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edenesth · 1 month

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The Way to His Heart [19]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 18 | Fic Masterlist | Part 20

"What do you mean it will take weeks for me to fully recover? I don't have that kind of time, Yunho. This war isn't over yet." Your husband frowned, his gaze fixed on the physician from his position on the bed.

You sighed, stepping closer to the doctor, your concern evident, "Seonghwa, Physician Jung is doing his best. How can you return to battle if you're not physically strong enough? What good will that do, hm? And remember, you've acknowledged Officer Song's strategic prowess. Perhaps it's time to have a little faith in him for now."

Like magic, your words softened the general's hardened expression as he nodded in defeat, "Fine, I suppose you're right," He offered you a smile before turning back to Yunho, "I trust you've at least written back to Mingi to assure him I'm fine, right?"

"It's done, my lord."

"That's good; things should be stable for now. We dealt a significant blow to the Ruhon forces in our last battle. It's unlikely they'll launch any new attacks soon, considering their diminished numbers. If things continue to go well, this war might conclude sooner than expected." Seonghwa remarked, feeling optimistic.

"I certainly hope so, for everyone's sake. I made sure to inform Officer Song that you'll need a few weeks to recover. If they need you urgently, I'm sure he'll write back promptly," The physician assured, relieved to see your husband immediately agree with him, calming down so quickly with your presence, "Yes, I'm sure he will." Yunho knew for certain that without you there, he would have had a much harder time attempting to soothe the older man's frustration.

Sensing the general's longing gaze toward you, the doctor suppressed a knowing grin. Understanding that he was interrupting your much-needed private moment, he decided it was time to leave you both alone. With a final bow, he excused himself, "Well, that's all from me for now. I'll return tomorrow for your bandage change and medication. Good day, General Park and Lady Park."

After the physician left the room, you approached Seonghwa to ensure his comfort, tucking the comforters snugly around him and adjusting the pillow behind his back. His eyes remained fixed on your face, which he had missed dearly, as you fussed over him, "Is the temperature alright? Let me know if it's too hot or cold," You inquired. He nodded, and you continued, "Are you hungry? You must be. I'll ask the kitchen staff to prepare something for you—"

Before you could step away from his bedside, he grasped your wrist, his expression displaying a small pout, "Stop, my love. I just want you to stay with me, please."

You softened, placing your hand over his and giving it a reassuring squeeze before brushing some of his hair away from his face, "I'm sorry, I was just worried about you. You've been away at war for so long. I wanted to make sure you have everything you need now that you're home before you eventually return to the battlefield."

He smiled, his hold on your wrist tightening slightly, "All I need is you." He murmured, gently pulling you closer into his arms.

Feeling your heart melt at his words, you relaxed into his embrace on the bed as he pulled the comforter over both of you. Nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, you sighed contentedly as he kissed your temple. He felt complete with you so close again, "God, I missed you so much," He confessed, "Out of all the wars I've fought, this has to be the most dreadful one. Not because it was tough, but because I couldn't stop thinking about you throughout it all."

"I missed you too, Seonghwa," You confessed, drawing in a deep breath to savour his familiar scent, "I never thought I could yearn to be near someone this badly."

His eyes instinctively fluttered shut as you nestled closer to him, pressing his nose against your hair, wishing for this moment to last forever. After a moment of comfortable silence, he couldn't resist asking, "I've heard a lot has happened while I was gone. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you through it. Tell me everything, my wife."

Taking a deep breath, you started from the beginning, recounting the events that unfolded after the general had departed for war. You described encountering Jinjoo during your visit to the fabric factory with Hongjoong, the surprise visit from the prince to the estate, and his unexpected invitation to the birthday banquet. You explained how he lied about you representing Seonghwa at the event and your gratitude for Wooyoung and San's help in preparing for it.

As you narrated every little detail that occurred at the supposed royal birthday celebration, your husband's heart swelled with pride and admiration. He listened intently, feeling his love for you grow with each word. Your courage in standing up for yourself and defending him in front of Prince Yeosang filled him with immense gratitude. He realised how fortunate he was to have you by his side.

"I'm so proud of you, my darling Lady Park."

With a light scoff, you teasingly pushed him in the chest, "Are you now, my dearest General Park? I still can't believe the first thing you chose to do after coming back was hurt me and push me away."

Guilt immediately clouded his expression as he drew closer to you, emitting a small whine, "I'm sorry, my love. Truly, I am. Speaking those cruel words hurt me more than this damn wound. I promise I didn't mean any of it. You're not troublesome at all, and I do want you with me for the rest of my days. If anything, you're all I need from now until the end of time."

At that, you could no longer bear to continue making him feel bad. Turning serious, you gently caressed the bandaged area on his abdomen before speaking, "I understand, Hwa. I really do. But I swear, if you ever pull something like that again, I won't hesitate to let Hongjoong loose on you."

His heart skipped a beat at the nickname you used for him, one you had never used before, "What did you just call me? Say it again."

Embarrassed, you blinked rapidly and cleared your throat before repeating softly, "I called you Hwa. It's your name, isn't it?"

He nodded with a cheeky grin, covering your hand with his, "Indeed it is. I love how bold you've become, my love. Now, along with that nickname, tell me you love me again."

You blushed at his request, feeling he deserved to hear it as many times as he wanted now that he'd returned to your side safely. Relenting, you bit your lip and murmured, "I love you, Hwa."

"Again." He demanded, resting his forehead gently against yours.

"I love you, Hwa."

"Again, my love." He whispered, leaning in closer with hooded eyes.

"I love you, Hwa."

"Say it for me just one more time."

"I love you so much, Park Seonghwa."

Intoxicated by your presence, he could no longer resist cupping your face and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You kissed him back fervently, eyes fluttering shut as you relished the sensation of his lips on yours. Both your hearts raced as you made up for lost time, pressing close to one another under the sheets. Your cheeks burned up, realising this was the most intimate moment you'd shared with your husband so far.

Gently pushing him away by the chest, you looked up at him, worry evident in your eyes, "That's enough, Hwa. You're still injured—"

But before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, capturing your lips in another loving kiss. You gasped in surprise, but your resistance crumbled quickly as he deepened the kiss. Maybe just for a little longer, you thought to yourself, giving in to the moment.

As he savoured the feeling of having you so close, Seonghwa's emotions swirled within him like a tempest. He needed this closeness desperately, especially after the fear he'd felt earlier, thinking he might be close to death. The regret for hurting you with his words gnawed endlessly at him, and he despised the idea of being separated from you again. How could he have ever entertained the thought of you being with another man? The mere thought of Prince Yeosang in his place, holding you, touching you, kissing you, filled him with an uncontrollable jealousy that bordered on madness.

These thoughts fueled a surge of aggression within him as he flipped you around on the bed, trapping you beneath him. He loomed over you, his gaze intense as he whispered, "Mine. You're all mine."

As much as the sudden action flustered you and caused your heart to skip a beat, you frowned at his stubbornness, realising he wouldn't know when to stop unless sternly told off, "Are you out of your mind, Park Seonghwa? Such big movements could affect the wound, you idiot." You scolded, disrupting the intimate moment.

He blinked, momentarily speechless at the abrupt change in tone, protesting, "I'm fine, my wife—"

Before he could continue, the dressmaker barged in with raised brows, "Oh, we're all fine now, aren't we? I guess you're well enough to take a beating then."

The general panicked, hastily laying back in his spot, "Hongjoong, please, it's rude to enter without knocking." He chided.

You snickered when his friend rolled his eyes, "Well, it's also rude to disrespect your wife, but here we are."

"Oh my god, stop reminding me—"

"I'll stop when you learn to grow the hell up."

"Says you?!"

With a deep sigh, you stood up from your husband's bed, "You two fight to your heart's content; I'm going to prepare something to eat for this one." You said, gesturing to Seonghwa, ignoring his silent pleas not to leave him alone with his friend.

Hongjoong grinned at you, "Don't you worry, I'll take good care of him in the meantime."

Oh, I know you will.

"Have we heard from Physician Jung yet?" Mingi inquired as he was being suited up in preparation for the impending attack by the approaching Ruhon men.

"No, sir. It appears we're facing this battle on our own. But with your exceptional strategies, we should manage well even without General Park." One of the soldiers replied, striving to maintain optimism despite the military commander's absence.

"Let us hope so." The strategist muttered, unable to bring himself to reveal that his strategies had been devised with the assumption of having the best warrior in all of Joseon leading the army. Officer Song hadn't seen battlefield action since his promotion, and his combat skills were far from polished. Just why did this have to happen in the general's absence? Mingi feared the responsibility; if they failed in this battle, it would fall on him. The prospect of leading these men to their deaths was enough to make him feel nauseous.

He still couldn't grasp how Ruhon had made such a swift comeback. It seemed implausible given the significant losses they had suffered in the last battle. After all, the enemy nation wasn't known for its strategic prowess; they were often predictable in their actions. Unless... they were intentionally misleading Joseon into underestimating them? If so, the strategist might have played right into their hands as part of their plan.

Oh god, what do I do?

As General Officer Song meticulously went through his preparations for the impending battle, a sense of unease settled over him like a heavy cloak. Even with his efforts to focus solely on the task at hand, his thoughts kept drifting back to Seonghwa. The absence of their commander, his superior, and one of his closest friends weighed heavily on his mind.

With each passing moment, his worry for the general intensified. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that enveloped him, wondering if his friend was safe and well. Had the older man managed to make it home? Had Yunho received his letter, informing him of General Park's condition?

These questions nagged endlessly at him, gnawing at his insides as he grappled with the uncertainty of the situation. Despite his attempts to maintain a facade of confidence for the sake of his fellow soldiers, Mingi couldn't shake the underlying fear that something terrible might have happened to Seonghwa. All he could do now was hope and pray for his friend's safety, even as the spectre of war loomed ever closer.

A sudden wave of fear washed over him, unlike anything he had experienced in a long time. The general's absence felt more profound and impactful than ever before. It was as if the very foundation of his confidence had been shaken, revealing the stark reality that his sense of assurance had always been rooted in the presence and trust of his commanding officer.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the strategist found himself questioning his own abilities and worthiness. Without General Park by his side, his confidence wavered, leaving him feeling unsteady and uncertain. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt such panic in war.

With a heavy heart, he squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, attempting to steady his nerves. Doing his best to ignore the doubts that plagued him, he knew he had a duty to fulfil. With trembling hands, he reviewed his strategies once more, desperately seeking reassurance in the plans he had meticulously crafted.

As he waited for the cue to head out and face the enemy, Officer Song resolved to push aside his fears and doubts. He may not have Seonghwa's guidance and leadership at this moment, but he knew he had to stand firm and lead the troops to the best of his abilities. With determination set in his heart, Mingi braced himself, ready to face whatever may come in the battle that awaited him.

Just as he was hoping to receive any updates about the general or word from Physician Jung, a soldier burst into the main tent, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The strategist's heart skipped a beat, looking forward to some semblance of reassurance amid his mounting anxiety. However, instead of providing the updates he had been desperately seeking, the soldier stammered out his words.

"S-sir, I'm afraid it's time we head out and be on standby," The soldier managed to say between breaths, "The Ruhon army should be arriving anytime soon."

Mingi's hands clenched involuntarily, his mind racing with a mix of apprehension and determination. Despite the lack of information about Seonghwa's condition, he knew that duty called and he had to lead his troops into battle. With a firm nod, he suppressed the trembling in his hands and resolved to face the conflict head-on.

"Let's go out and make General Park proud." He declared, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. With resolve burning in his eyes, he led his men out of the tent.

Moments later, Officer Song found himself mounted on a horse, the weight of his armour pressing against his shoulders as he surveyed the Joseon army lined up behind him. They stood at attention, ready for his orders, their anticipation palpable in the air.

As he gazed out at the empty land ahead, where the enemy forces would soon emerge, Mingi could hear nothing but the thundering of his own heart in his ears. His hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, a familiar weight that offered some measure of comfort in the face of uncertainty.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to focus, pushing aside the uncertainties that threatened to overwhelm him. He may not be Park Seonghwa, but he had undergone rigorous training and was a capable fighter in his own right. Reminding himself of his own combat skills, he squared his shoulders and steeled his resolve.

"We stand ready." He declared, his voice carrying across the ranks of soldiers behind him. Despite the nerves gnawing at his insides, he projected an air of confidence, determined to lead his troops with strength and determination.

I hope you're proud of me, hyung-nim.

His breath hitched in his throat as he finally spotted a tiny speck on the horizon, growing larger and more distinct with each passing moment. His heart raced as he realised that these were the enemy soldiers they had been waiting for. With a loud voice, he yelled the order for all soldiers to get into position.

Tensions were high as everyone readied themselves, their nerves stretched taut with fear at the absence of their strongest warrior to lead them. But as the figures drew closer, Officer Song's brow furrowed in confusion.

Something was not right.

Instead of a formidable army, only a few Ruhon soldiers were riding toward them, their arms raised in what appeared to be a gesture of surrender. Mingi's eyes widened in disbelief as he heard their cries.

"Soldiers of Joseon! Please don't attack! We have come to surrender!"

A sense of astonishment rippled through the ranks of the Joseon army as they processed the unexpected turn of events. One of the Ruhon men even went so far as to pull out a white flag, waving it frantically to signal their willingness to concede defeat.

The strategist's grip tightened on his sword as he studied the Ruhon soldiers before him, their faces worn with exhaustion and defeat. Despite their assurances, he couldn't afford to let his guard down yet, not after the treacherous tactics they had previously employed against Seonghwa.

"Hold it right there! How can we believe you're telling the truth?" He demanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

The Ruhon soldiers let out heavy sighs, their arms still raised in a gesture of surrender, "Please, we're telling the truth. Most of our troops have been depleted from the last battle," One of them explained, his voice tinged with desperation, "Our ruler has sent word just this morning to put this war to an immediate stop. A messenger is on the way to your royal palace to convey the message to your King as we speak. We come in peace to relay this message, and that is all. All remaining Ruhon troops will be retreating from our camp after this."

Mingi remained silent for a moment, weighing their words carefully. Finally, he lowered his sword, signalling for his own troops to stand down, "Very well," He said, his voice tinged with caution, "But know that we will be watching closely. Any sign of treachery from you, and we will not hesitate to defend ourselves."

The Ruhon soldiers visibly relaxed at his words, nodding quickly, "You have my word." One of them assured before they turned around and began riding away. The tension dissolved as they disappeared from sight, leaving Officer Song and his men standing in disbelief. Relief washed over them, dispelling the earlier fears. The strategist's expression mirrored the collective sentiment of his troops—a mix of relief and disbelief.

"Well, I guess we should head back to camp and await confirmation then," Mingi said, his voice filled with a hint of exhaustion. His soldiers nodded eagerly, grateful that the tense situation had been resolved peacefully. They began to disperse, their spirits lifted by the unexpected turn of events.

Now, everything fell into place, and the pieces of the puzzle aligned once again. His earlier suspicions about Ruhon's swift recruitment of soldiers now made perfect sense. It was clear that they no longer possessed enough manpower to continue fighting this war.

Returning to the main tent, Mingi was relieved to find a messenger waiting for him, "Officer Song, there you are! You have a letter from Physician Jung Yunho," The messenger announced eagerly. He hurried over to receive the paper, unfolding it with urgency. His eyes scanned the neatly written words at lightning speed, absorbing the contents. Once finished, he released the breath he had been holding, sinking into the seat behind him, "Oh, thank heavens the general is alright." He breathed out, a weight lifted from his shoulders.

The messenger's face immediately brightened at his words, and he quickly left to share the good news with the others. Mingi couldn't help but smile; everything was finally falling into place.

Peace, at last.

But his moment of relief was short-lived as a commotion erupted outside. The strategist frowned and left the tent to see what was happening. He found his soldiers blocking the entry of a woman, which puzzled him. Women weren't allowed in this area.

"Forgive us, ma'am. Women are not permitted here," One of the soldiers explained. Mingi pushed through to hear her response, "Yes, I know that, but you don't understand. I'm here on His Majesty's orders. We received word that General Park has been poisoned, and I've been sent specifically to treat him."

As he caught sight of her petite figure, his eyes widened in recognition. Not because of her uniform, which indicated she was a female royal physician, renowned for their medical expertise, but because she was the one he had been searching for all this time.

I finally found you, my one.

« Preview of Part 20 »

"The audacity of those Ruhon bastards, attempting to poison my strongest warrior. That's nothing short of treachery, isn't it, my Queen?" The King grumbled, his concern for Seonghwa evident in his furrowed brow. He had even dispatched their most skilled female royal physician to the war zone, trusting her to heal him.

Anxiety filled his being as his wife sighed beside him, offering a comforting hand on his back. She had yet to muster any courage to mention the trouble caused by their fourth son during the general's absence, not wanting to add to her husband's worries, "I wish I had an answer for that, Your Majesty." She murmured sympathetically.

Before the royal couple could further drown in their pool of misery, the royal secretary rushed in with a few letters. He hastily performed the formal bow, only to have the King wave it away.

"Forget the formalities, Secretary Choi! Tell us what updates you have this instant!" His Majesty's voice was urgent.

San nodded, swiftly unfolding the papers and reading each one aloud. With each letter, a weight seemed to lift from the room.

"The first letter is from General Park," He began, "He reports he's safely home and receiving treatment from his own doctor."

Relief washed over the King's face.

"And the second?" Her Majesty pressed, her tone hopeful.

San's voice steadied as he continued, "The second is from the ruler of Ruhon. He acknowledges defeat and officially surrenders. He is also requesting an audience to discuss a peace treaty. It would seem the war is over, Your Majesties."

"Oh, thank goodness it's over."

After a moment of everyone digesting the news, His Majesty furrowed his brows in slight confusion, "Wait, General Park is home already, you say?" His voice carried a note of incredulity, "How odd. That would mean he began travelling back before there was even news of the enemy's surrender. Why would he return home all of a sudden? Did something else happen?"

The Queen's heart sank at that. For weeks, she had harboured the hope of shielding Yeosang from his father's potential wrath, but now it seemed fate had other plans.

I'm sorry, my son.

Woohoo, only the final part is left, and we're done with the main story! Psst, try going over to the Spinoff Masterlist to see if you can spot anything new HEHE🙈

As always, thank you so much for reading, and please let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/2): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sansaurora9904 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rhwa @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @laurenwidjaja @yangwonielvrs @n1k1mura @idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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ernurse444 · 2 years

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Please help me save my ta-ta's and my daughter 🙏 Share, Tweet, Instagram https://gofund.me/c9ee0a30

#plastic surgeon #beauty #charity #fundraising #philanthropy #surgery #workout #health & fitness #gofundme #fort myers #botched #physician #nurses #arrangement #breast augmentation #curvy and beautiful

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aethercores · 2 months

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✮ GREEN TINTED ;

alternatively, what are you, jealous? ft. rafayel, xavier, zayne + gn!reader/mc [non-established relationships] 1.2k+

can you really blame him? sure, rafayel’s had all the chances in the world to come to terms with your oft-busy life, but he’d brushed those away with the practiced swipe of an easy hand. you'd promised him your attention, after all, and the sea had bore witness to your vow. he finds the finer details don't really matter, even if all his whining after you've missed a few calls might lead you to think otherwise.

it's your new profile picture, though.

rafayel's usually the first to notice any changes to your icon or any new moments, and just as quick to take on your thoughts for any changes to his own. he'd never given any thought to reciprocation, to you asking him for his opinion on which picture of yours might be cutest to post but— there's some... some guy there. and you've got your hands cupped around his face while he stares at the camera like a fish out of water.

with the light press of his teeth to the insides of his cheek, rafayel tries to brush this off. whatever 'this' is. his fingers swipe over to your chat log of their own accord. he'd been meaning to message you anyway, maybe he can just remind you there's way better pictures in that photo album that he knows you keep?

keen eyes swipe over your last exchange. 'read'. like sand grains on an oil palette, he only barely feels the grit before impulse rushes over like a tidal wave—

playing kitty cards at home isn't quite the same as at meow's café, but xavier's found that there's a different feeling that comes from having you in his home like this. the cozy arrangement of blankets and little cushions across the living room floor. the warm tea on the table between you. the shared space. it's not quite the same, but he prefers it.

it's with a loss at the end of a few rounds that you smile, thoughts drifting from your defeat, stretching your arms above you before slumping back a little. "i might have to get going," you say lightly, checking the time. late afternoon. "i'm meeting up with zayne later."

his brows furrow, a delicate gesture as his eyes stray from your own across the low table, searching for recognition in memory. that you've named anyone clues him into the fact that this is not a new introduction, that you've mentioned them before. it is familiar but, among the friends and family he's heard of in passing or between exchanges, this one's a little different—

"your physician?" he asks, face tilting upwards as you rise to a stand, the blanket drapping softly back onto the floor. "dr. zayne?"

the smile on your face grows a little then, amusement playing in your eyes for reasons unknown, but xavier's always felt warmest with it in sight. even if he is a little confused.

"well. yes," you laugh a little, "but we've known each other since we were kids, so the 'dr. zayne' part is still taking some getting used to."

there's a lot of context missing here, that much he can tell. it seems you become aware of that gap too, your intentions divided between the hunter watch you check once more and the cooling tea in your cup. you smile at xavier once more, a little apologetic, and he wonders if your attentions are similarly divided.

there's not really any time for that, though, but he's left with the thought a little longer after you're gone. brushes his thumb over the lip of your cup. leaves it undisturbed.

the look zayne fixes you with is placid. that is, to the untrained eye. cool eyes draw calmly from your hunter watch, propped face down upon the table, back to your own. it's subtle, but meaningful, and he knows that you know him well enough by now to know better.

"just ignore it," you say, hand waving through the air in easy dismissal, and he pretends not to see the way your grin widens as you peer up from your card hand to the complex array of kitty cups before you both, currently at an impasse.

it'd been an odd choice, he'd noted as you both sat down in the café, to separate the device from your person. after all, zayne had seldom seen you without it ever since you'd become a hunter, an essential piece in both the professional and personal capacity. he'd know.

irony answers the call to action as the watch flashes once again — the fifth occurrence in a three minute interval — and a small vibration lightly rattles one of the closest cups. a double-pointer blue proudly boosting your score by +10.

it startles you, and you send a minutely too-prolonged glare to the offending piece as though it had purposely made to sabotage your entire game.

he smiles, lightly. "would you like to swap cards?"

you're not a good bluff. though you shake your head, another flash rattles the cup before you've had the chance to verbalise your thoughts. zayne takes the cue, and considers his own hand — catalogues his assists and future turn order — before speaking, "someone's trying hard to reach you. are you certain it's not an emergency?"

you laugh a little. "no, i'd know." the bare hint of a scoff follows, and he can tell it isn't aimed at him, but it seems mostly good-natured, a little teasing. "bad timing, but i did say i had plans today."

someone vying for your time.

it's not something he's given much consideration to before, as someone with such a stringent schedule of his own. zayne decidedly ignores the light flare in his chest at the choice you'd made and doesn't linger on a hypothetical cause. pride has an interesting way of unfurling set shoulders with just the lightest of touches.

you do end up winning the game, though he doesn't entirely feel as though he's lost. you both settle outside the café as you readjust your scarf, the breeze picking up a chill.

zayne waits, patient, turned towards you. "i still have the rest of the day off," he says. it must not say much to you, this half-sentence of his, as you blink up at him. his eyes drift upwards.

a precise, but gentle hand, carefully brushes the top of your head, cool fingers lightly touching your temple before coming away with a stray leaf. he smiles, lightly, and his gaze returns to you once more, elucidating, "is there anywhere you'd like to go?"

he feels a different sort of flare in his chest as he watches as your eyes light up, your excitement suffusing through even the layers keeping you warm.

"yeah, there's—" a subtle, but sudden, flash emits. below, from where your watch has been reunited with your wrist once more. you deflate a little, then perk up a little, made indecisive and a little troubled by some sort of unforeseen circumstance. "there's this food market, but i already promised xavier we'd go later tonight... rain check?"

zayne's eyes glance between your own for a moment before he nods, calmly assenting to the offer, and bypasses the unfamiliarity of the name and the implied familiarity of those plans. there's a light press, a pull just on the edge of taut, between his shoulder blades. he lightly shifts them, a little heavier. doesn't verbalise questions that even he leaves unacknowledged.

"of course."

#zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #zayne got the one-two this time bc the other 2 had to contend w him #c.writing

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hoe4sports · 9 days

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“Three is perfect, but four is too many”

Jenni Hermoso x Caroline Graham Hansen x child reader

A/N: Pretend that Jenni never left Barça <3 I’m also very nervous because I usually don’t write this kind of imagines.

Summary: You are a child, and your tummy mommy comes to find you after abandoning you and Mami for years

Jenni had always been so attentive to you. She was always making sure that you were comfortable. That you felt loved. That you knew how she proud she was of you, her little girl. Things hadn’t always been like this. When you were first born, Jenni wasn’t your only mama. You had another mama, but she had left you and Jenni in the middle of the night claiming that having a baby wasn’t for her as her career was on a rise. Jenni promised herself to never let disappoint you like that. She had brought you with her everywhere. To training, to camp, to press conferences. It wasn’t really a problem as someone was always injured, and you were so loved by the team. The same team that had seen red when Jenni brought you in strapped into your car seat and told them what had happened. How could their friend, their teammate leave her child and her fiance? But to Jenni, that didn’t matter. She had promised herself that she was gonna love you enough for two parents. She had made arrangements within the Barcelona team and was allowed to bring you as often as she’d like. You were her pride and joy, and if the team didn’t let her bring you? Then she would find a team that would. No medals could ever compare to the joy you gave her.

“Mami!” You giggled as you bounced up and down in her big bed. Jumping as high as your little 3 year old legs would let you while the bright morning sun shines through the curtains. “Ah, mi princesa! Come here and give mami a hug” she said as she reached out and caught you mid air while hugging your tightly. You loved mami hugs. They were big, strong and safe. Her arms holding around your tiny frame allowing you to feel little. “Si, mami! te amo mucho!” You giggled as she placed kisses all over your face. You loved mami so much. She was the best mami, always letting you sit on her lap, always allowing you to be carried, always stopping if you needed her and always protecting you from bad guys. “I love you most, my favourite girl” she said as she blew raspberries on my cheek causing me to giggle again. You liked how mami always had time for you, always saying how you were the most important girl in the whole work. Even more important than football, and mami loved football a lot.

“pequeña, how about some breakfast no?» mami said as she looked down onto you while stroking your already ridiculously long hair. You had long blonde hair, much like your tummy mommy when she was your age. “Si, si, si!” You said as you jumped out of mami’s embrace and ran towards the door as fast as your tiny feet let you. You were fast for your age, the teams physicians and physios were amazed by your balance. Mami always made sure to practice with you, always doing everything right. She would make little tracks for you to climb, jump and crawl through in a hidden attempt to help your balance. She made sure to talk to you early, allowing you to be able to express yourself from a young age. Mami jumped out of bed and chased after you. “Mami is gonna get you, pequeña princesa!”. You started laughing hysterically as your little feet rhythmically tapped on the wooden floors in the hallway. Mami quickly caught up and scooped you up while throwing you up in the air. “más mami, más!” You squeal as your innocent laughter rang throughout the house. Mami shook her head as she held you close and kissed your cheek. “Breakfast now mi sol, then we go to the arena and see aunties” Jenni said as she carried you while walking down towards the kitchen. Mami placed you on the counter to let you help with making pancakes. You loved when Mami let you help in the kitchen. Her warm embrace making you feel safe as eggs, milk and flour became pancakes.

“Alright princesa, we are here” Mami said as she pulled up in the big parking lot in your black suv Lexus. You squealed as you held on to your favourite toy. A snow angel named lina because it was given to you by your tia Caroline. She wasn’t your real tia, but you didn’t care. She was still tia. Caroline had been the most scared when you started joining the team as she was generally scared of children. You on the other hand, had always smiled as her even as a new born placed in your stroller or car seat next to the pitch. Caroline couldn’t help but love you. You really had grown into her. Mami hopped out of the car and got you out as she held you close while walking to the busy parking lot. People was always greeting Mami, but you didn’t understand why. You settled with the thought of that it was because she was the best Mami ever.

“Hola tia! Look, look! I bringed Lina” you said as you waved towards the Norwegian. “Hola lillevenn, hola Lina! I have something for you” she said as she smiled. You loved Caroline’s smile. It was crooked and funny, but you loved her regardless. «Wow, look Princesa, tia is spoiling you!” Jenni said as she sat you down and squatted next to you and Caroline. “You know how tia had to go to Norway? Back home to play football?” She said as you nodded attentively. “With tia Ingrid?” You said as you tried your best to remember. “Si, you are so cleaver lillevenn!” Caroline confirmed as she kept going. “And you remember how you had those really big feelings when I left? And I promised I would bring you something back?” Your eyes widened. Caroline had grown to be mami’s best friend, nobody would’ve ever guess that combo. You loved Caroline, and she loved you (and Mami) like her own. “Yes, I remember tia! I do, i do remember” you squealed as you jumped up and down with excitement. Your little blinker sneakers blinking rhythmically. “I got you this” she said a she pulled out a wrapped gift from behind her back. It had princesses on the wrapping, and it was pink. You two favourite things! “Wow! It’s prettiest tia! I hang up in my room!” You said as you bounced up and down with the gift not realising that the wrapper wasn’t the gift. “Mi Sol, you need to look inside the gift” Jenni said as she laughed and shared a look with Caroline. Your eyes widened, “there’s more?” You said as you carefully unwrapped the gift trying your best not to break the paper. As you opened up the paper, you saw it infront of you. A big polar bear and three reindeers. You had seen nothing like it and your tiny jaw dropped in shock. The bear was soft and cuddly, you immediately gave it a big hug as you kissed it nose. You picked up the reindeer set with two big reindeer and one tiny baby reindeer. You studied it closely from the packing. “You have horses in Noway?” You said as you had the box close to your eyes. Caroline giggled “no, no, lillevenn. It’s reindeers! It’s not horses. You can only find them far north.” She said as you nodded. You were like a sponge always sucking up any knowledge that people would present to you. “Reindeers? WOA-Like in ELSA AND ANNA??” You said as you looked over at Caroline and threw yourself at her. “Thank you mamma, you are the bestest! Almost as bestest as mami! I love reindeer and polar bear!” You said as you didn’t realise what you had said. Caroline looked at Jenni, and Jenni looked at Caroline both blushing. “Alright, let’s go to the warderobe, si?” Mami said as she stood up. You grabbed mami’s hand and Caroline’s hand as you walked in together.

“Look! Look! Ingri! I have white bear and reindeer!” You said as you rushed over to greet her at her cubby. She put you on her lap and nodded. “Wow, aren’t you a lucky girl solstråle!» She said as her eyes looked attentively at the polar bear and reindeers you had showed in her face. “Alright, princesa, do you wanna wear your sneakers or your cleats today?” Mami said as she held your bright tiny pink cleats up. You loved wearing cleats. You felt like Mami. “Cleats! Cleats!” You squealed as you rushed over with your new toys and your tiny pink backpack with pencils, a book to draw in, a book and your plastic animals. Mami always made sure to make you feel comfortable. She had given you a lot of jerseys. Probably more than 6. You couldn’t count so you weren’t sure, but you had a lot. Today you were wearing your pink jersey with your white shorts. The name Hermoso on the back. Jenni had changed your name as soon as she was allowed to, not wanting your tummy mom to have anything to do with you. Mami helped you put your cleats on as she held out your tiny team Norway Nike jacket that Caroline had gifted you when she went to play Finland. She had your blonde hair up in a bun and you smelled like sunscreen. You ran out on the pitch finding the spot where you would always be when the practice was taking place. It was a big blanket set up by the team’s assistant with water, apples and crackers so that you wouldn’t get cold or dirty. You sat down with a pop and took out your new reindeers from their packaging. “This is mami” you mumbled as you took the reindeer out of the packaging. “This is me” you repeated as you pulled the little reindeer out. You grabbed the last reindeer and looked at it for a while. Who was the last reindeer? Tia? Or Abuela? “This is tia” you said as you looked at Caroline and smiled. Caroline waved at you making you giggle. You sat there and played with the reindeers making them walk all over the blanket while you were talking to yourself. You loved when mami had practice.

The coach’s whistle was loud and you held your hands infront of your ears while it rang marking the end of the workout session. You quickly put your reindeers in your backpack at the speed of lighting according to you. You hopped up and grabbed the cuddly polar bear. “Mami!” You said as you got up and your feet started running. Your backpack in your hand and your jacket with Graham written on your back bouncing with you. «Mi sol, Lets get lunch!” Jenni said as she picked you up. Mami was all sticky and smelly, but you didn’t care. You just loved Mami.

As you sat on a chair next to Mami, you looked around you. Mami was talking to Caroline, Ingrid, Mapi and Lucy. You thought Mapi was a little bit scary, but she would let you color on her tattoos so you decided to keep it to yourself. You slurped up spaghetti and the red sauce. It was your favourite and the abuelas at the canteen would always make you an extra special lunch while the adults had salads and fish. As you were trying to slurp up a spaghetti, it slipped and fell onto your face. “Oh lillevenn” Caroline said as you looked at her in shock. She quickly grabbed her napkin and carefully wiped it off your face. “Gracias tia» you said as you decided you were finished eating. «I go play?» you asked as you looked hopefully at mami. She nodded and pushed your chair out so you could climb down. You grabbed your reindeers and sat down in the corner that the abuelas in the canteen had made for you with pillows and blankets. The pillows were soft and you suddenly felt tired, it was normal as it was your expected naptime. Your laid down and closed your eyes as you jawned, blinking slower and slower until you fell asleep. Drifting away into dreams about polarbears, reindeers, mami, tia, snow and this weird place called Noway.

“Ai no, go away! You don’t get to see her!” Your dreams were interrupted by the sound of your mami’s voice ringing through the hallways. You thought you were dreaming because Mami never yelled. She never raised her voice. “Jenni, pot favor, you can’t decided that! I’m also her moth-“ an unfamiliar voice pleaded back. “You don’t get to call yourself that, not after leaving us for three years. Get the fuck out of my sight before I kill you!” You sat yourself up and rubbed your eyes trying to feel more awake as you yawned. “Hola lillevenn, Come here! Let’s go on an adventure!” Some familiar said from behind you. You turned your head and as soon as you saw the person, she picked up up with one hand while grabbing your backpack and reindeers with her other. It was Caroline. You trusted Caroline. She was kind, pretty and funny. She also made mami smile and laugh, so that meant that she was a good person. She held you close, your face meeting her chest as she jogged with you in the opposite direction of mami. It had you confused, but you didn’t think much of it. Caroline had a hand underneath your butt and one hand on your back leaning you towards her. It was funny, Caroline’s jogging made you bounce making your laugh. After some running, you slipped into an unfamiliar room with a bench and the room smelled minty. Caroline shut the door and locked it while she moved towards the bench. “How about we read a book jenta mi?» she mumbled as she rumbled through your pink backpack. The book she pulled out was about two mom families. You loved it, you had gotten it from Ingrid and Mapi after you had asked if they were gonna get married. “Si, si, please! Read book Caro” you said as you popped yourself down on Caroline’s lap. She started reading while stroking your hair attentively. “There once was a girl named Clara, who loved a girl named Mia very much..”

Just when your book was finished, Mami came into the room. “Gracias, Caroline. So much. We are gonna head home now peanut” she said as she looked serious. You pouted because you wanted to be with Caroline. “Mami, i wanna be with Caroline? Can she come home?” You asked up and stomped one of your little feet. “Princesa, she has to go back to training” Mami said as she attempted to pick you up but you slipped out of her reach and hid behind Caroline’s legs. The tall brunette putting a hand on your head and picking you up. “It’s fine Jen, I’ll come with you. They’ll understand” she says as she kisses the top of your head. You all walk towards the exit, but not your usual exit. This exit is weird, and narrow. It’s not bright and full of players on the walls. It’s grey and the door has a green beam. Your thoughts cannot seem to understand why you have to leave through this exit. This exit dosent have the nice canteen abuelas waving at you. You don’t get to say goodbye to Ingrid. Walking out of this door is different. This different isn’t a good different. And you don’t understand why it has to be different.

#woso imagine #caroline graham hansen #jenni hermoso #caroline graham hansen imagine #jenni hermoso imagine #woso x reader

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glader13 · 5 months

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Saudade

Bi-Han x reader

Saudade: a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or has been loved and then lost; "the love that remains"

You didn’t know why you agreed to go to the Summer Festival, the last time being four years ago. You didn’t know why you agreed to go to the festival when all your friends were married, though not intentionally, and would barely have time for you. You sighed, staring at yourself in the mirror, as you put on the last of your makeup. Your jewelry box caught your eye, flashing in the light of your room as you slowly put away the makeup supplies, your heart twisting. The last time your ring saw the light was four years ago.

You opened the box, tracing the ring. Its diamonds, shined as you turned it over in your hand, tilting it to see the engraving: for my love. Simple, but beautiful. You softly laughed to yourself, who knew people could miss being in an arranged marriage? You put the ring on, holding your hand out, an old thrill running through your heart.

I wonder if Bi-Han does this? If he misses me? Before you could dwell on the thought, a knock on your bedroom door gave the news that your friends had arrived. You softly kissed your ring, wishing that it was his lips instead. But the heat on your face ran cold, the thrill gone as his words remerged in your heart. Your night began at Madam Bo’s, a dinner, great. You awkwardly sat at the end of the table, watching your girlfriends practically lie on top of their husbands. You felt yourself staring at their husbands’ faces, noticing how his eyes tracked their movements, their lips always curled in a smile of pride. You even noticed their arm position, around their wife, holding her close, how his lips would grace her ear or neck, whispering words of intimacy.

The scene reminded you all too much of Bi-Han and how you met him through forced proximity. The political parties that you were forced to go to with your parents and brothers, always seeing him there, his dark eyes observant. The red drink at your table you watched being poured and then shared with your friends and their husbands, reminding you of when you actually talked to Bi-Han. You were bored of the party, and sneaking glances in his direction, you decided to walk out for some fresh air.

You didn’t see him and neither did he see you, it was like running into a wall. His drink ruined your white dress, and you found it cute how his face, usually so stoic as you have noticed at past parties, matched the color of his drink. Your first words to him, “You can apologize by helping me get this out of my dress.” The next day, he personally delivered you a new white dress, and you now had someone to talk to at parties. This didn’t go unnoticed by your parents and his father, who watched the two of you talk.

You stabbed at your food, smiling your way through the dinner as Bi-Han occupied your mind and jealousy clawed at your heart. You mindlessly listened to the conversations around you: someone was going off on vacation, one of your friends decided to have a summer home in the countryside and one is expecting, again. You remember your friends' confusion as to why you were so upset over the ending of your arranged marriage, though Bi-Han called things off before the ceremony could happen.

You weren’t surprised when your parents told you that you were going to marry him, it made sense. They were trying to expand their political power, and what better way to do so than by marrying into the most powerful clan? The only aspect of your life that you were able to control was your desire for medicine, and becoming a physician. You let out a sigh, heart twisting again.

“I’m going to the bar,” you announced, though you only got a nod and a half-hearted question asking if you were okay. The bar was no better, surrounded by men whose actions reminded you of teenagers, lacking the respect that Bi-Han has. Their stares were unashamed, some even sat close to you, the smell of alcohol on their breath making you thankful for the days that you trained with Bi-Han. His reason: “The grandmaster's wife should at least know how to protect herself.”

The festival was no better, trailing behind your friends, and dodging children escaping from their parents. You had no one to light firecrackers with, to share sweets with. Your friends and family were confused by why you refused to have another. Maybe it was because you were haunted by him at night. Feeling his phantom hands around your body, the ghosts of his kisses on your lips. He may have been cold, and hard to talk to, but he made up for it in a love that seemed to undo you at your core. So tender was his love, that it was a gift from a divine power, a gift that only his mother could have given.

No man can come near it, no man can replace it. No matter how hard you try to convince those around you, they can never understand. You snuck away from your group, making your way back to your home, unnoticed. You slipped past your parents, who were in deep conversation, no doubt about you and how you aren’t married, and upstairs to your room. You slip out of your shoes, your hands immediately finding the jewelry box with your engagement ring. You stared at the ring, thinking of the moment when he proposed to you.

Sitting in your shared room, you on the bed and him on the floor in between your legs, you were rubbing ointment on his shoulders and back trying to soothe the pain of his bruises and scratches. You remember the silence being loud and tense, each time his hand idly touched your leg, heat rushed through your body, stealing your breath.

“You’re overstrained,” you said, “Take some time to rest.” He only grumbled in response.

“I’m the doctor here,” you smiled, causing him to squeeze your leg.

“As the future grandmaster, weakness will not be tolerated or shown,” he says. You nod, hearing him sigh in relief as you relieve a tight spot in his back.

He reached up, taking one of your hands in his, “As the future grandmaster, I will also need someone by my side. Someone who is steadfast and loyal,” his hand tightened, slightly becoming cold.

“You have those qualities and more. Treating me with patience and love when I deserved to be yelled at,” he finally turned around, his face a light red, “You always know what to say, and when you’re not next to me I know that I need you.”

“Your love transcends the nature of our marriage, it rubbed off on me. I’m thankful that I spilled my drink on you,” you remember the pounding of your heart as he shakily placed the ring on your finger. He didn’t need to propose, but the fact that he did overwhelm your heart.

You wiped your eyes, watching the water fall from your finger, your mind wondering if he ever thinks back on that moment. He probably doesn’t, you frown, thinking of the slow breakdown of your relationship. In the planning phase of the marriage, his mother died, putting things on hold. You remember the night that he woke you, tears streaming down his eyes, it was the first and only time that you saw him cry. Just as he was beginning to recover and tentatively plan the wedding, his father died in an attack.

That was when your relationship died when he officially became grandmaster. Shutting you out completely, your bedroom filled with silence. The only time that he would have acknowledged you was when you had sex, though even that was impersonal. He watched you leave that day, and it felt like he stabbed you through your chest. You still don’t know if you hate him, a part of you wishes that he would burn, that his frozen heart would stop. But the other part wants nothing more than to hold him, to be in his heart.

The thump on your floor, caused you to jump out of bed. “I need you,” you straightened, hearing his voice.

Bi-Han leaned against the wall, next to your open window. He was breathing heavily, his arm was bloody from a wound, as he held his side, which was coating his fingers red. You led him to your bed, taking off his top, before running downstairs to get your medical supplies. You cleaned his wound on his side first, the only noise was his sharp breathing. He didn’t look at you, well he only did when he thought you weren’t looking at his face.

“What happened?” you found the courage to talk.

“It doesn’t concern you,” he says, causing you to sigh.

“But you came into my room instead of going to your home to get medical help,” you said, “So, it does concern me.”

You felt proud for sticking up for yourself, despite the eye roll that he gave you. You worked in silence again after that, moving to his arm. The steadiness of your hands was a disguise for the erratic pace of your mind and heart. There’s so much you wanted to say, but no words could translate the emotions that you felt, how much you ached for him.

“It was during a mission,” he finally admitted, “Kuai Liang, Tomas, and I were being chased. I distracted the pursuers.”

“Are they alright?” You asked, to which he nodded, saying that they escaped.

You smiled, saying there, as you wrapped his arm. The silence was less tense as you began to put away your supplies, the setting reminding you of the moments when you would tend to his injuries after practices and missions. You felt his eyes track you, throughout the whole process, even as you quickly picked up your ring, placing it in your jewelry box. Once everything was clean, you sat next to him, a frown forming when he slightly moved away from you.

You finally looked at him, and his dark eyes were focused on you. You felt yourself getting lost in the hue, practically drowning, and it felt so good. So good to be lost in those eyes, it felt so good to talk to him. You found yourself feeling like the first time you saw him: staring too hard into his eyes, taking in his facial features, though older still just as handsome as when you first saw him those years ago.

“You went to the festival,” his words were a statement, and you nodded.

You felt him drawing into you. His eyes focused too long on your lips, taking in the specs of your eyes. His eyes were drawn to the small scar on your neck that he accidentally gave you while training. Your face warmed thinking of the times when the two of you would make love and how he always made it a habit to kiss you there. The scar seemed to be connected to your heart because each kiss caused you to become weak. Your sweet perfume of strawberries and peach nectar reminded him of the nights the two of you spent tangled together. You looked beautiful, the red on your dress bringing out your skin. He felt a sting in his heart at the thought of you going out without him, and he didn’t know why.

“I went with my girlfriends,” you say, feeling an odd need to clarify who you went with, “But I left early, a good thing for you.”

Bi-Han slightly relaxed, giving you another nod. You kicked off your shoes and then began to take off your jewelry. Starting with your gold earrings, and rings. You then began to unclasp your necklace, but the lock slipped through your fingers each time you tried. You sighed each time you failed, fighting with yourself to not ask Bi-Han for help. But, you felt the weight of the bed lift before coming back again as he sat behind you. He undid your necklace, quietly saying there.

You thanked him, watching him slightly nod at you. He then began to gather his clothing, causing you to jump up. You grabbed his arm, causing him to pause, “Where are you going?”

“Home,” he said.

“You’re in no condition to leave,” you said, pulling him back.

“I’m fine y/n,” he said, “I don’t need you to baby me.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling annoyance wash over you, yet you didn’t open your mouth. Along with the annoyance, there was something desperate in you trying to keep him there for a little bit longer. He didn’t fight you, though he did tense under your touch, unknowingly to you, but there was something in him that made him keep his arm in your hands.

“You need to stay the night,” you said, “You’re hurt and it’s late. Those people could still be looking for you.”

Gently, you led him back to your bed, as if testing how far you’ll be able to go. He didn’t resist, and that made your heart soar even more. He sat on the edge once again, scarcely meeting your eyes as he asked for blankets to sleep on the floor.

“You’re on the bed,” you say, digging through your drawer to find your sleeping clothes, “I’m not going to let you do that.”

“Besides, we aren’t strangers,” you smiled, “And we did much more than share a bed, remember?”

“We aren’t married y/n,” Bi-Han stated, causing you to frown, “And that alone makes us strangers.”

“Yeah, I wonder why?” Your frown returned as you walked into your bathing room to change. Bi-Han sighed, watching you leave in silence, again.

He walked around your room, trying to busy himself. He looked at the paintings on your wall, and the flowers in the vases. He wandered to your drawer, staring at his reflection, thinking of the time when his eyes weren’t pools of darkness, of loneliness. He lifted your rose-colored jewelry box, his eyes immediately being drawn to the Lin Kuei pendant, to your ring. You didn’t throw it out, you didn’t sell it, and that alone had his heart jump. Though, he didn’t know if it was out of joy that you still keep pieces of him, or out of shame. He wants to find out, but not tonight.

You found him sitting on one side of your bed, facing the window. He was more relaxed, his dark hair falling over his shoulders as he briefly looked at you. You pretended not to notice the small patches of ice underneath his hands, as you blew out the candles. In bed, the two of you slept with your backs facing each other, the word goodnight stuck in your throat. You snuggled deeper into your blanket, the silence allowing your brain to scream as you thought of his last words to you, how his lips curled in indifference.

“Do you even care about me?” You asked, “You changed so much, so different from the person who spilled their drink on me.”

“What’s your point?” He asked, “People change.”

“But people don’t shut out their lover, their wife,” you walked closer to him.

“A wife that I didn’t choose,” his words were worse than being injured, “A marriage that is in line with my responsibility of being grandmaster.”

“Is that all that I am now? What happened to the words that you said when you proposed?” You remember feeling the pain swell in your chest, like an angry sea, “Did you mean those words? Do you even love me anymore?”

He never answered you.

He never gave a damn, you thought, I was just another responsibility. But you hoped that you were more, and there was a time that you were. You finally slept cleaning the stray tear, wondering if he was sleeping or staring at you in the dark.

Bi-Han woke up at the first light, quietly groaning from his injuries. He immediately looked at you, sometime during the night you turned to face him, your hand slightly reaching outward. Reminding him of the sunlight-soaked mornings when he would get up for training as you still slept. He leaned forward, noticing a slight flutter of your eyes, how the soft orange light made your skin glow. He would have leaned forward even further, kissing your face, whispering that he was going to train.

Would’ve.

He quickly got dressed, leaving as quietly as he came. Back at home, he stalked to his room, ignoring his brothers’ questions. He pulled open his drawer, dug through his clothes, and pulled out a ring. He stared at it, turning it in his hand. He clutched it in his hand, resting his forehead. He thought that he would be free from the ghosts of regrets, he believed that he conquered them all. Until that night with you, wanting to talk, but not being able to. But he wanted to, so desperately. He wanted to fix the words that caused you to leave him, that ruined his life. But he doesn’t how to talk, at least that’s what he tells himself as he places his ring back in the drawer.

You woke up with the smell of him in your nose, the smell comforting. However, as you reached out, you were met with air. You turned over letting out a sigh, not knowing why you were expecting him to be there when you woke up. That morning and even that day, you spent it in a haze, thinking of your night with Bi-Han. He was constantly on your mind, as you checked in on patients, and had lunch with your friends. With every word about her new countryside home and the annoyances with the building process, it went through one ear as you thought of when he sat so close behind you, the coldness from his body radiating off of him. You couldn’t help but wish that last night led to something more. That he said something more. But he left, again, he’s always leaving. Despite the hurt, you wanted to see him again, you would do anything to see him again. You don’t know why your love is so stubborn when it has all the right to leave. But you hoped to see him again, to say the words that you couldn’t say.

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wing-ed-thing · 8 months

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Unacceptably and Idiotically Reckless (Neji x Reader)

Synopsis: After a reckless— albeit cool— stunt on your latest mission, Neji has finally come to scold you.

Word Count: 0.5k

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Vague Reader Injury

Notes: I hope the anon who requested this is feeling better :/

He was the last person you expected to visit, not for lack of care, but more because you didn’t think he’d find out this quickly. But, well, judging by the expression on his face, perhaps lack of care shouldn’t have been ruled out so soon. Neji scowled in the doorway of your hospital room, his travel bag slung over his shoulder.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He scowled. You beamed, offering him a thumbs-up and a wave from your hospital bed. Considering the bandages that littered your body, your cheery demeanor did nothing to quell the vexation that visibly seeped from Neji. “So what everybody has been saying is true. Look at you; your chakra network is absolutely wrecked.”

“Did you say everybody?”

He stepped fully into the room, eyeing your injuries from the side of your bed. His jaw clenched as he tore his gaze away, pinching the bridge of his nose with a roll of his eyes and a groan. When Neji turned back to you, his tongue was already poised to scold you. You watched as he pursed his lips, his hand hovering in the air to accent the choice words he was already saying in his head.

“How could you possibly think—” Neji’s hands waved curtly in front of him. —“That stunt was going to end well for you?”

“Neji—” You moved to answer him, but you were swiftly cut off.

“No, actually, I don’t want to hear a word from you.” Neji sat on a chair beside your bed, tugging his bag across his shoulder to pull it open. “The Hyūga have the best doctors in the village. I will ensure that your primary provider is switched to a trusted physician.” He set a few vials of different medicines on your bedside table before diving back into his bag.

“Neji—”

“And this tea. I want you to drink this at least twice a day. It is a special blend of healing herbs, and it’s measured out to be a week’s worth, so I better not see this bag full.” He held it to your face before bopping your forehead with the sachet. You laughed, moving to sit up against your pillows.

“Neji, really—” You took his hand in yours, resting it against the blankets on your lap. A vein twitched just above his brow as he opened his mouth to speak. You held a finger up, shushing him with another light laugh. “Thank you for bringing me all these things. I know you must have been worried.” Neji scoffed.

“Me, worried? Please.” The tension in his shoulder dropped as he leaned into your touch. He stared out the far window of your room. You gently squeezed his hand and felt him squeeze yours in return. “Taking a swan dive out there in the forest? I could see how that unacceptable, idiotic, recklessness could make someone else worried.”

You almost laughed again, leaning back onto your mound of pillows to rest your head. You finally got to meet his eye, and with another squeeze of his hand, you offered him a knowing smile and a nod. Neji visibly softened before sighing.

“Will you let me show you the rest of the things I brought now?”

You released him, and Neji dove back into his bag. Neither of you acknowledged the sentiment so clearly attached to it all, especially not the bouquet of flowers he arranged neatly in a vase next to your bed.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#neji hyuuga x reader #neji x reader #neji hyuuga #neji hyūga x reader #naruto x reader #neji fanfic #neji fanfiction #naruto #naruto reader insert #naruto fanfic #naruto fanfiction #reader insert #x you

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moonshine-nightlight · 6 months

Text

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Thirty-Two

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 32

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] Part Thirty-Two [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

While the luncheon was laid out in the great hall and the guests were encouraged to enjoy the grounds and gardens, you and Dale are tucked away in the administrative wing of the estate.

After the knot tying you together was carefully burned, you headed to grandmother’s public office, where she receives officials and conducted business with the many administrators that were needed to keep Northridge running.

With the sacred ceremony complete, there is still the matter of the legal one.

“Thank you, Mr. Murray, Miss Adir,” Dale says to his valet and your maid. “My spouse and I will wait for my grandparents and you may return to supervising the packing of our belongings.”

A small smile graces your face at Dale’s words because they drive home that he is no longer your betrothed, but your spouse. Your husband. Yours.

“Yes, my lord,” the servants chorus, enough amusement in their eyes that you’re not certain they entirely believe in the necessity of Dale’s request. Well, the reasoning is sound, but so is the idea that two newlyweds might want a few moments alone together. They depart without any fuss.

Dale immediately looks around the room, his expression intent enough that it pierces your light mood. You frown and ask, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, of course,” Dale says. “I was only—there it is.” He strides behind Grandmother’s desk for a pitcher of water. “Just thirsty.”

Watching how he swallows nearly a whole glass with a grimace, you frown. Cautiously, you ask, “Are you certain that is all?”

“I—,” Dale starts to brush off your concern, you can see the dismissal in his body language before he pauses. “Oh, I, everything is fine. My throat is simply sore. This water is more than adequate to soothe it.”

“The holy water did hurt you,” you say—it's not a question.

Looking almost sheepish, he nods. “I was very diligent in my preparations this week, very pious.” He sounds a little defensive, likely due to you telling him you figured out what he was. “I visited the monsacrin every night for a blessed drink. The sanctif let me take them away with me. I wanted to ensure I would not be overcome today. However, my throat is still sore.”

Tolerance or practice? is your first thought. Was he doing something to his throat to mitigate contact, as you think he might have when the sanctif demonstrated his detection lens on Dale’s hand? Or did he merely practice drinking holy water in private until he could do so with a straight face? Neither are cheering thoughts, although you feel guilty at being reassured that this morning was not a plan developed in advance. That he’d in fact been doing the opposite. “Is your throat burned in some manner? Or are the muscles in some way affected?”

Dale blinks at you before he grins. “Are you certain you are not a true physician, sana?”

“Dale,” you warn despite his flattery, not wanting to be easily diverted from your question.

“Some of each,” he tells you easily enough, although not until after a second long drink from his water glass. “The muscles are a bit stiff, the lining a bit damaged. I did need to continue to breathe and swallow so I could only pull back my physical influence on this body so much.”

Good to know. You had been wondering. You reach into your pockets, glad your full-size pockets had still been able to fit unobtrusively under even this fine gown. “I have a tea blend with me that soothes the throat, although it will work better with honey.” You join him at the cart with tea supplies, taking the kettle and settling it boil. “Grandmother occasionally enjoys some as a sweetener, but we could also send for it. That shouldn’t provoke any notice.”

“The licorice tea?” Dale sounds hopeful as he peers over your shoulder. The feeling of him so close is more distracting than you wish it was. You want to focus on making him feel better, not on how you can sense his body behind you and how you want to lean back just enough to touch. “I used it the third night to great effect.”

You stop what you're doing, turning to frown at him. “But it didn’t help the other nights?”

Dale shrugs, reaching around you to pluck a small jar from the other side of the sugar bowl. He sets the honey next to the cup you’d selected. “I only had the one bag.”

“Why did you just ask for more?” You’re more confused than offended. “Even if I didn’t know, I’d happily have given you more tea.”

Dale holds very still, still enough you notice, at your words. His eyes darken, pupils expanding just enough to make them look inhuman. You wait him out, now able to recognize when he needs time to think. He blinks only a few seconds later and he merely shrugs helplessly. “That did not occur to me. I’m rather used to being on my own.”

“Well, you’re not anymore,” you say, unable to think of anything else. You swallow down all your questions about what part of it didn’t occur to him or questions about his solitary past. “So next time, ask me for help.”

His smile is indulgent and pleased. “Yes, sana.”

The kettle whistles causing you both to jump. Dale reaches around you, taking half a step towards the hearth. You turn back to the cup you’re fixing for him, pulling the honey jar closer, when Dale lets out a quiet noise of surprise. Before you can turn to see what’s happening, his large hand lands on your waist. You barely keep from letting out a surprised yelp as his grip tightens just enough to make it clear he’s using you to steady himself from his position, half leaned down to reach the kettle.

“My apologies,” Dale says as he straightens and lets go of you. You can feel the ghost of his touch and you’re surprised by how much you want it back. “I lost my balance for a second.”

“You should set the kettle down and fetch your cane,” you say, pointing to the heat resistant mat for the freshly heated kettle. You do not want him to trip again while holding it.

“Yes, I should,” Dale says to you as he does just that. He rejoins you at the serving cart with his primary cane, the one with the jade sword in it. He adds, almost to himself, “And I thought my balance memory had been improving.”

You add the appropriate amount of honey and stir it for him. Usually, you let such comments slide, and you’re fairly certain this one was only said because he knows you know now, but perhaps because you do know you, and the two of you are alone, you can ask, “Balance memory?”

“Memory to balance is perhaps more accurate,” Dale replies absently as he leans on the newly gotten cane and accepts the cup of tea you prepared for him. He inhales appreciatively and takes a sip, not bothering to attempt to blow on it to cool the hot tea. Whatever the holy water did to his throat, it must not be a normal burn—temperature never seems to bother him. “Delicious,” he rasps after finishing half the cup at once and with an appreciative smile at you.

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but it must not be too obvious as Dale appears to notice your confusion over his words more than anything else.

He clears his throat, looking a bit more nervous, as he says, “I, well, typically—that is, prior to being Dale, my form was amorphous and adaptable to my needs to a far greater extent.”

He’s watching your expression closely, clearly ready to stop talking if you…if you what? Look afraid? Or bored? Angry? You don’t know so you try to look neutrally curious as best as you can.

He continues, “If there was a dip in the ground or someone bumped into me or I leaned over too far, a limb would simply… adapt.”

You desperately want to know more but the moment feels fragile, Dale so cautious about talking openly about himself so you try to keep your words soft and simple. “How?”

“Growing longer, short, thicker.” Dale shrugs. “Whatever would be helpful to keep my balance. In physical activity or altercations, I would have been maintaining tight, conscious control over my form as a matter of course and so it is now. However, when not paying it much mind, during routine movement…”

Of course, you realize, it's no different than how you think of such things—you pay attention when stairs are steep or you’re wearing a particular item of clothing that you need to move differently in, but you don’t think about how to walk when nothing is unusual. It’s beneath your general notice. “You didn’t have to give it any attention.”

“Correct.” Dale looks relieved you understand. “And so in such circumstances, even now, my instinct is to flex my form, but I should not—and cannot to some extent now. So I falter instead. The cane is helpful as a reminder and as an aid.”

You ponder this as Dale drinks. What other instincts must he be fighting or controlling? You’d thought him careless, and perhaps he was at times, but in retrospect, his more obvious missteps seem to be when he was new to Dale or when he was particularly distracted or hungry. Thoughtless, but not careless actions.

“Thank you for the tea,” Dale’s voice interrupts your thoughts and you see him setting the empty cup back on the saucer. He seems a bit subdued, or cautious, but perhaps he’s only attempting to be gentle with his voice on his throat.

“You’re certain you don’t need anything more? Nothing else burned you?” You scan his features for hints of holy water or sacred wax burns. You try not to get caught up just looking at him. His face is more his than the original Dale’s now, at least to you, and it's more attractive for it.

“No, no, the wax wasn’t pleasant, or minimizing my influence wasn’t, but it's already removed.” You look down and see the white wax, which still sticks loosely to the back of your hand, has already fallen off his, without leaving a mark. Or perhaps Dale had subtly flicked it off once out of the monsacrin.

“Good, good. While waiting for the ceremony to start, I’ll admit I began to worry that even the amount of light might be too much.”

“No, no. I’m not abyssal, I’m a sort of shade.” At your look of continued confusion, Dale carefully elaborates, “Shadow, not darkness. Shadow needs light to exist, it’s why we’re close to the surface even in the Depths and why we’re more able to handle the Surface, even if we need a vessel. I could suffer some negative effects if left exposed in strong direct sunlight, but to my understanding, so can humans.”

You're startled at the comparison, but he’s correct. “Yes, no one appreciates being sunburned.” Your mind spins with new information, is it going to be this easy to discuss such matters now? Will you finally be able to get to know all the things he’s kept hidden?

“Quite.”

The sound of the door opening is surprising enough you both turn quickly towards it. Dale’s hand goes to his sword without thought, only for Grandfather’s voice to be easily heard as Steward Bilmont walks in.

“…not a cloud in sight,” he’s saying, “the best sort of luck.” You think there’s an underlying irony to Grandfather’s tone that’s more humorous than worried now that this morning’s events have been resolved favorably. It reminds you of when Dale says things you thought were asides about his nature to you but evidently were only to himself.

“It was beautiful,” your mother answers, satisfaction in her voice that reminds you of when she finishes negotiations on a particularly favorable trade contract.

“There they are!” Grandmother announces as the group enters the room. Any wonder regarding if she’d been informed however briefly that the wedding had been called off is put to rest. There’s no chance Grandfather even hinted at such a thing. She pulls Dale into a hug, placing a kiss on his cheek, before tugging you over as well. She has a surprisingly strong grip.

“Congratulations, I am so happy for you,” she continues, joy evident in her expression. She focuses on Dale. “My grandson, married.”

“Grandmother,” Dale says, fondness evident in his voice.

“Yes, yes,” she pulls back, straightening his jacket. “You are not here to listen to your Grandmother’s pride. You are here for your own.”

“Grandmother,” Dale repeats, sounding a little more exasperated.

Grandmother just winks before turning to her desk where her secretary has begun to arrange the paperwork required for officially swearing in yourself and Dale as the reigning couple running Northridge.

“My child, you did well.” Your mother pulls you into an embrace as well, her flowery perfume overwhelming, but the hug is appreciated as is the sentiment. Asher does too, the only sibling present since he’s the one inheriting Portsmith, while your father works with his secretary on arranging the Portsmith paperwork.

Callalily had to do something similar, sign the contracts clarifying her and her descendants' place in the inheritance order since she’d also married an inheriting lord. You’re not sure what Marigold had to sign. It was likely just a formality given her intention not to have children and her spouse wasn’t likely to inherit either. Douglas remains where he is, no marriage plans in sight—and nothing you’ve seen of him these past few days changes that impression, his sacrifice to distract mother aside.

“Dale, this is for you,” Grandfather presents him with a new, exquisite pen which Dale accepts with appropriate gravity and gratitude.

The actual signing of the paperwork is rather boring, but you appreciate the continued respite from crowds. The Northridge charters are the more complex and there are a lot of them. The various papers solidifying what it's yours solely, what authority Grandmother and Grandfather maintain, what would cause any changes to that, Northridge’s succession line. That document does prompt a significant look from Grandmother as after Dale, the fief would go to Dale’s cousin Ferdinand and his child. Luckily she doesn’t actually say anything about heirs—yet.

Instead, she presents Dale with his signet ring—from one Lady of Northridge to her heir. Grandfather gives you your own too and the smile on his face as he does so convinces you that any suspicion he once had for you is in the past.

There is a new formal inheritance list for Portsmith that’s officially signed too, placing yourself and Dale properly in the order along with any future children you might have—the typical rules that Northridge’s heir could not also inherit Portsmith are laid out. Some wish to combine fiefs, but those tend to be people who are particularly ambitious, new to nobility, or neighbors. Most wish to keep traditions and holdings separate. Not to mention the combination of certain fiefs is severely scrutinized by the Crown.

Of course, most of this is hypothetical and not expected to be needed. Asher has plenty of children to carry on the Portsmith line. Still, your family likes to be thorough and the Northridges have had enough surprises in recent succession to agree.

Since all the details had already been worked out, and no one tries to throw last minute spanners into the works, the whole process goes smoothly if a bit long. You sign the Northridge paperwork first, allowing you to sign the Portsmith ones with your new Northridge title. All the witnesses sign as well and it’s done. You’re now officially of Northridge and Dale is the reigning lord.

As soon as celebratory drinks are in everyone’s hands, Grandmother escorts the group to their family hall. It's clear this is the portion of the inheritance tradition she was looking forward to. “Right this way, we have had everything prepared, but even I have not laid eyes on the new additions.”

Your country home had something similar, but far less official—all the portraits are from different eras and hopelessly outdated. You think yours is from when you went off to schooling at fifteen, which perhaps isn’t too long ago, but Marigold’s is when she was that age too. There are other more recent portraits throughout the manor, but a family portrait gallery isn’t particularly important to Portsmith traditions. The city estate at the port doesn’t even have that—gifted portraits or those bought to curry favor with different interests are what decorate its halls.

Northridge’s family hall is large and organized, with multiple portraits for family members at significant stages in life going back generations. With Dale’s marriage and inheritance, Grandmother has commissioned new portraits of him and you together. You sat for the painting when you first arrived, most of your figure had been completed before Dale arrived home, with only a session or two sat together. It had been a quiet, stiff affair and you’d been grateful when you could leave the painter to his work. You had stopped by his studio in the city, allowed him to make the adjustments and touch-ups he felt necessary, but they had not been terribly long.

When you finally come to a halt, there are not one or two portraits covered in sheets for a dramatic reveal—Grandmother insisted—but three.

You’d been shown around the gallery when you first arrived, paying most attention to Grandmother and Grandfather’s as well as Dale’s parents and only coming back for a refresher when more of Dale’s family had begun to arrive. It is still grand and intimidating, more so with yourself being added now.

“We are going to have a new portrait commissioned as well,” Grandmother says as they walk by her and Grandfather’s most recent portrait from at least twenty years ago. There’s a severity to them and a grief that tells it was only a few years after the loss of their son and daughter-in-law. They deserve to have a happier portrait hanging. The Northridge coat of arms, which used to hang above their portrait, has already been moved to hang over the unrevealed portrait of yourself and Dale. The wall above them looks strangely bare with its removal.

You gather around the unrevealed paintings in a half circle and Grandmother waits for everyone’s attention. “To commemorate your rise to Lord of Northridge and your marriage, there are three portraits to reveal. Firstly, I am delighted to reveal the official portrait of Dale Tiberius Archibald Remmington Quincey, Lord of Northridge.”

Bilmont pulls back the blue cloth to show the portrait of Dale in his black, white, and blue suit, the one which mirrored the Northridge colors on the crest now a few feet above the still hidden joint portrait. It too had been started when Dale first arrived, before the current Dale had taken over, and some of the original Dale’s arrogance and haughtiness is evident in his posture and the line of his back.

Still, the artist had seen Dale since he’d changed and there are hints of that throughout. His stare is direct but less condescending, the blue of his eyes more vivid, but also kinder. He looks, not older, but more mature—the youth in his fearlessness tempered. It’s a masterful blend of both Dales and you’re relieved that it leans towards the new Dale without making the contrast between this portrait and the one prior to his travels too stark.

“It is lovely, Grandmother,” Dale says, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Of course it is,” she preens. “I was certain your travels and return would help you to grow into this responsibility. This portrait makes it obvious, how much you have matured into the man I always knew you could be. I am certain your parents would be proud of you.”

Dale is obviously at a loss for words and so are you, feeling a pang of pity for Grandmother, who could not see what her grandson had become nor that he is gone. Neither of you have to say anything because she continues before you can.

“And I have not overlooked your influence, my dear.” Grandmother’s cloudy eyes still manage to narrow in on you without difficulty. “Each day you have been here, you have solidified my knowledge that you were the perfect partner for my Dale. As you can see from the halls, traditions vary, but for you I knew we would want a portrait of you in your own right. Your parents were so understanding when I wrote to them.”

You turn in surprise to see them giving you a knowing smile. “We came to a most equitable arrangement. A copy of our most recent portrait of you,” you mother says with a pleased smile.

“In exchange for a copy of the portrait of you and your husband,” your father finishes. He nods to Bilmont and the steward obligingly reveals the portrait your parents had commissioned of you.

For a second, you’re concerned that they’ll have merely replicated the one of you at fifteen. You do not mind that portrait—you had been immensely proud of standing for it at the time under your own power and looking wonderfully adult to your young eyes—but even after your first return from school, you had been struck by how young and frail you’d looked in it.

This is a new portrait of you in a favored blue dress—not quite the vibrant Northridge blue nor Portsmith’s blue-gray, but somewhere in the middle. You’d worn it to a number of balls, including the one you first met Grandmother and Grandfather at. The painter must have attended a number of those galas because their skill in capturing your appearance is evident. You’d seen portraits painted that resembled the subjects very little and it was most common among those painted without formal sittings.

Your mother is saying something about the painter and his methods, as if hearing your thoughts, but you’re not really listening to her, you’re too busy studying the portrait.

The you in the painting is more flattering than the one you see most often in the mirror, today perhaps as an exception, but you can recognize yourself with ease. You are more clearly the age that you are now, a grown adult rather than a sickly child in the former painting. This you has thicker hair, less of your bones are prominent. You look less on edge and of course, your frame is fuller. Mother must have instructed the painter to give you a solidity you still don’t believe you have, always pushing for what she wants you to be rather than what you are. But it’s not egregious, even if there is more conviction in the set of this you’s jaw than you’ve ever truly felt. Again, except perhaps this morning when you sought out Dale to confront him. Overall, you find the expression pleasant, even if you think there’s something a bit off with your nose.

It’s the other details in the portrait that hold your attention. There’s a banner with the Northridge coat of arms behind you, but a book with Portsmith’s coat on the cover in our hands. The spine of the book is for a medicinal textbook, and the tea on the high table you're positioned next to even seems to steam. The vase is full of plants you recognize from your tea blends—and each of the flowers from your siblings’ namesakes are present as well.

“It’s lovely,” you say, glad your voice is soft enough that it doesn’t betray that you abruptly feel close to tears.

“You’re welcome,” your father says, with a comforting squeeze to your shoulder.

Soon, Grandmother quiets you all down for the final reveal. “Lastly, allow me to present the Lord and Lady of Northridge.”

Dale’s outfit, his black suit and red waistcoat is so obviously one the original Dale wore, although to be honest, this Dale is drawn to bold colors too. You’re in your white and blue with black accents Northridge dress. The two of you are posed in front of the large windows in the south hall, the ones that lead to the gardens. The clothes and the pose are of the past, but the expressions are clearly from recent sittings. So is the way you’re turned toward each other, not dramatically, but more than before. You look together instead of just standing next to each other. Even Dale’s greater presence and more forward position has been rendered far more protective than attention-seeking.

The signet rings of Northridge glitter on your fingers in the painting, even though you’d not put them on until a few minutes ago. You look married in that portrait and it helps solidify in your mind that you are.

Dale reaches over to clasp your hand in his and you smile up at him, proud to be here, in this moment, with him.

-/-

In the end, the wedding luncheon is remarkably similar to the other galas and balls that you’ve been hosting for the past few weeks, baring the high sun. You make it through being announced without tripping. You make small talk with everyone who wants to—which is everyone. You manage a few additional moments with your family. You’re grateful your dancing is with limited partners as it’s considered ill luck for the newly weds to dance with any other than each other or their immediate families.

Unusually it drags as time passes, until it is time to leave at which point you feel as if only a few moments have passed since you entered. As the married couple, you do not have to stay hosting until late in the night this time. You’ve never felt as if you were sneaking away, as if you were getting away with shirking your duties, while such a large group sees you off. It’s very peculiar.

The other servants and your packed belongings likely left over an hour ago. Only your personal servants are leaving at the same time. You find yourself outside, bidding goodbye to your family, as you stand in front of your carriage with a suddenness that almost makes you dizzy.

Then Dale is holding out a hand for you, which you take, allowing him to help you into the carriage. You carefully adjust your skirts before and after you sit down on the comfortable plush bench. A carriage for two, only a few trunks sit opposite you giving more ample room for legs and skirts. You make space on your left for Dale and he soon joins you, folding himself into a seating position as soon as he can so as not to bump his head on the ceiling.

“Are you settled, my spouse?” he asks as the door shuts. He pulls up the window nearly as quickly so as to ensure the air does not get stifling.

You wonder if you’ll ever get tired of hearing him call you that. Somehow you don’t think you will. “Yes, I’m comfortable.”

“Lovely,” he replies, giving a quick smile which flashes the whites of his sharp teeth. He leans forward to wave cheerily at Grandmother before he knocks on the front wood separating yourselves from the driver and footman.

It only takes a minute for the driver to set the horses off and you pull away from Northridge estate to the sound of falling grain thrown by guests before they return to enjoying the festivities without you.

You do your best to wave goodbye to your family, but looking out the window for too long begins to upset your stomach. They’re out of sight before long as it is.

You settle back down in your seat and try to orient yourself, catching your breath in practice if not necessity.

“Water?” Dale offers, holding out a flask and wiping the back of his mouth with his free hand to indicate he’d just taken a sip himself.

You take the flask gratefully and drink some water to clear your mouth and throat. You pass it back to him with murmured thanks. The silence, the first in hours, fills the carriage.

Dale is the one who breaks it. He reaches for the basket on top and pulls out an apple. “I had them pack some foodstuff for us, given you tend not to eat much at these events—”

“And you are nearly always hungry,” you finish, accepting a grape. A mix of embarrassed and flattered that he knows you so well.

“Quite,” Dale says with a crooked smile.

You get caught in his gaze, like you haven’t since the very beginning. Perhaps instead of you becoming accustomed to it yourself, Dale had merely gotten better at controlling the way his presence could reel you in. Perhaps he isn’t trying so hard now that he knows that you know. Now that you’re finally alone.

“So I suppose we should—” Dale is cut off by a loud bark of laughter from the front of the carriage. Whoever made the sound, driver or footman, is quick to shut their mouth, but the reminder is well served. Dale smiles apologetically. “We should talk once we arrive at the lodge of any matters of import, perhaps not now.”

“No, you’re correct,” you sigh, feeling the day’s events weighing strongly on you. You adjust your seat, grateful you had insisted on Grandmother storing your veil for you here and not taking it on your travels. Your neck bends at an awkward angle when you try to rest it against the inner frame. A bump in the road, still being worked on, causes you to sit straighter and give up on the idea of leaning against the carriage side.

“We can speak of other matters,” you say, though you’d actually like little more than to stop talking and nap. The day had begun so much earlier than usual, in order for you to be ready before the mid-morning ceremony, and had been so busy that you’re exhausted.

“Of course,” Dale says. “We’ll have an entire week at the lodge, before we go on to Riverton. It’s been many years since, em, I’ve been there, but it’s an industrious city, with a river that has hopefully enough water for you to feel at home…”

You listen as Dale elaborates on some specific memories he has of the city, more than the names of officials, and where you would visit as discussed with Grandmother and Grandfather. He isn’t explicit, in case either servant up front can hear, but you can read between the lines far more easily now that he isn’t pretending these are his own memories. He’s careful to keep his voice lower to minimize the others' hearing, but loud enough for you to pick out above the clatter of the carriage on the road.

The overall effect is soothing and comfortable. It’s easy to close your eyes, to sway a little in your seat. Dale’s hand ends up in your lap at some point, and your hands cover it without remembering having done so. The day hadn’t been overwhelmingly hot, but it's warm and you’re so tired. Not just from today, but from the whole past month. From before that when you were anxious to meet the original Dale and dealing with him once you had. From the weeks and months spent searching for a spouse. It all seems to be catching up with you at once.

You drift off with the motion of the carriage, and the sound of Dale’s voice in your ear, his strength and presence comfortingly close by.

[Part Thirty-Three]

#my writing #story: nothing's wrong with dale #story part #nothing's wrong with dale #terato #exophilia #monster romance #osha compliance #arrange marriage #slow burn #monster bf #reader #finally done with this chapter #idk where yesterday and the day before went #glad today is a late start #need to practice my presentation now #hope you like it!

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her-satanic-wiles · 6 months

Text

October 12th

Medical Play, Papa Emeritus III x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Medical play; GN!Reader; dom!Reader?; cringey Terzo; subby!Terzo; established relationship; latex kink?; glove kink; hand job; mild praise; anal fingering; taunting; mild degradation; mild humiliation; power kink; mild edging; cum eating; cumswap; reads like an 80s porno; awful medical terminology, I'm sorry to all the doctors and nurses reading this lmao;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

The graveyard shift was always the worst - or rather, the slowest. As most of the Siblings were asleep in the dead of the night, you had free roam of the medical centre of the Ministry. Not that there was ever much to see given that it was hardly decorated and filled to the brim with medicine and multiple medical journals, all of which you’d perused on your off or slow hours.

Thankfully, your job was always made easier by the fact that no one in the Ministry was stupid enough to get themselves into a lot of trouble. Even during the day, the worst injury you’d seen was someone’s ritual or blood play wounds get infected, but thankfully it was easy enough to sort out. It was the most difficult thing, becoming a doctor and going through university - even getting a job within the Ministry itself was a difficult task. The job itself though - paid to read books mostly.

Though, it was different that night. Your socked feet were up on your desk and a book was in your lap. You were, of course, reading what your friends liked to call your “dirty girl books”, when there was a gentle knock at the door. “Come in!” You called. Immediately you brought your feet off the desk and put your bookmark in the book, hiding it from the view of your guest. You still didn’t want to appear unprofessional, even though there was no one around… well, almost no one.

The door opened to reveal a smaller man, black hair and wrinkles. You recognised him instantly. “Good morning, Papa.” You said, standing to your feet out of respect.

“Ah, hello, doctor. I hope I am not disturbing you while you are busy?” Terzo stood there in the doorway uncharacteristically awkward in his demeanour and make up chipping from his face. He looked tired.

You looked at the clock: four o’clock. It was so early. “I always have time for you, Papa. How can I help you?”

“Ah, it is a little embarrassing, doctor.”

“Whatever it is I’m here to help, judgment-free.”

This was the moment you’d been waiting for. The thing is - you weren’t Terzo’s personal physician. Given the nature of their job and the importance of their status, each of the Papas had their own personal physicians at their beck and call all times of the day and night. You weren’t part of that club, rather, dealing with the rest of the Ministry including the Ghouls and the Clergy. You may not have been Terzo’s physician, but you were his partner… so to speak. This whole arrangement had been set up and pre-decided weeks ago, and when he had time, he’d drop in to see you with some “medical emergency” and you would be the doctor to “treat him”. You would pretend not to know each other which was the most crucial part of the whole scene. So now you were just waiting for Terzo to say his next line, not that you knew what his next line was.

“Well you see, I am an old man. And my, how do you say? My dick is broken.”

This fucking guy.

“Okay, in what way?”

“It doesn’t stand for very long. It grows tired very quickly, like me. Or my fratello.”

Please don’t compare your penis to your brothers.

“R-right.” You blinked at him a few times, not quite expecting him to be so forthcoming with his “issue” - or even quite so chaotic. “Please come and take a seat on the bench for me.” He did as you instructed. “Would you mind unbuttoning your shirt, Papa?”

“Ah, doctor, that is the other thing. My fingers are tired today, too. I am afraid they can’t unbutton anything.”

Of course they can’t.

He looked at you and gave you the biggest shit-eating grin, clearly eating up his role. Despite knowing Terzo as intimately as you did for a number of years, he still managed to find ways to fluster you.

You moved forward, trying your best not to smile and keep it “professional”, but the excitement within him was simply radiating off of him and infecting you. He was, for lack of a better term, buzzing with it. Your fingers carefully began to unbutton his white shirt and avoiding his gaze, but you could feel it on you. His mischievous eyes studying you and your expression so intently you were sure it would leave a mark.

Once his incredibly hairy chest was completely exposed to you, you took the stethoscope from around your neck and set yourself up to use it. “This may be a little cold.” You warned before placing the bell over his heart. Of course, this wasn’t a real check up, so it didn’t matter what you heard. In fact, you were only doing this for his benefit because you knew he’d want it.

“Can you hear that, doctor?” He asked.

“There’s nothing unusual.”

“But my heart, you should hear that it beats only for you.”

This. Fucking. Guy.

It took everything in you not to blush or react to his words in any way. “Okay, I think we should do a few tests just to make sure everything’s okay. Would you mind removing your pants, Papa?”

You took a step back and allowed Terzo to stand from the bench and do as you’d asked. You looked away to feign privacy, despite the fact that you’d been up close and personal with that part of his body for a long while. But out the corner of your eye, you noticed that the little shit had decided to forgo underwear. How you were surprised was a mystery unto itself.

“You know, doctor, usually I buy ladies dinner before I let them undress me in their offices.” He teased.

“Usually ladies don’t examine you for erectile dysfunction.” You taunted back. “Are you ready, Papa?”

“Of course, doctor. I await your professional opinion.” He plonked himself back up on the bed and leant back confidently, completely exposing himself to you. He was enjoying this game a little too much for your liking. You began prepping your hands, first sanitizing them then putting latex gloves on to keep up appearances. When you moved back over to him, you noticed that his mismatched eyes were heavily trained on you, only moving when you did and fixating on your gloved hands. Time to bullshit your way through this. “To make sure you can maintain a healthy erection, we need to give you one first. Is this normally something you have a problem with?”

“Not at all. Usually my partner is able to get me up just by looking at me.”

You nodded. “So you won’t need any help from me today, then?”

“On the contrary, doctor. My partner is not here, and so I am having trouble. Please take care of me.”

He gave you the best doe eyes he could muster knowing that it would work on you because it usually did. And so, you nodded, and poured some of the office’s lubricant onto your hand. “This will be cold.” You warned him.

As soon as your lubed hand made contact he hissed and jumped, perhaps making more of a show of it than he ought to. Your hand began to work away at his flaccid length, which was filling up with blood a lot quicker than you anticipated. With each tight stroke of your hand, Terzo’s hips bucked slightly. He wasn’t quite ready or sensitive enough for it to feel mind-numbingly good, but the little breaths and whimpers he was releasing was proof enough that it was working. One of his own gloved hands came up to your arm and gripped onto it, trying to keep himself grounded. The other hand grasped onto the bench with as much force as he could.

You tightened your grip and began focusing entirely on the head of his cock, making sure he was feeling as much pleasure as possible. The feeling of the lubed latex on his head had his mind reeling. His eyes were tightly shut, his bottom lip had been taken into his mouth and trapped between his teeth. He was trying so hard to keep up the pretense but he was obviously feeling good. You decided to be a bitch. “Tell me, Papa, what do you usually do to keep the erection?”

“What?” He asked, opening his eyes and coming to his senses.

“Well, this is a new problem, isn’t it? What usually works? What usually feels good?”

Terzo, whom you had never seen so flustered before, gulped and took in a sharp inhale before continuing. “M-my partner usually uses their mouth.”

“Where?”

“What?”

“Where does their mouth go?”

“M-my cock and sometimes my a-asshole.”

You moved your other hand to his taint and then to the rim of his hole. “Here?”

“Yes! Merda! There!”

Then, all of a sudden, you removed all of your hands and took a step back. “You seem to be healthy, Papa. I think maybe you’re just stressed.”

His eyes were wide and he couldn’t quite believe you’d done that. “What?”

“Lack of sleep can also be a cause of dysfunction. Do you get enough sleep?”

“Yes. Doctor, I- I am confused.”

“What with?”

“Well, I… you… stopped.”

“Of course, Papa. You needed help maintaining an erection, we’ve since discovered that you don’t struggle with that regularly, and you’re certainly not now.”

“You can’t just leave me like this.” He gestured to his now angrily erect cock before muttering something in Italian, clearly irritated by you.

“Maybe if you were to ask nicely, I might help you out.”

Terzo hesitated for a second, clearly wanting to say something but not wanting to either be so desperate that he begs for it, but also being to embarrassed to say anything. He was perhaps the filthiest person you knew, never shy or bashful, but apparently when his partner had the upper hand he was a total mess.

“Per favore.”

“Not good enough. Try again.”

“Will you… help me out?”

“Sure, what with?”

“Porca puttana! Make me cum… please, Doctor.”

He almost forgot himself.

You stood and sauntered back over to him applying more lube to your gloved hand as you passed that shelf. “Good boy.” You told him with a teasing smile, wrapping his cock back up in your hand and continuing exactly where you left off. “Nothing wrong with you now, is there? You’re keeping it up well enough, aren’t you?”

The same hand that was gripping onto the bed had moved up onto your shoulder, a gorilla grip on it. His eyes were open but focused on the wall, glazed over a little in the sheer pleasure your hand was providing. Your other hand went straight back to the rim and began rubbing over it again. His noises got louder when you did, hips having a mind of their own. The position wasn’t great so you got him to sit back, keeping him width-ways on the bench with his cheeks on the edge and his feet propped up and legs spread. You cursed your boss for giving you the wrong chair to use for today, what you would have killed to use the gynecology chair with the stirrups. It would have humiliated him so much to be so exposed. He would have loved it. Though he looked like such a whore in this position, you thought perhaps this was more humiliating.

With more lube on your hands, one went back to his head, and the other started pushing inside his hole. His mouth dropped open in a perfect ‘O’ and his brow furrowed, the pleasure almost overwhelming him. “We do have to make sure all parts of you are working correctly, hm? Especially this nice little button in here.”

“Cazzo!”

Only your pinkie was inside him at the moment. You didn’t want to hurt him and as he hadn’t pre-stretched himself out, you thought it was best to take your time. You wiggled it around a little, trying to make his hole fit two of your better, and kept at it until he was lose enough. Eventually, your index and middle fingers were able to fit inside him, and so you went in search of that button you mentioned. “Touch your cock for me.” You instructed. Like the obedient whore he was today, he did as you asked, wrapping his own hand around the head and moving quickly. “Ah-ah.” You scolded. “Slow down.”

“But-”

“Slow!”

His hand gradually put the breaks on, dropping to an almost torturous level. You could see how much it pained him. Given the fluttering of his hole around your two fingers, you could tell he was already too close. He was too overwhelmed. He needed that sweet release that you were refusing to give him. Why? Why wouldn’t you just make him cum? Why would you drag it out as much as you did? He couldn’t fathom it. But he was so desperate to finish he couldn’t ask you to stop.

This was a completely different man in front of you. The head of the Satanic Church was riding your fingers in your office as if he didn’t hold all of the power. Because right now he didn’t. You did. In his desperate need to cum, he was obeying your orders down to the letter. He was whining and writhing for you and only you. No one else got to see him like this: his entire body on fire and chasing a release he’d practically been begging for since he entered the medical ward, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth where it had opened so wide, and loud moans were spilling out with it. His pants completely removed and his white shirt unbuttoned completely. He was positively sinful right now - a proper Babylonian whore giving himself to another for his own pleasure. And oh how he sang for you when you reached that spot. How he stopped breathing when you finally hit it. How expletives poured from his lips to cope with the devastating bliss your fingers were giving him. Choruses of “yes!” and “right there!” and “don’t stop!” providing him comfort while you had your way with him. His own hand matched yours and as you got faster, so did he. He was so close. He could almost taste the sweet release that was on its way to him.

It was when your hands came up to play with his balls he finally tipped over the edge. Cum spurted from his cock and pooled over his hairy stomach, and even reaching up his chest in the intensity of the orgasm he was experiencing. His toes curled and his body seized up. You were, the whole time, talking him through it. “That’s it,” you told him, “give it all to me, Papa. Give me everything. Such a good boy.”

When you were sure he was fine, you gently removed yourself from inside him and bent forward, your tongue running through his spend and lapping it up into your mouth, keeping it there. You looked up at him and saw his eyes were ablaze with something. More lust? Frustration that you were doing something so sexy and he was too tired to do anything about it? You weren’t entirely sure. But the moan he released when you kissed him, swapping his cum from your mouth to his was enough to tell you all was forgiven… at least for now.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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bts5sosempire · 1 year

Text

the tyrant (vii)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4,101 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: old time period, mention of arranged marriage, polygamous marriages, slow-burn yandere, power imbalances, peer pressure, political, mentions of infertility, infant death, etc. 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "you were the apple of Sukuna’s eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you." 𝐚/𝐧: know y'all been waiting for this, got writer's block mid way too. Been seeing y'all wondering who got sacrifice too, and it shall be reveal 🤭. Thank you for all the support, lovely comments, and engagements too, it was fun seeing your guys reaction. Please like ❤️, comment in the "comment" section for tagging 📝, and reblogged too if you wish. Have a nice day lovelies! 💖

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The moment you fell was the moment you couldn't tell if you were alive or not; your whole body was numb for a second then it was blown hot like a furnace in pain. Yumi searched for help as Asuna was cradling you in her arms; you were fine just seconds ago. You couldn't move your body; it weighs like lead. The heavy pressure on your abdomen, especially where your womb lays, was excruciating. Everything inside there felt like it was being cut open and rearranged.

What's happening to you?

"Grab her and take her to her room! Bring a physician and fetch a pail along with a towel!" Uraume shouts, and everyone rushes. Even the slightest movement hurts you as you let out a low disgruntled moan when being lifted away by a guard. Asuna stood up, but Uraume raised a hand to stop her. "It would be best to retire to your chamber for the evening; what just occurred might affect heir Danzo."

"Will she be alright?" Asuna was concerned for your well-being.

"I don't know for sure," Uraume curtly told her. They don't; they were tasked to keep an eye on you. If Sukuna learns that you have fallen, Uraume will get reprimanded for failing to do something so simple.

[another side of the castle]

A maid checked up on their Mistress' baby to ensure they slept correctly and were warm. It was quiet when the maid arrived; they peered into the crib; the baby should be up and crying for its feeding time or at least coo. But it still slept peacefully. What threw them off was the child's complexion, pale and unearthly, like it was dead. They feared for the worst and curled a finger and set it underneath the baby's nose, and there wasn't a single breath when she waited for another few seconds.

"Mistress! The baby isn't breathing!" They shout and take the infant from the crib and huddle them into their chest.

[your bedroom]

Your servants set out your futon for you and usher to cool you before you even make it to bed. All the men in the room were escorted out. Your women retainers remained by your side and stripped you until nothing remained. They brought damp, wet, cold cloths to wipe away your sweats and set one on your forehead; Uraume remained outside your door. They were waiting patiently for the physician to arrive.

Uraume overlapped their arms one over the other and could hear the commotion on the other side.

[shaman's place]

"It is done," the shaman said; there was a quirked smile on their lips, "I reckoned you to take care of your wife, for this will be with pain." This time it was Sukuna's turn to throw a disparity watch, and the shaman had to reassure the man sitting across from him that is ready to strike him down. "Please don't be alarmed; what I mean is nothing comes free. What's taken is given, and this is a painful process, considering we're doing years of reversing any damages it might have caused her in an instant."

"What can you prove to me that this is true but not a hoax?" Sukuna inquiries and the shaman only laugh at those words.

"You did say 'yes' without doubt or conviction, did you not? Or did you only say the answer was out of sheer desperation and to test me?" Sukuna remains unmoving and unanswered, which confirms the shaman, "I can promise you I am the real deal; if you don't trust me, you can come back and slay me."

"By the time I get here, you'll be gone." The pink hair man pointed out, and the shaman could only throw their hand up and dismiss it with a wave on the side.

"I already accumulated too much bad karma, so meeting and being ended by you would be my fortune or not, by the fate above." Looking at Sukuna, he remains the same. What a tough nut to crack. "Each time I do a terrible deed, it will add to my bad points, and I will also take the other person's evil act with me. The reason why I am doing this is also a counteract those evil deeds as they can turn into good karmic until the day I die since I was willing."

So this man is playing a God and a Saint? How funny. Even though Sukuna was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, "Then, I'll take your word."

"That's all I'm asking for," the shaman grins.

Sukuna entered his apparel and threw three satchels of yen onto the table. "For your service." He gets off the ground and exits the building to return home.

The shaman waits and patiently listens until he can't hear Sukuna or his horse anymore. They took the cup Sukuna had drunk and looked at the leftover tea leaves inside. Every person who came to him; he made them drink a brewery that could determine either their or another's fate. What he didn't tell Sukuna was that it was for you since you're the primary target. The shaman only needs a connection, and Sukuna is perfect for that.

Studying the inside, this was a rare message.

Divine Retribution has intervened.

Whoever has wronged you got the message of the heavens from above. The shaman wasn't the one who directly took and gave it this time. They had happened to open the door simply for something else to do it for him. It was nothing but a coincidence.

The ride took a few hours to get back to, and once he made it back to his Castle ground, no one dared to look at him. Everyone was afraid, and Sukuna could feel the thick tension. "What is happening?" He got off of his steed and handed the reins to someone else.

"Your Lordship, Lady (Name) has suddenly fallen ill; her temperature kept rising, and we had managed to calm it down..." The mere mention of you had Sukuna almost bolting toward your chamber in haste, but the servant had another thing to say as they took a deep breath. "T-There is something else too, Your Lordship, Concubine Sena, and your child have passed away in their sleep."

Sukuna paused in his step, and the silence was deafening; the servant was ready to be slain, but they couldn't believe what came out of their Master's mouth next. "I see." The answer was curt and cold. Not even in their life could they stomach their master attitude of brushing the death of their child away that quickly again. Especially when this isn't the first death of Sukuna's child, they thought their master would at least acknowledge or show panic on their face for maybe once. They knew he was heartless, but to this degree, he was considered a monstrosity.

Sukuna: "Anything else you have to say?"

"No." Sukuna, rush off to your location.

[Hanami's room]

The news of one of her grandchildren passing away again was a surprise, considering this was Sena's second child, and it took her a while to conceive. Hanami wondered if this woman was just unlucky to lose both children. Sena lost her first child at three months of infancy, about two years ago, and now lost another that's only a month old, a few weeks shy away from being two.

Maybe the stigma of the Hanamiya's women was true. If she wasn't able to preserve life, then how could she keep her position? Sena's road could only end here.

But then her thoughts traveled to you; you fell into a fever haze not long before the death of Sena's child.

[your room]

Sukuna made their way inside and sat down next to you. You were slick in sweat, lips pale, and breath ragged. "You are all dismissed." Everyone single file out of the room and wait outside until further notice. The windows to your room are open as breezy airbrushes by and flutters a few of your things around. Your shoulders peak out from under the covers, and Sukuna grabs the basin and wet towel; he squeezes the excess out and cleans around your neck first and then any exposed skin.

You look peaceful but are in pain. Sukuna thought the shaman was drolling around, yet it was happening. Sukuna, once again, was a man who valued logic and statistics, not a man run by emotions or the whims of it; he even hardly believed in things tied to fate. This triumph his way views of superstitions and their forces by a fraction.

As a self-serving man, he got a taste of it.

"Bring in the physician." Sukuna summon.

"Surely, I thought you and the shaman claimed to be a sham, but it seems true," Sukuna said from across the room; he took a calligraphy brush and wrote a banknote. "What will happen to her now?" He picks up the note and gives it to the doctor, who hesitantly accepts it. They know this is nothing but hush money. The doctor looked at the amount; their mouth fell open a wide gape. "That's enough to start your clinic, no?"

They stutter to answer Sukuna, "No, this is fine, My Lord!" Throwing their body to the ground, the physician bowed shallowly until their forehead touched their fingers out of bursting respect. "Lady (Name) will be fine, considering your request was granted. Until Her Lady's fever subsides, I need to reexamine her."

[Sena's quarter]

Sena stopped sobbing an hour hysterically ago when her lifeless child was placed inside her arms, her eyes were blotch red and swollen, and her clothes were unkempt. Even if she wasn't loud now, her eyes still produced hot tears.

"Why did it have to be my son?" She asked no one in particular. Sena brought the child closer to her chest and caressed the backside of their head, swaddled up by a thick blanket.

The physician, who was Sena's doctor, stood by the side. They were waiting for her to give up the child to them when they were ready. Servants under Sena could feel their Mistress' sentiment of losing their child, not once, but twice. Two children who didn't experience the world yet were ripped away. They truly pity her.

"What's happening? Why can't I see them?" Someone cries out in suffering. "Are they okay? Please tell me!" They begged, but the person only let their head droop solemnly and shook their head.

That answer was enough for the person to be in more anguish than before. They tried violently fighting off the person holding them to keep them in place.

You slowly open your eyes and feel a throbbing pain behind them and hiss when the brightness of candlelight comes into your field vision for turning your head in that direction. You immediately close your sight and grit your jaws together and wait for the discomfort to subside.

"Yumi?" Weakly croaking out, you wait and see if there is anyone inside the room, but you are met with silence. Your throat felt parch and dry. Opening your bleary orbs, you finally notice how dark your room is, and daybreak is over. With a fragile left turn of your head, out through the open windows, the colors of numerous stars hung in the night sky with a few nimbus clouds adorning the vast space. Some stars were even hiding shyly behind it.

Flexing your body underneath the sheets, your whole body ache from the movements. The pain in your womb still lingers. However, it shouldn't be bad enough to cripple you in bed again. You thought you were passing through a nexus point of life and death. It was intolerable.

The door to your room opens, and Sukuna trails in; he sees you are awake. He was surprised. You went through a lot; he was expecting you to be still asleep, if not longer. "You're awake."

"Obviously." You were cranky on seeing Sukuna; it wasn't until he settled down sitting next to you, you caught a whiff of two different scents mixing into one, and you know it very well. "You smell of burning paper and incense sticks," pointing out, Sukuna grabbed the collar of his clothing and sniffed, and there were traces of it.

Readjusting his collar, Sukuna shrugged, "I was burning it for the child of Concubine Sena and me," shock ran across your face. "The child passed away in their sleep, peacefully." The words roll off his tongue like water; you can't believe he would say something so casually. Even his face says it all too.

"You should care more and stay until the funeral is over," you told him, annoyed that he would run over to you first. "It is your child."

"Do I have to care for every single one I've sowed?" He bites back. Sukuna does care, not in the way one would expect their father to. He manages for them through the mothers of his children; they do the rearing/ upbringing, and Sukuna does the providing by giving them pocket money. If he were to interact with his children, it would rather be very brief and barely acknowledged; he views them as nothing more than just extensions of him. Pieces that live for him and his causes.

Although you can't believe this is your first conversation waking up. His cruelty knows no bounds. "You could at least respect the life you brought into this world," your annoyance quickly turns to anger, "somehow, I'm glad to have never had your children if this is how you're going to treat them."

"Mind your words," Sukuna warns with a quick sheer. "You don't know what I went through for you." You raise a brow and give him a questioning gaze, but he wouldn't indulge you more. It's not like you expect him to. "You're being delirious upon waking up." Sukuna crosses his arms. "I would never treat the ones I have with you like that."

And that's the truth.

'He's so funny. Haha.' You sarcastically thought and rolled your eyes, but forgot there was still wavering pain and regret it as your face scrunched up. Arguing with him flew out of your mind.

It didn't evade the man's eyes, "Still hurt?" Sukuna didn't wait for your answer and grabbed the basin from above your head, which you didn't even notice. He dampens the cloth, "Close your eyes," he sets it above your lids. "I'll tell the kitchen staff to prepare your meal."

[funeral hall]

Sena burns paper and holds tightly onto her child's mitten in one hand. On the altar was their cremated ashes in a tightly sealed jar with their name labeled on the front. Sena didn't have time to mourn them for seven days; Sukuna had insisted the child be burned immediately (a day later) and sent the child's ashes to the family memorial ground in a tomb for placement.

It was just like the first child she had. Only she was mourning; she had never seen Sukuna weep for them. His face was stone cold like today. Yet, he had abandoned her for you. Sukuna should be here with her and grieving for the children they had lost together.

"How long have you been wanting him but still haven't got it? We both arrived and married Sukuna at the same time at the tender age of eighteen, and his eyes are always on me." Those words impulsively invade her mind, reminding her that her place is beneath you.

But there were whispering behind her from other Concubines, "Do you think it was a curse or fate? Lady (Name) and the child fell the same day yesterday."

"I don't think so; I mean, Lady (Name) has been working nonstop to welcome our mother-in-law's niece." They refuted, but Sena's mind couldn't let the grasp go. You and her child. Sena balled her fists ever tighter, evident anger painting her face as she forced herself to look ahead at the alter.

When it was time to retire for the night, after kneeling so long for the day, Sena made a beeline for your chambers. She rushes and pushes anyone who gets in her way. Sena grabs the slits of your screen doors and forces them open. They saunter inside like they own your place.

You, who were busy eating, looked up from your food bowl and set your spoon down. You made a gesture by pushing the food tray away, indicating you were done eating. Yumi, who gingerly took it with nimble hands, glanced at Sena and then looked back at you with a knowing look, 'Will you be alright?' A quick nod from you, and she exits.

"It is quite late, Concubine Sena; what brought you here?" Your lips form a Cheshire smile. Oh, how much Sena wants to rip that expression off your face. You were so vexatious. If a cat and fox were to have a child, the result would be you. You think you're so coy.

"It was because of you! You, that my child died!" She points the finger at you.

"Me? I am a sick person who happens to have frail health," you mock her, throwing the blanket off you; you stand up despite the ache of your muscles and joint. "Care to elaborate on how your child and I are correlated to this?" Taking steps closer to her, Sena didn't falter. "If you can't, then you're just a fool who tried to guilt me into feeling bad since you're incapable of preserving their life."

You then grab her by the throat; Sena didn't expect you to take action, "I won't take slanders from anyone, especially you, of all people. You had it coming; I suggest this is not foul play but fate." Your fingers dig into her vocal cords as Sena chokes. The person who was supposed to be angry is her, not you! She grabbed your wrist to loosen it, and it was impossible. For a sick person like you, you had such strengths.

"I am not slandering you; it's the truth! All my children died because of you!" She wheezes.

"You think you're so self-righteous for barging into my room? Think however you want; feed your delusional mind that I am the bad guy!" Your eyes burn with rage, "Go find someone who cares enough to punish me if you think I'm wrong." Sena's lavender eyes began to be misty, and she saw the conviction of you wanting to murder her right there and then. "Trust me, even if I were to kill you right here and then, it would be too kind of me."

You loosen your grip and toss her, and Sena stumbles back into her steps. She rubs a hand on her throat.

"Go and mourn your child." It wasn't a command or anything; it was a simple fact of 'get out.'

Sena glared at you and stormed out of your room with thunderous steps. Two angry people, but you were the one that was the most furious. It would help if you could calm your temper; pushing it would render you back to square one, lying in bed.

You pinch the nose of your bridge and massage it.

Another few days passed by, and you were recovering nicely; the chills in your body were gone, and the ache lessened. You heard that today Hanami's niece would be coming, and she would be the one welcoming her since you're left in bed too. While you wait for your physical examination to be over, Sukuna's looming presence in the room is stifling.

The physician made eye contact with Sukuna, and you were left wondering what's their relationship now. You remember how passive-aggressive the man is toward the doctor, and it's a surprise that the relationship is amicable where Sukuna wouldn't try tearing their head apart.

"Everything seems to be okay, you still have a slight fever, but the chilling is gone. Another day or two of bed rest should be fine." They explained, and before you could speak and ask for further details, the doors opened and trotted in Danzo, who came full speed at you.

They throw themselves into your lap, and everyone is surprised; Asuna, who tried to stop Danzo, pauses at your doorstep and sees Sukuna. She timidly greets Sukuna and then the doctor too. "I wanted to stop him, but he's too much for me to catch up," Asuna explained.

"Is child rearing that difficult?" Sukuna spoke up; aspersion bleeds through his voice. Asuna knows it was criticism against her, and she winced.

You notice how Asuna deflated by that remark. "Have one yourself." Throwing a quick wit at Sukuna, the man didn't flinch, "Besides, I adore Danzo." You settle a hand on top of the child's head and run your fingers through them, and Danzo, oblivious to the tension in the room, soaks up your affection. "Most children would run at the sight of me." You challenged Sukuna to go against you, "Having one that isn't afraid and do what their mother told them is refreshing."

Standing up for Asuna, she gathers how Sukuna quietens; her fear heightens that you would be next to be told off. Sukuna pursues his lips into a thin line; then, it turns into amusement. "Have what you want; I won't stop you if that makes you happy." Asuna then saw how fast the situation was diffused in a mere moment. She sincerely thought you would get hash but didn't; her heart calmed down.

Asuna noticed a particular fondness flickering around Sukuna's eyes that was never granted to any of them and the concubines. She heard about it all, how it was reserved for you, but was never one to witness until now. It was noted how easy he seemed to be in your presence and how he observed you and Danzo.

"Danzo, it would be wise if you don't stick too close, or you will get sick." The boy in your lap reluctantly pushes himself away and sits beside you like an obedient child. Asuna, whose child never really listened and would constantly rebel against her, did something he was told for once.

Sukuna heard your voice softening at the sight of the Danzo; it was quiet yet soothing. It was the tone he had never been able to listen to before besides your scorn and flippant attitude of indifference towards him. A peaking smile graces your lips when your fingers brush the boy's chubby cheeks to flick away a rice grain stuck to his face.

If you were this lovely to a child, what about your own when you have them? You would be perfect. He couldn't see why you would be redundant of remaining adamant about being child-free. He has healed your womb, after all. "I have a business to attend to; it seems like I can hear the carriage of my annoying cousin arriving in."

You didn't bid him farewell; your attention was on the child. You could still trace his back leaving without lifting your eyes from your peripheral view. Asuna sidesteps for Sukuna and the physician to go, and you usher the woman to come inside.

Once Sukuna was far enough from prying ears and eyes, he asked the doctor. "She well enough?"

"As well as she can be, her body is avail again now. Everything is flowing perfectly, no more coldness lingering, pulse running strong, and vitality too." The doctor confirms next to Sukuna.

"Hurry up!" The woman ushered the coach; she wanted to get out of to carriage since she hated being seated for so long. It was when the castle was in view, and the horses stop she flung the door open and rushed head-in first.

"Auntie!" She called out to Hanami, who graciously opened her arms and hugged her niece.

"How nice of you to visit me, my lovely niece; how is your travel so far?" Hanami inquires; her niece starts to bounce everywhere. She wasn't able to contain her excitement.

The young girl then goes into a barrel of animated talk, "It was beautiful, better than the barren, dry lands where I reside. Here it is so much more arable and fun." The next thing the woman wanted to say got her gushing, "Auntie~ I met a handsome man, their face is so pretty that I believe the Gods had taken their time to make them perfect. Can you please find them for me? I want to marry them by the time I go back home."

@sukunasobject @lilliansstuff @lucyrocks86 @ladywolf44005 @watyousayin @sandronebabyy @pinkrose1422 @skepticalleo @please-help-therapy-needed @whatsonthemirror @krispsprite @loser-alert @saturnknows @samdric @littlemochi @akigoat @mxghostbee @rose4958 @shadowywizardarcade @huicitawrites @baji-keisukes-wife @choso-wifey @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @sanderaen @peonnnny @tiredlattes @waytomanyhusbands @whatamidoing89 @utena-akashiya @outrofenty @welcometodemonschoolfan @im-a-killer-queen @loverisa @bubera974 @sashaphantomhive @chaoticstrawberryland @onetwo123three @sxftiebee @bbrrose @gretel-gravain @slasherflickchick @floraroselaughter @kikis-art @21yumna @lifegosoana @sob4 @unknown-204 @dathoe @devilsbooksworld @guccirosegold

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goldenseresinretriever · 5 months

Text

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 13

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, angst, swearing, hockey violence, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies, legal inaccuracies. No use of Y/N. Any opinions on NHL teams expressed by my characters are not my own and describe fictional versions of these teams.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Aaaa just one chapter to go and that’s basically an epilogue so this is the big one y’all. Thank you to every single person that’s read my work and enjoyed my characters. Y’all have changed my life and I can’t wait to keep sharing my stories with y’all 🥺❤️

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Your lips are red and irritated from how much you’ve been biting them. You’re bundled in one of Jake’s sweatshirts since you’re off duty tonight and curled up by the glass as you watch the boys during morning skate. Your eyes are glued to Jake, watching and analyzing every movement for any sign of pain or discomfort, but he looks alright.

“You’re going to chew through your lip if you keep that up.” You look up as Zam sits down next to you. She’s wearing the baby pink suit she’d been wearing the day you met, but her expression is grim. Her eyes follow you over to Jake and the other guys.

“Everything okay?” You ask and she gives a tired laugh.

“As okay as it always is. It’s the first preseason game, and sure there’s going to be press, less than there will be for the season opener but it’s our first game as a team. Everyone wants to see the team in action and get their opinions out there. Jake’s situation is just the cherry on top of my stress.” You give her a sympathetic look before looping one of your arms through hers, leaning your head on her shoulder, giving her arm a squeeze.

“I’m sure you’re going to do amazing. You’re the most capable person on this team, and that’s not an exaggeration.” She snorts, leaning her head against yours.

“Damn right, I am.” And the two of you share a laugh as you feel some of the weight lift off of your anxious heart. You look back up to see Jake watching the two of you, a soft smile on his face and he waves when he sees you notice him. You wave back, blowing him a kiss and he feigns catching it. The team knows you’re together, a choice that Jake was adamant about despite the obvious risks of someone running their mouth to the press. As for a public statement, Cyclone had been firmly against it, considering that it's probably the last thing that the media wants to hear about Jake right now next to the details of his injury.

Zam sits with you a bit longer, watching the boys skate before she takes her leave, back to work arranging the post-game press interviews. Cyclone had turned down requests for player interviews during the game itself stating that he needed his team completely focused on the match. He was most likely also doing his best to keep Jake from saying anything unsavory to the press before he could be there to nip it in the bud personally.

Practice stops for a break and Jake skates up to the glass where you’re sitting, pressing one massive glove to the surface and you stand up, pressing your own against it as he smiles at you. He’s in a good mood this morning all things considered but it makes sense. At his core Jake loves hockey you’re sure there’s a part of him that’s bouncing off the walls at being back on the ice, prepping for a game. You head out of the arena as Jake swings himself over the boards, heading back around to the staff entrance to meet him near the locker room. He’s even taller on his skates and you don’t reach as high when you give him a hug. He squeezes back before pulling back to pull off his gloves so he can take your hand in his, the skin-on-skin contact soothing your raw nerves. You follow him as he leads you to the locker room and asks you to wait outside. He comes back, sans helmet and gloves and holding a familiar-looking bundle of fabric in his hand.

“This is for you, Bunny, for tonight.” He hands you the bundle and you unfold the jersey carefully, holding it out so you can see it better. It's in your size instead of his, but his name and number are still emblazoned on the back.

“Jake,” you give him a rueful smile. “You know I can’t wear this tonight. There’ll be press everywhere and Cyclone will go ballistic-“

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “Fuck Cyclone, you’re my girl and you should be allowed to wear my jersey. I want you to wear my jersey.” Your heart aches at the words and you nod, clutching the fabric to your chest.

“I’ll be proud to wear it.” You fold it back up before giving Jake another hug. “I’ve always been proud to wear your number, and I always will be.” He pulls you closer and you take a moment to just soak him in until Javy’s voice calling Jake back up the tunnel breaks the silence. “I love you, Jake” you whisper, reaching up to stroke his cheek, gently. “Be safe tonight, but most of all have fun out there.” Jake returns your soft smile as he kisses your palm and then your nose and lips.

“I love you too, Bunny. I’ll play for both of us tonight. We’re a team, remember?” Your smile widens and you nod at him, hoping your eyes convey all the love that your lips can’t convey as he heads back up the tunnel.

***

You make your way down the tunnel. You’re off duty tonight but that doesn’t stop you from flashing your employee ID and heading back to see the team. You’ve got Jake’s hoodie over his jersey for the time being. The boys are already on the ice, warming up and Zam gives you a wave as you make your way up. The cameras and crowd are all focused on the rink so you stand next to Zam as she watches the boys warming up. Maverick and Dare are standing behind the bench, chatting with Dr. Bates. Cyclone and Iceman are sitting next to each other, both intently watching the ice. Iceman notices you and gives you a wave. You wave back, wondering how much he knows about what’s going on. Then he beckons you over to where he’s sitting and you give Zam a look before climbing over the bench to sit next to Iceman.

“Even if you’re off duty tonight, no need to miss out on a good seat.” He says as you get comfortable. You’re torn between keeping on Jake’s hoodie since Cyclone is just on the other side of Ice but then Jake’s words from earlier come back to you. “You’re my girl and you should be allowed to wear my jersey. I want you to wear my jersey.” With that thought, you shrug off Jake’s sweatshirt, smoothing it over your lap, sitting a little straighter as you meet Jake’s eyes across the ice. Even from where you’re sitting you can see the grin spread across his face and he raises a fist in your direction that you mirror, no longer afraid of who sees. “Congratulations,” Ice says with a fond smile in your direction. You feel your cheeks warm and his eyes on the back of your jersey.

“Thank you,” You murmur, keeping your eyes on Jake as your fingers play with the fabric of the sweatshirt on your lap. You feel like you can feel every eye in the stadium on you, but you know that's just your mind playing tricks on you. You’re in the staff section, not sitting with the other wives and girlfriends where you’d originally planned on sitting. Zam flashes you a smile as she climbs up and settles in next to you. The game’s about to start and you can tell the audience is buzzing. Even though the Dogfighters are brand new, the stands are packed but your eyes fall on plenty of Predators fans who have taken advantage of the lack of die-hard fans. Your parents are somewhere among them. Originally, they’d planned to come down for the season opener but had changed their minds last minute. The chance to see two of their children at once didn’t come often, so while they were here, you hadn’t been able to score them family-and-friends tickets so they’re somewhere you can’t see. The boys start skating back towards the bench, swinging over the boards so the pre-game ceremony can begin. Jake shoots you a grin and a fistbump that you return as the lights in the area dim.

You’re distracted with nerves as the pre-show begins. You hear the electric guitar riff begin as a projection of snow-covered ice plays over the rink, and a dozen paw prints pierce the surface before a huge invisible slaw slashes the Dogfighter’s logo across the projected ice. Images of the players are up on the jumbotron, spliced with clips from practice and you have to hand it to the media team. There’s no way to tell that Jake has been absent from a majority of practices. The audience remains none-the-wiser as they cheer for the Dogfighters. Then it’s time for the boys to get on the ice and the cheers are deafening as Jake’s called up first, his megawatt grin blinding on the jumbotron as he skates onto the ice. The rest of the team joins him one by one until all twenty players are on the ice. The show ends and you watch all but the six starters skate back over to the bench as Nashville’s six starters take their positions.

Jake is starting with the rest of the first line. As the team’s centre, he’ll handle the faceoff. Flanking him are the wingers, Reuben to his left and Mickey to his right. Behind them are Bradley on the left and Javy on the right. Bob’s in the net tonight. You recognize most of the boys on the Predators starting line, but your brother’s still on the bench. You feel a twinge of pride that Jake’s made the first line of the Dogfighters but on paper, between him and Tucker, Jake’s easily the better player. The whistle blows and they're off. Jake gets control of the puck easily, and the Dogfighters move toward the Predators’s net. Even knowing his knee isn’t in peak condition, it’s hard to tell with how well he’s moving tonight and you find yourself getting caught up in watching him the way you always have. You've seen him play in person before but never this close up. When he vaults over the boards for a line change, he meets your eyes with his and you’ve never seen him look so alive. Your eyes ask about his leg and he gives you a look that tells you he’s fine and you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. However, you know enough about hockey to not let your guard down entirely.

***

The first period ends without incident. The Dogfighters are up 2 to 0. Jake scored one of the two goals, and spirits were high in the locker room during intermission. Now, it’s halfway through the second period and the Predators have tied things up at 2-2. Tensions are high on the bench and you can tell Cyclone is actively fighting to stay calm and let Maverick and Dare do their jobs. Maverick still doesn’t look too worried but Dare’s face is a mask of stone. Unlike Maverick, this isn’t her first rodeo and while she’s been doing her best to let Maverick make most of the calls, he seems more than happy to hand her the reigns and you can tell that he’s lightly overwhelmed. Penalties have been handed out here and there throughout the game so far. Bradley took the first one of the night for roughing with one of the Nashville defencemen. Zam’s lips had been pressed tightly in a line when he placed the hit. You couldn’t blame her. Bradley Bradshaw isn’t exactly known for rough play. He took more of an enforcer role with the Flyers, more likely to fight back and deter violent altercations than outright provoking opponents and attacking them. Mickey took a penalty for hooking at the beginning of the period in response to Reuben getting tripped by a Predators player at the end of the first period that went uncalled by the ref. You can tell the two wingers are fiercely protective of each other.

Since then, the Predators have been picking more fights, and you’re on the edge of your seat, eyes glued to Jake when he’s on the ice.

When the hit happens, you feel time slow. One of Nashville’s wingers hooks Jake with his stick and Jake loses his balance, falling onto his bad knee as one of their defencemen checks him into the boards. You watch Jake crumple and you’re moving without realizing. You hear people yelling after you but your body is moving entirely on its own as you vault the boards, feet slipping as you attempt to sprint across the ice to Jake. You’re screaming yourself but you’re not sure if there are words involved, at least any intelligible ones. You almost make it to Jake before a pair of arms wrap around your waist and you’re kicking and screaming as the person holding you tries to pull you away from Jake. Javy and Jake’s voices are calling for you to calm down and amidst your thrashing, you see the number 23 on the white helmet and now you’re actively clawing at your restrainer. “Tucker get your fucking hands off me! Let me go!” You wriggle and kick at your older brother’s knees until he lets you go and you almost collapse on the ice, your feet slipping as you fall to your knees beside where Javy’s crouching by Jake. Play has long since stopped since you literally ran onto the ice in the middle of the game. “Jake, are you okay?” Your eyes are wide and frantic, immediately moving to inspect his leg. “Can you move your knee?”

“Bunny,” his voice cuts through the blur of voices around you and you look up to see his green eyes filled with concern and shock that you’re here. “Sweetheart, you can’t be here.”

“I’m a physician, I think I’m allowed.” You say, your voice trembling as the reality of what you’ve just done hits you.

“Sweetheart?!” Tucker’s shocked voice behind you registers and you turn, fixing him with a firm glare.

“Tuck? Do everyone a favor and shut the fuck up.” His eyebrows go straight up as you turn back to Jake. You and Tucker are close, closer than you are with your eldest brother, Charlie. You should probably give him a call after this because you’re probably going to need a world of legal counsel after tonight is over. “I said can you move your knee, Jake?” He nods and you press gently at his knee over his pants. “Any pain?” You ask as the voices behind you get louder and then there’s another pair of arms wrapping around your forearm and you turn to see the ref scowling at you and you sigh, scowling back. “I’m in the middle of tending to my patient if you don’t mind.” You hear Jake suck in a sharp breath at your clipped tone.

“You can tend to your patient when he’s back on the bench. Come on now, young lady, let’s get you off the ice.”

Jake speaks up then, as Javy and Mickey help him to his feet. “That’s doctor, to you.” His voice is firm and leaves little room for argument and the ref shoots him a look before turning back to you.

“Alright then doctor, let’s get you out of here.” He helps you up and you attempt to follow after him but since you’re in your sneakers and the adrenaline that propelled you across the ice before is now nonexistent, you slip and almost face-plant on the rink before a pair of arms scoops you up. Tucker gives you a grim smile as he carries you back over to the Dogfighter’s bench, depositing you safely on the other side of the boards. You turn back to return his smile in silent thanks as Javy, Jake, and Mickey make it to the boards as well and help Jake through the tiny door to the end of the bench where Dr. Bates is waiting. You start toward him until Cyclone steps in front of you, his face is one of barely-concealed fury. He grabs your arm roughly and you wince at the strength and force of his grip as he starts to drag you towards the tunnel. His body shields yours from Jake’s eye line, but Tucker clocks your reaction from where he’s lingering on the other side of the boards and his eyes harden.

“Hey!” he yells. “Get your hands off my sister!” Heads immediately turn your way and then Jake’s up and in your line of sight, his face a mask of fury as he steps between you and Cyclone and shoves him against the edge of the tunnel, hard. Cyclone’s hand releases your arm amidst the confusion and you step back, letting Jake’s body shield you from him.

“Get your hands off my girl, or I swear to god I’m going to cause more than just a scene.” Jake’s voice is cold, calculated, and void of emotion even as he growls the threat in Cyclone’s face. It’s low enough that you still catch the words but you know the audience pressed up against the glass next to you probably can’t. Maverick and Dare are on Jake then, pushing you back farther down the tunnel, out of sight as they pull Jake off Cyclone, his green eyes icy as he steps away easily, turning to look at you as you creep back towards the locker room and he gives you an encouraging nod as you turn and disappear.

***

The game ends up continuing after a lengthy intermission during which the ice is cleaned and Zam and Ice have a lengthy discussion with the referees and the Predators’s leadership. Jake sits out the rest of the game, spending the rest of the second period on the bench until Dr. Bates escorts him down the tunnel to give him a more thorough check-up in the examination room where you’re waiting with shaking hands. You’ve been keeping up with the game via a livestream on your phone and the Dogfighters are up 3-2.

When Jake and Dr. Bates come in you stand from where you’ve been hunched over a stool. He asks you to grab some of his equipment from his office but you reveal that you’ve already prepped everything he needs to examine Jake and you move to assist him. He makes no effort to deter you from helping. You keep your eyes on Jake’s knee as he answers Dr. Bates’s questions and watch him for any physical responses that might contradict his verbal ones. Everything seems to match, however, both you and Dr. Bates recommend Jake stay on the bench for the rest of the game just in case. Now that you know that Jake is really, truly fine, you let out the breath you’ve been holding since he first got hit and Dr. Bates stands from where he’s been seated, examining Jake’s leg, turning to you. “I’ll give the two of you a moment, but Jake needs to be back in the arena in five.” You give him a thankful look as you nod. Once he’s gone you finally look at Jake, and the tears you see in his eyes nearly bring you to your knees. You throw yourself into the safety of his arms and he pulls you close.

“I’m so sorry, Jake. I know I shouldn’t have done that, I didn’t even realize I had until it was too late.” You’re crying now and you feel your whole body shaking as Jake just shakes his head where it’s buried in your hair.

“Nothing to apologize for, Bunny. You just scared me, is all.” He presses a kiss against your hair, gently. “My brave girl, so fucking fearless.” You let out a watery giggle at that and Jake pulls away from you gently to wipe away your tears with his big, smelly gloves. You wrinkle your nose at the smell as he laughs and pulls them off and you keen at the warmth of his bare palms against your cheek as he holds your face in his hands. He presses a kiss to your nose before you wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your hands in the sweaty hair at the back of his neck and hauling his mouth against yours. The kiss is slow and sensual but full of all the desperation that the two of you are feeling. “I love you so much, Bunny.” He whispers against your lips and you echo the sentiment before pulling away from him. You know everything changes once this game ends and you’re terrified to see what the future will bring but whatever it is, you know you’ll face it together. You help Jake to his feet and walk him back to the locker room where the rest of the team is heading back up the tunnel.

Maverick and Dare come out last and Maverick follows the boys but Dare hangs back, coming up to you. The two of you have traded a few words here and there but she’s never really spoken to you one-on-one. She gives you a tired smile that you mirror tentatively before she speaks. “What you did today was really brave. Being with someone like Jake isn’t going to be easy and you’re going to have to fight your way forward at every step, but it looks like you’re a fighter and that’s a good thing.” You smile wider at that, thanking her. She sighs and you see a faraway look in her eyes as she remarks. “I should have fought harder. Sometimes I wonder what my life would look like if I did.” Your heart aches at that.

“Did you miss him, when he was gone?” You can't help the question that leaves your lips and Dare turns to you, surprised. You give her an embarrassed shrug.

“Mav told us when he had Jake and I over at his house for dinner.” You see an indecipherable emotion pass over her face before she schools her face back into a polite smile.

“I do.” She says before she reaches over to give your shoulder a squeeze, heading back up the tunnel and leaving you behind her.

***

You spend the rest of the game in your office, watching the live stream at your desk and fighting every impulse to start packing up the small space. You promised Jake that you would fight together and Dare had just told you to be prepared to do the same, and despite your strong intentions to do just that, there’s a small part of your brain that tells you to prepare for the worst. The game ends with a score of 4-2 in the Dogfighters’s favor. You wish you could be out there celebrating with the team as you watch the cameras pan to the boys jumping all over each other in excitement. You hear them noisily making their way back to the locker room and yet you force yourself to stay in your office even after you hear them exit just as noisily. You’re forcing yourself to work on some paperwork to kill time when a familiar voice comes from your phone. You’d forgotten to turn off the live stream once the game ended and now Jake’s on the screen, giving what seems to be a post-game interview.

“When I came to San Diego, I was in a pretty dark place. I was suffering from an MCL tear that had been untreated since the playoffs back in June. I’d put my trust in the wrong people and gotten hurt and I wasn’t ready to trust a brand new team quite yet, I just knew I needed to leave Dallas and San Diego seemed like the best bet. What I didn’t know was that my life was about to change for the better. Throughout my career, I’ve worked with a lot of physicians but none of them cared about their patients the way Bugs does. I mean, you all saw her tonight. She wasn’t even working tonight but she literally ran onto the ice because she was worried about my knee. I haven’t given her the easiest time. When we first met I was stubborn and probably gave her a lot of trouble that she didn’t need or deserve but she kept pushing, trying to get me to trust her so that she could help me because that’s just the kind of doctor that she is. She’s brilliant and talented and so dedicated to her patients that I was stupid enough to fall head over heels in love with her.” Your breath catches. “And, you see, she could tell, because she’s that smart, and she told me it would just get both of us in a world of trouble and she could even lose her job, so I tried. I really tried not to, but when you meet the love of your life, I don’t think you get much of a say in whether or not you fall for them. And then I got so, so lucky because she fell in love with me too.” The tears you’ve been holding back all night are falling now, making silent tracks down your face as you listen to Jake’s words and let them wash over you. “But obviously I didn’t want her to get into any trouble so we went to our PR rep because I’d never ask Bugs to choose me over her career. So we hired Dr. Bates and he’s been taking good care of me since and I’ve been lucky enough to be loved by someone as exquisite and talented as Bugs. I’m so proud of her and I love her so much. It’s such a privilege to be her partner and teammate.” You sob as Jake finishes his speech and when he looks right into the camera you know he’s looking at you.

For once you feel as fearless as Jake seems to think you are and you drop your phone on your desk, forgotten, as you sprint for the door because you need to get to him. You race down the hall to the area where you know the post-game interviews are being held and Jake’s smiling at the cameras as they flash. A few other players are standing around in their suits but the cameras and attention are all on Jake. You pause as you reach the edge of the crowd but Jake’s eyes find you easily and you watch his face brighten into a huge grin as he holds out his arms and then you’re pushing through the crowd to get to him, hurling yourself into his warm embrace as he holds you close, the back of his jersey facing the cameras and declaring to the world that you’re Jake’s girl.

“Hey, sweet girl.” He whispers into your hair.

“I love you, Jake, I love you so much.” You whisper back and you don’t care if the microphones pick it up because you’d shout it from the rooftops if given the chance. You love Jake and he loves you, there’s nothing else in the world that matters. You hear the interviewer in the background introducing you to the world as Jake Seresin’s girlfriend and your heart aches with joy as you turn in his arms, head held high, ready to face the world.

A/N: AAAAAAAAA, god I loved this chapter so much 🥹 And the cameo from Tucker, we love to see it

#snitches get stitches // sdd #san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters hockey au #sgs // sdd #tgm hockey au #top gun maverick hockey au #top gun maverick #TGM #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #Jake Seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #no use of y/n

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edenesth · 3 months

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The Way to His Heart [7]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4k

Part 6 | Fic Masterlist | Part 8

"Has anyone seen the mistress?" Seonghwa inquired, having lost sight of you since breakfast that morning.

He had combed through almost the entire estate, searching for you in the House of Lotus and with Eunsook, but to no avail. He had even gone as far as to check Yunho's temporary quarters, only to find the physician alone and engrossed in his work.

The general felt a twinge of embarrassment as he recalled asking the doctor, "Do you have any clue where my wife is?" only to have the taller man furrow his brows in confusion and reply, "Wha— not to be rude, but how would I know that, my lord?"

Your husband cleared his throat loudly, looking away and feigning nonchalance, "Don't get clever with me; I'm just asking. If you don't know, just say so."

Yunho lowered his head and suppressed a laugh, "You're right. My apologies, my lord. I hope you find Lady Park soon. Her next dose of medicine is almost ready. It would be best if she takes it while it's hot; the taste is slightly more bearable."

"Right, I'll find her soon. Don't worry."

The physician nodded, "I have no doubt that you will, my lord."

With that, Seonghwa hastily exited the room, questioning his decision to come there in the first place. He couldn't fathom why he assumed you would be with the handsome doctor. Even though he hadn't found you yet, there was a sense of relief in knowing that at least you weren't anywhere near Yunho, as he had feared.

And that's how he ended up back at your quarters, interrogating the servants responsible for maintaining your garden. A frown etched on his face as they shook their heads in response, "No, master. Mistress hasn't returned here since leaving for breakfast this morning."

Worry crept in as his mind conjured up wild scenarios. What if you had been taken away? What if you got hurt somewhere, unnoticed by anyone? What if—

His eyes landed on the pavilion in your garden, and it struck him. Remembering your determination to learn lady etiquette, he chastised himself for not thinking to check his own study. He had searched almost every corner of the estate except the very place he frequented the most.

Please, let her be there.

Fingers crossed, he hurried towards the study. If he didn't find you there, he might have to organise a search party.

"There you are."

His words escaped in a breathless whisper as he spotted you standing amidst his numerous shelves, completely engrossed in the book cradled in your hands. Instant relief washed over him, and he struggled to look away. Bathed in sunlight by the window, you appeared almost ethereal in that spot, your side profile captivating.

The marks on your skin had started to fade a little, with the help of Yunho's ointment, proving its effectiveness. For your comfort, the maids were instructed not to apply makeup if you weren't leaving the estate. Besides, no one here would dare consider you anything less than beautiful; you were adored by all. Your scars only strengthened everyone's determination to protect you, not just your husband.

He continued to quietly admire you from his corner, hesitant to disturb you. As you finished one book and reached for the next on a top shelf, he chuckled at your determination, especially when you went on your toes, biting your lip in concentration.

Eventually, he sighed and approached you, reaching effortlessly for the book you were attempting to get. You gasped as you felt his presence and saw his hand beside yours, "Y-you're here, Seonghwa."

Both your breaths hitched, and your eyes widened as you turned around to face him, realising the closeness. Surprised, you stumbled backwards, and his reflexes kicked in, his arm circling your back immediately, pulling you close. Frozen, your hands rested on his chest to steady yourself.

"Yes, I'm here." He murmured, his eyes shifting to see you biting your lips shyly again, the action reigniting his desire to kiss you. You stood still as a plank, heart pounding as he slowly closed the space between you. You held your breath when feeling his nose touch yours. Never having been kissed or wanted in your life, you didn't know how to react or what to do. Was this what married couples normally do?

Maybe now you'll find out.

A chill ran down your spine when you felt his lips brush lightly against yours, "Can I..." He muttered in his deep voice, gazing down at you with hooded eyes.

Before you could form a response, the door to the study slammed open, startling the two of you, and causing you to jump apart as if caught doing something scandalous.

Damn it, so close!

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, sir! I didn't mean to interrupt; it's just that—" Jongho was a mess as he stumbled in, panting and sputtering his apology.

You quickly waved to the assistant to signal it was fine before bowing to the general, "No, please, don't worry! I was just leaving anyway. I'll see you at dinner, Seonghwa."

Smiling at you, your husband nodded, "Yes. See you, my dear," The smile disappeared as soon as you left the room, causing Jongho to gulp nervously, "This better be good."

The assistant quickly collected himself, "Oh, it will be good, sir. I can promise you that." He said, rushing to make sure the doors were shut tightly before going back to debrief his master on his latest findings.

Eunsook heaved a sigh of relief upon seeing you, her concern evident as she observed you pressing your palms against your red cheeks, "Mistress, are you feeling alright?" She inquired, checking your forehead for any signs of fever.

You nodded, "I-I'm fine," attempting to calm your rapid heartbeat. The almost-lost moment with your husband lingered continuously in your mind; your first kiss had come perilously close to happening just moments ago.

"Thank goodness, you're alright. We've been looking everywhere for you. Where were you?" She questioned, and you replied, "You were looking for me? I was just reading in Seonghwa's study."

The elderly woman continued, "Yes, your medicine is ready. Physician Jung suggested taking it while it's hot," With an obedient nod, you followed her into your room. As she fed you the herbal soup, she casually asked, "You were in the master's study, you say? Did he find you there? He was searching frantically for you."

Your blush returned as you recalled the sensation of his lips brushing against yours, "Y-yes, he knows I'm safe. Don't worry." You reassured her while the head maid beamed, unaware of the fluttering in your heart as you tried to compose yourself.

Unlike you, the general did not have the luxury to linger on thoughts of your intimate moment. He vowed to himself that once your family received the retribution they deserved, he would dedicate all his attention to you. He turned serious the moment Jongho began speaking, updating him on the latest intel gathered about your family.

"What? Do those fools actually believe I'd swap my wife for one of them? Not even in their wildest dreams will that ever happen." Seonghwa scoffed in disbelief. The mere thought of your stepsisters was enough to repulse him, and he couldn't wait to send them to an early grave.

He pulled out the Jang family records again, asking, "And as for this... are there any updates? We only have a few days left until I return to work."

Jongho nodded proudly, presenting a couple of documents obtained in a not-so-honest manner, "You were right, sir. Your suspicions were accurate. We found just the thing to prove it. With this, we can finalise the plans and finally set them into motion."

"Good job, Jongho. How about that private investigator of yours?" The general inquired, his mind already buzzing with excitement as he plotted your family's demise.

The assistant bowed in gratitude, "He's still maintaining his cover in the Jang estate. He expressed his desire to assist us with the plan. Apparently, he's a huge admirer of yours, sir. That seemed to be his primary motivation for readily accepting my offer."

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, his mistrust evident, "Is he now? Have you done a background check on him?"

"I have, sir. He's in the clear; I can vouch for him. I'm confident he harbours no ulterior motives other than a genuine admiration for you; he wants nothing more than to be recognised by you."

The general nodded, picking up the newly retrieved documents, "If you say so, I guess it won't hurt to have an extra helping hand. Make sure to pay him handsomely. Now, go get some rest; we'll be getting busy soon." His heart was immediately eased by his aide's assurance. If Jongho trusted this person, there must be a good reason.

"Yes, sir."

In the days that followed, Seonghwa appeared awfully busy, often confined to his study with Jongho for endless meetings. The next morning, you found a collection of your lady etiquette books delivered to your doorstep, with a servant mentioning that the study was required for important discussions between your husband and his assistant.

Assuming he was loaded with work after taking several days off, you didn't dwell on it much. While the general focused on perfecting his plans, you spent your days refining your etiquette with the head maid's help, working on correcting your posture, walking, table manners, and way of speaking.

The two of you only had brief encounters twice a day, during breakfast and dinner. Seonghwa apologised repeatedly, promising to spend more time with you once he completed his current project, and you reassured him that you were fine.

Time passed quickly, and before you knew it, a new week had begun, marking your husband's return to work. After your customary breakfast together, you walked him to the entrance of the estate, where his carriage awaited to transport him to the palace for the morning assembly with His Majesty, the King.

"This is as far as you'll see me off. It's cold out here, so don't spend too much time outdoors, okay? Head back to my study if you want, and take your medicine on time." He reminded sweetly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You smiled appreciatively, assuring him, "I will, Seonghwa. Don't worry about me. Have a good day at work." His heart melted at your words, and the sense of being husband and wife settled in. Having someone waiting for him at home felt unexpectedly warm, and he realised he could get used to it.

That's right, just keep smiling like that.

Rubbing his thumbs over your hands, he pressed a kiss onto your knuckles, saying, "I'll see you later, my dear."

Eunsook and Jongho exchanged knowing grins as they guided their master and mistress in opposite directions—Seonghwa into his carriage and you back to your quarters.

Carrying you in his thoughts, the general commenced his journey to the royal palace. He had always harboured disdain for the Minister of Military Affairs, but it had never been potent enough to instigate his downfall. However, circumstances had taken a drastic turn with your arrival. Your father had gravely miscalculated if he believed this union between you was a wise decision; in reality, it paved the way for his own undoing.

Unfazed by the attention, he arrived at the assembly, becoming the centre of attention for all the ministers and officials. Their curiosity was stirred by the general who had adamantly refused marriage, yet now found himself wedded against his will. Speculation abounded about whether he would cause a scene, as all members had been notified of his special agenda.

Your husband, however, remained unaffected by the scrutiny. He anticipated the spotlight, fully aware that these old fools relished nothing more than witnessing his misery. Despite his recognised achievements, it didn't automatically translate into wholehearted acceptance from these higher-ups. Their displeasure was palpable, harbouring reservations about his young age and the potential threat he posed to their established ranks.

The revelation of his marriage to you only fueled their satisfaction, as they believed that being tied to the Minister of Military Affairs would ensure Seonghwa's perpetual subordination, always a step below his father-in-law in rank.

"Good morning, General Park. You seem to be in quite a good mood." Your husband felt his eye twitch, hearing the voice he wasn't looking forward to.

Speak of the devil.

Facing your father, he smirked, "Good morning, Minister Jang. I can't deny that I am feeling quite good." It satisfied him to see your father's grin falter slightly, knowing the old man probably didn't know what to expect, but it surely wasn't this. The last thing they all expected was for him to appear... pleased.

Before the minister could voice any questions, the King entered the hall. Along with everyone else, the general knelt and bowed deeply, performing the formal greeting. In unison, they chanted, "Your Majesty, may you live a long and prosperous life. We wish for you ten thousand years of life and reign."

"You may all rise," declared His Majesty before expressing joy at the presence of his favourite subject, "Seonghwa, my boy! You're finally back! Oh, I cannot wait to hear all about your week off."

The minister raised a smug brow, eyeing your husband and presuming that his week could not have been too pleasant with you around. While he was almost certain of that, it seemed the general was adept at keeping up the act. Your father eagerly anticipated hearing about this important agenda without delay.

"Tell me, my boy. Is your wife as beautiful as we all speculated? There must have been a good reason for the minister to keep her so well hidden all these years." The King inquired, his excitement evident as he leaned forward in his seat.

Seonghwa chuckled, "Your Majesty, perhaps it wouldn't be too appropriate for us to engage in idle chatter in this meeting. After all, I'm sure all the ministers and officials here have more pressing matters to discuss and probably care little for the details of my marriage." He was merely teasing at this point, knowing full well that everyone was eager to hear about his past week.

"Nonsense! What could possibly be more important than your recent wedding? If anyone here has no interest in what General Park has to share, you are welcome to leave the assembly."

While leaving the assembly might seem like a simple option, it practically equated to a death sentence. Without the King's explicit permission, no one would be allowed to exit on their own. This implied that whoever refused to listen to what your husband had to say might as well be choosing a path leading to their demise.

All the higher-ups immediately bowed their heads low with clenched fists as they voiced in unison, "Of course not! We wouldn't dare, Your Majesty!" They were well aware of Seonghwa's subtle assertion of power over the King. Regardless of their high positions or ranks, he would always be the favourite. While it might go unnoticed by the less perceptive, it was a clear demonstration of authority, a warning not to cross him.

"Very well, I suppose I'll divulge a bit about my wife since you're all so eager to hear about her," The general couldn't conceal his shit-eating grin, pleased to have put these elderly men in their rightful places. The King applauded enthusiastically, "Please do!"

Minister Jang's earlier arrogance evaporated with your husband's unmistakable show of power, and he could only suppress his irritation as he waited to hear what Seonghwa would say about you.

"To answer your question, Your Majesty, she is even more stunning than you all might imagine, perhaps the most beautiful woman in all of Joseon, both inside and out, at least in my eyes. And you were right, my King, she truly is perfect for me. For that, I'd like to express my gratitude for sending her to me."

The entire room stood at a standstill as everyone tried to process his words. It was almost surreal that the formidable General Park, who had always been so adamant about never marrying and was coerced into this union without a choice, openly expressed his admiration for his new wife. Apart from the King, who genuinely relished hearing it, the rest of the assembly remained sceptical, wondering what game Seonghwa was playing.

"And because of that, I regret my earlier decision of not having a proper wedding ceremony. I now know my wife deserves only the best, which brings me to the important matter I'd like to address today, Your Majesty. I was hoping you would grant me permission to fix that. I'd like to plan a grand wedding to make up to her."

Your father narrowed his eyes dangerously; this was the furthest thing from what he had expected. He would rather die than give you a grand wedding. He thought he was finally done with you, believing you could have perished for all he cared. Yet, here your husband was, requesting to host a grand wedding? And for you?

Over my dead body.

His Majesty couldn't contain his joy, letting out a surprised laugh, "Oh my, Seonghwa! I'm so proud of you; I was beginning to grow worried you'd never allow yourself to love again. And of course, you can have a grand wedding! We shall host one as grand as a royal wedding if need be! Heavens, I cannot wait to meet this new Lady Park of yours; she must be something for you to have changed this much!"

Minister Jang cleared his throat, "Your Majesty, if I may cut in."

The King nodded, "Why, of course. It's your daughter we're discussing; do you have any ideas for the ceremony?"

Your father shook his head, "N-no, my King. I was hoping to remind the general that my daughter prefers simplicity and that this would not be necessary—"

With a smirk, Seonghwa cut him off, "Well then, minister, it would seem you do not know your daughter well enough, or at all."

The Minister of Military Affairs stilled at that; obviously, the general knew more than he let on, "Wha— that's not true! My eldest has always been one for frugality and would never ask for much, let alone a grand wedding; she might find that burdensome."

"Has she really not asked for much, or has she not been permitted to have a voice at all?" Your husband pressed, watching expectantly as the minister sputtered lame excuses, caught off guard.

Not oblivious to the fact that Seonghwa was attempting to convey something, the King raised a brow at Minister Jang's defensive demeanour, "What is it that you wish to say, my boy?"

Panicked, your father gulped, afraid of what the general might reveal. Not once did he think the heartless General Park would ever care about what happened to you. He assumed that, just like all the members of his family and estate, your new husband would also cast you aside and not bat an eyelash if you died, as had happened with all his previous marriage candidates.

"Your Majesty, even though Minister Jang is now my father-in-law, I feel compelled to speak out against the injustice I perceive for my wife," The minister did not dare to look up as he felt cold sweat dripping down his back, listening anxiously to what Seonghwa was going to disclose, "No matter how much he thinks she prefers simplicity, it just wasn't right for him to have sent her to me all alone on our wedding day."

With a frown, His Majesty eyed your father judgementally, "All alone? Please elaborate, Seonghwa."

Suppressing his sly grin, your husband continued, "My assistant found her wandering all by herself by the entrance of my estate, without a chaperone, any servants or palanquin bearers. And what's worse, she barely had anything on her, only carrying an empty duffel bag. Tell me, Your Majesty, who would believe her to be a noblewoman from a powerful house? I simply cannot understand why the minister could do this to his precious daughter."

"Is that true, Minister Jang?" The King's emotionless voice rang across the hall, and the minister shivered from the chill running down his spine, "W-well, yes, but—"

Everyone jumped when His Majesty slammed his fist against the handle of his throne, "That is simply unacceptable! It doesn't matter how much you insist your daughter favours simplicity; what you've done is completely ridiculous. Can you even call yourself her father? Oh, the poor girl."

Your father bowed all the way down immediately, pressing his forehead against the floor as he begged for forgiveness, embarrassed to have his wrongdoings exposed at assembly for everyone to listen like this, "Please, Your Majesty! Forgive this old fool for taking my kind daughter for granted! I will do anything to make up to her as you wish, a grand wedding if you will."

As if seeking Seonghwa's approval, the King looked at the general, "Would that suffice?"

Shrugging, your husband pressed his lips into a line, "I suppose I do have one condition, though," His Majesty nodded, "Name it."

The general smiled, "I've troubled you enough with concerns regarding my marital matters, Your Majesty. For this wedding of mine, I'd like to personally make the arrangements with the minister and his family, preferably at his estate."

"At his estate and not here? Why is that, Seonghwa?" The King asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

"I just want to see where my beloved wife spent all her childhood; I'm curious about the environment that made her so precious."

As the King showered praise on your husband for his apparent sweetness and saw it merely as Seonghwa being hopelessly in love with you, Minister Jang knew better than that he had an ulterior motive, and it couldn't bode well. The general clearly has something up his sleeves, but in the presence of His Majesty, your father found himself with little choice but to comply.

What do you want from me, Park Seonghwa?

« Preview of Part 8 »

"What?! A grand wedding for that useless thing? Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Jinah screeched, her frustration evident as she pulled at her hair.

Jinhee, in disbelief, glared at your old prison cell of a room from a distance. Servants had been ordered to fill it up with things to make it seem like a storeroom in preparation for Seonghwa's visit, "Maybe we've underestimated her. It seems she actually got the general wrapped around her finger."

Minister Jang had nothing to say except to hold his head in his hands. He couldn't forget the King's disapproving looks directed at him all throughout the assembly after what your husband had revealed. Not just His Majesty; but even the other ministers and officials had been staring at him weirdly, not understanding him for what he did to his own daughter.

Jinjoo stomped around like a brat, "Father, you promised us that marrying her to him would bring us satisfaction! What the hell is this?! I refuse to accept this!"

Having had enough of their whining, the minister threw the wine glass beside him onto the floor, "Be quiet, all of you! Do you honestly think the wedding is what matters now? My position could very well be in danger, and you care about that? Fools! Get out of my sight!"

The three were taken aback by the minister's unexpected fit of anger, and their mother quickly gestured for them to leave the living hall at once. Once they were gone, Lady Jang sat down beside her husband, "What is it, dear? What's wrong?"

"Park Seonghwa knows something, I'm sure of it. He said some things today that could make me look suspicious, and if anyone starts digging around, I fear they might find out what we've been trying to hide..."

Woohoo, shit's about to go down! Are y'all excited? HAHAHA🤭

I'm also shook that I'm like 20 followers away from reaching 1k! Thank you all so much; I just want you to know that it's your encouraging messages and replies that have been motivating me to update as quick as I can, really appreciate it!

As always, hope you enjoyed and let me know all your thoughts! <3

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bontenten · 1 year

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METAMORPHOSES 03 || An Heir

Pairings: Zenin Naoya x f!reader, Gojo Satoru x f!reader (unrequited) WC: 3.9k Series Genre/Warnings: smut, noncon/dubcon, emotional/physical abuse, yandere, Naoya, misogyny, arranged marriage, pregnancy, miscarriage, birth, lactation, manga spoilers, more dead doves

A/N: oh i veryy much enjoyed writing this chapter, ty for patience since last updates!

Series Masterlist

“My lady, your condition can be considered stable now. Since this is your first pregnancy, there are still many things your body is not used to. The young master’s energy is also dense, causing your body to become frail. It’s paramount that you meditate everyday to keep your energies in balance for the developing child. I will write a prescription for a tonic which you should take three times daily. Rest and keep a stress-free, open mind until your delivery date.”

The Zenin physician placed his tools back into his chest. He flipped open his notebook and began to scribble a list of ingredients. The tense atmosphere in the room settled down.

“You will be the one responsible for bringing the medicine. Should anything happen, you will answer with your life in the disciplinary pit.” Naoya threatened.

“Y-Yes, Young Master Naoya, of course. I will do everything in my power to take care of the lady.”

You squeezed Naoya’s hand and tried to comfort the doctor currently scared out of his wits. “Thank you, Doctor. You may go now, I’m a bit tired.”

The earlier spasms of pain and vertigo had everyone in a panic. It came so suddenly, you were unprepared and before you knew it, you woke to Naoya’s immense killing intent burying the room.

To say that this pregnancy was difficult was an understatement.

After that incident, Naoya forbade you from having any form of excursion and threatened servants left and right to take care of menial tasks. You had to tell him to stop yelling so much lest he scared the baby in your belly. Only then would he quiet down a bit and mutter, "My son isn’t that useless."

“You know…we could have a girl too.” You waited for a response.

Naoya wrapped his arms around you, a hand resting over your belly. “I will have no weakling girl.”

Then the two of you, along with the one growing inside of you, fell into slumber.

Akiko, having gone through the process of pregnancy and childbirth, often checked in on you and answered any questions you had. She was very strict about the pregnancy meditation exercises. Under her watch, there wasn’t a single day you could slack. The medicine tasted awful, but Akiko insisted you finish the whole bowl. Often, she watched you finish everything, with a piece of candy waiting to wash the bitter taste away. In many ways, she was the mother figure in your life.

Mai and Maki stopped spending time with you after they began their lessons. You wondered if you made the right choice in sending them to training, but ultimately, in this clan, you knew they had no choice. You knew they were talented, in ways that you could never amount to. Strength meant everything.

One evening, while Naoya was still at a clan meeting and Akiko was away, you decided to charge your old phone. You weren’t allowed anywhere near it during your pregnancy, not that you had much need for it. It was bad for the baby, was what they told you. But the device was still something for you to fiddle with, the size felt like it just belonged in the hand. You flipped it open. To your surprise, you had gotten a number of missed calls from someone you would never have imagined—Gojo Satoru. You hesitated, but dialed back, wondering what could have happened.

The sound of his voicemail was playing in your head already. Except he picked up.

“Finally, it’s been ages. When will your clan ever embrace new tech?”

“Satoru,” you greeted. “What a surprise, I didn’t think you would have anything come to me about.”

He chuckled. “Can’t I call if I missed you?”

“I’m married now, if you need to be reminded.” You looked down at your midsection. “And very pregnant.”

“Oh, I know you’re knocked up.” The breathy voice seemed to tickle your ear. Gojo was probably laying down, on a couch or a bed. “A main branch Zenin spawn is probably pretty difficult I assume? How are you still doing?”

“Pampered suffocation.”

“Good, good. It’s probably best you’re relaxed, take a seat. How is the Zenin young master?”

“Naoya…yes, he treats me well.” You smiled at the memory of him during lunch. He had personally sliced and plated fruit for you.

“Honestly, I didn’t even think that his spouse would end up being you. Glad to hear it though. And have you talked with your father at all recently?”

No.

“They’re busy,” you explained.

“Too busy to even visit or inquire about their daughter?”

Gojo’s question stumped you. The question that you had wondered about ever since the first day was finally spoken out loud. Even for a clan as strict as the Zen’in, surely if you couldn’t visit home, they could’ve paid you a visit? A phone call?

“I figured. What wonderful parents you have.” Gojo’s lighthearted voice switched to a serious tone. “I suppose you still deserve to know the truth.”

He explained that he’s been working on a perplexing phenomenon of curses in a few districts. There was typically some sort of pattern to where they appeared, their type, and their strength. The data was odd and Gojo had studied each of the cases in detail. But it didn’t make sense to you.

“Satoru,” you interrupted him. “I’m not really following?”

“Did you not understand? I just explained—”

“Yes, but why,” you exasperated. Images of your clansmen, covered in a white cloth, being brought back from the streets flooded your mind. Blood-soaked bandages and screams while the clan physician strained himself to attend to all the wounded. The nights your mother stayed up late waiting for your father’s team to return. The visceral chaos and stench of death loomed over everyone you loved. "You know what happened. The cursed spirits had been growing in power and they were overrunning the clan's wards. If Naoya hadn't helped, more the sorcerers would've—"

A dry laugh cut you off. "Would've been just fine if not for the youngest son of Naobito trying to win you over. Helped your clan? Who even told you that? Was it your father when the Zenin proposed? And you really just believed them? You're more stupid than I had thought. Were you a shy, bashful bride eager to be a little plaything for your clan’s hero? You never even wondered why it was only your clan's ward that was badly affected? Time to wake up, princess. Why would anyone from your family want to speak to the sacrificial lamb and reason for all their suffering?"

Hang-up, your mind screamed at you. How dare he point the blame at you. Where were you when I was in trouble Satoru?

“And why should I believe you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to. A bastard and a dimwit make a lovely pair.”

You swallowed as your head grew dizzy and began breathing heavily in an attempt to intake more oxygen.

Gojo realized his harsh tone and sighed. “Are you still there? Listen, I know there wasn’t much you could’ve done anyway. I’m just telling you this because I suppose we were acquainted in our youth.”

Acquainted. Just acquainted. But more importantly, all that you have known, all that you believed for the past years were being torn apart and rearranged in the span of fifteen minutes.

“Yes. Thank you, Satoru,” you managed to whisper.

“I realize this is probably a surprise, but I also want to assure—” He was cut off by the sound of a woman calling his name in the background.

“I’m needed elsewhere; take care.”

You set the phone down after Satoru hung up and sat in silence trying to piece together the information that was just dumped onto you. You fell back onto the mattress, a hand over your belly. A heaviness weighed down your chest. It was madness to believe the words of the man on the other side of the phone. What was he to you now? No one. Your father and mother explained everything to you. Who was he to tell you what was the truth?

The relief when everyone saw the Zenin clan symbol on the guest’s hakama couldn’t have been fabricated. The hope in people’s faces wasn’t a lie. Even though you were hiding behind the screen doors at the time, the sincerity in his voice when he asked your father for your hand had to be true. That man saved the whole clan. Serve him well. If Naoya was the hero, why were those the parting words from your family on the day of your wedding?

A quiet knock pulled you out of your thoughts. “My lady, I have brought your tonic.”

The room was completely dark already. Who knows how long you’ve laid there trying to make sense of everything?

You dragged yourself to the door and found a young girl holding a wooden serving tray with a bowl of bitter, black liquid. “Lady Akiko is currently away. She tasked me to bring this to your ladyship.”

You picked up the bowl and quickly downed the contents. It didn’t taste quite as foul as you had remembered. “Is the meeting over?”

“It should be ending around this time. Should I escort you to the main hall?”

“No...I can go by myself,” you said, dismissing her.

You had to hear it from Naoya himself. He was your husband.

Every week, the main branch had a formal meeting. As you got closer to the main hall, you could hear the footsteps shuffling as the men in the room were wrapping up. Quite murmurs and grumbles over the meetings slipped through the cracks. The first person to exit the sliding door was Naoya. He had a scowl on his face, no doubt, the meeting took a turn for the worse as well, but it faded into a relaxed grin when he saw you, coming over.

“What a change to see you here waiting for me. I am starving—”

He was about to check on you when he noticed your blank expression and puffy eyes. You got straight to the point, spoiling the atmosphere in an instant.

"Naoya…”

Naoya’s eyes lost their initial glimmer. He noticed a few other clansmen looking your way.

“If there’s anything to discuss, you may bring it up later in our room,” he said firmly. He didn’t know the reason for your unsettling expression, but whatever it was that was on your mind, he did not want a scene.

Naoya thought back to the irritating meeting and the currently disintegrating relationship with the Gojo clan. The Gojos were being extremely selfish, trying to take control of the Jujutsu Sorcerer Committee's favor. All of them were envious of the Zenins, trying to push the clan off its pedestal. Naoya fumed at the thought of the six-eyed Satoru who had always been treated as the pride and hope of the jujutsu society. They were close in age, and despite the two never meeting often, Naoya heard more than enough about society's adulation of the infamous sorcerer.

He couldn’t hear what you were mumbling under your breath, but the few words he caught and the name of his nemesis told him that it was definitely not going to be a pleasant conversation. He easily scooped you up despite your protests and pounding fists on his shoulders. With a few long strides, entered the hallway near your quarters. Only then, away from prying eyes, did he set you down.

“Is it true?”

Naoya heard it clearly this time.

He eyed you for a moment and scoffed, looking away in disdain. "Woman, what are you rambling on about right now? Can't you tell I'm not in a good mood? I said, let's go back."

“No.” Your irritation struck a nerve. “Tell me right now. Is it true that you were the one responsible for planting those high-level curses into my clan's ward?"

Ignoring the squeeze on your arm, you continued, “Satoru told me everything.”

Naoya felt a vein throb in his temple when he heard the name slip from your mouth.

“How you plotted and controlled the curses to attack our sorcerers right after a battle. Those curses, they were all picked from the disciplinary room right? Special Zenin locked curses. You would let my people get hurt till they were close to death before showing up. Satoru told me everything, what more do you have to say?"

"Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. Do you just blindly believe anything he tells you?"

"Who am I supposed to believe, you?” you snapped back. “Satoru told me how you threatened my family, that's why they never said anything to me up until now.” Maybe you would still be at home, with family and loved ones.

You glared at Naoya in shock as the sting on your face settled into a sharp burn. He took a step back and pointed at you, confused and disoriented. “You. You forced me.”

This was the first time he actually struck you in this way.

"What are you going to do Naoya? Kill your own wife and child? Is that how you solve all of your problems? With your oh-so-powerful, inherited Zenin techniques?" You turned and began to walk away. "You're fucking pathetic."

"Don't you dare turn your back on me!" he roared after you. "Stop right there!"

There was no room for fear while fury lit your eyes. You ignored the rest of Naoya's threats and stormed back to your room. Naoya was responsible for everything. He lied to you. He manipulated everyone and oppressed your clan. And you believed all of his sweet words, and enjoyed his kisses and touches. Your numb cheek taunted you.

You slid the door open, but your feet couldn’t budget. You gasped and felt excruciating pain stabbing in your belly. You clutched your midsection as cold sweat ran down your back. The last thing you heard was someone frantically calling your name.

–

“Do something!”

“Young Master, t-there’s no response.”

“I don’t fucking care, do something!”

“W-We’ll have to induce labor…and—”

Naoya glared.

“Yes! Yes understood!”

The lights in the room were so bright. In just a couple of weeks, a life could have filled this space. It would have been a boy, just as everyone had hoped. Now only silence accompanies you and your breasts that ached painfully. You never even got to see him. Did he look like you or his father?

You sat in the empty nursery room that you had spent the last few months pouring your time and feelings into. As if the loss of your unborn child hadn’t been difficult enough, the hushed whispers of the clan had been torturous. You had felt eyes from members of the main branch to the attendants, all hundred pairs of eyes surveying you whenever you had walked down the hall, scrutinizing the woman who was incapable of carrying the Zenin heir to full term.

You lost track of how long you sat in mourning. Time ticked by slowly, but eventually, a day became two days. A week passed by and to your horror, your breasts full and swollen with milk, finally had to empty its contents. Milk leaked out your nipples uncontrollably.

Perhaps it was the presence of the milk and no child in your arms to feed the liquid to. Reality finally hit you while you poured another cup of milk down the sink.

The door slid open. It was Akiko bringing your meal. She knelt down next to you and pulled you into her arms. Her steady hand ran over your shoulders as she quietly said, "If you want to cry, then just let it out. There's no one else here."

You felt your nose prickle as the familiar sensation of tears spilled from your eyes. They soaked through Akiko's kimono, but she did not seem to mind, only resting her hand on your back while you wailed. You blamed everything on the father of your unborn child. It was Naoya who was responsible, you were sure of it. He took the child from you with his temper and violence. You cried for yourself and your unborn child.

Mai and Maki had once confided in you that their mother gave up on them. They had told you that their mother never stood up for them in front of their father and that you had been the only one who tried to give them care and love. And here you were crying in their mother's arms as a failure. Akiko may not have been able to do everything for her girls, but you couldn't even protect your child's life.

–

You just finished a bath and were about to go to sleep in the nursery again. It was the only place you had some privacy and peace. Except, the room wasn’t empty at all.

“What are you doing here?” you asked coldly, arms folded.

Naoya saw you enter, and placed the decorative toy back on its shelf. He crossed over languidly, arm resting on the frame right over your head. His presence made you dizzy, but you refused to yield a single step. He also recently bathed, a bitter herbal scent clung to skin.

“Did you think that you could avoid me forever?” he murmured next to your ear.

Your eyes met with his. At this distance, you could make out the details of his irises. Naoya’s eyes were undeniably beautiful and intoxicating. “One day at a time, I’ll get there eventually.” You made a move to push him away.

“Foolish woman,” he chuckled and took your hands. “It’s time to go back to normal.”

Naoya pressed his lips on your palm. “I missed you. I need you,” he crooned.

“Naoya, we can never be the same anymore. Not after—” You gestured to the room. “This.”

“We’ll have another. Once you’re with another, the clan will naturally stop talking.”

“Don’t touch me. As if I’m some breeding cattle.” Naoya didn’t seem the least bit fazed by your attempts to break out of his grasp. His silence taunted you, daring you to challenge his authority.

“I’ll never forgive you,” you snarled. All you could do was glare at him. “It’s all your fucking fault.”

Naoya tilted your face towards him. Fingers traveled down your neck and tightly squeezed. Your cheeks burned.

The air thickened as Naoya’s cursed energy began to fill the space. “In this lifetime, you belong to me. Accept your fate.”

Lips roughly closed over yours. The pressure around your neck made your head spin. Your fists hammered his chest in a futile attempt.

Naoya yanked your robe open. Your nipples were heavy and swollen. Wet. He cupped your breast and squeezed the soft flesh, completely fixated on the spray of white milk spurting out. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but the relief you felt from the release felt so good.

“Did that feel good?” he sneered before tugging and pressing on your breast some more. The front of his robes was covered by wet splatters.

“N-No,” you rasp, feeling Naoya’s hand travel towards your navel, tugging the waist-tie that was barely circled around your waist. He lifted one of your thighs to expose your dripping entrance. Cold air brushed against your thighs. “Not in here. Not in this room,” you begged, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Troublesome woman,” Naoya muttered and set you down. He clasped his palms together and began to draw an immense amount of cursed energy. “Domain Expansion: Time Cell Moon Palace.”

The nursery melted away as the space transformed into a dark void. This was the first time you’ve been taken into a domain, and it made you feel both weak and nauseous. A giant eye stared down at you, iris dilated, prying, and peering into your existence.

“No complaints here, right? Don’t even think about escaping.”

Everything happened so quickly. You felt your back sink into a fleshy substance, legs folded and knees pressed up against your face.

“Wait, Nao—” And he was in you. You gripped Naoya’s biceps to stabilize yourself, nails imprinted deeply. A shudder escaped your lips after the initial jolt of pain. By reflex, you clamped tightly around him.

“Fuck,” he growled. “How are you still so tight?”

The dull ache remained from the recent trauma remained with every thrust Naoya made. Pleasure and pain are tightly bonded together. Disgust at the moan that slipped from your throat that earned a predatory smile. It drove him to pound you harder. His rough hand squeezed your breasts, spraying your overflowing milk supply. It splashed onto his face dripping down his jawline onto your face and lips. This was perhaps the first and only time you could imagine tasting your own milk. Naoya wiped his face and licked the opaque fluid off his fingers.

“It’s sweet,” he remarked, surprised by the taste. And almost feral, as though he had discovered something rare and precious, he dipped his head down to lap up the tiny puddles on the contours of your body. His tongue traced your enlarged and pert nipples, sucking on the sensitive bud to encourage more milk flow. You arched your back towards him, grinding your hips desperately in tears as you reached your climax.

Naoya grunted, feeling close. He held onto your hips and increased his pace until he came in you, filling your womb with a load of hot, white seed.

The darkness that surrounded you began to falter under Naoya’s distraction. The momentary weakness that came with the sexual release was like a pinhole in a balloon. Darkness melted away. The voyeuring eye disappeared, replaced in your vision by a mobile with soft plushies hung on a cotton rope. Nausea washed away the lingering, twitching pleasure.

“Get out,” you hoarsely whispered.

Still drunk on hormones, Naoya felt dizzy and confused. “What did you say?”

Milk and semen stuck to your skin. Mustering all the energy remaining in you, you repeated. "Get out. Get out. Get out."

The demand-plea came out in constricted wheezes as your body convulsed and shook.

"Tch. "A scowl replaced Naoya's drunken expression. Completely fed up, he left you laying among the stained blankets. "You make me sick, woman," he spat at you.

The room was finally empty. You laid there unmoving and naked, staring blankly at the ceiling.

#zenin naoya smut #naoya smut #jjk smut #yandere jjk #naoya x reader smut #zenin naoya x reader smut #tw naoya #emi.freshtea #tw pregnancy #tw noncon #tumblr tags HATE me ;-;

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aemonds-fire-writes · 5 months

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The Sapphire Spell Ghost Aemond x Female Part Six - The Kinslayer Lives

Summary: Can a spell cast by Alys long ago bring Aemond Targaryen back to life centuries later in Westeros? When the remains of the Kinslayer are found and put on display in a Cabinet of Curiosities, the ghost of Aemond discovers the proprietor’s beautiful daughter is the only person who can see or hear him.

Dark Ghost Aemond x Female / Slow Build / Dark Romance

Word Count: 3350

Chapter Warnings: Angst

Not beta read. Any mistakes are my own.

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You’ve been in your room all day, sobbing, broken with grief and guilt.

When your father still hadn’t arisen past time for breakfast, your housekeeper knocked on his door to check if he was alright. Worried when she received no answer, she hesitantly entered the room and found him still in bed. Alarmed to find him with eyes open but not breathing, the housekeeper had your father’s physician summoned immediately.

The physician determined angina pectoris to be the cause of death; in layman's terms, his heart failed. Why, he could not say for sure. Over exertion, mental strain, or possibly an unknown defect of the heart, he speculated.

But you thought you knew why. You had never seen him so angry as he was last night. Some of the servants heard him yelling at you; they knew you had done something terrible to enrage him like that. ‘This was your fault,’ you tell yourself.

Not wanting to face anyone, you stayed in your room, refusing to eat and suffering through bouts of heartbreaking sobbing.

You couldn’t even summon the will to go and see Aemond, though a part of you sorely wished he could comfort you, wanting simply to be held while you cried out your sorrow.

You remember little of that first day without your father—just endless tears. You only force yourself from your bed and dress when informed that your father’s solicitor will be coming to discuss arrangements regarding his affairs.

The solicitor is a kind and soft-spoken man and a longtime friend of your father’s as well. Seeing your distraught state, he tries to console you by assuring you that arrangements according to your father’s wishes have already been made so you wouldn’t have the burden of making decisions. He informs you that the funeral will take place in two days.

Before leaving, he encourages you to rest and eat, promising to return to escort you to the funeral.

You still do not wish to face anyone, not even your beloved staff, some of whom you’ve known since childhood, choosing to remain in your room. You’ve stopped crying for now, feeling that you have no more tears and wishing for numbness to take over.

Only when it is past midnight and sleep continues to elude you do you quietly don a robe and shawl and slip over to the museum, desperately seeking solace.

Signs are posted on the doors, informing the public that the museum is closed until further notice. Walking through the collection, there seems to be a gloominess here, as if the items your father collected and treasured are aware of his loss. You wonder if this can ever be a happy place for you again.

Aemond is awaiting you at the top of the stairs, watching you approach with concern on his face. “I wanted to come looking for you. I’ve been worried.”

“Aemond, he’s gone,” is all you can cry out; just speaking of it brings a fresh swell of tears.

Staying by your side, encouraging you to sit on a nearby bench, “I know. I…felt something. And I overheard some of the workers talking.” He stammers a bit with his half-truth, painfully aware that he is the true cause of your grief. “I am truly sorry.”

Barely able to look at him through your tears, you cry, “It’s all my fault.”

He lowers himself so that you are eye-to-eye. “Look at me. Do not blame yourself; it was not your fault,” he insists. “He was angry with me. He only wanted to protect you. If anyone is to blame, it is me.”

Yearning for any easing of your pain, you wish you could fall into a warm embrace, but all you can feel is his icy chill surrounding you as your tears continue to flow. He stays with you while you cry out your grief, murmuring reassurances to you. Eventually,your sobs wane, leaving you with tear-swollen eyes and an aching head.

“I’m sorry for going on like this. I just feel so alone right now,” you lament between sniffles, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“You are not alone, nor will you be,” he whispers to you. “I wish I could do more for you right now, but unfortunately I cannot in this state."

Nodding your head slightly, “I can bring the sapphire to you, but the next two days will be difficult for me. I will have to receive guests, and then there will be my father’s funeral.” You sigh as the thought of it fills you with sadness. “But I want to be here if you need my help.”

“Then we will wait until after the funeral,” he decides. Reassuring you with a gentle smile, “I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer."

The two of you quickly form a plan, settling on the evening after the funeral, when you have an excuse to give your household and museum staff time off to mourn, and you can plead tiredness and grief to give you time alone.

You feel grateful to have him with you. Despite how vehemently your father was against your trying to help Aemond, you are determined to aid him. You believe no one should have to suffer what he has. Though his legacy may paint him as a killer, you have spent hours with him, growing quite fond of him.

“Thank you; I do not wish to burden you any further,” he insists. “Now you should go and rest.”

Feeling exhausted, you only nod in agreement, though you wish you didn’t have to leave him.

As you head towards the staircase, Aemond says, “I am sorry for your pain, but everything will be alright.”

Thankfully, you do sleep through the night and wake feeling a little stronger. It still feels like there is a hole in your heart, but you now believe you will somehow get through it. You let the housekeeper and cook fuss over you, trying to persuade you to eat breakfast. You manage to eat a little, though the food has no taste.

The next day and a half passes with you simply going through the motions of what is expected of you. You somehow manage to get through the funeral without breaking down and sobbing like a child, but the effort leaves you exhausted. You already informed your staff they could take the rest of the week off, with pay, to mourn. Despite their misgivings, they heed your plea for time alone. The last to leave is your father’s solicitor, who is also voicing concern about leaving you on your own. Finally, you convince him that you simply need time.

Once you have the house to yourself, you gather a few items and the sapphire and make your way to the museum.

Filled with nervous trepidation, you meet Aemond near the glass casket holding his remains. You brought some of your father’s clothes and a blanket with you, which you set nearby. He and Aemond were about the same height, though your father was more burly in build.

“Aemond, do you have any idea of what will happen or how this might work?”

Still staring at his bones, he quietly says, “No, I do not.”

“I’m worried for you. What if it doesn’t work or if something goes wrong?”

“You know I have to try."

Nodding your head, you accept the fact that he is determined to do this, despite the uncertainty or the risk. Your hands shake as you unlock the lid of the casket so you can open it.

Aemond gives you a determined look before telling you, “Once you have placed the sapphire, I want you to leave. Go back to your home and stay there."

Shaking your head in disagreement, “No, I should stay here. What if you need my help?”

Now shaking his head at you, he argues, “I don’t know how this will work or what it might look like. I don’t know how long it might take.” Pleading with his eye, “Please go; if it works, I will come to you.”

Not wishing your final time together to be an argument, like it was with your father, you agree to do as he asks. But holding the sapphire in your trembling hand, you are suddenly overcome with apprehension. You cannot stop staring at him, thinking that you cannot lose someone else this soon and that there are so many things left unsaid between you.

As if he can read your mind, Aemond smiles and says, ”Do not worry. We will talk when this is done.”

After placing the bright blue gem in the eye socket of Prince Aemond Targaryen’s skull, you turn and reluctantly head back down the staircase.

It is still dark out when you wake, having dozed off on the couch in the parlor. Checking the time, you realize it is the middle of the night. Feeling stiff from sleeping awkwardly, you stand, trying to stretch the kinks out of your muscles.

After leaving the museum, you tried to occupy your mind while you waited, but it was no use. You worried and paced; you stopped yourself several times from going back to him. Even though neither one of you has any clue as to how long this may take, you are worried because it has been hours since you left him.

Unable to wait any longer, though fearful of what you might find, you climb the grand staircase to find Aemond. As his display comes into view, you let out a gasp as you see that the glass case that has held his remains for months is empty and some of the clothes you brought are scattered about the floor. Seeing no sign of him prompts you to call out his name.

A faint groan to your left gets your attention. Your eyes go wide with shock when you see a figure with long tousled hair, wrapped in a blanket, huddled against the wall. Crying out his name again, you rush to his side, kneeling on the floor next to him. Placing your hand on his shoulder, you feel flesh and bone beneath the blanket.

“Aemond, are you alright? You ask frantically, worried about finding him in this state.

“Yes, I’m alright.” His reply is weak, and his voice is raspy. Even turning his head toward you seems to take effort for him. “I have no strength,” he murmurs.

Unable to stop yourself, you rest the palm of your hand against his sharp jawline as your eyes take in his face. The first thing you notice is the warmth of his skin instead of chilling cold whenever you were near him. You see the blue sapphire fitted in place of his missing eye and the old scar that runs from his forehead down to his cheek.

When you brush a few locks of hair off his face, he gives you a soft smile. His hand reaches up to find yours, weakly wrapping his long fingers around your smaller, more delicate one. You’re captivated by the sight of life in his eye, the pinkness of his lips against his pale skin, and his subtle masculine scent.

Stunned that the inconceivable has really happened, you can’t hold back the soft giggle of pure happiness that escapes your lips. “It worked. I can’t believe it,” you whisper in awe.

You hear him breathe a deep sigh, slightly nodding his head. “Thank the gods, it worked.”

“How do you feel?”

“I still feel weak, but I’m alright.”

With your shock wearing off a bit, more practical concerns come to mind. “We need to get you next door. Can you get up?”

Nodding yes, Aemond manages to get to his feet with your assistance, though he continues to lean against the wall for support. As he stands, the blanket slips down, revealing that he is bare-chested. Unaccustomed to seeing a man in any state of undress, you quickly try to avert your eyes, feeling flustered.

“My apologies; I tried to dress, but I felt so weak. I needed to rest for a moment.”

Hoping the warm flush you feel creeping across your skin isn’t too obvious, you try to reply lightly, “It’s alright; at least you managed to get the trousers on.” Risking a glance at him, trying to focus your eyes on his face, you ask, “Can you walk?”

Leaning on you, with his arm around your shoulders and your arm around his waist, the two of you slowly make your way to the residence. You can feel him struggling with the exertion while you are torn between fear that he will fall and the feeling of his bare skin under your hand. Finally, making it to the parlor, you help him ease down on the couch and leave him to rest while you fetch a shirt and slippers for him to put on.

You help him put on the shirt, but not before taking in the soft-looking patch of blond hair in the center of his chest, faded old scars against the paleness of his skin, and his long, lean torso. With your ladylike manner becoming more ruffled by the sight of him, you hurry off to make him some tea.

When you return to the parlor, you have a tray with tea and a plate of food for him. Sitting on the couch with him, careful to maintain a proper distance, you pour two cups, and you feel the need to ask again, “How do you feel?”

He pauses for a moment before answering, running his fingers on the velvet of the couch, fascinated by the texture. “Better, though I fear it may take some time for my strength to come back,” he answered distractedly. You watch him look around the room and then at you. “Everything looks so different. To be able to touch things... " He shakes his head, struggling to put his feelings into words.

“I’m sure it will take some time to get used to everything,” you tell him. You take a sip of your tea, trying to reign in your swirling emotions. You’ve sat and talked with Aemond as a ghost for hours, coming to feel quite comfortable in his presence. But being around him now as a living, breathing man is causing you to feel awkward and a bit on edge.

Aemond is quiet while he drinks his tea and tries some of the different foods on the plate. You weren't sure what to bring him, so you kept it simple, giving him some biscuits, cheeses, and fruit to start with. You can’t help but smile watching him savor the flavors and textures, and the light meal seems to be helping him.

When he’s finished with everything on the plate, he leans back with a satisfied smile on his face. “That was the most delicious food I’ve ever had.” Turning to look at you, his smile becomes a happy grin.

You can’t help but chuckle at him. “I’m sure you’ve had far better than that, but I’m glad you enjoyed it."

“I’ve mostly forgotten the taste of food; it’s like I’m experiencing it for the first time. Everything feels new to me. I’m not sure if I am making any sense.”

Right now, it is easy to allow yourself to be swept away by his wonder and joy in the simplest aspects of life. And you try to push aside the thought that has creeped into your mind about your beloved father.

Aemond sees your face dim with your sorrow and extends his hand to you, not taking yours in his but waiting for you to accept his overture.

You waver for a second before placing your hand in his, knowing that physical contact with him will stir more sentiments in your already tumultuous state, but still craving comfort from your pain.

“Forgive me, I haven’t thought to ask how you are doing with all of this,” his soft spoken voice sounding so soothing to your ears.

For a second, you wonder how the simple act of someone holding your hand can stir so many different feelings inside you.

“My sweet lady, tell me what you are thinking.”

His question unintentionally brings tears to your eyes. “I was imagining my father being here, seeing you alive. He would be inundating you with questions right now; his curiosity was endless.”

Your words are like a knife twisting in his gut. Seeing tears spill from your eyes, Aemond presses his lips together tightly, not trusting himself to speak. He cautiously eases closer to you in a silent offer of consolation.

You cannot resist the urge to lean upon him, resting your head against his shoulder and sobbing. Though you thought you had cried out all of your tears in the days prior, a new flood flows down your cheeks. Whether it’s your grief, the insanity of bringing a ghost back to life, or your growing attachment to him, you do not know or care at this point. You surrender to his embrace and cling to him desperately.

He patiently waits until your sobs subside before tilting your chin up to look at him. “I am with you now, and I will always be with you,” he murmurs before gently pressing his lips to your forehead, letting them linger there for a moment before pulling back with a sigh. “I think you need to rest now.”

Having been awake most of the night, you know your tiredness is playing a part in your very emotional state. Wiping your eyes, you reluctantly ease yourself from his arms.

“You are probably right. I should try to sleep for a bit,” you agree. “Will you be alright?”

“I will be fine. I am feeling stronger already,” he assures you.

Aemond insists on seeing you to your room. Along the way, you show him the guest bedroom that will be his and repeatedly ask if he needs anything before you lie down.

“I am no longer helpless, and I can manage on my own for a few hours,” he tells you with a smile as he sees you to the door of your bedroom. “Now please rest.”

Once you are in your room, Aemond goes to his guest room. Though he feels stronger than he did, he knows he has not regained his full strength yet. He sits on the edge of the soft bed, looking around at the wood furnishings of the room. He runs his hands over the blankets, trying to remember the feeling of sleeping in a comfortable bed.

Now that he is alone, he allows himself to think of you and what he has done. ‘Hundreds of years later, and you are still the same impetuous boy,' he tells himself with a mirthless smile. ‘This feels like Luke all over again.’

Leaning forward, Aemond rests his head in his hands in frustration. It truly hurts him to see you grieving so much, and it hurts him more to know that he took something dear away from you. Something he never had, a loving father.

But your father made one fatal mistake; he threatened the one thing that truly stoked terror in him.

“I swear by the Seven, I will have your bones crated up, put on a ship, and dropped into the Narrow Sea if I have to, to protect my daughter from you."

Years spent at the bottom of the lake, fully aware but helpless, was a fate worse than death and one he would not endure again.

When he made that threat, something snapped inside, just like when Luke came to Storm’s End. Then it was the first opportunity to collect payment on a debt owed, and he impulsively seized the chance to quell the rage that had long simmered in him.

Killing your father was just as impulsive and perhaps unnecessary. And now, it is a secret you must never know, because after centuries, he has finally been given the chance to rewrite his legacy, and he intends to have you by his side as his queen.

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #ewan mitchell #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #hotd aemond #aemond the kinslayer #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon

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yandere-paramour · 1 month

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Chapter 2

"Darling, please calm down. You are still disoriented from your medicine and I do not want you to get hurt."

You froze. Did you just hear that? No way you just heard that. Clearly, something had happened earlier. Maybe this was an incredibly real hallucination. You hoped it was a hallucination.

“Hello, love. It is good to see you awake. I was about to be very, very upset with my hired hand,” The voice spoke again.

It took a little longer than you’d ever admit, but soon you successfully turned your head to your right. Even though you knew something was wrong, knew you were somehow in peril, it made you feel better that that voice was female. She was big, though; you couldn’t quite tell because she was sitting with her legs crossed, but you were pretty sure she was tall. Her body was lean, and although it was covered with her expertly tailored blue-grey suit, you suspected she had considerable muscle. Hazel eyes stared back at you with fondness as she tapped a spoon on the edge of her teacup. Her hair was brown, with those effortless curls you always found yourself attracted to. Unintentionally, you blushed. Had you… slept with this goddess?

You opened your mouth to say something, an apology, a question, a request for help, but she held up a hand, gave you a gentle smile with perfectly straight teeth, and set down her empty cup, “I am so sorry, Darling. I know this must be really frightening for you, but I need you to stay calm. I am not going to hurt you. Now, I did this earlier, but I need to check you over. The medicine you had was strong, so I want to make sure you’re okay.”

She crosses the room and leans over you, still whispering soft words to mollify you. She checks your pulse on your limp wrist, timing it to her watch, then softly pushes your hair back to look into your eyes, “Are you feeling dizzy at all? Nauseous?”

“I-I have a headache. And I’m dizzy.” You manage to say. Your tongue feels like it’s made of lead. A million questions run through your head. Were you drugged? How did you get here? Were you at a bar? Did you sleep together? Why can’t you move?

She frowns, the cupid’s bow of her mouth forming a lovely little pout, “That’s not good. I promise, I will give you some pain relief right after we have a talk. I do not like to see you suffer. You’re going to be on this medicine for a few days so I want you to be comfortable.”

A bit of dread rises in you, “What medication am I on?”

“Just something to help you relax, and only for a few days until you get acclimated.”

“Did you… drug me?”

“I did not do it myself per se, but I did arrange for it to happen. Worry not, I consulted with my personal physician about your medical history to make sure you would not have any negative reactions. I would never make you take anything that would hurt you.”

“Who are you and where am I,” You want to sound forceful but the drug still has its claws in you like an angry tiger.

She gives you another adoring smile, “You are right, I should have introduced myself right when you woke. I am Atalanta Montclair.”

“Atalanta Montclair?” It takes a second for your brain to place the name but it hits you like a bolt of lightning, “You mean the heir to Montclair Industries?”

She looks pleased that you’ve heard of her, “Yes, that is I.”

Horror causes stupid words to flow out of your mouth, “I slept with my boss???”

“No, sweetheart. My hired hands gave you a little of your medicine in apple juice, then safely transported you to my penthouse. I changed your clothes myself; I did not want you to sleep in that uncomfortable uniform. I promise, there was nothing untoward in my actions.”

Despite her words, your alarm only grows, “You kidnapped me?”

“I had you safely transported to your new life with me, Darling. This is now our penthouse apartment, your new home. More precisely, this is the master bedroom, our bedroom together.”

“M-My new life with you? What does that mean?” Thoughts of the worst cloud your mind, “In your bedroom, as your… your sex slave?”

“No!” She says sharply, then catches herself and returns to her poised countenance, “You are my precious Darling, the only one I love and the only one I will ever love. I am devoted to you and you alone. You will be my companion, my partner, the most precious person in my life, and, when you’re ready, my lover.”

“Your lover?” You can’t even form words of your own at this point.

“Yes, my love,” She takes and kisses the back of your limp hand, kneeling at the bedside, “You have my word that nothing will harm you here. I will never touch you sexually until you ask for it.

“You fucking kidnapped me?” You jerk your hand away from her.

She looks shocked at your language, “You would not have agreed to come with me otherwise. I had you very safely transported. I spared no expense for your safety.”

You push yourself into sitting up by sheer force of will, “But you fucking kidnapped me? I don’t even know you.” “But I want to,” She tries to grab your hand again, “I want to learn everything about you, my Darling. Just give me the chance.”

“No!” You swing your legs over the side of the bed, narrowly missing kicking her.

You try to push yourself to your feet, but your legs are still wobbly, and you collapse under your own weight, plummeting to the ground. But Atalanta is in the way, and she catches you. You were right; she is tall. She is at least six feet, giving her seven inches over you. She holds you in her arms, not helping you back on the bed or letting you fall, just what feels like… cuddling you.

“Darling, your hair is so soft. I touched it when you were sleeping but now that you’re awake to give me your permission, it feels exponentially better,” She nuzzles her face into your hair.

“I do not give you permission!” you squeak, appalled at the sudden intimacy. You try to push her away from you, but she cuddles you a little longer, then sets your unsteady form on the bed.

“My apologies, Darling, you are just so irresistible. I will be more respecting of your consent in the future,” She at least has the decency to look chastised.

“The future? How long am I staying here?”

She gives you a confused smile, “Forever, sweet girl. I will never, ever let you go. Now, it is approaching dinner time. May I get something for you to eat?”

You look at her like she is insane (which she is). How the fuck are you supposed to sit at a table and eat your vegetables with the hot woman who kidnapped you?

“Atalanta, please let me go. I don’t have a lot of money, but I can give you whatever you want. I don’t want to be stuck in this room forever. Please, please let me go,” You babble, begging her to come to her senses and hear you out.

An anxiety attack starts to overwhelm you until you are trembling. Atalanta lightly shushes you, using one hand to stroke your hair, “Settle down, love. I’ve got you, and you are safe. Take a deep breath.”

This only makes you want to fight harder, trying to push her away with your shaky arms. She grabs your hands, pressing kisses to the backs of them while keeping them firmly in her hold.

“I promise, my princess, you will never want for anything again. I’ll take care of you. I have enough money for the both of us to live comfortably forever,” She gives a quick kiss to your forehead, “And I would never keep you locked away. A beautiful flower like you deserves a chance to grow.”

She kisses your head again and continues, “You can access the top two floors of the building, those I use for my living space, now our living space. No space is off limits to you, my love. For a little while, you will be restricted to the penthouse unless I am with you, but once you’re a little more settled, we can discuss short trips out by yourself. I have been dreaming of taking you to the theatre, and maybe in a year, we will be able to go.”

“A year?” You screech, floored.

To my credit, she does flinch back from my scream, “Careful, Darling girl, I will not discipline you while you are on your medicine, but that does not mean you will escape punishment later.”

This sufficiently scares you into lowering the volume, “Discipline me?”

She looks vaguely uncomfortable, but pats your head, “I have two punishments in mind, but let’s not get into those until necessary, okay? I want our first night together to be pleasant. Now, back to my earlier question, what may I order for you to eat? Anything you like, sweetheart, just ask. Or I can cook for you if you prefer. I am no chef but I can make simple things.”

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