friend, Desna!” He argued with low voice.
“Then what does this makes me?” She yelled at him. And she noticed his jaw clench. They observed each other in silence, they could even hear the voices from the inside of the bar as they kept staring.
“I don’t want things to change between us,” Desna laughed at that.
“You can’t even answer a question,” she said turning her back at him ready to get back in, but then he grabbed by the arm pulling her so that she would face him.
“This,” he answered and she scoffed, “We are this.”
“Not my question,” she answered shaking her head, “Let me fucking go.”
“Why do you have to complicate everything?” He asked angrily, his hand still gripping her arm.
“Why can’t you answer a fucking question?” His jaw clenched again looking at her, “What is this uh? You’ve got a label for her but not for me, Lip?” she said pushing his shoulder with her free hand, his jaw even more clenched. She shoved him again, “She is your best friend, then what am I?!”
His other hand moved blocking her other wrist yanking her closer, “A good fuck,” he hissed. Desna eyes widened, before she pushed him, freeing herself, then her hand moved to slap him across the face.
“Fuck you,” She said coldly. His eyes widened, just before the door of the bar got opened by Kev.
“Bug, I need you help over there,” he said before looking between the two of them, “Are you guys okay?”
“Yeah,” she answered keep looking at Lip, “He was going home,” the boy observed her as he wanted to say something, but Desna turned her back at him, pushing past Kevin to go back to work.
Fucking Lip Gallagher.
A good fuck! She was a fucking good fuck! That’s all he wanted from her? Karen Jackson was his best friend, she was just a good fuck? Then he wouldn’t have mind her doing the same. She enter the hall, grabbing a shot of techila and swallow it whole, before she made her way towards Milkovich table.
“Look who’s here!” Mikey said, but she turned to the boy to his left.
“You wanted to know if I was free after, right?” She asked at the boy, who nodded his head, “Fine, my shift ends at 11.00, hope you’ve got somewhere we can fuck,” she didn’t even gave him time to answer, as she get back swallowing another shot of tequila.
******
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#shameless imagine#shameless fanfiction#shameless smut#shameless#lip gallagher smut#lip gallagher x oc#lip gallagher x reader#lip gallagher imagine#lip gallagher fanfiction#lip gallagher#fiona gallagher#ian gallagher#carl gallagher#debbie gallagher#liam gallagher#frank gallagher#mickey milkovich#smut
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Just Friends Part 3
Part 1 Part 2
Thank you again to both of the people who requested this story! This is the final chapter I hope you enjoy.
After sophomore year of high school my years were measured by summer. I never thought it would be my favorite season. Growing up I hated the heat. Winter was my favorite season by far. Even now I love winter. Hockey season, hot chocolate and winter wonderlands. What isn’t there to love? But it all pales in comparison to the Hughes lake house. The roaring bonfires only eclipsed by the laughter.
Last summer I barely spent any time there. I was avoiding the one and only Trevor Zegras so I stayed away from the lake house. This year we became friends again. We text all the time and I even went to his games when he came to town.
As I walk into the lake house I know it’s going to be the best year yet. I’m the first one the get here because I live so close so I grab my favorite guest room. I run upstairs to put my clothes away in dressers and get the bathroom set up with my things. Suddenly I hear Jack enter the house.
“Honey I’m home.” He calls out in an old timey accent.
I chuckle to myself, “Just a minute sweetheart, I have to get myself all dolled up for the guests!” I yell back trying not to laugh as I finish unpacking.
Right when I’m done I run down the stairs. I practically tackle Quinn in a hug. He’s probably my favorite Hughes brother but I would never say it out loud.
“Hey kiddo.” He says returning my hug.
I squeeze him tighter, “Hey quinner.”
“No hug for your husband?” Jack sighs dramatically. I chuckle and give him a hug. He messes up my hair.
I look around for Luke but he’s not here, “Where’s the baby?
“He’s coming up in a few days, apparently he has some obligations.” Jack rolls his eyes as he says the word obligations. It makes me smile, I always forget how sassy he is. “Trevor is coming today but all the other guys are coming in two days, is that okay?”
I smile despite my butterflies, “Yeah it’s fine, I told you that we’re cool.”
“If you say so. We are going to get unpacked then go out on the boat. Do you want us to get you when we’re done?”
I shake my head, “Nah I’m okay for today. I think I’m just going to hang out in the hot tub. Can you get me when you guys get back?”
“No problem Y/n/n” Quinn adds in. The both of them head to their respective rooms to get unpacked.
I run to my room and pull open my drawers. I brought three different bathing suits but my favorite is the white bikini with navy blue trim. I throw it on and grab a towel. I make my way outside and toss the towel next to the hot tub. I don’t have a lot of traditions but my favorite is that I have to jump into the lake first every year.
It used to be a competition between Trevor and I. Whoever got to the lake house and jumped into the lake first won. Sometimes we even did it together. I didn’t ask him about it this year.
I look out on the beautiful lake. It stuns me every year. How can I live near something so beautiful and choose college over this. I get a running start and dive into the water. The cold surrounds me. It’s oddly comforting. I take my time, treading water and enjoying the atmosphere.
After a little while I hear someone call my name. When I turn around it’s a familiar blue eyed boy, “Y/n, I can’t believe you still always beat me!”
I can’t help but smile, “At least you except your defeats with grace.”
“That’s it!” He says in a joking manner. I watch him at he kicks off his shoes and takes off his shirt. My face immediately turns red but I don’t look away. Trevor has always been attractive but shirtless Trevor is something else entirely. His hands go to the waistband of his pants and I turn around immediately. I can feel myself blush even more deeply.
He cries out like crazy person and dives into the water. When he comes up he’s next to me. I turn toward him and chuckle as he wipes his eyes, “You have no shame, do you?”
“What is there to be ashamed of, it’s not like you saw anything.” He wiggles his eyesbrows at me and I can’t help but laugh.
I put my hand on his sholder to steady myself, “Do you want to go to the hot tub?”
He doesn’t even respond he just races out of the lake. He runs to the hot tub before I can even get out of the cold water. His boxer briefs are stuck to him because of the water. I sheild my eyes but I’ve already seen a little too much. His backside is perfect. I’m his friend so I shouldn’t know that. Maybe it okay that I know it but I shouldn’t be this affected by it.
I make my way over to the hot tub and I try to collect myself. It’s not really working. He’s watching me as I walk up like a lion watching its prey. The whole “collecting myself” thing goes out the window. I walk a little faster trying to get under the water, to hide myself again. It does nothing to help my current state. The small hot tub keeps me too close to Trevor for my liking and the heat is making it all more surreal.
“You look really beautiful.” Trevor says leaning closer to me.
I smile despite myself and fidget with my hands. “Thank you Trevor, you don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not saying it because I have to, I’m saying it because it’s true.”
I’m unsure what to say. For years I would have never guessed Trevor would be seriously flirting with me. Now it seems almost commonplace. “Oh, you look pretty too.”
He laughs, I can’t help but look up. He’s stunning when he laughs. “Why thank you Y/n, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.” We sit in silence for a moment and he brings himself closer to me. He places his hands on the edge of the hot tub caging me between his arms. “I think we are finally there.”
“Where?” I ask breathless.
He smiles, “The part where I get to love you.” My breath hitches and I can’t get a single word out no matter how hard I try. “Y/n I want you, do you want me too? Is it too late?”
“You didn’t want me before.” I said, my voice breaking.
He runs his hand through his hair, “I know. I was so stupid back then. I couldn’t see how amazing you are. The year you were gone was torture. Seeing you again at Alex’s, it was like I saw you for the first time. Right then I knew I couldn’t live without you. I want you, not just as a friend… I want everything.”
“Okay.” I say softly. I can barely even hear myself. I waited years for something like this and it’s happening. My body is is reacting to him being so close and my heart is bursting from his confession. It’s taking everything in me not to reach out and grab him.
It’s him who grabs me by the hips, pulling back so that I’m straddling him. “Okay?” He searches my eyes, “You want this?”
“Yes.” I say breathlessly, “Please. I’ve only ever wanted you.”
His lips collide with mine. He’s griping my hips so hard I’m sure it will leave a mark. My hands are tangling themselves in his hair. I’ve been waiting for years for this moment and the anticipation was nothing compared to the feeling of his lips on mine. All the tension has lead to this moment and we are taking it out on each other.
Soon enough we are consumed by one another. I’m realizing that we are simultaneously wearing too much and not nearly enough. I’m entranced by him. But I’m quickly pulled out of the trance by the sounds of a boat pulling up to the house.
I pull back and put myself across from him. It puts some much needed space between us before Jack and Quinn see us. I look at Trevor and he’s flushed, his lips are slightly swollen, and his hair is a mess. By the way he looks I’m sure I’m probably a mess as well.
“I don’t think I want them to know yet. I want this to be something that just ours for a little bit.” Trevor nods in agreement so I continue, “maybe I should get out of here, if they see us both like this they’ll know for sure.”
Trevor smirks, “that’s true.” He looks toward my towel. “I should probably be the one who goes inside.”
“Why?” I furrow my eyebrows. Deep down I’m afraid he’s regretting it.
He blushes, genuinely blushes. “Um I’m in my boxers, my clothes are scattered everywhere, and I have a hard on. I should probably take the towel and grab my clothes.”
I’m not sure how to respond to something like that so I just nod. After that blunt observation I avert my eyes. He jumps out of the hot tub. I can hear him grab the towel and quickly grab his clothes before the Hughes’ get off the boat.
When I look up he’s running back over to me with his clothes under his arm and the towel wrapped around his waist. I turn to face him. He stops in front of me and places a soft kiss on my lips. “Meet me in my room tonight?”
“Okay” I say with a smile. I watch him as a he runs off into the house. Suddenly, everything feels perfect.
#trevor zegras#trevor zegras imagine#quinn hughes#jack hughes#luke hughes#hughes brothers#alex turcotte#usntdp#hughes family#anahiem ducks#umich hockey
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One Night in Cordonia
Chapter 8: All's Well That Ends Well
Series: One Night in Cordonia, a @choicesprompts a Round Robin Event.
Fandom: TRR, with some OH introduced here
Pairings: You'll See lol
Word count: 2.2k (I went over a little - sorry!)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: talks about sex, innuendos, language
Prompt: Cocktails, Gala - @choicesjunechallenge
A/N: Every now and then, it's fun to just take your characters and put them in different surroundings. This lil' crack fic allowed me to do just that. I was going to say it's not really "my" Ethan and Tobias here, but, to be honest, it could be them in my Ethan/Kaycee world. Thanks for putting this together and including me Angela!
Next author: ??? @angelasscribbles ???
Summary: It's Leo's social season. The day is Beaumont bash after the formal dinner is done and the royal couple has left. Anton sends his second in command, Claudius, to spread a fog, "Death Smash," that would leave the guests paralyzed and he would attack. But the gas delivered was Shagging smog 2.0 by mistake, leading to a sexual frenzy amongst guests. Anton himself goes to check and falls prey to the gas. The only unaffected members are Max (immune), Leo (because he was in the gardens), and Olivia (partially affected, trying to fight the effects).
The pretty brunette flight attendant was shaky on her feet, and for once, turbulence nor the ridiculously high heels Constantine insisted his flight attendants wear was the cause. No, this time, the mesmerizing aqua-blue eyes of her passenger were the culprit. She hadn’t dared to look at them directly for fear of what they could do to her, but she could feel them raking over as she attempted to pour his bourbon. She only hoped he didn’t notice how she trembled.
“That’s good right there, darlin’,’ he droned, his husky voice rolling off his tongue like honey. “Any more than that, and I’ll have to wonder if you’re trying to take advantage of me.”
A blush settled on her cheeks as she attempted to come up with a reply. Luckily, the other, equally aesthetically pleasing passenger spared her when he sighed with disgust.
“For Christ’s sake, Tobias, could you maybe have just an ounce of decorum?”
“You know Ethan, decorum is overrated,” he winked. “I prefer fun. You may want to try it sometime.”
“I know how to have fun, and it’s not harassing our flight attendant.”
Ethan looked over to the young woman, who could not look away before his sapphire orbs met hers. Fuck! She thought because those eyes would render her equally as helpless.
“I apologize for my colleague. Apparently, he was raised by wolves.”
“Hey!” Tobias jumped in. “My mom would kick your ass if she heard you say that!”
“Really? Well, I’m sure she’d love to hear how you are treating this young woman,” Ethan pulled out his phone. “Shall I dial her?”
Tobias threw both hands up in surrender. “Nope! Truce! Truce!”
A satisfied smirk crossed Ethan’s face. “I think you’ll be left in peace for the remainder of the flight,” he smiled. Completely oblivious to the look of disappointment on the woman’s face as she exited the cabin.
Tobias sipped the amber liquor and let out a slow moan. “Mmmm. This is amazing,” he growled. “Have you tried yours yet? I know you’re a total snob, but I swear, this shit will make you weak in the knees.”
Ethan eyed his untouched beverage and shut his eyes.
“I’ll get to it,” he grumbled. “This whole thing, it’s just… it’s obscene!”
Tobias leaned over and took the papers his companion was reading out of his hands, shoving them into the attaché at his side.
“Hey, what are you….”
“Shut up,” Tobias spat. “Seriously, Ethan. The hospital insisted we go, so just sit back and enjoy the ride. We’re on one of the most luxurious private jets on the planet on someone else’s dime. Our every need is expected to be catered to, and if you hadn’t interrupted… that might have included the beautiful Ashley.”
“Ashley?” He asked.
“The flight attendant…”
“Her name is Amber, you idiot. And sexual harassment isn’t something I wish to add to our resume on this trip.”
“Ethan, relax. I was joking!”
“I’m sorry, I just hate this whole thing. The wealthiest people in the world summoning us across the damn Atlantic to take care of their potential PR disaster is not what I went into medicine for.”
“I don’t disagree,” Tobias shrugged. “But what they’re paying us for two days’ work will fund our department for the next year. So look at the bright side for a change Mr. Sour Pants.”
“You have a point,” Ethan grumbled. “Let’s just make this quick, get in and get out…”
“That was my plan with Am….”
“SHUT UP!” Ethan hollered as Tobias adjusted his sleep mask and drifted off, pleased he had accomplished his goal of getting under his boss’s skin.
~~~~
Upon landing, a heavily guarded motorcade awaited the two doctors and drove them to the Beaumont estate.
“Is this still fun for you?” Ethan asked.
“Fuck yes! I’m living out some major James Bond fantasies right now.”
Ethan fought the genuine smile that attempted to spread on his lips; maybe there was something to Tobias’s constant glass-half-full approach, but he wasn’t about to admit it.
When they arrived at the scene, Constantine and a Lieutenant from the King’s Guard greeted them at once. The Lieutenant handed each man a gas mask.
“Gentlemen,” Constantine enthused. “We are so happy to have you here! It’s not our first incident with shag smog in Cordonia, but this one is not responding to the normal antidote. That’s why we called in the experts.”
Ethan quickly adjusted his mask, but Tobias made no effort to put his on, earning him a questioning glare.
“No need,” Tobias smiled. “I’ve been exposed in the past, so I’m immune.”
“Of course you have,” Ethan groused. “How bad is the situation?”
“Worse than you could imagine!” The Lieutenant began. “There are only a handful of people present who weren’t affected, reasons unclear at this time. Some may have had prior exposure, some, well… this could be their natural state of being; it’s hard to tell.”
“OK, so we have a handful of people who haven’t turned into sex-crazed lunatics,” Tobias assessed. “But how many have? Do you know how many were in attendance?”
“Several hundred,” a woman’s voice rang out from behind, and Tobias’s body went rigid. He’d know that voice anywhere. “Anyone who is anyone in Cordonian society is here, plus a few plebeians from other nations who are delusional enough to imagine they can fit in with us.”
Tobias turned slowly toward the red-haired beauty, salacious grin in place.
“You say plebeians with such disdain, Duchess. From what I recall, you haven’t always minded rolling around in the dirt with at least… some of us.”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed, her icy gaze meeting Tobias’s heated stare. “You!” she hissed.
Ethan clapped his friend on the back. “It’s so good to see you have fans everywhere. Please tell me you made her acquaintance at a Cordonian History seminar.”
“Yeah,” Tobias chuckled. “Something like that. It’s been a long time, Duchess.”
“I’d prefer it if you called me Olivia,” she seethed.
“Heh! That’s not what you wanted to be called last time we were together.”
Constantine turned to Ethan with a look of distress. “Are you sure the sex pollen isn’t impacting him?”
“No,” Ethan sighed wearily, “Sadly, that’s just him.”
“Tobias?” a naked Maxwell hollered as he approached the group. “Is that you?”
Ethan turned to Constantine, aghast. “I thought you said all the impacted were contained!”
“They are! But that’s Maxwell and… sadly, that’s just… him.”
“It’s me,” Tobias nodded, averting his eyes. He removed his lab coat and tossed it in Max’s direction. “Would you put this on, for Christ’s sake! No one needs to see that damn hippo tattoo.”
“Oh, yeah…” Ethan rolled his eyes. “That’s what we don’t need to see!”
“So, what do we do, gentlemen?” The Lieutenant asked. “Normally, pumping in the antidote smog does the trick.”
“Not with this new variant,” Tobias interrupted. “It’s essentially a concentrated form of GHB in vaporized form.”
“So, how do we reverse this?” Constantine asked.
“There’s been some success with the administration of diclofenac and NSAIDS,” Ethan advised. “But that would require injecting each of the infected individually. There is no way to ‘gas’ everyone back to normal.”
“Well, that could take hours! Days!” A voice called out.
“This is my son, Leo, the crown prince.” Constantine chimed in. “And I agree with him. We need to get this display of debauchery under control before it’s a scandal!”
“Forgive me if I’m more concerned about the people who were poisoned, not your Palace’s reputation.”
“Dr. Ramsey, I believe I’m paying you quite handsomely to take care of both,” Constantine reminded.
“Going room to room won’t be the fastest way,” Tobias agreed. “But it is the best way. Not only can we ensure it’s administered properly, but you can send someone in with us to confiscate everyone’s mobile devices. That will give you time to destroy any embarrassing pictures you wouldn’t want out there.”
Olivia spat out a laugh behind him. “Yes, Dr. Carrick. Because you, of all people, know about embarrassing blackmail photos. Don’t you?”
Tobias shot her a knowing look. “We’ll talk after… Duchess. Right now, I have work to do.”
~~~~~
Tobias and Ethan ran up the ornate marble staircase; the team Constantine assembled to assist them quick on their heels.
“So, dare I ask what the deal is with you and Olivia?” Ethan asked.
A blissful look came over Tobias’s face, and Ethan momentarily wondered if his friend was being impacted by the gas.
“You know I’ve always had a thing for redheads. Plus, have you ever had a woman pull a switchblade out of her stilettos and threaten you in the middle of some of the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had in your life?”
Ethan looked at Tobias in horror. “No! I can’t say I have.”
Tobias reached over and tapped his friend’s shoulder. “Well, add it to your bucket list, buddy. I promise you, it’s a rush.”
“Gentleman,” Leo interrupted, “if you wouldn’t mind visiting this room first. My brother, Liam, is in here.”
When the men entered, Liam immediately rushed toward them.
“What the…”
“Thank God you’re here!” Liam squealed. “This is shag smog… isn’t it?”
“It is,” Leo frowned. “But… you’re coherent… weren’t you impacted? Do you want to screw any of us right now?”
Liam calmly looked over the three men and shrugged. “I mean, you’re all cute… but not my type… and you’re my brother!”
“But if you weren’t impacted, why are you locked in here?” Leo asked.
“Madeline locked me in here. That woman has been dying to have her way with me and thought she believed this was her big chance.”
“Wait…” Tobias interrupted. “I’m not up on all of the societal gossip, and I know you people have your own little… proclivities… but,” he turned to Leo, “isn’t Madeline your fiance?”
“Technically,” Leo sighed.
“OK, then,” Tobias simpered. “Well, how about we leave you two to sort this out while we go administer the antidote to others.”
Leo nodded at Tobias, “Excellent idea. We’ll meet up again outside.”
~~~~~
Several hours later, Tobias joined a team of King’s Guards assigned to delete all incriminating images from guests' phones. He was having too much fun helping, chuckling repeatedly before hitting delete. He turned to Ethan with a grin.
“You know, if we want to retire early, all I need to do is forward some of these to our phones. Our offspring’s offspring could live off of the blackmail money.”
He heard what sounded like the knuckles cracking behind him and found Oliva glaring his way. “I assure you, that would be ill-advised.”
“Relax, sweetheart. Don’t you know a joke when you hear one?”
Ethan looked between the two and shook his head ruefully. “I know I’m going to live to regret this… but you mentioned blackmail photos before… what were you talking about?”
Tobias howled with laughter. “She took some photos of me and planned on using them against me. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t factor in that I have no shame. So, she got nothing.”
“Oh dear God,” Ethan groaned. “What the hell was on… you know what… no… I don’t want to know.”
“Why?” Tobias asked. “They were just pictures of me… in various states of undress… some may have involved latex… and a couple had switchblades….”
“OK, STOP!”
“In one,” Tobias said, standing up with dramatic flair, “I was kind of bent over like this….”
“I SAID STOP!” Ethan yelled as he rushed away, muttering under his breath.
Amused, Olivia slid up next to Tobias and gently caressed his forearm.
“He’s a bit squeamish, no?”
“Hey, they can’t all be me,” he laughed. “You’re looking good, Dutchess… you know, I wouldn’t exactly turn down the opportunity to … engage… again….”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Tobias, you’re a terribly handsome man. And as much as I can appreciate someone who eagerly follows my orders and calls me Duchess throughout, I must admit… I rather get off on the fear in my companion's eyes when I unexpectedly pull a sharp object in the heat of the moment… the fact that you kind of got off on that… it takes the fun out of it for me.”
“Hey!” Tobias protested. “Fear? Is that what you’re looking for. Listen, gorgeous, I had four years in drama club in college, and I can feign fear like the best of them. I think you should give me another shot.”
Olivia’s eyes raked over him, slowly taking him in from head to toe, a fiendish grin growing.
“You’re willing to wear a harness?”
Tobias scoffed. “When have I ever said no to that?”
“OK,” she smiled, rising to her feet. “The Beumont’s armory is in the basement. Go down the staircase, make a left, and it’s the last door at the end of the hallway. Meet me there in fifteen minutes. Oh, and get your lab coat back from Maxwell. Make sure you’re wearing that… and nothing else… when I enter,” she winked. “That’s the main course. The harness will be dessert.”
Tobias looked at her with darkened eyes. “At your command, my Duchess.”
Anxioulsy hopping to his, Tobias yelled to Ethan as he made his way to the door.
“Hey, buddy! I’ve got .. uh.. some things to do. Keep yourself occupied… look around for Bertrand… you both love boring things. He’ll know what to do.”
Liam and Leo leaned against the wall, shaking their heads at what they had just witnessed.
“And that’s without the shag pollen,” Leo sighed. “Could you imagine them under the influence?”
Liam shook his head vigorously. “It would be the demise of Cordonia. Perhaps the demise of civilization.”
@choicesficwriterscreations Tagging others in RB.
#choices fanfic#the royal romance#trr#open heart#open heart choices#playchoices#choicesprompts#choices fic writers creations#ethan ramsey#tobias carrick#olivia nevrakis#the rys family#trr au#round robin
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hello, can i request for #63 and #80 for the love foolish series? comfort-slash-fluff with a dash of angst, maybe like reader is the same age as haechan and she's in that headspace again when she feels lacking in personal goals and abilities as compared to haechan, if that makes sense. thank you!
love foolish
pairings. haechan x (f) reader
genre. tiny bit of angst, fluff
warnings. implications of a panic attack, this drabble is about college and college sucks so :/
prompts: #63 "is it okay to hug you?" and #80 "how long have you been feeling like this?"
prompt list | series masterlist | taglist
-
at this rate, you were about to throw your laptop and all your other academic belongings in your room, out your tenth floor window. even though your laptop cost you your savings, and just the thought of it crashing against the concrete made you wince. maybe you'll keep the laptop.
you don't know when everything went downhill for you. exam season just finished recently and for the past month you've been studying your ass off reviewing notes and doing study guides. the amount of sleep and meals you've been skipping because you've planted yourself at your desk chair for hours. you were beyond stressed. you feel like everything was moving too fast, everyone in your class was speeding in front of you and you felt like you were still standing at the start line.
you're pretty sure you're going to have to retake this class. being a slow learner is humiliating and frustrating. seeing your classmates soak up whatever your professor is teaching so quickly and knowing exactly how to do it when you're still figuring out how to start. you've stayed after lectures multiple times when you try and ask for help, but sometimes after them helping you still don't get it and it's the most infuriating thing.
at this point, you don't even know if you'll be able to graduate or even deserve getting your degree.
tears pricking your eyes, your balled fists clenching and your nails digging into the palm of your hands as you place them over your closed lids. anxiety taking over, your chest tightening and hands shaking as you use your nails to dig deeper into your skin.
the sudden crave for your boyfriend's affection and comfort. you sniff, wiping away a tear with the sleeve of your hoodie. reaching for your phone, despite your trembling numb hands, that's charging.
your thumb hovers over his contact. debating whether or not to text him and ask him to come over if he's not busy. as your chew the skin on your bottom lip.
what will haechan think when he sees you crying over your exam grade? will he be ashamed? will he laugh?
you push that thought away and quickly write a text before carelessly tossing your phone loudly on your desk.
haechan didn't know what to think when he saw your text. but he was worried for sure.
baby🫶🏼: can u come over? if ure busy it's okay.
it was well around seven o'clock in the evening, the dark sky making it feel like it was ten at night. you're still sat at your desk, staring at the screen of your laptop that has your exam grade displayed on it. you were recalling questions that were on the test and cursing at yourself because you should've gone with the answers you first thought of instead of second guessing yourself.
too spaced, in a mental state of derealization, out to hear your front door opening, the sound of keys being tossed onto the kitchen counter and footsteps sauntering down the hall to your room.
"baby?" he calls softly from behind the door, opening it and peeking his head from behind the door.
blinking you slowly turn in your chair to face your boyfriend.
he showed up, you think.
he softly smiles at you, closing your door behind him as he carefully makes his way to you. observing your body for any injuries and your surroundings, he feels a tug at his heart when he notices the papers and books scattered on your desk and your laptop sitting in front of you.
"hey baby." he crouches in front of you, noticing your glossy eyes, reaching for your hands that are already reaching for his. "is it okay to hug you?" he mumbles, wanting to be careful in his actions.
you non, lips trembling as you squeeze his hands and wrap them around yourself. "please." you choke out.
tears spilt over and flowed down your face, and you knew you were staining his shirt with your wet tears but he doesn't say anything about it.
cradling the nape of your neck and his other hand softly rubbing your back up and down as he whispers sweet assurance into your ears.
"i've got you."
"i'm here baby."
"i still love you."
"it's okay."
he lets you cry in his arms for what feels like hours, him never running out of comforting words as he holds you.
when you pull away from his chest, face red and puffy, you’re sure your eyes will be puffy when you wake up tomorrow from this crying session.
haechan stares at you intently, a frown on his lips as his hand softly rubs the top of your thigh. you wipe your face with your sleeves. he doesn’t ask for you to tell him what’s wrong, just patiently waiting for you to recollect yourself and to open up to him on your own.
“i did terrible on my exam.” you mumbled, lowering your eyes, watching haechan’s hand move up and down soothingly.
he doesn’t react, eyes focused on your hidden face.
you turn your chair to point out the bold percentage on your laptop, shame and embarrassment flooding through you.
he opens his mouth to ask you something, but closes it when you continue.
“i’ve told you i’m a slow learniner,” you start, lips quivering again but you bite your lip before proceeding.
he nods attentively.
“but, i really really hate being a slow learner. it’s so humiliating seeing my classmates take in the information my professor is teaching so easily and i’m sitting at my desk with no clue on what’s going on. i feel like i’m just dumb. and i might have to retake the class next term because that exam just did a number on my overall grade and at this point i’m wondering if i even deserve a degree. i feel like i’m so far behind and everything’s happening too fast. and i’ve been sitting at this damn desk trying to figure out where i went wrong, almost throwing out my laptop out the window in the process, but i spent a shit ton of money on this thing.”
haechan delicately smiling at you, still rubbing your thigh and listening to you. but his heart breaks at what you’ve been feeling for however long. the overflowing stress finally taking it’s toll on you.
“and i almost didn’t ask you to come over...i was overthinking you would be ashamed of me or laugh at me. though i know you wouldn’t for real, it was just my intrusive thoughts taking over me. but my train of thought turned dark, like, what if i’m not enough for you. what if me failing my exam was the cherry top and you go find someone with a masters degree in medicine that can actually process information normally or something. or what if my failing grade held you back with your career...” you trailed off.
silence falling between you too.
haechan sighs, his hand freezes on your leg. “how long have you been feeling like this?” he asks.
“for a couple of weeks.”
his hand slides off your leg to slide over his face, frustrated. not at you.
at himself.
he wasn’t paying enough attention to you to even realize you were feeling like this. maybe it wouldn’t have taken this much of a toll on you if he had noticed earlier and talked to you about it.
but here he is, talking to you about it just now. and you’re at your end.
“baby- baby, i...” he tries to start but he curses under his breath.
“are you mad at me?”
his head shoots up, shaking his head. “no, no. i’m not mad at you bubs. i’m mad at myself.”
“i can’t believe you’ve been feeling like this and hurting like this for so long.” he breathes, this time both his hands travel from your thighs to your waist.
“baby, you being a slow learner is not something to be embarrassed about. it’s okay and normal for you to take your time to learn and understand something. the fact that you’re trying is admirable. some people don’t even try and they just lose hope. everyone has their own pace, don’t compare yourself to others baby. you’re just doing things your way and perfecting it at your own pace. you can’t always rush things, even though you want to be successful in school. everything takes time.” he tells you firmly with assurance, squeezing your waist every time he emphasizes something.
you didn’t realize your eyes were tearing up until you blinked and a tear fell down your cheek. i still love you and always will. and i’m always here for you, so please don’t hesitate to come to me. okay?”
you nod silently.
“words, baby.” he squeezes your waits again.
“okay.” you smile.
“i don’t want anyone else but you, i could care less if a girl came up to me in a tesla and showed me her stupid degree in medicine from yonsei unversity.” he scoffs, making you giggle and his heart lightens up.
“i want you. i want you til you can’t stand me anymore, and hopefully that’s til we’re both old and wrinkly.” he stares at you.
you nod again, a couple more tears escaping, tears you thought you had ran out of. guess not.
haechan leans on his knees to faintly kiss your lips. standing up to close your laptop and clean your desk before he takes you away from your room, carrying you into the kitchen to make you some food.
-
taglist @n0hyuck @matchahyuck @neosdaisy send an ask or message to be removed! or fill out the google form to be added :D
#yeow6n#love foolish: ldh#haechan series#haechan drabbles#boyfriend!haechan#soft haechan#haechan comfort#nct fluff#haechan x y/n#lee haechan fluff#haechan angst#nct haechan#haechan short fic#haechan drabble series#nct fic#nct drabble series#nct drabble#nct angst#lee donghyuck#lee donghyuck fluff#lee donghyuck angst#lee donghyuck comfort#nct comfort#nct short fic#lee haechan
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