#how could you dislike him? he is merely a kind fellow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silversiren1101 · 11 months

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OOOoh ♜: Shoulder rubs for the Hellpair 👀

I was kind of hoping for this one!!! Shout out to @wonda-ch for sending the skin-crème mentioned here during the Valentines letters!

Contrary to what one would expect of a married couple, waking up with Regill still next to her in bed, asleep, worried Minovae far more often than not. Rarely did she have the liberty of enjoying his peaceful, sleeping expression on the chance she did wake first; known holidays and scheduled vacation allowing his subconscious to turn off that internal alarm of waking before even dawn broke the horizon.

This wasn't one of those mornings. It was a Wealday, and she knew for a fact he had multiple meetings today.

Her hand drew away from his brow, having found it warm but, blessedly, not as hot as she'd expected despite the tension in his unconscious expression. He was curled up into her side—another bad sign in and of itself—but he also wasn't the infernal furnace that would've woken her earlier if he was. The fever had made him seek out the cooling relief of her scales in the night, she knew; her tail had encouraged it too, having draped over him and pulled him close while pressing her soft feathers to his exposed back. She knew without a doubt why, but still, she had to confirm.

Peeking under the covers, the early grey light revealed at least not lines of black running up his arm, but deep purple, and with less spiderwebbing than usual.

'A milder flareup', she sighed with tempered relief.

They weren't as severe as they used to be, the infernal curse in his scars fading with both time and her influence. It was nearing the point she could break it completely, when her power as a nascent protean lord could pierce through this fading blight wrought by a full-fledged archdevil. The day couldn't come soon enough. She was done seeing him continue to pay for what had ultimately been her life with such suffering.

Too late for this morning, though.

With a resigned exhale, she slowly pushed the duvet down past her arms and shoulders, confirming with a stifled shiver that a chill had taken to the air overnight. The cold seasons were the worst of it for him, something about it aggravating the scars especially perniciously. Cheliax wasn't nearly as cold as Sarkoris, luckily. His health had improved markedly since returning to warmer home soil after the Crusade ended nearly two years ago now. Still, the chill was early this year and, with neither of them having expected it, his supplies were well out of reach, not stored beneath the bed as they were come winter.

There was nothing for it but to wake him and go fetch them. She knew him better than anyone and they'd done this enough times before: just get it over with. No pity. No pampering. No coddling him or overly gentle care. Treat it like a usual occurrence. Any additional attention only made him more irritable than the pain already did, exacerbating those feelings of frailty he despised so much. She understood well-enough, that fear of coming across as broken or incapable before the very people you were supposed to be leading—she only hoped that he knew that the Vice Knights, by and large, only respected him all the more for standing before them on these days when his disability was more visible than not.

She certainly did. She also wished her own attentions didn't fall into the same category, that he saw her care not as pity or a statement of his capability, but merely as those of a loving wife and fellow Hellknight of decades. She didn’t think him weak or lesser; how hypocritical that would make her? She only disliked seeing him suffering so, and would do many an unreasonable thing in his eyes to soothe it in any way if she could. It wasn’t personal, she knew, his touchiness regarding being cared for. He was a stubborn Hellknight and so was she, trained to push through every obstacle no matter the pain. Even so, there was no upside to risking the devotions she wanted to lavish upon him like this. It wasn’t that she feared his potential irritable reaction, no. She never feared him. She only feared making him feel worse by feeding the insecurities brought out during these moments. That, she would not risk. Especially not for something that would only go towards indulging in her emotional wants.

Sounds from Citadel Darvhage's courtyard below had begun drifting into their chambers, signaling that it was time to rip the bandage off—or blankets, in this case. The knights were beginning their day, and that meant their Lictor was behind schedule. Preparing herself for whatever disposition he might be in, she mentally quelled her nurturing, doting instincts and impulses. He loved her very much. It wasn’t a reflection of his feelings toward her that he would react poorly to any overly gentle care. Besides… she was much the same as a Hellknight herself, after all.

Time to get this started.

His brow was warm as she kissed it to begin waking him. The mild fever was palpable with contact, but faded quick from her lips as she pulled away to murmur softly in the space between them. Knuckles brushed his cheek before she cupped it and traced the contour with her thumb, all the while she swallowed down the worry as he took longer than expected to wake. In truth, it was only some seconds, but compared to how he usually snapped awake at the slightest provocation? It felt worryingly long. Relief cooled her fretting though when those yellow eyes groggily blinked open shortly later. They looked around blearily, clearly disoriented, before focus surged into them all at once upon processing the noise, the light in the room, the worry in her expression, and, of course, what must have surely been the terrible ache in his arm.

Regill groaned, half growling as realization turned to frustration and annoyance. “Ugh, Hells… again…”

He went to roll away from her, to shift to his back, only for him to hiss and wince as pain must have surged up his arm. His entire body stiffened. His other hand surged to his spasming arm. Even his knees drew up an inch further to his chest, that instinct to protect the vitals from danger when severe enough pain triggered it…

She stifled a concerned whine and the soft cooing that itched in her throat, instead placing a reassuring hand on his good shoulder. Her tail helped him to his back before retreating—something that took a deific effort. It had a will of its own, answering more to her heart than her mind; and, Hells, did her heart want to take him close and hold him until the pain went away. She wanted nothing more than to keep him in bed for the day and give him the permission to rest he would never allow himself, disability or no—permission he'd give to her with little issue, yet she knew she'd be just as resistant in his place.

Instead, she kept her face only mildly concerned.

"Good morning. Before you ask, no, it's not that late. You have time."

He peeked at her through bleached fingers, having started to rub at his nose and eyes. A single mote of appreciation flashed at her that nigh no one else would've been able to catch.

"...Good, and... good morning." His voice sounded rough, though she knew he'd power through it with coffee hot enough to risk a burn. He began to sit up, tired face tightening again as the pressure it put on his arm aggravated it once again. It wasn't as bad as previous times, no, but it didn't make it any easier for her to see and not pounce at him protectively for.

Instead, her hand shot out to his shoulder. A firm pressure bid him to lean and support himself against the headboard.

"Hold on, I said you have time, okay? I need to go get your things still. No need to rush just yet."

She was careful to keep her tone more neutral than worried, even a little commanding, not wanting him to pick up on anything he could misconstrue as pity or coddling and resist all the more for it. Their gazes held the other's for a brief moment before he, much to her relief, grunted and acquiesced.

"Alright", he grumbled, resigned. The headboard creaked as he rested his weight against it, letting his head loll back a little and eyes slip closed with a huff.

She froze, suspicious. Would he leap up as soon as she turned her back? Was there something else amiss? He was being too… agreeable. No, she couldn’t worry like this.

With that, she slipped off the bed and headed to the adjoining bathroom. The stone floor was cold beneath her bare feet, in such a rush she hadn't even bothered to step into her slippers. She didn’t even bother grabbing her robe to cover-up as she passed the chaise it'd been thrown over—and what for? It was only her dear husband present. Modesty was not an issue and the cold was only a minor one. Her scales would warm shortly with the exposure, reacting to the air's chill. She also knew exactly where everything she needed was, no searching required. Tucked away in a medic's case in one of the cabinets of the bathroom, she undid the clasps and double-checked the contents: salve; bandages; adhesives; braces—wrist and elbow; and last, that dreaded sling. She doubted he needed the full sling today, and with any luck he would be able to go with only some bandages today… Still, the entire case came with as she returned to their bedroom and the bed.

And found him, surprisingly, exact as she'd left him. A part of her had expected to find him with legs already hanging over the side of the bed, angling to get up and push himself as he had so stubbornly and deliriously done the previous flareups. Her rush had partially been spurred by such a concern, but, no, he remained as he had been, save for the blankets kicked further down the bed and legs freed.

He raised his brows at her surprise, a bit more evident in her expression than she'd intended.

"You can't blame me for being surprised after the previous times, love", she retorted to that look. More weariness creeped into her tone than she intended.

A flash of a irritable grimace tugged at the corner of his mouth before he inhaled deeply and sighed. "You said I had time. I am choosing to believe you."

"'Choosing'", she repeated with a snort, tone more sarcastic than not. "What an honor, that my husband has 'chosen' to believe me."

Still, there was a part of it that most certainly was not, and she felt a slash of regret that it'd leaked out—just the briefest reminder to him that she had hard feelings over the restraint she showed when caring for him. He most certainly picked up on it, she could tell. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, lips pressing together lightly before he turned away, looking out the window instead.

Dammit. This is exactly what she'd been trying to avoid. Why were they both such terrible, terrible patients?

Because they were Hellknights, duh.

Silence otherwise descended on them as she got to work. Setting the case down on the nightstand, the salve tin found its way to her hand in short order. She popped the lid and the smell hit her nose instantly: delicate like rose petals with a hint of cream from sheep's milk, but with an added sharpness like the freshest of cinnamon and black pepper. The strange concoction had tilted both of their heads at first, but it'd taken only that very first application for them to appreciate it as the only thing that helped him aside from the prohibitively expensive and painful sun orchid salve that'd saved his life those years ago, when the wounds had been fresh. This one, at least, was a gift from a dear friend, of which they were only more than happy to send more as requested—in exchange for a bottle of wine, at least.

She went to scoop out a generous portion of the oily paste, but stopped.

One try. She had to.

"...Perhaps you should skip your first meeting? It is only your staff meeting... Wolka and Yaker will understand if I take your place."

A pointless attempt.

His head turned back towards her. Annoyance and indignation flared in those eyes.

“‘Only?’ You know the staff meeting determines all operations for the day”, he snapped.

She didn’t let it get to her. It wasn’t personal.

Suddenly, though, something almost apologetic met her in those gorgeous yellow eyes. His lips parted before pressing together, and he exhaled like deflating. Her eyes widened, shocked by the shift, but softened as she recognized that look: he hadn’t meant that, and was quite remorseful for it.

“…Besides… the pain is only a five or so, this time”, he muttered. His tone was muted, only making her yearn and ache further to hold him softly. Sweetly.

His answer at least was good. She knew crossing the half-way threshold on his pain scale meant it was only just beginning to impact his capabilities. A five? They would bring this down to a one at most after this. Maybe then, he would accept an embrace, seeing it only as her love—the truth—and not pity thanks to the lens of his chronic pain tainting her perception. Why was it so easy to hug and hold and kiss him any time he didn’t actually need it?

Stubborn even for a Hellknight.

“A five is good. It’s getting lesser every time…”, she murmured, before speaking louder. “Time to get this over with. Should be quick this time.”

He exhaled a sigh and made a short sound in affirmation, preparing himself.

Knowing it wasn’t as bad today as before, she scooped out half of what she'd initially thought to from the tin. The tips of her fingers cooled beneath it, feeling almost tingly, and, with an extra swallowing down of her doting care, she wasted no time getting to work.

He hissed and grunted the second it touched his skin.

She slathered it in a thick strip up and down his arm to start, following the line of deep, bulging purple that was his scar. It was best to get full coverage before starting to massage it in, letting it start its soothing before the pain really started. From the especially ragged slash across his palm, to his forearm, skipping the elbow where the cursed blade had also skipped, back to his upper arm where it’d found his flesh again especially deep, and finally his shoulder where it’d nicked the bone before meeting air once again, she ensured no place was missed before sitting back, letting it set for a few moments so the pain could dull.

His deep breathing, slightly strained, filled the otherwise silence between them. Seconds more passed even after he deflated in relief, broken then by something she didn’t expect.

“…Thank you.”

She snapped her attention up to his gaze once more, finding that apologetic expression once again. Affection twinged in her chest, as did something like amusement and endearment.

“You know that’s not necessary”, she murmured. Her tail lifted from the edge of the bed where it’d been anxiously coiling all over itself on the floor. He closed his eyes as the feathers brushed his face, then seemingly accepting as the willful, mischievous appendage lay across his lap. “I love you, of course I’m here for you.”

He would do it himself if he could, and a part of her, selfishly, was happy he couldn’t. She wouldn’t be able to take it all if she couldn’t even help him in this was.

He grunted, though, as if correcting her assumption. “It’d occurred to me that the other times you’ve had to help me with this, I hadn’t actually thanked you.”

Because you literally couldn’t, she didn’t say, teasing or not. The previous times, where the pain had been eights or nines, he hadn’t able to do much more than groan and whimper until the pain had settled to a more manageable four—leaving him irritable, but at least mobile.

“Again, it’s not necessary, love. I just wish you were a better patient.”

His eyes narrowed as he smirked. “I could say the same for you.”

He could. He should. Maybe they would both get somewhere more agreeable, then.

“Well, your thanks is accepted.” She smiled, and relished the way the light dusting of red at his ear tips revealed just what he thought of her. “Now, let me finish up so you aren’t late to this meeting you insist on being present for.”

He rumbled in affirmation, yet still tensed beneath her touch as she took his hand in both of hers, anticipating the ache. His own grabbed at her tail, fingers threading through her feathers—a new development for him. The tip of it rattled approvingly, and the fan at the end shifted to lay against his bare chest ready to soothingly brush, reassuringly soft.

Not wanting to draw this out, her thumbs pressed deep. He jerked, head lolling backward as he squeezed harder at her tail. Her heart cried inside, but outwardly, she pressed on, beginning to massage the salve in to the bulging, inflamed purple line knowing that it wouldn’t hurt at all in comparison shortly. She even worked faster than usual knowing he was only at a five today, making steady progress up his arm. His palm, his worst and forearm, his upper arm, and his shoulder. It took only minutes, and even then, he’d stopped gripping at her so tightly by the time she was halfway finished. Satisfied, she took a look over her handwork to much relief: the purple was already starting to dim and fade already, not nearly as angry as before. It’d most likely be that pale silvery color again by the time they were back in bed again this evening.

“…Done?” Even his voice sounded better than it usually did post-treatment.

“Well, do you think you’ll need either of the braces?”

“No. It already barely aches me.” He even started to flex his joints as if to prove his point, only to jolt and wince slightly once he got to his shoulder.

She made a short sound at that, frowning at him. It also, though, gave her an idea, and she’d worked fast enough that they had time for it.

Her tail abruptly withdrew from his lap. He gave her a quizzical look as she gently tugged him forward, off the headboard.

“Come, sit up. Legs off the bed and me behind you. Don’t give me that look, you have time.” She then grinned at him pointedly. “That is, if you still choose to believe me.”

He grumbled, but knew better than to resist with that comment leveraged against him. She reached for the salve once again, only grabbing just enough this time to allow her fingers and thumb to glide—especially across the gnarled scarred mass of his reckoning scars.

“Is this really necessary? The stiffness will be worked out through the day—!”

He cut off into a gasp, which melted sensuously into a deep groan. She smirked, smiling into his hair as she massaged deep into his wounded shoulder, strong hands of a nascent demigoddess and lifetime warrior wreaking upon him what sounded like such bliss. He practically melted back against her, pooling into her breasts as if the tension of the pain was the only thing that’d been keeping him upright.

There was more than just that, though. She could sense the stress of their shadow war against House Thrune in those stiff shoulders, and not to mention the stress of reforming an entire defunct Hellknight order in their own image.

“By the Chain… you know you can ask for this any time. You’re stiffer than the stick up Asmodeus’ ass.”

He said nothing to that, save for a begrudging roll of his eyes. She knew he’d never ask.

She just noted to herself to do this more often.

#silversirenwrites #oc: minovae arangeir #regill derenge x minovae arangeir #Regill derenge #pair: hellpair #this one got away from me again #this time some prickly domesticity #someone else gets to be the bad patient this time #ornery bastard #she’s just as bad when a patient #pwotr pals

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silentsundown · 10 months

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Saw the trailer for the horse pack. Curious about the townies. But most importantly ARGH I MISS RIDING SO MUCH.

I just so badly want to get on a horse right now and just ride a trail or have a walk, or simply spend time around horses, smelling them, and hearing the sound of hooves, but I miss riding so much. There's a pony club in my town that I used to attend years ago but first, I'm not sure adults are very welcome there (it's mostly kids who ride), and second, the owners aren't great people. Besides I hate the equestrian world. It's so full of arrogant, vain and mean-spirited people who only care for competition, and my favourite thing about horses is the bond I share with them and going on adventures with them, not the lessons nor jumping or whatever. Unfortunately those who like this side of horse riding seem to be the minority. I also don't have my driving license.

I wish I had the money to share a horse, not sure how it's called in English but basically when you can ride and take care of someone else's horse without being the legal owner. I did use to have a horse kinda, but legally he was my dad's and I haven't been able to see him in years (since I was 16 or so) because my mother hates the ranchers who he was borded at and it's a 60km drive from here, and she hated going there anyway because that would mean having to wait for me while I'm done taking care of him + riding him potentially, really impractical and I felt guilt tripped kinda. I think he was rehomed by my dad anyway. I never got to say goodbye to him and it breaks my heart. I hardly had the chance to have him all to myself already, because he was on a half board in the clubs I rode in and ridden by other riders. Money issues. I wish I had the chance to have a horse for real, with the responsibilities. I was just too young then.

I'd love to actually have a couple horses during my lifetime, for real. One for me and a second one, an old or disabled one, who keeps the other company. The thing is, I'd need the space and the money.

What I love about horses is, when you talk to them, they listen. In every club I've been in, I was the only one to talk to my mount pretty much. I even had instructors tell me to shut up and use my legs instead. But those ears always listened. I'm pretty sure this is partly why in 7 years of riding almost no horse has tried to send me off their back, except for two. One was a pony who generally wasn't fond of being ridden, the second, I suspect she was abused by riders at my then club, because she was entirely normal when she arrived, and then her personality changed and she became the kind of horse to throw riders off her back. Also, I wasn't hard on them. I learned to be just firm enough, and I was always patting them on the neck during the lesson. In short, I think they could feel the love.

I also would take care of them before and after the lesson when possible. Sure, that would get me called weird or even get disliked by fellow riders, but honestly, I'd 100% be the weirdo of the club rather than treating horses like a mere commodity. We may ride them, use them for work, eat them also, but they deserve to be well taken care of regardless.

#non-sims #ts4 #ts4 horse ranch #rambling #thoughts #i miss riding #horse lover

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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 3 years

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No Rest for the Wicked- HardDom!Dabi X Fem! Brat Reader

Prompt: Dabi just wants to take a nap but everything goes wrong

I asked a friend in one of my discord groups for a random writing prompt when I was up late. Something about this one activated my inner ✨brat✨

Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks/Warnings: brat taming, degradation, pain play, spanking, belting, mild dacryphilia, bondage, edging and denial, hints of dubcon

Banner made by the always lovely @ladyshinigami!

••••••••••••••

Exhausted.

That was the best way to sum up Dabi’s mood as he trudged through the bar fronting the League’s headquarters. Shigaraki had sent him out on a mission with orders to “stake out and take out” a small band of up-and-coming heroes. It had been easy enough to find them (newbies can never resist being flashy), but making sure they were all disposed of was another matter. A matter only made more complicated by a few rogue civilians that happened to spot him. It had taken him two full days to track everyone down, leaving him covered in blood, soot, and burns. In short, Dabi needed a break.

“Well, well, well.” Came the nasally voice of their fearless leader, “The prodigal son returns! Took you long enough, Dabi. Hope that means you didn’t fuck up the mission.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dabi snaps back, too tired and sore to care about his tone. Not that he’d be any kinder to Shigaraki if he wasn’t. “I did what you asked and left no witnesses. Now piss off before I turn you into a smoldering pile.”

Shigaraki didn’t rise to Dabi’s bait, opting to simply flip him the bird before going back to whatever game console he was currently obsessed with. Dabi returns the gesture in kind, glowering as he disappears behind the bar and into the League’s living quarters. Their warehouse provides more than enough space for everyone to have their own room, and the boss even allowed them to decorate and furnish them as they pleased. Wasn’t that generous? Dabi plods down the hallway to his assigned room and kicks open the door only to find it was occupied. By you.

“Dabi?” You question for a moment before your eyes light up with excitement. “Dabi! You’re back!”

As a fellow Stain devotee, you’d sought out the LOV and been initiated as a member a mere six months ago. And two months later, you’d been initiated into Dabi’s bed. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves “lovers.” Love was few and far between in a hornet’s nest of villains. But you’d certainly become something more than the occasional lay.

He grunts as he stalks into the room, shedding his coat and boots as he went. Dabi was never big on grand displays of affection. And in his current state, that small show of acknowledgment may as well have been equivalent to a bear hug.

“I missed you.” You chirp back, undeterred by his gruff response. “How was the mission?”

“Long and shitty.” Came his terse reply as he strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs a towel from a nearby wall hook. “I need a fucking shower.”

He wraps the towel around his waist before he sets about searching for body wash and a first aid kit. Greedy eyes roam the plane of his toned torso, eager to touch the scarred and stapled flesh you’d spent many a night mapping out. Before joining the League, you’d never had an opinion one way or the other on touch or physical intimacy. You didn’t dislike it by any means; it was just something people did, fuck buddies or otherwise. But now that you’d shared a bed with Dabi, your perspective had changed. His rough touch was your drug of choice, intoxicating in all the best ways. And with him being gone for almost 72 hours? It was safe to say you were jonesing for a hit.

“Oooh, sounds like fun.” You purr, sprawling out on the mattress in a catlike stretch. “Want me to join you? I think we could use a little… quality time together.”

He snorts derisively at that, straightening up once he’d found his supplies and fixing you with a deep scowl. So pretty even when he’s pissed. You bat your eyelashes in return.

“Don’t get cute, dollface. Once I get cleaned up I’m passing out for the next century.”

Before you can shoot off another coquettish remark, he turns on his heel and marches out the door in the direction of the communal showers. You huff and clamber out of bed to follow him, determined that he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“C’mon Dabi!” You whine, trotting along behind him as he stalks down the hallway. “I haven’t seen you in days! Are you really just gonna give me the cold shoulder?”

“Yup.” He snaps back, shooting you a harsh glare over said shoulder before barging through the bathroom door. From the other side you can hear his bark of “Move it, psycho!” followed by an indignant squeak from whom you can only assume to be Toga. You huff and stamp your foot like a petulant child, turning on your heel to flounce off in the direction of the League’s bar front.

“Bastard.” You seethe under your breath, “Who does he think he is, ignoring me like that? It’s his fault I’m so pent up. If I tried ignoring him when he was all hot and bothered–!”

You pause for a moment as a lightbulb goes off in your head. A single impish thought flashes through your mind and it causes your lips to curl into a Cheshire grin. He wants to play games? You’ll give him games.

You continue your trek into the dimly-lit, woodpandeled speakeasy, a renewed vigor in your stride as you make a beeline for the bar top. Kurogiri is standing behind it as per usual, wiping out a pint glass like the faithful bartender he pretends to be. You sidle up to the bar and place both hands on the oaken surface, adopting a sweet, too-innocent lilt to your voice.

“Kuro-baby.” You purr, the cutesy pet name causing the misty specter to look up from his task. “Can I have a glass of water, please? With lots of ice, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri sets down the glass and picks up a shorter one, using it to scoop up a generous portion of ice from the freezer below before filling it nearly to the brim from the tap. If he has any suspicion of you, he’s very good at hiding it. The same can’t be said for Shigaraki, sitting a few stools down from you and still tapping away at the buttons of his console.

“Fucking with Staples again?” He questions disinterestedly, followed by a hiss of annoyance when the game lets out a series of gunshots. He must have gotten himself killed again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shoot back airily, swiping the glass from Kurogiri’s outstretched hand and hopping off your own barstool.

“It’s your funeral!” He calls after you, waving you off with one hand. You snicker as you march back into the living quarters, one hand wrapped around the chilled glass and the other flattened over the top to ensure you won’t spill a drop along the way. Soon you find yourself back in front of the bathroom door and, suppressing the urge to giggle, you slowly push through it and into the steamy room beyond. In spite of the hideout’s outward appearance, the place is surprisingly clean and well-kempt (all thanks to den mother Kurogiri). Two sinks stand against the left-hand side of the wall, with two doors opposite them leading to the toilets. Next to the sinks are the showers: three open-faced, tile cubes barely covered by flimsy plastic curtains. Toga is standing in front of the nearest sink, wearing a skimpy pair of Hello Kitty pajamas and washing the blood and goop from her latest transformation out of her navy, pleated skirt. She looks up at you when you enter and you quickly put one finger to your lips, smirking as you point between the glass and the running shower beyond. Toga lets loose a sadistic giggle of her own before hastily shushing herself when you hear Dabi’s bark of “Pipe down out there!”

As you move past her, you can see her mouth the words, “You’re so dead, big sis.”

You can feel a jolt of adrenaline course through your veins as you sneak up to the edge of the tiled wall separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom, the glass in your hand shaking briefly. A small amount of water sloshes over the rim and spatters onto the floor, the sound barely overshadowed by the shower.

“Doll?”

His low, rumbling voice coming from the other side of the curtain sends another shiver down your spine.

“What are you up to out there?” He growls dangerously, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and your shenanigans. For just a moment, the rational part of your brain takes over and makes you question your actions. Dabi’s already in a foul mood, and getting worse by the second by the sound of it. Maybe if you hold off and behave like a good girl–

Your body seems to move of its own accord. The next thing you know, the contents of the glass are sailing through the air, arching high over the plastic curtain rod and landing with a messy splat onto your unwitting victim on the other side.

“What the fu–!” Dabi’s curse is cut off by yours and Toga’s mad giggling as you sprint out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Passing by a very confused-looking Spinner, you dart inside Dabi’s room and slam the door, locking it for good measure. Seconds later, he’s pounding on it, using enough force that you’re convinced it might splinter and break off its hinges.

“Open this door right now and make this easier on yourself!” He roars, furiously jiggling the handle.

You let him pound away for a few more seconds, in part to allow yourself time to catch your breath but mostly to delay the unenviable punishment. With a deep, steadying breath, you plaster on a mildly amused expression, undo the lock, and pull open the door. Dabi is visibly seething, water dripping from his hair and cascading in rivulets down his toned chest onto the towel slung low on his hips. His brows are knitted together in rage, turquoise eyes flashing dangerously while one hand is still raised in a fist.

“Oh hey, babe. Done with the shower al–?”

His hands are around your throat before you can blink, your sassy remark devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

“You little bitch.” He spits at you, forcibly backing you further into the room as he advances. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

“N-no.” You gasp in response, voice slightly raspy from the pressure on your jugular. “I just thought–“

“Thought what exactly?” Dabi growls, kicking the door shut behind him with one foot before giving your shoulders a hard shove and pushing you onto the bed. You land with a slight bounce, the momentum giving you just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Well?” He hisses, venom dripping from the word as he glares down at you.

“I was worried.” You start slowly, tone almost loving as you gaze up at him with big, doe eyes. “You seemed so tense when you got back. And don’t think I didn’t notice those new burns on your arms. So I thought, since the mission was so hard on you…”

Your face suddenly splits into a shit-eating grin.

“I thought you might need to cool down for a minute.”

Dabi blinks for a second, seemingly struck dumb by your remark. And then his hands are back on you in an instant, roughly flipping you over to lie chest-down with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Of all the stupid–“

Your shirt is ripped over your head from behind.

“Immature–“

There goes the bra, clasps and straps lost to a wildfire of blue flames as it falls away from your body in a charred heap.

“Bratty little schemes.”

Your leggings and panties are harshly yanked down, slipped off, and discarded into some unknown corner of the room. You feel cool air hit your legs and backside, moments before a harsh slap lands on your right cheek. With a yelp, you cast a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder at the menacing presence behind you; a pillar of rage and sadistic urges looming over your naked form.

“You wanted my attention that badly, dollface? Well I’m sorry to say you’ve got it now.”

Before you can react beyond a pained, needy whimper, Dabi hooks his right arm under your thighs to haul you up and onto the bed. He lays his full weight across your back and reaches around and underneath the farthest edge of the bed to produce a simple, black cuff, attached to the nylon spreader running along the underside of the mattress. Giving it a few cursory tugs, he grabs ahold of your right wrist and yanks it towards the corresponding corner, attaching the device with practiced speed and precision. You continue to writhe and pant below him, muttering a litany of curses and “no’s” as he does the same to the opposite side. You’re now bound by both wrists, unable to do more than thrash wildly on the mattress in a humiliating, spread eagle position.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” He snarls in your ear, pushing himself off of you and marching over to his discarded pile of clothing. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric, followed by the telltale clink of metal on metal that makes your eyes go wide.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare…” You start breathlessly, just before the first blinding sting of leather greets your exposed skin, right at the juncture where the soft swell of your ass meets the tender flesh of your thighs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dabi says mockingly, his tone dripping with false pity and saccharine sweetness as he takes his place at the edge of the bed once more. “I don’t have any problems dealing with a mouthy… little… brat like you.”

His words are punctuated by three more vicious blows, this time striking the meatiest part of your ass and sending the pliant flesh jiggling. The metal rivets in his belt only add to the pain, biting into your rapidly heating flesh and causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in a futile attempt to get away from Dabi and his newfound torture device, you roll partly onto your side and look over at him with watery, pleading eyes.

“S-sir… Dabi, please!” You sputter out, voice already wavering as your resolve crumbles beneath the stinging sensation. But Dabi’s not in the mood for bargaining. Instead, he growls as he wraps an arm around your waist and shoves his left knee underneath your belly, hiking your ass further into the air.

“Hold still!” He barks at you, another crack of his belt sending a fresh wave of searing pain along your already raw skin. You scream in agony, unable to do more than wriggle and squirm against his hold.

“Start counting, brat.” He demands huskily, your only warning before the next punishing spank meets your burning flesh.

“One!” You gasp out, “I’m sorry! Please–!”

Another blow lands, somehow harder than all the others, revisiting the spot where ass and thigh meet and causing you to wail in pain.

“Too late for apologies, dollface. The only thing I wanna hear from that slutty little mouth is counting. Understand me?”

The arm looped around your waist tightens in warning, and you hiccup before sputtering out a shaky, “T-two.”

“That’s more like it.”

He continues spanking you at a steady pace, the only respite coming when he pauses to hear you choke out the next number. By ten strokes, you’re bawling. By fifteen, you’re practically brain dead, unable to quell the sobs that wrack through your body or think beyond the next count. He mercifully stops at twenty, dropping the belt and loosening his own grip on you. All you can focus on is the burning pain radiating out from your tanned backside, sobbing as you bury your face into the pillow below you for comfort. Dabi’s own breathing is heavy and ragged, and he takes a few deep, measured breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, that hand that once held his belt is carefully laid on the curve of your ass, and you gasp both at the gentle touch and the shock of prickly pain it brings. Judging by the way he strokes the heated flesh, you’re sure the silver eyelets have left a series of bruises behind.

“S-s-sir.” You blubber, “I’m... I…”

“Shhhh, quiet down.” He says softly, voice uncharacteristically tender as he runs his hand along the width of your heated cheeks. “It’s over now. You did so well.”

The unexpected praise makes you whimper beneath his affections, devolving into a quiet moan as his hand travels even lower, fingers coming to rest at the entrance to your heated core. He begins to gently massage at your folds, middle finger slipping inside to find you impossibly wet and clenching around the digit.

“You filthy little thing…” He breathes out on a chuckle, “Are you really that turned on by me beating the hell out of your cute little ass?”

His finger delves deeper, pussy eagerly sucking him in as you keen below him. His free hand begins to lightly scratch up and down your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of each careful caress. Without thinking, you shift further onto your knees, fighting through the pain to push against his hand.

“Please, Sir.” You moan wantonly, “More. Please.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi slips a second finger inside of you and begins to languidly pump them in and out. Pain and pleasure meld together in a sinful symphony, pants and whimpers coming from you as you rock your abused body against his own scarred flesh. He adjusts the angle and crooks his fingers downwards, curling them just shy of that sensitive bundle of nerves you know would have you seeing stars. Your back arches as you hungrily push against him, dignity forgotten in the face of pure, carnal desire.

“Getting impatient, are we?” He growls teasingly, fingers suddenly slipping out from your sopping core and wrenching a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat. He moves off the bed entirely, ordering you to stay put as he walks over to the nearby dresser and opens up the top drawer. Like the cuffs would allow you to do anything otherwise.

“Ah, here we go.” He says after a few seconds of rummaging, striding back over to the bed and taking up residence behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight seconds before his hands find your hips, roughly hauling them upwards and forcing your face further into the pillows. You shriek as he grabs ahold of your left cheek and squeezes harshly, pain shooting up your spine like a bolt of summer lightning. Something hard and cool prods at your quivering entrance, briefly brushing against your clit before being plunged inside of you. The sudden stretch feels at once too much and deeply satiating, sending burning, pleasurable heat licking across your oversensitized nerves. Once the toy is sunk to the hilt, Dabi gives a short grunt of satisfaction before sliding off the bed and circling around to lean over your quivering form. You turn your head to face him and he smirks at the sight of your fucked out expression: eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with half-dried tears, lips swollen from the bluntness of your own teeth.

“Aren’t you a sight?” He hums lowly, brushing away an errant strand of hair to plant a condescending kiss to your temple. “Such a needy little slut for me.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi pats your cheek, straightens up, and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You squeak out, squirming against your restraints as you watch his retreating back. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“That’s the plan, dollface.” He shoots back, casting you a wicked grin over his left shoulder as he pulls the door open. “At least until I finish my shower.”

#bnha #bnha x reader #dabi x reader #Dabi #mha smut #mha x reader #tw: noncon #tw: pain play

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hannie-dul-set · 3 years

Text

— contrariety & confluence | jung jaehyun.

SUMMARY | there was not an instance in your life where your judgement was proven to be mistaken— especially with regards to infatuations outside of your own. after an unpredicted introduction with a far too remarkable farm boy, you took it upon yourself to find a suitable match for him, not realizing that perhaps this time; your usual correct judgements might have been incorrect. PAIRING | jung jaehyun x female! reader [slight johnny x reader and jaehyun x oc, mentions of dotae and other pairings] GENRE | emma! au, matchmaking! au, strangers to lovers! au, slowburn (like i mean slow slow), period romance, humor, one suggestive scene, very very tiny angst, also jaehyun falls on love too quickly LMAO WARNINGS | implied and borderline smut, other than that none <33 (omg there’s no SWEARING in this wow) WORD COUNT | 16.9k TAGLIST | @sehunniepot @ukiyoneo @roury66 @nct-writers @czennienet @neowritingsnet @kpopscape

a/n: i wrote this....in seven days (not even JSFSD) ANYWAYS i hope you like this huhu jaehyun really has gotten me in a spell lately HJFF inspired by jane austen’s emma! but it doesn’t follow the actual book’s plotline hehe

A pleasant afternoon was how one would describe the present air and scenery— the sunrays scintillating over the nearby stream in such a manner that made its blue tint rival that of the clear sky, a faint brustling of the wind that shuffled the neverending tall, forest trees, and distantly was a flowered meadow of the countryside that visually neared as the carriage horses took their light gallop on the dirt path towards it.

Indeed, it was a pleasant afternoon, yet your temperament was less than pleasant; it leaned more into the adjective “stormy” from the way your eyebrows knitted together to accompany your deep frown, only worsened when an envious bump interrupted your supposedly pleasant carriage ride.

“Father, perhaps it isn’t too late to reverse? To return back to the estate?”

You made no effort in hiding your sour expression in front of your dear father, who was sitting before you inside the small space of the closed carriage. “Now, Y/N, we would not want to be tiresome to Mr. Jeon, do we? Not when we are already a mere walks away.”

“Mr. Jeon would not be troubled by his own occupation,” you reasoned, but the debate was settled because as though your father was lenient and doting towards you, his only daughter, he was a sensitive man who considered the welfare of all those that surround— that included Mr. Jeon, the primary coachman of your estate.

Mr. L/N had never failed in being quick to catch your subtle tells, and this moment was no other. He saw your parted lips breathing out a sigh, your gaze in a faraway spell to the open window, and shoulders slacked in despondency. “Eyes up, my little birdie,” your father called out. “I am aware that it is most upsetting for you to have lost a dear friend to the covetous hands of wedlock, but this excursion would prove to be a remedy for your mourning heart! Have I ever told you about kind Mrs. Lee and her children? Mrs. Lee, I have known far before you were born, but I have never been lucky enough to be acquainted with her children yet. Though I hear that they are quite pleasant fellows.”

The word pleasant simply grated your annoyance further. There was no such thing as pleasant when all your heart could feel was the grief brought about by the marrying of Miss Anna— your governess slash mother figure slash best friend— a week prior to today’s present. You had no pleasure in calling her Mrs. Qian, because quite frankly, you were still lamenting over the great sorrow of the loss of such a dear and close person, catalyzed by very much your own urgings and schemings.

It was an ideal match, her and Qian Kun. Highly congratulated and expected. A happy wedding for both parties except your own.

“Oh dear, how affected must you be for tears to well up,” your father cooed, leaning forwards to wipe away your cries with his handkerchief, to which you simply insisted him to sit back down as you had your own. “Miss Anna is in a very much happy disposition right now, my dear Y/N. And I predict that she would want the same for you.”

Your intellect was not ignorant of that fact, but your emotions pressed on to ignore Miss Anna’s wishes. It would take more than three-and-twenty excursions to Hollybrook Farm in order to fill the missing gap of one most cherished.

Mr. L/N’s heart was weighed heavier from having a front seat to your sorrows, and a thought came to him. A thought that he wished to never have thought of at all. “My dearest daughter,” he started in a shaky voice. “My only daughter. You aren’t going to leave your poor father this soon, are you not?”

“Oh what nonsense, papa!”

Your abrupt refute sang in line with yet another bump on the road, though your tenor was much less unaffected from your impenetrable indignancy.

“Such unthinkable, ineffable nonsense!” you cried in your seat, the lines of your embroidered handkerchief crumpling from your tight grasp. “I love you much too dearly to even ponder on marriage. You need not to fear that moment else you will only worry yourself into sickness.”

Your father’s silly notion had managed to ease you momentarily, allowing you to breathe and admire the natural scenery in a way that you were not able to a minute prior. Although that brief moment of serenity only lasted until the end of the ride. The ground crackled when you dropped down from the carriage, and you were once again hit by the wretchedness of the three or four realizations as you stood a reasonable distance from the farmhouse of Hollybrook; the first being the fact that Miss Anna will never be reverted back to maidenhood by a trivial excursion, or any excursion for that matter. The second, how shabby the presenting structure of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s home appeared before you. And third, the idea that you were to stay here for an entire night and two half-days.

It was tortuous.

“Mr. and Miss L/N! How grateful we are to have you company! Oh, come, come, please do come in!”

Half forced was the smile that you willed to your face as you passed through the fence that surrounded the wide vicinity of the family’s land. Mrs. Lee was a rather chipper lady, having none to not talk about as each second her lips were steadily moving, and though she was polite, pleasant, and very much hospitable, you found her incessant speeches far too tiring to stand. “Mr. Lee is unfortunately not with us today for he and my eldest had business to be dealt with in town, but please oh please do not fret! My three sons and I will be sure to provide a pleasant enough company for the both of you.”

“It is you that must not fret, Mrs. Lee,” you smiled at her. A pleasant smile. Mildly forced. But politeness was a must. “My father and I are sure that our stay here will be much enjoyed considering how amiable the lady of the house is.”

“Oh, Mr. L/N. Your daughter is as much of a charmer as you are,” the lady guffawed at your remark, a fond smile on her weathered features. “We will forever be indebted to your kindness! If it weren’t for you, we would not even have a house to live in. Though brief— I do hope you enjoy your stay here at Hollybrook.”

As the two chatted away along the cobbled path, you took the moment to study the sight before you— a large house, not as large as yours at Whitland, but large enough to fit a family of six or seven. The grey brick walls were infested with an overgrowth of vines, painting it with a green that matched the surroundings of grass that stretched farther than you could see. It was a very pleasing structure if it weren’t for the muddy windows, wheelbarrows unkempt, and the evident disarray of shoes that you were welcomed with at the entrance. That enough was telling of the people that lived here, and though you disliked holding prejudices, it was something that you could not control.

You breathed in, drowning out the unwavering voice of Mrs. Lee in the background.

A less than pleasant afternoon. You could only hope for a more pleasant evening.

“Mark! Please do check on the oven— Jeno! Be a dear and set the table for our guests— oh my— Donghyuck!”

A snort of a pig.

“How many times must I tell you; do not bring Kosher into the house!”

A door slamming to a close.

It was far from a pleasant evening. In fact, it was even less pleasant than the afternoon, yet your father seemed to be pleased enough with the mess that was dinnertime preparation, even laughing along as he aided Donghyuck in luring out Kosher back into his pen. All you could do was sit in your chair at the very far corner, recollecting all the information that you have thus far observed from your new acquaintances— which only brought about a bitter taste of cold, chilling, malcontentment. Mrs. Lee was quick to judge, and so were her four sons; though one was absent, for you it was easy to formulate your discernment of his character— not quite concrete, but concrete enough to know that the eldest Mr. Lee was a hardworking whose sphere of concern is limited within the family, and the family only.

Quite an amendable quality so long as you were in the sphere. Not when you were a guest. He could have spared some time to accommodate you and your father, but as he did not wish so and so he did not.

Next in line was Mark Lee. Handsome, well-mannered, well-spoken— exemplary despite his upbringing, but the boy was lacking the respect of being the standing eldest of the three with his brother’s absence. Poor Mark was being buried in all of Donghyuck’s chores without his concurrence, but without any protests.

Jeno Lee was objectively the handsomest of the three, and arguably the most agreeable. He would be rivalling Roselake’s Jaemin Na in terms of manners, politeness, and overall gentlemanly constitution. If only it weren’t for his regretful fear of women, then he would have been a chivalrous candidate for marriage. He was inherently unable to send a glance at your way without wearing the prettiest shade of red on his personable features.

Lastly, Donghyuck Lee was very much like his mother— exceptionally good-humored, exceptionally unwavering, and exceptionally tiring just as she. You could not handle a minute of his presence and you were yet to arrange a plan on how to exactly to last the entire dinner alone. The deafening of one of your senses was enough to blind the other; it was truly a shame as he was both handsome and intelligent, too. Well, it did not matter since marriage was a bleak concept for you, but you could have set him up with someone you knew.

Dinner, which was supposed to be a quiet occasion with light and educated conversation, was beyond what you had prepared for. And as if Mrs. Lee’s and your father’s chatterings weren’t boisterous enough, as if the three brothers’ over the table deviltries weren’t rasping enough, your dinner was further intruded by the irksome knock of the door.

“Oh, dear Mark, would you please answer the door? Hurry, hurry!” at his mother’s command, the clattering of utensils was heard, and following after was Mark’s hurried steps. “How I have completely forgotten from all the frantic preparations— Miss Y/N, you have room for one more acquaintance, no?”

You were not given the proper opportunity to react— only enough time or you to open your mouth in preparation for speaking, yet you could not. It was either from your voice momentarily dysfunctioning, or perhaps from the inhibitions attracted by the intruders attendance. Though the most plausible conclusion would be both.

Both. Indeed it was both. How could one even think to speak when brought before the presence of such a man.

He caught your stare. You forced your mouth to a close.

“Jaehyun, how was the delivery? Oh, I hope the journey wasn’t too fatiguing.”

“Madam, fatigue is but a distant cousin that I have never come to know in years,” the man known as Jaehyun smiled, causing distinct indentions to sink on his cheeks. He diverted from your sharp gaze. Handsome, you drew, continuing to eye him as you took a subtle sip from your water. “The delivery and transaction went as usual. Though I would appreciate if you weren’t to worry each time,” a laugh— even his laugh was handsome. “Shall we sit, Mrs. Lee?”

The three sons cheerily greeted Jaehyun as he sat amongst them, though not before aiding the older lady to the seat of her own. Perfectly handsome, perfectly mannered, perfectly agreeable; never in your life had you been beheld to such a perfect subject of a man. Though his clothes were wrinkled and skin dusted, those measly details were little enough to be overlooked by his overall disposition.

He was almost far too perfect to be deemed true.

“Miss Y/N, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Jung Jaehyun—” nods and smiles exchanged across the table right before Mrs. Lee continued to speak. “He is almost like my own son after living with us since he was four! Now three-and-twenty and has grown into such a fine gentleman indeed!”

Ah, you clicked your tongue. There it was.

But an unknown background was something that you could work with.

“May I inquire your opinion on something, Mr. Jung?”

He flinched midway eating his meal; expectedly so since the first words you’ve spoken to him after all those unwavering and calculative stares was something so bleak and ominous. He gingerly settled down his spoon, replacing it with a napkin to wipe his greased lips. One look at him was impossible to discern his upbringing of being a farm boy. “Please refer to me as Jaehyun, Miss Y/N. That enough is all right.”

Your lips quirked into a smile.

“Never have I met someone so politely hypocritical,” you hummed. He simply pressed his lips into a thin smile. “Very well then, Jaehyun. How do you feel about daisies?”

Daisies. A quizzical question that entranced the entire dinner table— though the subject of your question did not take long to think and utter out his answer.

“Well, a small bouquet of daisies would be sufficient enough to comfort an ailing friend,” Jaehyun thought out loud, then a flash of concern flitted through his eyes. “Are any of your friends ill, Miss Y/N? I know of a nearby patch where you could pick them.”

It was a different kind of triumph that you felt when you heard of his practically perfect answer; the notion of is character to be knowledgeable from the brief explanation of flower, the poignancy from the thought of a misfortune of a friend of an acquaintance (not even friend of a friend), and the unconditional, compassionate offering a service.

At that point you had decided.

“Oh, not at all, Jaehyun. All of them are perfectly healthy. Thank you for providing a response,” picking up a fork, you sent him a full, satisfied smile. “Anyhow, I believe that is enough conversion for one night. Let us dine, shall we?”

That a man such as Jung Jaehyun does not deserve to be bound inside the fences of a farm, for the world has much more to offer.

It was without precariousness and uncertainty that you, Miss Y/N L/N, sole heiress of Whitland Estate, can conclude with no much further deliberation required, had not, in fact, slept a single wink.

Even Kosher the pig might have slept more soundly than you.

“Mrs. Lee, I’m going out!” you announced from the door. “Please tell father in case he looks for me when he wakes up!”

It was thirty before six, and since there was no hope for you to rest atop the rock hard bed that you were provided, you ultimately opted to take a walk outside for some early exercise. (Frankly, it was not that hard— you were simply not used to beddings apart from your own inside your estate. You didn’t blame the Lee’s for your inability to adapt). A heavily clouded sky met you outside as it had showered a few hours prior, therefore you took it upon yourself to watch your step so as to not slip and fall.

Despite the unclear sky, there were moments where sunlight had just managed to slip past the cloud, allowing for a brief moment of golden rain. You anticipated the said occurrence during each moment of your walk.

You were forced to a stop upon being met by a downhill slope, and there you realized that Hollybrook Farm was quite actually much larger than the front had presented itself to be.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N! Jeno wishes you a good morning to— hey! Did I say something wrong?!”

Your laughter was unprevented due to the younger boys’ antics. They were rather lively for it being too early— though they were probably used to waking at such a time, perhaps even earlier due to their responsibilities in the farm. Undeniably, your initial impression of the lot was quite critical and nit-picky, but you had no doubts on them being pleasant fellows (as long as Donghyuck does not speak a thousand words a minute, of course).

Smiling, you hurriedly trekked towards the two boys who were still quarrelling among the flock of sheep, and so you momentarily forgot about the rain that had occurred prior, subsequently forgetting about the risk of slipping on the soft dirt.

Therefore the next event was to no one’s surprise but your own.

A misstep. You let out a scream as you slid down.

With your eyes squeezed shut and with the wind racing past you in such a terrifying speed, the fear of crashing down was numbed by the adrenaline that coursed through your veins, and all you could was wait for the imminent impact that—

You squeaked.

—that never seemed to have come.

“O-oh,” your breath staggered, eyes lost from the heat of the moment, and your slanted figure was caught by an arm that caged you, serving as a barrier between you and the mudded ground. In an instinctive motion, your head snapped up, meeting the eyes of the one who had just been in time to save you. It was Jaehyun. “I—”

You did not know what were the appropriate words for such a situation, and apparently neither did he because all he did was stare at you wide eyed with mixture of worry and panic and relief, making you believe that he was just as frightened as you because of the fall. An exchange of eye contact; blinking and unblinking. Jaehyun released a sharp huff of relief, and quite unexpectedly, he lifted you off the ground and into his arms in a bridal carry.

Your heart stirred in bewilderment.

“Ex—excuse me, Jaehyun, but it is less than appropriate for a man like you to be—”

“I apologize, Miss Y/N, but I am less concerned with propriety and more so with the possibility of you sustaining an injury,” he declared. “I cannot allow you to walk.”

None more was said after. You were left to ponder on your thoughts.

Jaehyun had his nose pointed forward as he carried you, eyes ahead and shadowed by the tufts of his hair; a manly disposition overall in addition to his declarations prior. Your admiration was simply stretched further. Though, it was not an admiration that strung one’s heart in fleeting motions; rather it was a type of admiration that an aesthete would hold towards a work of art, unaffected and untouchable— though still open to refinery. Jung Jaehyun was indeed a walking piece of art.

It seemed as though you were not the only one to agree, because as you passed near the fence, still in his arms, you caught sight of a group of young girls. You inwardly scoffed. It was obvious that they were here to admire the boy. It was also obvious that they had to be content with merely admiring, as a single step closer would be an insult to Jaehyun. He deserved someone of the same degree.

Wait.

“Miss Y/N, I will be setting you down, now.”

You were far deep into thought to realize that you had settled into the barn, quite frankly in a daze when Jaehyun gently placed you atop a squared hay bale. He made sure not to linger his touch on your skin for far too long, but also making sure to not be hasty— treating you with such a delicate care that made you think: Mrs. Lee raised him well. Far too well.

“I apologize for my rudeness,” you said. “I haven’t even properly thanked you for saving me.”

Jaehyun squatted before you, wordlessly asking permission to check on your ankle, and you gave him a wordless response in return. He pulled your boots off of your feet. “Please do be careful next time, Miss Y/N. The soil gets slippery when it rains,” he mumbled. “Does this hurt?”

“Not at all.”

He sighed in relief. “All right. But you should remain inside to rest for the time being. I am afraid I would not get any work done if you remain. I would be far too worried.”

You appreciated the addition of the last sentence.

“Allow me to repay your kindness one day, Jaehyun.”

“There is no need, Miss Y/N. I just— ah, allow me to help you.”

Jaehyun did not even let you get off of the hay bale on your own despite your countless assurances that you could walk as fine as any other, but he insisted on escorting you outside of the barn, extending until the door of the farmhouse, and even when you mounted the carriage as you and your father were already to make your leave. You feared that your father might actually pass if you tell him about your accident, but luckily Jaehyun was there to assure him of all his worries.

He certainly deserved someone of the same degree.

“Please do visit again soon!”

And unlike when you arrived, the departure was far more pleasant. Because as you were gazing outside the window of the carriage with your countless thoughts, you had come up with the perfect match that was fitting for a man such as Jung Jaehyun.

The moon had already replaced the sun when you and your father returned to the estate, and there waiting was Johnny Suh— a close friend of your father despite being years and years younger. You did not view him as a friend; he was much like a fond annoyance that you perceived as familial at best, and nefarious at worst. Your ideals simply did not align, and more likely than not, it was the prerequisite for all of your arguments. Though, you would be lying if you said you did not find joy debating with him. The joy being found in his defeat.

“Mr. L/N,” Johnny started. The three of you were sitting around in the manor’s reception room, the usual tea and chat taking place. “If I were to be honest, I did not expect a trip to the countryside would do your daughter’s selfish grievances any better, but perhaps miracles do exist.”

You sent him a sidelong glance as you took a sip from your tea. Johnny returned it with a charming grin. The nerve.

“What makes you say that?”

“You left looking like a widower and returned looking like a newlywed. That is enough for me to draw my conclusions.”

A wispy laugh was released by your father, and for a moment you felt betrayed. You elicited a cough, placing the cup on the saucer that was held by your other hand. Johnny looked at you expectantly. “But is that enough for you to draw the reason as to why I’m in such a happy mood?”

“Unfortunately not. But I do have a bit of an idea,” he answered “You are scheming again, are you not?”

You smiled innocently. “What could you possibly mean?”

This was not an unnatural sight in the estate, seeing as your father was simply reading in silence as he listened to your back and forths. Johnny was not by any means amused by your lack of definitive response. He really wanted to know what, or who brought your spirits to such a high considering that you had practically been weeping not even a day ago. You would not simply let go of Miss Anna unless you found a new occupancy— and something like that was unlikely to be found at a farm.

“Oh? You feign ignorance when not even a month ago you were rejoicing your victory of finally getting Mr. and Mrs. Wong to be wed.”

“Ah, I simply pulled a few strings here and there.”

“And what about Taeyong and Doyoung?”

“They would not have gotten together if it were not for me mediating between their stubbornness.”

Johnny exhausted a sigh. “Y/N, you are quite frankly the impossible woman I have ever met.”

“I do not believe you have met enough women to surmise such a deduction.”

He was getting annoyed. You could tell from the way his jaw clenched. He ignored your quip and instead shifted back to the topic beforehand. “You are still acting innocent as if you are not scheming something when you are practically incriminating yourself by evidence that came from none other than yourself. Who is it this time?”

“I am not scheming, Johnny,” you pressed on, choosing to ignore the last question. “A scheme is something grand— elaborate. I am not even lifting a finger.”

“You never change,” he huffed. “Still as proud as ever.”

“Of course, as there is undeniably something to be proud of when you help in watering love to bloom,” you reasoned, and a subtle smirk glistened on your face. “Well, your indifference is quite understandable. A man that is five-and-twenty and unmarried would never—”

“Coming from someone who declared herself to be an old maid,” Johnny proclaimed in a loud voice, a glare shot into your direction. “You should be more sensible in who you point your fingers at.”

You scoffed. “That is a completely—”

“Y/N, my dear!”

It was fortunate that your father had interrupted before the both of you could verbally rip each other’s throats apart from a distance. You and Johny visibly calmed down, a simultaneous, unspoken truce as you breathed in and relaxed in your chair.

“Are you still to continue your hobby in matchmaking?”

Completely ignoring Johnny’s dirty stares and incoherent mumbling, you spread your lips into a bright, wide smile. “Why of course, dear papa! Vicariously romancing through the lives of others is the only way a destined old maid such as I could feel the profound experience of falling in love. There is no reason for me to stop, there not?” a choked out laughter is heard from across the room, unmistakably from Johnny, but you simply responded by a threatening gaze, to which he promptly shut his mouth. “Oh, by the way, father. When is our dear, little Hwayoung returning from boarding school? Has she sent a letter, by any chance?”

Johnny chuckled, bringing the teacup to his lips. “You still call her little when she’s a mere year younger than you.”

“Then shall I call you uncle as you are four years older than me?”

Sohn Hwayoung was the daughter of a merchant in Roselake; a very pretty, very charming, and a very chipper young lady that had always followed you like a baby duckling since you were thirteen. She was like a little sister to you— always heeding your advice and exemplifying you as “Miss Y/N can never be wrong”. Apart from Miss Anna, you had always been especially fond of Hwayoung, and therefore you were devastated when you found out about her leaving, just as you were during your governess’ engagement. But now it was summer. She was to return to Roselake on any day this week.

Your father wore an approving smile, and you clasped your hands together in hopeful expectancy. “She is to return this Friday.”

A bright, beaming grin splendored your face, squealing, and you nearly jumped out of your place.

“Oh, what a joyous occasion! Shall we celebrate her return, papa? It has been far too long since a ball was held in the village.”

“I do not suppose why not,” he chuckled. “I will be calling Mrs. Qian for the arrangements.”

“Thank you so much, father!” you ran over to embrace him, to which he returned with one of his own. “Also, Mr. Jeon— will he be off tomorrow? You see, I would like to send a letter.”

This particular statement piqued the interest of Johnny, as he sat up in his seat with a n air of attentiveness and curiosity. The man was as sharp as ever, but you knew your way around him. “To Hwayoung?” he inquired, the subtle cock of his brow, but you simply gave him a secretive yet knowing smile.

“No,” you replied. “Not to Hwayoung.”

The streaks of sunlight leaking through the open window would have woken you from your slumber if it were not for Mr. Kim, a servant of the house, waking you up by a loud, hollow knock on your door in such an urgent manner.

“Miss Y/N, a visitor has come. Please hurry down.”

You were rather alarmed when that was the first thing that greeted you the moment you woke up, but a side of you somewhat expected this sudden visitation. Quickly, you raced down the halls of your manor, passing by lines and lines of windows, paintings, and statues in such a pace that did not allow you any moment to admire their intricacies. Mr. Jeon had departed yesterday to deliver your message— and it appeared that it was properly relayed. You were still in your nightwear when you had passed through the arch that led to the entrance hall, a shawl draped over your shoulders. When your eyes landed on the visitor that came in such a short notice, you couldn’t prevent the winning smile from replacing your previously drowsy expression.

He never came to disappoint.

“Miss Y/N!”

Jung Jaehyun sprang from the long sofa, a bouquet of daisies in hand, in such a frantic resolution that nearly made you feel guilty.

“Is everything all right?! Are you hurt?! Did you— wait, hold on, why are you standing? Dear god, did you walk all the way— you— you should not be—”

“It is quite appreciative that you have responded to my invitation with such an exemplary promptness, Jaehyun.”

He blinked at you, mouth opening and closing in a confused, convoluted manner that was almost comedic if you weren’t the precursor for his distress. You simply stood in front of him in the middle of the room with a fixed smile on your face. He was lost, disordered. And it reflected on the dirt on his clothes, the dust clinging onto is skin, and the tousled nature of his hair.

“I thought— I thought there was an—”

“There was no accident, Jaehyun. That was simply made-up.”

“But you said you were—”

“Alive and well, as you can see.”

“Then why did you—”

“Simply because I wanted you around,” you perked, eyes twinkling and hands politely folded behind your back. “You would not have come otherwise, am I correct?”

Prior to writing your letter to the Lee’s, you had come to a realization that a responsible man such a Jaehyun would not just abandon his duties at Hollybrook for something as trivial as tea time. You had to come up with a different reason— a more urgent, pressing, and important reason— even if that reason was a mere fabrication. Jaehyun seemed to have only realized it now. He was made to believe that you have gotten into an accident much worse than yesterday’s.

He flushed scarlet.

“Well—” Jaehyun stammered, embarrassed, unable to meet you eye to eye. You pressed your lips together in the hopes of preventing an amused smile from forming in such an inappropriate situation. But it was difficult with his ears getting redder by the second. Honestly, considering the situation, it was you that should have been the shameful one, not him. “If— if that is the case then I believe it is only right for me to take my leave.”

“On the contrary, I believe you should stay,” you quickly strided when he turned away and ready to leave through the doors, blocking his attempt of escape. “Apart from the—” you coughed. “—red herrings in the letter. Your presence is still highly welcome in the estate. How about extending your stay until tomorrow?”

Jaehyun let out a strangled cough at your suggestion. “I am afraid that would be highly inconvenient for you, Miss Y/N, as I have brought nothing but myself.”

“Well, you certainly brought along these lovely daisies with you,” he forgot about those, and you took the bunched up flowers from his right hand, the faintest brushing of your skin, and you smiled at him when you brought them up to your face to smell the grassy, earthy scent. His ears became redder. “Come. You need not to worry about clothing, toiletries or essentials, as the L/N residence has more than enough to provide. You do not have to worry about the farm either— I will be sending another letter to Mrs. Lee about your temporary absence. She would be delighted to hear that you will be staying a few days here.”

From how determined you were, there was no hope in objecting, but Jaehyun still had yet to try. “Miss Y/N,” he began, following your back as you started to leave the entrance hall. “I simply cannot be intrusive to your hospitality. I do not wish to be a burden.”

“Nonsense, Jaehyun!” you suddenly swiveled, meeting him face to face, the bouquet pointed against his nose. He swallowed hard. “I lured you here and therefore it is only rightfully so that I redeem myself by treating you as an esteemed guest.”

You carried yourself with such a confident and dignified air that Jaehyun simply cannot help but consent. The scarlet rouge seemed to have no intention of leaving his face— only darkening and growing warmer. You hadn’t judged him to fluster easily, but perhaps the hot weather was a contributing factor. You paid no mind.

“Well, anyway,” you hummed in satisfaction, leading him deeper into the manor. “Would you prefer a view of the front garden or of the back garden?”

After an entire day in Whitland, Jaehyun had proven himself to be even more agreeable that you had accounted for, which brought about no regrets in your decision of bringing him here to Roselake as it was the utmost sense of pride that you have ever felt. Not only was he such a fine dancer, he knew how to play the pianoforte and was highly cultured in music altogether. He even knew how to cook. And above all— he collected all sorts of poems, riddles, and charades that he penned in a small notebook, which simply accentuated your making of a good character for him. You had made no errors when you judged that he belonged in high society. He would fit right in.

All that was left was to do something about those drab costumes of his.

“Is it really all right for me to wear such an expensive attire, Miss Y/N?”

You had invited him for breakfast together as your father and Johnny went out into the village, and you simply did not like solitude when there were others around. He sat before you, across the table, squirmish and unsure. You frowned. The both of you were seated in such a beautiful spot inside the house— right beside the large window that opened to the gardens. This was no place for negativity.

“Why, surely!” you bellowed. “Would you rather run about uncovered, Jaehyun?”

It was instantaneous how he reddened.

“But of course, if that is what you wish, then—”

“Miss Y/N!” he stammered indignantly, his palm heavily dropping onto the table, causing it to rattle. “I— I had never expected vulgarities of any kind to be expressed by lips such as your very own.”

His flustered outrage was very much obvious by the way exhaled in such an exasperated manner, looking away into the window because it was far less perilous to eye the rose bush peeking from the glass. The red roses matched his face. “I believe this is not an appropriate topic to be discussed over a meal,” he sounded. “It is ill-suited in general.”

Jaehyun was unfortunately unable to catch the glimmer in your eyes. “You seem to boast a deep knowledge about vulgarities, yet you do not know that it is vulgar to speak about a lady's lips without her discretion,” he would not have choked on air if he had caught it.

“Oh my,” Your chair grated against the floor as you stood to help him, but he waved you off back to your seat “I was simply teasing, Jaehyun. I apologize, I really could not help myself.”

He drank from his glass of water, still rather ruffled from the event. “You seem to find a lot of joy from teasing others, Miss Y/N.”

“It is a lot of fun,” you agreed. Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to have recovered now. “I would recommend the activity to you but I’m afraid you are far too nice to enjoy it.”

“Oh?” he pondered, a raise of a brow. It was about time that he took a bite from the prepared breakfast as he did not want to invade any further, but he was worried that it would be a waste. He took a fork from the table and started to eat. “How are you sure that I would not enjoy such a thing?”

Was he trying to challenge you? You chuckled. He may have seemed tolerant and forbearing over anything based on the air that he bequeathed as he went, but perhaps he hasn’t chosen to forgive you yet for pulling such a jest— he was extremely flustered, after all. You wouldn't have forgiven yourself, either. “It is a first that I have met a gentleman as constitutionally juxtaposed as you are. Are you upset that I teased you?"

“Not at all,” he said. “It would be rude for me to think ill of my host. I simply wonder how you’ve made so quick of a judgement when we've only met twice."

“Oh, judgement is arbitrary, Jaehyun. I draw conclusions as I wish and change them as I wish. Yet so far my impression of you has not changed one bit.”

He was silent for a moment, looking at you so intently that you could hardly recognize him as the same blushing boy as earlier. “Will I ever expect a change, Miss Y/N?”

This caught you by surprise.

It was vexing— how you had no theory on what prompted such a question, and what exactly kind of answer was he expecting and what he was to do with it. Jaehyun appeared to be anticipating your response; he stopped the clattering of utensils altogether and instead waited for you to speak in patience. You had no choice but to simply answer honestly.

“Oh, do you wish for it to change? But I believe my judgement of you is the best judgement one could ever make from a man,” you replied. “Well of course, that depends entirely on you, Jaehyun.”

You couldn’t tell if he was satisfied or less than, because all he affirmed with was a puzzling, thin smile that showed his dimples, followed by a reserved “I see.”

Throughout the stretch of the day, Jaehyun had continued with his odd, dilapidated behaviour which brought you to the paramount of confusion, irritation, and inadmissible fluster. You could quite confidently assume that his sudden coquetry as you made a turn around the garden, his uncalled for compliments and comparisons, was to prove his insistence that he did, in fact, enjoy a little tease.

Gentlemanly yet competitive, you took note. He is such a character.

Jaehyun only stopped when you admitted defeat right before sunset, but you defended that your initial perception of him had still yet to change because he was still as contradictingly confluent as he was during your first meeting, and you were sure that it would never change. Confusing enough, he visibly dampened when you made him know of it, and you did not understand what was there to be disappointed about. Was he that bent on changing your idea of him? But you assured that your idea of him was nothing but agreeable.

It followed you until dinner with the three men, and by then, you had not the slightest idea that all it took to completely silence one Johnny Suh was a Jung Jaehyun. The reason why, you did not know and you did not care. You should invite him as often as you could.

“I sincerely apologize for my daughter calling you here under the guise of an injury,” your father sent you a berating stare through his glasses, the rhythmic sounds of knives and spoons and forks and plates filling in between the gaps of the conversation. “I hope it has not troubled you so, Jaehyun.”

“What would have been so troubling, papa?” you spoke up, switching your concentration into someone else. “Is Roselake not such a welcoming place, Jaehyun?”

“Well, I have only toured as far as your estate, so I have none much to say regarding the entire village. But you see I have this belief that a part greatly represents that of the whole,” a charming smile was flashed. “If Whitland is already this captivating, then Roselake might be all as well.”

There was a cough from the other side of the table— Johnny— and it stirred Jaehyun’s and your father’s concern. He assured the two that he was fine, but you didn’t fail to catch his expression— one that he always wore when held knowledge of something you did not know of. You opted to fish information from him after dinner.

“Such a well-spoken and well-mannered boy,” your father hummed, reaching out for a dish on the table. Jaehyun politely passed it to him. “Do stay as long as you wish, son. There is no such thing as overstaying your welcome here at Whitland.”

“Oh, sir. I simply cannot abuse your hospitality.”

“Nonsense!” it was a familiar reckoning— your father’s remark. Jaehyun now knew where your persistence came from. “You would not have travelled all the way here if it were not for Y/N’s scheming. Please, Mr. Jaehyun. We are very much indebted to you.”

“Jaehyun,” you interrupted, smiling piquantly. “I would love for you to extend your visit until Friday.”

At that juncture, Johnny abruptly stopped his meal after spending the rest of it in silence. He shot you a look, to which you gave the look back. He was not even saying anything yet his peace was enough to be an annoyance. You really needed to have a word with him after this.

“Oh, that is right! We will be holding a ball on that very day, Jaehyun. It would be such a shame for you to miss out an occasion while you are already here.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth in an attempt to refute, but he caught your expectant gaze— the evidence of you looking forward to his attendance stopping him from saying what he had planned on saying. “If that is the case, then I suppose why not.”

“Excellent! You need not worry about your departure, son. I will prepare a carriage for you first thing on the seventh if you need to leave hurriedly.”

“Papa, how about inviting the Lee’s, as well?”

Jaehyun brightened at the mention, and your father was in no objection to accede.

Dinner had come to a close with a pleasant mood, and you went off to chase after Johnny who disappeared into the terrace right as the meal struck to an end. He thought he could run away from you. The nerve. You still had a bone to pick with him.

“Johnny Suh,” you announced your entrance, and he simply sighed without even turning around to acknowledge you. “What was that during dinner?”

That being, but not limited to, his constant, incisive stares directed to Jaehyun, his uncharacteristic quietness, and of course the moment he coughed in the middle of the scene which would have been dispensed by you if it were not for that irksome, knowing look on his face quite immediately after.

“Why do you not join Jaehyun and your father in the lounge?” he dodged.

“They are talking about farming," you grimaced. "Your presence is more welcomed than that. But anyhow—” you huffed, taking a stance right beside him. He was leaning against the railings in such an easy manner that annoyed you to bits. “Why do you not tell me what you have in mind?”

A moment of silence. He smiled at you knowingly.

“I have faith that you would know in due time.”

What?

“Johnny, I do not—”

“Moving on,” he brushed you off. You glared indignantly. The absolute nerve. “Hwayoung and Jaehyun?”

Ah.

Your eyes twinkled, your temper subsided. He looked at you with curiosity. You pursed your lips into a smile. “A good match, are they not? I believe this would be my greatest one yet,” you confidently declared and you had expected him to agree, to provide support despite his disagreements towards your pursuits as he usually did, but all you got from him was a painfully insulting laugh; sounding nothing but impertinent ridicule. If murder were not a crime, you would have pushed him off the balcony at that very instant.

“Miss Y/N, take this advice from a friend,” he breathed out in between chortles, needing to switch around his position as he was nearly stumbling in his own twisted amusement. “Do rethink your decisions. I am confident that this match will not go the way as you are used to.”

“Dear John,” you spat, venom lacing in each utterance. “You and I both know that I am miles closer with each of them than you are, I am more sympathetic towards the emotions of others than you are, and therefore it is not impetuous for me to conclude that I am a more fitting judge to this match’s success than you are.”

“And that is exactly where you fail.”

You blew a hot breath, appalled. Was he simply doing this to prove his superiority? To gravel you to the ends of the earth with a much more severe attempt?

“I am not saying to challenge you, Y/N. Do as you wish, I assure you that I will not go against,” he stated, ready to make his leave, walking from the railings to the terrace door, and your eyes followed him all the way through. Though before he left, he made sure to make one last testimony. “But do know that there are some things that can only be seen from afar.”

It was safe to say that this was the second night that you had not managed to fall asleep, but this time was for a different reason. That being the fact that Johnny’s words ceaselessly, obnoxiously echoed inside the taverns of your head like a damned curse in frequent enough episodes to drive to the very brink of insanity.

You were about to go insane— proven by the fact that you were quite literally mumbling to yourself inside the public space of Roselake Tailler Shop.

“That man speaks nonsense! Nothing but utter, indisputable, ridiculous nonsense! He thinks he’s sharper than me for simply being a few years older, when really he is none the wiser! Gosh, that stupendously arrogant—”

“Miss Y/N?”

A soft voice broke through. Dear lord, how you have forgotten.

Prior to your episode of madness, you had shoved Jaehyun into the hands of the dressmaker to fit his suit for tomorrow’s ball. It was on quite a short notice, but luckily you were acquainted with the owner, and that she already had a select few that suited Jaehyun’s frame and face with only a few alterations needed. Now, Jaehyun had emerged from the back of the shop, donning a dark tailcoat, cravat in a stylish ruffle, and bottoms that perfectly accentuated his tall height. You had nearly forgotten all your distresses from earlier.

“Is this all right?”

Yes, he was absolutely dashing, but could he please momentarily keep it down for the sake of your gradually withering rationality?

“My god, Jaehyun. That is by far the most foolish thing that I have ever heard you say.”

You marched up to him, evading the rolls of cloth and stands that littered the place, up until you found yourself standing right before him. His cravat was in a slight mess, and so you silently took it upon yourself to fix it, not realizing that you were far too close for Jaehyun’s comfort. You did not notice the way his eyes widened, the way his breath practically stopped when he could see how your lips pursed in concentration as you were very very close to his face. But what you did notice— albeit only when you looked up for a fleeting second— was that his ears were very much tinged red.

Johnny’s words echoed once more. You squeaked and stumbled away.

He is just poisoning your thoughts, that damned rat.

Unfortunately for you, there was a dress form right behind, and from your stumbling, you had almost fallen over it, setting off a disastrous domino that would have led to an absolute mess inside the shop. But of course that never happened. Jaehyun had not let that happen. He was just in time to catch your fall, arm steadily hooked around your waist, the other swiftly moving to balance the dress form, and his handsome face just as close as ever.

“You seem to have an inclination for situations where you are destined to fall, Miss Y/N.”

Your mind was yet to fully register your current situation, yet your heart was already far too many steps ahead with the sudden flushing of heat, darting of your nerves, and sporadic fluttering of your eyes.

Oh dear god.

With a cough and a huff and a stutter, you hopped back onto your feet. “I—It is not like I deliberately put myself into these situations. I assure you that I am not as clumsy,” you straightened yourself, a stern look on your features, though somewhat forced. Johnny was the cause of this pitfall; had he not rooted those ridiculous notions into your head, this never would have happened. “Please put your hair up on the day of the event.”

He smiled at you. “Ah, I will keep that in mind. Thank you.”

You blamed Johnny for all the palpitations that you have endured and have yet to endure within your presence of this deadly man.

Easy, Y/N, easy, you inwardly sighed as the both of you finally left the shop, entering the main streets of the village. The tailor said that his suit was to be delivered later in the day. Everything will fall into place by tomorrow— this is simply a test of your fortitude.

Your assurance was generously granted as you and Jaehyun strolled through the streets of Roselake on the way back to your estate, because in every side and every corner, from passersby and lingerers, people seem to have been magnetized towards your companion. You smugly smiled in voluminous pride. A head turner was he indeed, though he seemed to pay no attention to the stray stares. It was either he didn’t know or he didn’t care, but you were granted to believe that the former was far too unlikely.

“Jaehyun,” you roused. “Are you aware of the attention that you’re garnering?”

“I am aware that people have been looking this way since earlier,” he sent a polite smile to a nearby group of young ladies that were sitting at the side, right before bringing his attention back to you. With how the rays of gold were showering atop his dark hair, highlighting all the high points of his face, one might believe that even the sun was magnetized by him. “But I believe it is you that they are looking at, Miss Y/N.”

You laughed. “Please do not impart with me your false modesty, Jaehyun. Even a child is enamoured by you.”

“You are far too kind.”

At the suggestion, a little girl had walked up to him along with her sister— Miss Hana, you had recognized. It was an endearing exchange, Jaehyun and the little girl, and though you were willing to wait, Jaehyun had cut the acquaintanceship short, much to Miss Hana’s dismay. Perhaps it was not only the little girl that was enamoured.

“It is simply the truth, yet you insist on pretending,” you sighed, lamenting. He only chuckled in response, striding beside you as you crossed the busy street. “I can already see it, Jaehyun. Almost everybody at the ball tomorrow will be wondering who is this esteemed gentleman that Miss Y/N L/N had brought along to Roselake. Why, dozens will be vying for your favour.” It was unusually crowded today, possibly due to the event tomorrow. All of Roselake was to be invited, after all.

“It is nice, but I do not necessarily seek the good favour of everyone around me. Your father, your good friend Johnny, Mr. Jeon, and you, Miss Y/N,” a horse carriage interrupted your walk, the vehicle passing just inches away from your side. Jaehyun gallantly pulled you away, his hand on the small of your back, and it elicited a quiet gasp from your part. You landed on his chest, and he looked you in the eye. “It is your good favour that I deem more important than those of a nameless dozen.”

Had you not been devoted to your pursuits, you as well would have been enamoured. He did not care about making a good impression on others, but unconsciously he is doing so.

You quietly thanked him, pushing yourself away once the street was once again cleared. “That you need not to worry about, Jaehyun, because I have assured you many times already. We must hurry if we wish to return to Whitland before sunset; there are still plenty of preparations, after all.”

The evening of the sixth was as lively as the stars in the sky.

Whitland estate was not shy of inviting guests, and just as you had anticipated, almost if not all of Roselake have welcomed themselves into your manor. Visitors and guests flooded inside the ballroom and out, the gardens and yards littered with the jubilant merriness of conversations and introductions. You gratifyingly smiled as you stood at the center of the ballroom, underneath the striking chandelier, and you greeted people as they came and went. The current guest being Mrs. Qian— who lended a generous hand in preparation for the ball.

“You have always had an eye for the littlest details. It is quite thanks to you that the mood is pleasantly heightened,” you said with great praise, yet your former governess simply laughed it off in modesty.

“Dear Y/N, none would be merry making right now if you had not designed the entire event,” she rebounded, the liquid in her glass swaying in tune with her movements. “You are most fitting to be the lady of the house, Y/N. All that is left is to marry, but of course, you have no plans in doing so.”

“I need not a man to run the estate, Madam,” you mused, not adding anything further thanks to a new presence arriving. “Oh, Mr. Qian.”

You humbly bowed, and he followed suit with a drawing smile before he took place beside his wife. “I apologize, Miss Y/N, but allow me to seize my wife for a moment.”

“No apologies needed, sir. You are very much inclined to do with her as you please.”

Your teasing remark elicited a hearty laugh from the couple, and right after they disappeared into the crowd. It was quite strange how unaffected you had become to your dear friend and governesses’ marriage despite being wholly wrapped in grief only a week ago, but perhaps it was about time that you had come to its acceptance. You were very happy for the two’s union, and happier when it was, of course, orchestrated by your command. You could not have thought of a better ending for the both of them.

Moments later, you had retired to a separate room which was far quieter primarily because there was a dance going about. You would have joined, but there were not enough willing men who wanted to partake, and that at every second there seemed to be a guest that wanted your conversation. You had just sent away Mr. and Miss Yoon because the daughter’s father could not stay up for too late, and despite it being already hours into the ball, you had still yet to meet Jaehyun or Hwayoung.

Perhaps they found themselves to each other, you jokingly thought as you readied to come inside once again. No matter how unlikely, that instance is still very much welcomed.

Just was you crossed the frame of the open door, a voice called out to you.

“Miss Y/N!”

It was impossible to hold back a smile.

“Oh, Miss Y/N! Oh, how I missed you so!” in came Hwayoung running into your chest as she buried herself in a tight, gripping embrace. You laughed, caressing the crown of her head while she went on with her declarations of much she longed to see you while she was away. She turned her head up, a blooming excitement on her face.

“My sweet blossom!” it was against your better judgement how you decided to squeeze her plump cheeks in between your palms, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. You really could not help but to coddle the younger girl. “Are you well? Was the trip pleasant? Oh, I should have sent over one of our carriages so you’d been of best comfort.”

She managed somewhat of a response, though it was barely coherent (“ish okay!” she tried to say, but at least you understood). Prying your hands away from her face, she beamed at you, excitingly swinging your arms back and forth. “I am very happy to be back again!”

You smiled at her fondly. “I am very happy to have you back again as well, Hwayoung. Come, let us get inside.”

As you two passed by the many guests with Hwayoung clinging onto your arm, she had told you how it was like at the boarding school— her storytellings had always been convoluted, going back and forth from one scene to another, which was a fitting reflection of her bright and youthful nature. Though, when the both of you squeezed past the energetic dancers, the topic had shifted; and you more than welcomed the change of subject.

“Miss Y/N,” she started, a large, curious smile on her face as she talked. “I had been talking to Miss Hana as I walked toward the manor— oh! This was before I managed to find you— well anyway. She had told me that you had been acquainted with such a handsome gentleman while I was away! She says that he is more handsome and agreeable than Mr. Taeyong Lee which I found really surprising because Mr. Lee is quite the most dashing fellow I have ever seen! Is it true? Did you really meet such a man?”

Hwayoung looked at you with her big, round eyes with such an adoring enthusiasm that you could not help but release a chuckle.

“One at a time, one at a time,” you tapped her nose. “I cannot say whether he is more handsome than Mr. Lee,” you smiled, “I will leave you the judge of that, Hwayoung”

“Oh my, Miss Y/N!” she gasped. “Are you allowing me to meet him?”

“If that is what you wish, then who am I to say no?”

“I would love to, Miss Y/N! I should better express my thanks to him as he kept you company while I was away, even if it was only for short. I could only imagine how devastated you must have been with Miss— oh rather, Mrs. Qian marrying. You were not too lonely, were you, Miss Y/N? Oh, I do hope not; the very thought makes me so sad because Miss Y/N is far too great of a deal to ever feel sorrow.”

You did not have the heart to tell her that you had indeed been inflicted by troubles. You had many acquaintances considering your status in society, and you have indeed busied yourself with the company of Miss Jihye Kang from Hartlace, and sometimes even Mr. Renjun Huang whenever you were sick of the emptiness of your drawing room. At one point you had even invited Mr. Jaemin Na to your estate— which was quite unheard of because once the public had made news of you and him being in the same space, rumors were sure to arise and you simply found it far too cumbersome to deal with for the mere sake of having company.

Yet despite all these many acquaintances, none could take the familial position of Mrs. Qian’s wit and wisdom, nor could they rival the fondness of your dearest Hwayoung. It was blasphemy to even compare. But you didn’t have the heart to admit this to the girl.

Well, a thought flickered. There is one.

“Miss Y/N?”

“Oh, not at all, Hwayoung,” you flashed her a smile. “Come, let me introduce you to him.”

Jaehyun believed that he was struck with bad luck the moment he had entered the ballroom, because somehow, despite all of the odds (that were quite frankly stacked against him), there was not an instance where he had caught you alone. You were always with a person or two, never by yourself.

Was he to suffer the entire night?

“Miss Y/N—” you were skewed away by a Miss Kwon.

“Ah, Miss Y/N—” Donghyuck had decided that it was the perfect time to drag you into a dance.

“Miss—” he could not interrupt while you were so amiably conversing with a couple, could he?

He could not.

Once again, he could only sigh as he witnessed your retreating frame, presumably accommodating two of the guests who were ready to make their leave for tonight. He could not even garner the chance of telling you how beautiful you looked in burgundy and gold. He had come to accept that he will never get the chance to tell you.

“This is not an event of frowns, Jaehyun. Are you not enjoying the party?”

Mark, who was alone at the moment as the rest of his brothers were running about, had come to approach his evidently despondent friend with a drink in hand. If he could read his friend’s thoughts, which he could not, he would be able to hear him lamenting over the fact that he even styled his hair up tonight just as you had asked him to (with the assistance of Johnny, of course. The two got along quite well). You would not even be able to see it.

“I am just tired, Mark. No need to worry,” he pressed his lips into a thin smile. “And you?”

“Very much so!” he nodded. “Donghyuck seems to be in his element here, and Jeno has finally come out to join a few others after hiding behind the statues and pillars— Miss Y/N’s earnestness managed to force him out of his shell and— oh!”

Mark lit up in the middle of his thoughts, while Jaehyun only dampened at the mention of your name. Even Jeno had an opportunity to talk to you.

“Please do send our thanks to Miss Y/N for inviting us here! And of course, my gratitude is with you as well, Jaehyun. If Miss Y/N did not like you as much, then I believe we would not even be—”

“What?”

If Miss Y/N did not what?

“What are you saying, Mark. Miss Y/N simply views me as a friend.”

Mark knitted his brows in confusion.

“Oh, does she? Did I misunderstand? I thought she fancied you, really. She would not have called for your presence all the way here, in Whitland, in such a short and desperate notice if she did. Even insisting on your extended stay,” he drank from the glass, shrugging. “But I suppose I was mistaken.”

“Uh—” arranging his thoughts and words in a coherent manner was quite impossible considering his physical state and state of mind— his usual tells being reflected by his ears and Mark did not fail to notice but he remained quiet as he waited for Jaehyun to operate again. But out of further misfortune because his bad steak still had not yet come to an end, he saw you, unmistakably so, approaching him from a distance

The one time he wished not to confront you had to be the time that you decided to confront him.

Fate be damned.

“Jaehyun?”

He sped off in a rush and panic that hesitation could not even catch up.

Mark could not comprehend his friend’s sudden actions, but he could not go after him because at that very moment, you had decided to show up right in front of him.

“Was that Mr. Jung just now?”

Hwayoung asked, confused. You answered her, just as confused. “Indeed. I’ve no idea as to why he ran away, though. Mark?” your eyes flicked to the by who seemed to be in a trance. “Is there a problem with Jaehyun?”

“I’m not too sure either, Miss Y/N,” he answered, still dazed.

“Well,” you clicked your tongue, looking towards the entrance where he disappeared off to. An idea ventured inside your head. An opportunity just presented itself. You looked over to the younger girl. You inwardly smiled. “Hwayoung, would you mind checking up on the lad? He probably went off to the fountain.”

“Oh, should you not be the one to check on your friend, Miss Y/N?”

“Perhaps I had done something to upset him as he ran away the moment I approached,” you sighed in dismay and Hwayoung's expression was tugged down into a frown. “I believe it would be best if I leave him for the time being. But I do not wish to simply fester his constitution further.”

A look of concern shrouded Hwayoung. “Oh dear, that is most unfortunate! Would you like me to talk to him, Miss Y/N? To find out why he might have not wished to see you?”

“Such a kind girl, but there is no need,” you lifted your hand to her head in an affectionate pat, smiling. “I ask you to be in place of me, dearest. Your social gallantry will be sure to bring his spirits up.”

“Are you sure, Miss Y/N? Would it be all right to leave you alone?”

“Mark shall keep me company,” you beamed in assurance, grabbing the unsuspecting boy by the arm, who flushed scarlet at your sudden action. “You may go, Hwayoung.”

Now ascertained, Hwayoung nodded in determination. “Understood! I will be sure that Mr. Jung Jaehyun returns to Hollybrook without any misery or grief. Then I will be off, Miss Y/N!”

You sent her off with the fondest expression that you could ever manage. Mark was about to ask you of something, but the boy was far too slow to speak a syllable because not long after Hwayoung’s departure, you discreetly went off as well to follow her with a considerable enough distance as to not be noticed. Intrusive inquisitiveness was not your proudest trait, but you could not help yourself.

There, through the window, you watched as Jaehyun and Hwayoung animatedly conversed under the shining moonlight, and a smile stretched by triumph displayed on your features. You did not miss the way Jaehyun's eyes disappeared mid laugh from something she had said. It was far too impossible to not love a lovable girl such as Hwayoung. Things had been going just as you had predicted as the two seemed to be enjoying each other’s company, but of course your judgements were always correct. It was inconvenient that you couldn’t hear what they were conversing, but knowing their more than pleasing introduction to each other would suffice for now.

Introduction meant acquaintanceship, and acquaintanceship to friendship. All knew what came after next.

The morning after the ball, all the guests including Jaehyun, Hwayoung, and the Lee’s have left Whitland with as much pleasure as when they have arrived. You had not woken early enough to interrogate either of your two subjects on the happenings of last night, and therefore you had arranged a tea party with the both of them at their earliest convenience— which happened to be Wednesday of the next week.

It was for tea on the invitation, but of course you had other motives at hand. Johnny simply ridiculed you when you had told him. That was to be expected, but you only told him because you were determined to prove him wrong.

“She is quite the beauty, is she not? well-mannered too.”

You took a small sip from the teacup, eyes following the excitable girl as she collected flowers from the shrubs as you had instructed. It was at the back garden that you had arranged the small gathering. Hwayoung was not fond of tea so she went off to gather flowers for a new drawing of hers. You knew that of course. How could you not. You specifically settled for a tea party because Hwayoung would have still chosen to come, though she would simply not join you. That was the perfect opportunity to figure out what kind of opinion Jaehyun had for the girl.

Perhaps Hwayoung had noticed your stare, so she momentarily stopped picking the fresh blooms to send a bright smile and wave to your direction. You returned the gesture with an air of fondness.

“Although I have to say— she is a tad slow and air headed at times. But rather it adds more to her charm than making it fall short,” with a clang, you replaced the porcelain onto the saucer. “Do you not think so, Jaehyun?”

No answer. Your eyes flickered over to the boy.

“Jaehyun?”

“O-oh! Yes— uhm,” his gaze wavered, visibly startled unlike his usual disposition. His ears were pink. A shameful pink. As pink as the carnations decorating the table. Your curiosity was drawn. It was a relief that him running away from you during the ball was only a one time occurrence; you were afraid that he wouldn’t take your invite, but surprisingly he answered with much promptness and without any complaints or excuses. “I apologize, Miss Y/N. I admit that your words were not completely received by me.”

Your lips quirked upwards. That was easier than you had thought. “It is all right. Enjoying the scenery, perhaps?”

“The scenery,” he coughed out. “Indeed. A lovely scenery, indeed.”

“Is such a sight present in Hollybrook?”

“Unfortunately and quite fortunately not,” Jaehyun replied, the blush that had been painting his fair skin now fading but not completely subsiding, and his usual, dimpled smile taking place with an air of charm. “Such a sight can only be seen here.”

The smile on your face grew triumphantly wider, and your eyes directed back to the flower-picking Hwayoung, who had already filled the basket to the near brim. The summer leaves fell perfectly into place and you needed not to even intervene. It was only a matter of time until another successful match was to bloom thanks to your favor.

“As expected. Then I shall leave you to admire the scenery further, Jaehyun.”

He simply nodded, but you weren't looking at him to see.

Unbeknownst to you, Jaehyun's attention had been long riveted to the same spot ever since. He simply wondered how long it would take for you to notice.

To say that the next few days were eventful would be an understatement.

Your determination in getting them together alone in contrast with Jaehyun and Hwayoung’s insistence in keeping your company did not come into confluence, much to your frustrations and disheartenment. They are very clearly enraptured by each other— you were not amiss to the smiles they shared, to their heightened enthusiasm for the others’ presence, and the confirmation that you sought for was already given by Jaehyun during your time at the garden. But if they were far too shy to take their steps towards each other, you were left to take it upon yourself to string them together under the impression of destined, fated coincidence.

Today was also one of your devices.

“Mr. Jaehyun, I am very honored to be bestowed upon an opportunity to make a round in your lovely farm— granted it is my first time to visit one, but Hollybrook is a very refreshing spot to visit around the summer! I might have to schedule another trip here,” Hwayoung revelled in the natures of the area in the countryside, as she and Jaehyun strolled along the dirt path underneath the shade of the tall trees.

Jaehyun mirrored the younger girl’s smile. “I am glad that you think so, Miss Hwayoung. But it is quite a coincidence that we have been frequently running into each other as of late,” though welcomed, he had not expected Hwayoung’s arrival, as it was fully unannounced.

“Oh, but it is for sure such a delighting coincidence!” she beamed. “Miss Y/N and I were supposedly meeting here today, but quite unfortunately and on such a short and sudden notice, Mr. Johnny had come to visit. Poor Miss Y/N really did wish to come.”

Wait a minute.

Jaehyun stopped walking. “Miss Y/N asked for you to come here?”

“Why, yes. I had already departed when Mr. Jeon came and made news to me that she was not to come anymore. Oh, did you perhaps wish to see her? I believe she would not mind an unannounced visit if it is from you, Mr. Jaehyun.”

Miss Y/N had declined his letter of visiting Whitland earlier today, saying that she had somewhere to be.

Hwayoung had grown concerned at her companion’s sudden silence, but Jaehyun was yet to be ready to resurface from his thoughts. He was aware that this had not been the first time you had brushed him off, that you had deliberately made way to erase yourself from the narrative just so he and Hwayoung would be alone. Many a times have you invited him over only to be met by your absence, times that you left in a hurry over reasons that were questionable yet he did not choose to question. He was neither blind nor stupid nor unaware.

He simply did not linger for he cared too greatly about your opinion.

Even when that opinion was evidently unreciprocated.

“Mr. Jaehyun, did I say something wrong?”

But even if that was the case—

“Miss Hwayoung,” he started. Hwayoung was surprised by the sudden volume and seriousness of his voice. “I am afraid I must take my leave.”

“You slithering snake.”

Johnny simpered, looking you in the eye as he toppled over your King on the chessboard.

“It appears you still have a long way to go, Miss Y/N.”

You were starting to regret your decision of inviting Johnny over for a game of chess, but it was a very much needed excuse in order to make sure that everything was to work. From your calculations, Hwayoung was probably with Jaehyun at Hollybrook right now, as Mr. Jeon had already earlier in the afternoon from his task of making her know of your absence. You did not enjoy lying to any extent, only bending situations into your favor, which is why you were led to the very invite that you were oh so desperately trying not to regret.

This was the third game that finished with your defeat, and this was definitely not the last as you two decided to set up the chessboard once again. You were far too stubborn for a defeat. “Please,” you scoffed, lining up the pawns indignantly. “I have far too many thoughts running about inside my head at the moment, and it is not to my surprise that you have won this game by chance. I will win the next one.”

“Y/N, we have played chess many times in the past and never once have you won against me. But it is all right. I will pretend for the sake of your satisfaction,” he codded. “Do some of those thoughts involve Mr. Jaehyun and Miss Hwayoung, perhaps?”

“A grave majority, Johnny. Not some.”

“Well,” he had a rook wedged between two of his fingers, his chin resting on the same hand as he looked at you smugly. You rolled your eyes in preparation for whatever ridiculous chide he had in mind. “From that statement alone, then I assume that your plans are not going as smoothly as you would like.”

You scoffed, raising a brow at him. It appeared that the next game was already to be postponed.

“Quite the contrary, actually,” you refuted, taking the fallen knight into your hands. “The past few days have been going exactly in my favour. Before you make any hasty conclusions, Johnny, I suggest that you see how the two are undeniably so perfectly enraptured in each other’s company. Hwayoung had always looked forward whenever Jaehyun was announced to be visiting, and Jaehyun had always been especially attentive to the girl. And my, and this very moment, they might already be professing their ardor for each other, just about—”

“Lady Y/N.”

The doors to the drawing room swung open, prompting your attention. Mr. Kim had made a sudden entrance.

“A Mr. Jung Jaehyun.”

You dropped the knight to the floor. A hollow sound echoed inside the room.

“Well,” Johnny hummed and you abruptly turned to face him, eyes widened. “Are you still to continue with your speech?”

You did not, for there were no words that your throat could manage.

The clattering of your heels through the empty hall, the tranquil air of the clear afternoon sky, and the faint brustling of the wind through the opened windows did not resemble the thundering storm of disorder that you carried inside your head as you chased towards the manor’s entrance.

Mr. Kim took much effort in running after you because your pace and temperament was just as fast as the throbbing of your heart that rang inside your ears like a tempest coming to whisk you away. You were wildering.

“Lady Y/N, please wait a moment. Please—”

You pushed the doors open without a moment to waste.

And there stood, a mere few meters away, was Jung Jaehyun.

What could he possibly be here for?

“Jaehyun, what are you— why are you here? Were you not with Hwayoung? What are you—”

“Miss Y/N, it is with great displeasure that I admit that I perhaps am not worthy of your good merit seeing as you are quite in shock and disappointed from my untimely arrival— but I am afraid that I cannot hold it off any longer,” he was breathless as he spoke, and he spared no breath for you to release either as within seconds of his speech, he took his place before you, clutching both of your hands, desperate and rattled, and you could feel it through his pulsing veins. “Therefore before I begin, I would like to ask for your permission.”

You looked up to him, eyes wide and tongue tied. His chest was rising in falling, heaving during the moment of brief pause, and you could not even bear to uncover the emotions running in troubling circles in his dark eyes. You nodded wordlessly. He swallowed.

“I am not as naive as you may believe me to be.”

You could hear your heart pounding.

“I hope that you would not be too gravely burdened by the next words that I am to say— that would be the least of my desires. Instead, I would rather you be freed from the burdens that you have been carrying onto yourself since the moment we first met. Would you like to hear it, Miss Y/N?”

Once again, you nodded.

“I like you.”

For a brief moment, you felt yourself slipping away, or so you thought because once again you were met by the reality of Jaehyun’s fervent confession as he was still holding into your hands with no less desperation as he had since the very first second. It was difficult to breathe at that point. He too, was experiencing the same, but that did not stop him from pouring all the depths of his senseless sensibilities, out of regret that he did not do so earlier.

“However I do not wish for you to be afflicted by affections as heavy as mine, because the mere fact that you are not turning away from my touch—”

There was a pause. Your eyes followed how he lifted your hands to his lips, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss on your knuckles with enough warmth to send your entire being ablaze. He looked at you. How he had never stopped looking at you.

“—is enough to satisfy my yearning heart for now. Good day, Miss Y/N. I bid you well.”

And with that, he left. He left, but not without leaving a memory of him behind closed eyes.

I like you.

It rang inside your head.

I like you.

Once more, it rang.

I like you.

It rang until you were already underneath your covers, the moonlight leaking into the window, but you could not sleep because closing your eyes would mean the recollection of Jaehyun’s ever enchanting visage as he repeated those words in your head until you became sick of it.

Jaehyun liked you. Not Hwayoung. You.

It did not make sense.

Did you mistake his kindness, courteousness, and attentive generosity as something it is not? You had been wrong? That was impossible. He had been far too kind, courteous, and attentive to Hwayoung for you to perceive it as anything else. There was always a special kind of thoughtfulness when he uttered a word to her, presented by his moments of contemplation just before making his utterance. A kind of thoughtfulness that you had only seen in gentlemen who wanted to assert a good impression on someone they liked, yet he decided that he liked you instead of her, which the very idea carried a great amount of absurdity because not once had you caught a subtle hint, even a mere glimpse from him that he carried such— such ineffable feelings for you. He never showed that he did

“Did he?”

Would you have been this heavily affected if he had not?

The moon outside your window had been calling you to sleep, and you deduced that it was about time that you did. You only hoped that your dwellings would cease to transpire in line with the moon, but the opposite occurred, because when the sun had come to rise, so did its never ending repetitions which you had finally come to terms with.

Jaehyun liked you.

This new mantra stretched until early noon, and Hwayoung had come to visit, just before it had started to rain.

And at that very moment— as you both sat in the middle of the drawing room— it occurred to you.

What about Hwayoung?

“Miss Y/N, you never told me that Hollybrook was such an enjoyable farm!” the girl gushed in such a cheerful radiance that contrasted your own casket-ready appearance. How were you to break the news to the poor girl? “The meadows and fields were all so very pretty and— oh! I had met with Mr. Jaehyun for a very brief moment, but he had to leave for reasons I do not know. He seemed to be very shaken, yes, so I assume it was urgent, but I do not hold it against him that he rushed to leave. He is a kind fellow, and how lucky was I that Mr. Lee— the eldest Mr. Lee— was there to—”

“Hwayoung.”

She stopped talking, taking notice of your grey countenance, dazed and unfocused, and she immediately grew worried.

“Yesterday—” you breathed in. “Yesterday a very puzzling thing happened.”

“Oh my, what could it possibly be to have troubled you so much, Miss Y/N?”

“Jaehyun came by.”

Hwayoung’s mouth dropped, pleasantly surprised. “Really? Is that why he left yesterday? Oh, what did he—”

“He says he likes me.”

There was silence. You drew in a deep, regretful breath. “Hwayoung, I—”

A squeal.

“He— he says he likes you? Mr. Jaehyun? He likes you?” she repeated it just as many times as it haunted you leaving you unable to speak or even think for that matter. “Miss Y/N, oh my— oh my, this is—!”

Your younger friend was practically bouncing in her seat from the joy and celebration but you did not understand. Heartache and sighs and despondency— that was what you had expected. But the response that she came up with was enough to somewhat bring you back to your senses.

“Hold on, should you not be upset?” Hwayoung deemed the confused bewilderment crawling onto your face ill-suited for disposition. She grew confused as well. The gap between you and her as you sat across each other seemed far wider than it actually was.

“Huh?” she blinked, cocking her head. “Why should I be upset when this is wonderful news?”

“He says he likes me and not you!”

The volume of your cry caused her to flinch, and you gasped, covering your mouth with your fingers. “Do you— do you not like him?”

“Why, should I not be the one to ask you that?”

“You do not like him?”

“Miss Y/N, you are being rather confusing right now.”

You blinked, mouth hung open in shock. You were wrong. Very wrong. You could not have been more wrong in your life.

“Mr. Jaehyun is a very nice, very good looking, very agreeable man, but I do not like him in the way that I believe you are asking. Not at all,” Hwayoung politely replied, her hands resting on her lap. You had only realized now that the rain had grown stronger. “I do not like him, But you, Miss Y/N.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Do you?”

Did you like him?

It was a difficult question, far more difficult than anything you had ever encountered because you had never— not in your twenty-one years of life— liked anyone in a way that Hwayoung had suggested. How were you to know something you feel when you have never actually felt it? How were you to be sure that this feeling is actually romantic when your emotions themselves cannot judge it? Perhaps this was why you had misjudged Jaehyun and Hwayoung’s opinion on each other; in actuality, you knew nothing of love. You simply did not know.

“Do I like him?”

“Oh dear, why are you asking me, Miss Y/N? It is you that should know the answer.”

But you did not

How did Mr. and Mrs. Qian come to know that it should be each other that they were destined to marry? How did your father come to realize that it was he and your mother that were meant to be? All these people knew what they were feeling, knew who their hearts were set out to, but you—

“Miss Y/N, what are— oh my!”

“Hwayoung.”

All of a sudden, you leapt from your chair and onto the floor right before the poor, startled girl without much of a warning for her to be prepared. You knelt right in front of her, quickly snatching her hands and placing the right on top of the left side of your chest. You looked at her with so much conviction and earnestness that she had no choice but to go along.

“Is my heart beating fast?”

“Yes,” she stuttered. “Quite fast.”

“Hwayoung.”

You had wasted no time to transfer her hands to your face, pressing both of her palms onto your cheeks.

“Is my face getting hot?”

“Yes, quite hot. You are getting quite— wait,” she knitted her brows in dumbfounded perplexity. “Miss Y/N, is this a physical examination? Are you feeling okay? Should I—”

Once more, you had changed the position, with you now holding her hands tightly on top of her lap. Hwayoung stared at you, wide eyed, and perhaps waiting for the next question that you were about to ask.

“Hwayoung.”

You started.

“Could you ask me who I am thinking of?”

“Who…” she echoed, slowly and surely. “Who are you thinking of?”

“Jaehyun.”

You answered at once, looking at her, but your eyes felt like they were looking elsewhere. The rain continued to fall— stronger than when it had started.

“I am thinking of Jaehyun.”

It was against your better judgement to run into the wind, rain, and mud with nothing but two thin layers, but all your judgements thus far have been proven to be false anyway, so who was to say that you were wrong? Hwayoung had called out to you to return to the manor, but you were already far too lost in your thoughts, and too far for your ears to hear because you had already slipped past the gates of Whitfield to your unprompted journey to Hollybrook.

It did not matter if your hem was six inches stained with mud, if you were wet, disheveled, or far beyond propriety’s sake, because all that mattered was for you to tell him about your far too late realization that you, more than you could quite possibly know, liked him.

Him. Jung Jaehyun.

And so you ran through the dampened dirt path, past the daises and all the trees and the linings until you were met by the looming visage of the farm house, breathlessly standing before the fence, until your eyes landed on the familiar figure of a boy sitting underneath the porch, who immediately stood up upon seeing you from a distance.

He was looking at you.

And you were looking at him.

There were no words nor time wasted when he ran up to you, fighting against the onslaught of raindrops to swing open the fence gate, grab you by the arm, and lead you inside the house where the rain was no longer. He sat you on the sofa while he went off to get something to dry you off with, and when he returned, a large cloth towel offered to you, he turned over to the unlit fireplace to start the fire. You had not even realized that you were shaking.

“Miss Y/N, I have not the slightest idea on what is your motivation for running into the rain and mud despite the risk of catching a cold,” he started with a sigh, back faced towards you as he crouched before the now kindled furnace. “But unfortunately if it is the Lee’s that you have business with, they have sadly left for a wedding in Oldham just this morning. I am sorry that your journey to Hollybrook has led to such a waste—”

“No,” you said. “Not a waste at all seeing as you are here.”

He stood up, turning around. The rain was muffled inside the walls of the house, so he could very clearly hear what you had just said.

“Jaehyun, I—”

You felt yourself withering under his stare when you looked up to talk to him, words choked up inside your throat because of his appearance; his hair, face, and skin drenched from running into the rain because of you, yet even with the disheveledness of his constitution, still nothing could compare. You pressed your lips tightly in guilt.

“I have been very, very stupid.”

“Please do not speak ill of yourself, Miss Y/N. You are—”

“I am!” your outburst caused him to flinch, the crackling of the hearth filling the momentary silence. “I am possibly— no, without a doubt the most foolish, stubborn, and idiotic person that you are most unfortunate enough to like because not only was I blind to the feelings that you garnered for me, I was also blind to the feelings of my own.”

He almost doubted the next words that fell from your lips.

“Jaehyun, I like you.”

He had to take a moment.

“Perhaps— perhaps I mistook my admiration for you as simply pragmatic because I had never, for the life of me, harbored any feelings of the sort but that is besides the point because I was very very wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things,” you were stammering, your usual air of self-reliance unable to be found by Jaehyun's eyes. It was a different disposition. He did not mind either one. “But this time—" your breath wavered. "This time I am more than certain that I like you.”

Somehow the rain kept coming, the fireplace kept crepitating, and Jaehyun spoke after a moment of silence.

“Are you sure?”

You looked at him, blinking, unable to decipher his expression. You let out an incredulous breath.

“After all I have said, that is what you respond with?” you huffed, standing up from your seat and marching up to him with heavy steps. ”Jaehyun, what more do I have to say and prove that I really do— oh!”

Too burdened by your indignation, you did not pay much attention to your surroundings, and this you tripped over your own dress that was given more weight after being soaked in the rain. You fell forward with a shrill scream, and just like the past few instances, Jaehyun had been there to catch you, an arm securing your waist, a hand holding your wrist into the air. Startled, you were fixed on him, and you had only caught the subtle grin on his face of amusement, ever charming and directed to none other than yourself. How had you missed it?

You batted your eyelashes. He intertwined your fingers together.

“Then, I am glad.”

This time, you did not miss the twinkle in his eyes, to which you responded with a flustered dumbfoundedness. Heart racing, you tried to push yourself off of him in mere embarrassment— you had completely forgotten how much of a mess you looked, all wet and muddy. But Jaehyun seemed not to care because the moment you let go of his hand and attempted to back away, he simply pulled you closer to him with a more humored expression. You squeaked when you hit his chest once again with a thud.

“What are you doing?” you exhaled, still dazed. He simply hummed with an airy laugh.

“Something I have been meaning to do for a while now.”

You could not even question. You did not get the chance to ask him what exactly he meant by that, but it was not any more needed because Jaehyun’s answer came in the form of a kiss that snatched the air out of your chest within seconds.

It was sudden, how easily you gave in, how within seconds you found yourself slowly slipping away from his touch, how any semblance of elegance, manner, and respectability was disparaged into nothingness in between tangled limbs, shallow breaths, and feverish lips on the cold, wooden floor that you had fallen onto. You gasped, positioned in between his legs and right onto his chest, pulling away to take a moment to stare at Jaehyun’s face, heated under the glow of the fireplace. He hummed a fluttering smile.

“Are you all right with this, Miss Y/N?” Jaehyun asked, running his fingers down your cheek, falling underneath your chin as he planted yet another kiss without a warning. You breathed out a staggered breath. “If you wish for me to stop, please say it now.”

“Is it not far too late for such a question?”

He mused, his hot breath tickling your skin as he drew near to your neck. “Are you sure?”

“You are such a tease.”

“It was you who refused to believe that I am,” he mumbled in between his wet, fleeting kisses all over your bare neck and chest, hands peeling away at your dress that stuck to your body from the rain and you had done nothing but gasp helplessly underneath him. You held onto the hope that he was giving you a moment to compose yourself, that was until he dipped down in between your thighs. “Must I prove it to you at once?”

“I—”

You had not prevented the moan from slipping past your lips as you unconsciously threw your head back when he started nipping on the skin of your inner thighs, his hot tongue darting over your sensitivity without much to hold back. His darkened eyes flickered over to you. “What was that, Miss Y/N?”

You were unsure how you were to last the entire night.

The rain had stopped when the next morning came.

It was thankful that the Lee’s were not yet to arrive until the afternoon, else they would see you and Jaehyun on the floor, in front of the dead fireplace, a mountain of blankets covering your huddled figures with the early sunlight showering over you from the windows up above. Jaehyun had long woken before you, yet he had not moved an inch as your head had been snugly resting over his arm for the entirety of your slumber.

There was a fond smile on his face as he watched you writhing, wanting to run away from the bright, morning rays in your sleep and he couldn’t help but release a laugh. Your eyes fluttered open momentarily after.

“Good morning,” Jaehyun mumbled into your hair, still half asleep when he decided to rest his large hand on your forehead. “You had not caught a cold, have you?” you stared at him, blinking, detached, until all of a sudden the events of the night prior crashed onto like yesterday's rainfall. Jaehyun figured that you had finally woken up when you let out a gasp of realization and attempted to self-consciously bury yourself under the covers.

“My, you are far more innocent than you presented yourself to be, Miss Y/N,” he chuckled as he caged you in his arms from behind, rendering you unable to run away. You squirmed when he tickled your fevered skin with a million kisses. “You may only run away once I am done with you.”

It was far too early in the morning for you to be breathless. You turned around so you could glare at him.

“I tell you that I like you once and now you believe that you can do with me as you—”

“Twice,” he cut you off with a kiss, noses touching, an annoyingly endearing smile on his face. His skin glowed underneath the streams of light. “You have told me you like me twice.”

You could not bear to continue with your indignancy.

It did not take you more than five seconds to bury yourself in his chest with a sigh, to which Jaehyun welcomed you with a fluttering laugh, gently running his fingers through the disheveled state of your hair. “You know, I was very worried yesterday,” you murmured. “I had not the slightest idea on how to tell dear Hwayoung that her feelings were not reciprocated. Only to find out that there were no feelings in the first place.”

“Y/N.”

You looked up to him.

“How am I to tell you that never once had I felt that your friend had liked me of any sort. I believe all knew that my eyes were set solely on you since the beginning.”

“Was I… the only one who did not know?”

“I believe so.”

A sound of anguish left your lips in the form of a defeated groan, burying yourself further into nonexistence. Had Johnny also known? That would explain everything, then. You could only sigh upon realizing how much of a clueless fool you have been— going after the pursuit of something that was already deemed futile before it even came to exist. You could have kissed Jaehyun earlier if only you were not so dense; his words, his actions, and all of the subtle hints that he had been leaving had clarified themselves to you now. It was ridiculous.

“But now you do, so there is no need to be upset,” he chuckled, brushing away the fallen strands of hair from your face. “Shall I accompany you back to Whitland?”

“No, my father will have your head the moment you step foot into the estate.”

You answered without even batting an eye and thus Jaehyun had to believe that you were being serious. You were serious. Your father would have the entire village after him. “Tomorrow,” you had come to a conclusion. “Can you wait until tomorrow?”

Jaehyun smiled at you, daylight not shying away from kissing his soft features. There was not a sound to be heard inside the near empty house— only the ticking of a grandfather clock and the chirping of birds that flew past the window. It was the most pleasant of mornings.

“I can wait until as long as you wish, Miss Y/N.”

#NCT-WRITERS #czennet #neowritingsnet #kpopscape #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x reader #jeong yoonoh x reader #jung jaehyun fluff #jeong jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun scenarios #jeong jaehyun scenarios #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct fluff #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios

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helnjk · 3 years

Text

Bad Idea - F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates 🤍 Wishing everyone a wonderful holiday season & new year 🧚🏼‍♀️

this is the first installment of my showtunes fic list, based on the song bad idea from the musical waitress !

Summary: fred weasley has the ability to get under her skin in a way no one else can. he also sends butterflies straight to her stomach like no one else can.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: enemies to lovers, slight cursing, steamy scenes but no outright smut

song lyrics are bolded & italicized

It’s a bad idea me and you

Y/N rolled her eyes as the Weasley twins made something or other explode at the Gryffindor table at breakfast. The awed cheers and whispers of her schoolmates at the colorful display of miniature fireworks did nothing to sway her opinion on the irritating duo. In fact, it might have even made her dislike for them grow.

It wasn’t as if she had no basis for hating the pair of them. They had been nothing but rude to her since their first year, and she was sure it was mostly due to her adorning the green and silver crest on her school robes. She had been at the receiving end of their nasty pranks more than she liked to admit, and some of them weren’t even a sliver funny.

As if he practiced legilimency, the older twin’s eyes moved from his showy display of spellwork to hers and sent a subtle wink in Y/N’s way.

“Like what you see, Y/L/N?” Fred yelled across the hall, causing the onlookers to turn their heads in her direction.

Angrily, she felt heat flood her cheeks, “Not at all Weasley. Just wondering how many points I could take away from Gryffindor today.”

She heard the members of her table snickering quietly at the sound of points lost for their least favorite house, but she paid them no mind. In all honesty, she knew that no amount of points taken away would sway the Weasley twins from their mischief making.

Later in the day while Y/N made her way from her last class to the library to catch up on some coursework, she heard the familiar snickers of the two boys she wanted to interact with the least.

“Oi! Watch where you’re going!” She yelled, annoyance bubbling in the pit of her stomach as the redheaded menaces rushed past her and nearly knocked her over.

“Going to take some more points from Gryffindor, Y/L/N?” Fred taunted over his shoulder as his brother let out a huff of laughter.

“Well, it’s not like she has any other important things taking up her time, don’t you think Freddie?” George said.

“You are absolutely right, George.” He replied.

“Honestly, don’t you two have anything better to do than get on my nerves all the time?” She gritted out.

The twins slowed their pace and Fred turned around casually to wink at her, “No can do, love.”

“Don’t call me love!”

Their raucous laughter echoed across the hall as she pushed past them in a huff. Stupid redheaded twins. Stupid Fred with his stupid teasing. Stupid George for laughing and egging him on.

Something about the way she determinedly called out over her shoulder made Fred pause.

Her eyes caught the fading light that streamed through the windows of the hallway, and shone brightly. Her skin seemed to glow in the amber light, reflecting the sun as it set in the horizon. The way she moved so confidently as she weaved through the sea of students made heads turn, and Fred was beginning to understand why their gaze gravitated towards her.

He had never noticed how pretty Y/N had gotten over the years. Another pause. Did he find her pretty?

Yeah, pretty annoying. He tried to reason with himself, but still he couldn’t shake this new feeling.

For the rest of the week, Fred had decided that if he couldn’t get her out of his mind, he would simply have to make sure he was on hers as well. Whenever the two of them walked past each other in the halls, he always had some sort of cheeky remark up his sleeve.

Subtly, he would get close enough for their shoulders to brush and would mutter under his breath, just enough for her to hear.

“Looking good today, Y/L/N, such a shame you’re a snake.”

“What’s a lad got to do to take a pretty prefect like you out on a date?”

“Cat’s got your tongue, Y/L/N? I know it’s ‘cause you think I look right fit, you don’t have to say anything.”

The more she ignored his comments, the more it seemed to spur him on. She would catch him sending her flirtatious winks during meals, feel his gaze on hers in their shared classes, or hear him whisper something or other to his twin while he glanced in her direction.

If it wasn’t something he said, he would manage to send practically every kind of prank her way. Tripping jinxes, jelly-legs jinxes, dung bombs in classrooms she was about to enter, puking pastilles or nosebleed nougats slipped into her drinks.

It was getting to a point that Y/N grew frustrated and angry all day. Her friends tended to avoid her when she got this way because she would just repeat the same things over and over again to anyone who would bother to listen.

Fred Weasley was a massive arse. Fred Weasley could jump in the lake and be used as food for the Giant Squid for all she cared. Fred Weasley this and Fred Weasley that.

They had even once asked her why it was specifically him that she complained about and not just the Weasley twins in general.

“Well, both of them do irritate me to no end,” She explained, “But there’s just something about Fred that irks the hell out of me. Merlin, does he know how to push my buttons!”

Y/N didn’t know what it was about Fred that got her going. It might have been because he was the instigator of most of the twins’ pranks, that he acted first and thought of the consequences later. It might have been that he would purposely send bludgers her way whenever Slytherin played Gryffindor and the many bruises that came from it.

It might have been the little flutters she would get whenever he whispered something cheeky into her ear. But that last one she had a hard time admitting to even herself.

By the end of the week, Y/N was at her wits end. Every time the bell rang and she gathered up her things, her hand would clutch her wand, ready to put up a small shield charm or send a hex in the direction of a certain redhead.

It being the weekend, many of her fellow classmates rushed out the door the moment they were dismissed from class. Y/N took her time packing her things back up, as her only plans for the night were to catch up on one of the novels she had had no time to read recently. As she exited the classroom, her eyes scanned the bare hallway for any sign of Fred. Her suspicions rose when she began her walk back to her common room and nothing out of the ordinary happened.

She soon stood corrected as a flash of red hair danced in her vision and she was suddenly pressed up against a wall.

With a gasp she said, “Weasley? What in Merlin’s name are you–”

“Can’t be quiet for a second, can you, Y/N?” Fred teased, his lips skimming the shell of her ear and sending shivers down her spine.

She gulped at the proximity of their bodies, her eyes darting around the empty hallway for any onlookers.

“Get on with whatever this is then,” She breathed, trying to keep her nonchalant act up, “I have other plans for tonight that I’d rather be doing.”

A slow chuckle escaped Fred’s lips, causing her heart to beat even more erratically than she thought possible, “So impatient love.”

“And I told you not to call me ‘love’.”

His eyes darted quickly to her lips and she could only hope that he couldn’t feel just how fast her heart was beating, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

He waited for her to give him any sign of discomfort or to say no, but she merely glanced at his lips and back up at his warm brown eyes. Then, as quickly as he had appeared in front of her, his head dipped and he captured her lips in his.

Y/N felt all the breath in her body leave as Fred pressed the searing kiss on her lips. He was intoxicating, his smell, the feel of his skin as she gripped onto his strong biceps, the way his breath mingled with hers.

When they broke apart, his eyes trailed the length of her body in a way that made goosebumps rise from her flesh. Y/N thought she must have looked like a fish out of water, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide.

“Just a taste of what could be.” He winked at her and then turned on his heel, “Think about it, Y/L/N.”

Far longer than she would like to admit, Y/N stayed rooted on the spot, staring in the direction that Fred Weasley had disappeared in and fingers running along the lips that he had claimed.

Heart keep racing Let’s make mistakes

The adrenaline pumping through Y/N’s veins gave her a feeling of weightlessness and grounding at the same time. Being Slytherin’s best beater came with the responsibility of carrying most of the game and she played her role well. Still, she always made it a point to play fair and to compensate for the shitty sportsmanship the rest of her team subscribed to.

When she had spotted a bludger to her right, making its way to where Malfoy was slowly circling, she set off. With a strong swing of her bat, she had it hurtling in the direction of one of the Gryffindor chasers. Neither of the Weasley twins was able to make it in time and the ball scraped the unassuming chaser’s shoulder.

With the boost of confidence this gave her, she proceeded to play one of the best matches of the season. A triumphant grin etched its way onto her face at the frustration leaking from the Weasley twins, who were trying to keep up with her and her co-beater’s synchronization.

Though, she had to admit that the way Fred’s arms flexed and his grunts of exertion every time he did manage to hit the bludger were a tad bit distracting too. The cheeky winks he sent her way weren’t helping either.

“Feeling a bit tired, Weasley?” She teased when he began to hover close to her, “Can’t keep up?”

“In your dreams, Y/L/N!” He all but growled and the fire in his eyes made her heart stutter for just a second before she set off in pursuit of another bludger.

The game had ended when Malfoy caught the snitch, a feat especially when Gryffindor had Potter, and Slytherin had won.

She couldn’t help but feel a smug sense of pride as she and the rest of the team walked out of the pitch, hearing the cheers of her house at the stands. She took her time in the changing rooms, trying to still her erratically beating heart. Her teammates slowly trickled out, reminding her of the celebrations that were definitely going to happen in the common room.

When she heard footsteps approaching the tent just as she had finished stuffing everything in her bag, she had just assumed that one of her teammates had forgotten something. She stood corrected.

“Quite a game today, wouldn’t you say?”

The familiar baritone voice made Y/N pause. Without turning to face him, she said in reply, “Definitely, Weasley. It’s always nice to kick your sorry arse out on the pitch.”

“Now, now Y/N,” He drawled, his voice inching closer to where she stood rooted on the spot. Her hand gripped at the strap of her bag as she tried to think of an escape route, “That’s definitely not the context I imagined you’d be talking about when you first mentioned my arse.”

She let out a scoff at his insinuation, but couldn’t shake the feeling that he could see right through her bluff. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she realized that she was trapped in the quidditch changing rooms with the person who had been plaguing her thoughts.

The air surrounding the pair was thick with tension and charged with electricity. Countless days of teasing and rivalry, all the discreet glances and brushes of shoulders against each other, bottled up into a single moment, this moment. By the time Y/N had turned to face the cause of the palpitations in her chest, he was mere inches away.

His hot breath fanned her face and his deep brown eyes scanned over her. She could practically feel the heat of his body against hers, white hot and tempting. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.

“What do you want, Weasley?” She breathed, finally managing the courage to meet his eyes.

“You.” He said simply, tongue darting out to dampen his lips.

For a moment, it was as if they had both stopped breathing. Neither of them said a word or moved an inch, anticipating the other’s next move.

“Fuck it.”

Before Y/N could let out a word, his lips were on hers and his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

All of the frustration and built up resentment between the pair of them came to play in the harshness of his kiss. It was not sweet nor soft, not what one would imagine a kiss between a prince and a princess to be. Rather, it was passionate, playful, and powerful. Two opposing forces clashing against each other, their convergence causing an eruption of flames.

Fred was not a shy person, and it was evident in the way he kissed her.

If she was the least bit surprised, he couldn’t tell, because as soon as his arms rested on the small of her back, she pressed her palms against his chest and leaned into him. For once, she let him take the lead and their mouths molded together in a passionate dance.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” She gasped as they broke apart for air, chests rising and falling rapidly.

“You think too much.” He responded, leaning down to capture her lips in his once more.

The way his lips deftly glazed over her neck and attached themselves to the point right below her ear made small sounds of pleasure escape her lips and her hips rutted against his.

These sounds only spurred him further as his arms slid down from her waist to the backs of her thighs, urging her to wrap them around him. She complied, and soon her back was against the wall as he continued the assault on her neck.

When the pair finally broke away, they took a moment to breathe, panting heavily. Y/N was the first to break the silence, laughing slightly at the compromising position they were in, and how they had just spent the last several minutes taking their frustrations out on each other.

“What’s so funny then,” Fred smiled as he slowly eased his grip on her thighs, lowering her back to the floor.

“Nothing,” She shook her head, surprised at how casual they treated the situation, “Just not what I’d expected to happen when Slytherin won today.”

“And what did you expect?” He quirked an eyebrow, “Especially when you were out there playing so well and looking that good.”

Y/N had to bite her lip to keep herself from grinning like an idiot, “Definitely not snogging you in the changing rooms, that’s for sure.”

“I know for a fact that you quite enjoyed what we did,” He whispered, pulling her close to him once more and closing the gap between them.

“In your dreams, Weasley.” She breathed.

And then his lips were on hers again. And again and again and again.

Over the course of the next few weeks, many noticed how the dynamics between the two shifted ever so slightly. There were still jeers and taunts in the halls, teasing comments made in classes or during meals, but there were also fewer eye rolls and less malice behind their words. It was almost as if they had an unspoken agreement.

The only one who had really caught on to what was really happening between the two of them was George, and it was only because he walked in on them on Fred’s bed in the dorms.

Y/N had been on top of Fred, straddling his midsection and pressing soft kisses all along his face and jaw, while he had his arms wrapped around her waist and held her tightly. Chest to chest, a soft hum verbrated from him as she continued her ministrations.

There wasn’t any sort of sexual tension at that moment, in fact, there hadn’t been an ounce of it the whole day. Laying like this with Fred made Y/N all sorts of confused, but she still enjoyed whatever the hell was happening between them.

It was cut short, though, as George had walked through the threshold of the dorm and saw their slightly compromised position.

“Bloody hell!” He exclaimed, and Y/N sprung up immediately, his twin’s arms falling limply at his sides at her sudden movement.

“Erm-” She mumbled, trying to move away, but Fred had none of it. If at all, his grip on her thighs tightened.

She could feel his body shaking from the laugh he was trying to hold in, and smacked him on the chest, “Fred! Stop that!”

“What?” He laughed, “It’s not like he saw anything, did you, Georgie?”

George, who was still trying to process what he had just witnessed, blinked a couple of times before shaking his head in disbelief, “Good Godric, so this is why you two have been acting so odd lately?”

“Well, it’s not as if we’re bloody dating,” Fred rolled his eyes, but Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, “We’re just having some fun s’all.”

She swallowed the lump that was suddenly in her throat and gave a feeble nod, “Yep. Just some fun.”

It was a pretty good bad idea Wasn’t it though?

Y/N didn’t know why she began avoiding Fred.

To everyone else in the school, all was well. The teasing between them hadn’t stopped. The little jabs at meals, in classes, or out in the hallways still happened. She was still a prefect and took points from Gryffindor whenever she caught the twins outside of curfew or running from Filch. They were both still beaters who played for their respective teams and shot remarks mockingly at one another out on the pitch.

Outside of those moments, though, Y/N made it a point to walk the other direction when she saw him walking her way, with or without his twin. She would slip out of shared classes as soon as the bell rang and their professor dismissed them. She even went as far as hiding in a spare broom closet once, when she was doing her prefect rounds and heard his telltale laughter just around the corner.

They hadn’t shared a moment alone in a few weeks and Fred had wracked his brain trying to figure out what he did wrong. Their set-up had been practically perfect before she started avoiding him. Stolen kisses and the excitement of sneaking around with her were some of the best times of his life there in Hogwarts. He hadn’t had the Gryffindor courage to tell her how he really felt, but at least they shared intimate moments alone, away from prying eyes and judgemental stares.

Instead, now he had taken to staring at her whenever he could, replaying all of their previous interactions to find out what went wrong between them.

“Oi, quit staring at Y/N before McGonagall takes points from us for not paying attention to her,” George hastily whispered one day.

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” Fred defended, his eyes still locked on Y/N. She paid him no mind, unconsciously twirling the quill in her hands and chewing on her bottom lip.

He thought she looked stunning.

“I never thought I would say this,” George groaned softly, “But you’ve gotta listen in class right now or else we’ll lose even more points and everyone’ll be right chuffed. We can figure out your dumb bird problems after.”

With a roll of his eyes, Fred finally brought his attention back to what their professor was going on about. He’d worry about whatever was going on with Y/N later.

“I think it’s simple, really,” George shrugged, later on in the day when it was just the two of them in their dorm. He leant back against the headboard of his four-poster, an image of calm and nonchalance.

“On with it then!” Fred exclaimed, the exact opposite of his twin at the moment. He fidgeted from his position on his own bed, his foot tapped anxiously on the hardwood floor and his hand kept running through his already disheveled hair.

George couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His own twin, all out of balance because of some bird.

But it wasn’t just any bird, he knew, it was Y/N. And if it had to be any bird in the whole school for Fred to become this mess of feelings and uncertainty, at least it was because of her. George always knew that their rivalry would either end in them realizing their feelings for each other or them hexing each other to death.

“Grow some balls and just tell her how you feel, you daft git!” He exclaimed, humor sparkled in his eyes.

“Be serious here, George,” Fred groaned and pushed his face against one of his pillows.

His twin rolled his eyes, “I am being serious! It’s obvious she fancies the balls off of you, so just ask her out on a date or something and save us all from this awkward dance the lot of you have been doing for the past few weeks.”

George’s words rang in Fred’s mind for longer than he liked to admit.

One night, as dinner was coming to a close, he’d had enough. He spotted Y/N getting up from her seat at the Slytherin table and stood abruptly from his half finished meal. As she exited the Great Hall, he followed her out and into the drafty corridor.

“Y/N!” He yelled before he could stop himself.

She paused briefly, shoulders tensing at his call to her. Instead of turning around though, she picked up her pace.

Fred cursed softly, “Y/N, I know you can hear me!”

As his legs were much longer than hers, he caught up to her quickly. Still, she paid him no mind and continued her on her way, “What’s got your wand all in a knot, Y/L/N?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Weasley.” Came her reply.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Y/L/N,” He rolled his eyes, “You’ve been ignoring me recently and I can’t think of anything that I’ve done wrong.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve been actually paying attention to my classes and doing all of my coursework, that takes up most of my time these days.” She shrugged, turning a corner and continuing her fast pace, “And I’m not at your beck and call, Weasley. I’m not yours.”

“You could be.”

Y/N’s resolve seemed to be taken away with the tide as he muttered those words aloud. In fact, she was so shocked at what he said that she quite literally had to stop walking and merely stared at the redheaded boy.

“Don’t be daft, Weasley.” She managed to choke out after a few beats.

He turned to face her and Y/N had never seen him look so serious before. Fred was usually the louder twin, the more explosive one, the one who acted first and thought of the consequences later. But now, now she could see that he had nothing but genuine intentions as his eyes scanned her and gauged her reaction.

She huffed, unwilling to let her walls down for even a second. It was too frightening, telling the person she had spent much of her formative years rivalling with how she truly felt about them. In fact, despite her act, she couldn’t get it in her to look him in the eyes.

“This, whatever this is, you know that it isn’t a good idea.” She tried to argue, but as the words left her lips they seemed to carry no weight in them.

“It’s a pretty good bad idea if you ask me.” He said with as much conviction as possible, “C’mon, Y/L/N, you gonna back down from a challenge?”

That sparked a fire in her eyes that he had missed seeing, one that said she meant business, “I’ll say yes to you on one condition,” She said.

“Anything.”

“Take me out on a date first.”

#weasleyclaw showtunes fics #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley fics #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #tw swearing #tw kissing

599 notes · View notes

hanatiny · 3 years

Text

Perfect Illusion

a/n: this fic is inspired by this post (although I modified the idea a bit)! for those interested, I even made a spotify playlist to hopefully enhance the experience~

pairing: royal guard!San x royal guard/spy!f!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2113

warnings: royal AU, weapons (knives and daggers), brief mention of infidelity (which I do not condone), swearing, teasing, dry humping, hair pulling, name-calling (they keep insulting each other... oops), enemies with benefits, implied enemies to lovers (kind of), slight knife kink, implied pain kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, no clear dom/sub roles

-----

Despite excelling at undercover work, you weren’t known be incredibly ‘out there’ in the way you executed your tasks, so this particular mission you had been given must have been the one you disliked the most as of now, not to mention that you despised the tactic of seduction.

You did your best to attract as little attention as possible in order to carry out your information gathering in peace. Although it seemed that in doing so, you had become a little too suspicious for one of the guards. You heaved a sigh, meeting his eyes while most of his face remained covered by the hood and the mask he wore to not look like the odd one out at the royal masquerade event. He nudged his head towards a nearby balcony after asking for one of his fellow guards to watch his spot, signalling you to follow.

Albeit slowly, you did what was asked of you - your beliefs were much too deeply rooted in obedience not to. Once outside, the guard closed and locked the door behind you. Shrugging off his hood, he took off his mask while you did the same so the two of you were equally bare to each other.

“San?!” “Y/n?!” You both gasped aloud in equal shock and surprise, slapping a hand over each other’s mouths to prevent anyone from hearing how casually you spoke with each other.

Prying your hand away from his face, although still holding it in his own, San quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at you, “What, pray tell, are you doing here at this party wearing that?”

Your voice was teasing as you spoke and he gestured towards the black dress you were wearing, “Oh, this old thing~?” He rolled his eyes at your playful tone but allowed you to continue, “As much as I didn’t want to, His Highness requested me to keep my eyes and ears open for anything or anyone suspicious... and had the bright idea of having me use seduction to get the job done.”

Despite knowing how much you hated the technique in question, San thought it fun to tease and rile you up about it, “Do I classify as suspicious then? Cause you’ve definitely caught my interest and seduced me...~”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing him and pulling him close by the tie he was wearing before whispering in his ear, “With how flirty you’re being, definitely. I might have to arrest you now, sunshine~ But if you play your cards right, I might let you fuck me, pretty boy.”

It was your turn to cock an eyebrow when San nonchalantly turned the situation around on you and pinned you against the wall roughly, both of your wrists above your head in one of his own while an almost bored grin danced across on your face at the act. “That all you got~?”

“Not at all, sweetheart...~” “Show me then,” you challenged without hesitation, hooking one of your legs around his hip to draw his body closer and flush against yours, “show me what you can do, unless you want to admit that a woman could dom you~”

Bullseye. You hit him right in his sore spot, knowing him to be much too competitive to let such a cheeky comment slide. You saw something shift in his eyes, something dark, and you knew you had him right then and there, “You asked for it... don’t complain if you limp afterwards.”

“Wanna bet~?” San effectively shut you up by melding his plush lips to yours, your hands tugging greedily at his already messy hair while the grinding of your hips against his coaxed a soft moan from his lips.

“You really don’t intend to make it easy for me do you, little vixen...” He whispered against your lips, his voice low and raspy as he did so, causing you to give him a casual shrug, “You know me, I always want to be the one who comes out on top. Whether that is in the physical sense or not couldn’t matter any less to me, frankly.”

San huffed softly, he knew you were competitive but so was here. However, the difference between the two of you was that you were willing to play dirty to get what you want.

As such, you couldn’t prevent a slight smirk from tugging at your lips when his breath hitched audibly after he pushed the hem of your dress up to your hips and spotted the daggers strapped to one of your thighs. “Staring longer won’t make the image imprint itself in your mind any faster. And in case you haven’t noticed with how much you want my daggers on your body, I’m worked up and hereby telling you to hurry up and fuck me. Right here, right now.”

“Getting feisty and demanding, are we? Two can play that game, Y/n...~” Reaching into the inside of his jacket, San pulled out a knife and held it to your throat while the cocky smirk never left your face, “Are you just gonna keep threatening me with a good time so that I’ll walk right back in there and tell everyone you’re my bitch, or are you actually gonna do something about that obvious boner in your pants?”

San’s eyebrow twitched at your audacity, the discovery of the fact that you had foregone underwear tonight not helping his dwindling patience in the slightest, “Pathetic how desperate you are for my cock, you minx. Needing to cover it up with such a tough girl act...”

He trailed off, watching you closely as he pocketed his knife and used his now unoccupied hand to quickly unfasten his pants and free his aching length from its confines. He stroked himself a few times, the seconds passing torturously slowly in your eyes as you licked your lips in anticipation before throwing your head back against the wall with a strangled gasp when he fully inserted himself inside of you without warning.

“You son of a-” “Shush doll, don’t want anyone to hear what we’re doing out here do you~?” You huffed as he interrupted you, pretending to think for a moment before shaking your head with a smile, “I actually do, imagine the surprise when they’d hear that two of the royal guards are all over each other...~”

San’s eyes darkened once more before narrowing them at you, “You asked for it, then... Be prepared to scream.”

“Such big words from the man who’d let me spit in his mouth~” You weren’t having it though, only mewling and moaning softly while San repeatedly snapped his hips into yours. His pace was rough and quick, eager to get both you and himself off, “Won’t even, fuck- won’t even scream for me... am I not fucking you hard enough?”

“Mmh... nope~!” You replied with a toothy grin, gasping sharply when San thrusted inside of you particularly harshly. “That better?” “Much~” He continued to move at the harsh pace he had just set, his breath hitching when his hand accidentally brushed against the leather garter still fixed securely around your thigh.

He felt himself twitch violently when you spoke through low pants, his thrusts stuttering, “Wouldn’t you love to have me trail one of those daggers over your sensitive skin, sunshine? Perhaps even pierce it a little here and there to show who you belong to~?”

Those last words came out unintentionally but you didn’t feel the need to correct yourself, considering that your possessiveness appeared to be the last straw for San judging by the warmth that filled you as he came, your own orgasm washing over you shortly after. Once you had both caught your breath, he carefully pulled out of you and helped you straighten out your dress after doing the same to his own clothes.

You implying that he was yours was undoubtedly a matter to be discussed, but for now, you two had a masquerade to return to. As such, San handed your mask back to you after having previously stored it in one of his jacket pockets. You both secured your masks back on your faces so that your identities were concealed once more, although San decided to not pull his hood back up.

He unlocked the balcony door before turning to you with a teasing albeit charming smile, holding his hand out for you to take, “Will you let me have this dance, m’lady~?”

You found it amusing how quickly he could switch back to his professional persona, placing your hand in his own regardless, “It’d be my pleasure~”

He led you back inside of the large, well-lit ballroom where no one was any the wiser of what had transpired mere minutes ago, your dress swaying slightly while you danced with San, a small grin painted on your features.

You ended up getting to bed incredibly late, almost stumbling out of it the next morning before quickly making yourself presentable after being requested in the throne room by His Highness himself, wondering what it could possibly be about.

You ran into San on the way there, finding out that he had been called to see the prince as well. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, you weren’t particularly surprised to find it empty besides the presences of you, your companion and Yeosang, who had placed his crown on a pedestal near himself.

Letting his emotionless facade crack a bit, he gave a small smile when he saw the two of you kneel before him as it was custom for the subordinates or the royal family.

“Those who want to wear the crown need to prove they are able to bear its weight.”

Yeosang’s voice rang out through the room, causing you and San to look at each other questioningly and then back up at him in confusion. The older male had never been more glad to not have any other of his court officials or guards besides the two of you inside of his throne room, relieved that he could be blunt about his message.

“I’m sure you both are aware of how I came to be where I am presently, yes?” You both nodded in response. “Then you know my mother was not a true queen and slept her way to the throne. Hell, I’m even a bastard child - her husband was not my father. In short... she was a whore.”

San gasped quietly next to you in surprise at the word choice, causing you to nudge him gently to remind him to focus and listen.

“I don’t want to keep the two of you here any longer than necessary,” the unrightful prince leaned forward, his weight still resting on the arm he had previously propped himself up on, “My coronation is set to be held eleven days from now. Whichever of you comes up with the better plan to cover up my ‘coincidental’ disappearance by then gets to claim the throne.”

It was a tempting offer, that much you had to admit, but it sounded almost too good to actually be true.

“Your Highness-” “Please drop the formalities Y/n, you’ve known me since I was a little child.” The young man in question corrected softly as you cleared your throat with an understanding nod, “Are you sure this will work out as you intend it to? I’m not sure anyone would believe one of your royal guards to be allowed to inherit the crown just like that...”

“Y/n. Surely you’ve noticed how desperate the people are for a ruler who stands with them, even with all the time you spend working? They’ll accept just about anyone. As long as neither of you exposes the truth about any part of my family... do we have a deal?”

San looked at you and met your eyes, lingering for a few beats before getting up from his knees with you following suit as you looked up at the prince and spoke in unison, always up for a challenge - especially if it just so happened to come with a high reward like this one did, “We have a deal.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now off you two go, there is work to be done~” Yeosang hummed, you and your ‘companion’ bowing respectfully and nodding before turning on your respective heels.

San pulled his hood back over his head and glanced at you with a smug grin that you happily mirrored, both of you making a run for it out of the throne room.

After all, it was only a matter of time and of who created the most perfect illusion, aware that only one of you would come out on top.

----- Taglist (tell me if you wanna be added):

@atinykitty @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @galaxteez @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx @twancingyunhoe @vocalyunho @yunhoiseyecandy

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet

#8makes1teamnet #ateez royal au #royal au #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #san smut #ateez san smut #me coming out of my figurative writing cave with this: hi did u miss me #hanatiny writes

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dinpascal · 3 years

Text

All a Game — Din Djarin

warnings: (18+) language/dirty talk, rough sex (piv), oral (m+f), hair pulling, orgasm denial, (kind of) hate sex (piv) summary: As a fellow Mandalorian, you find yourself traveling with the bounty hunter and his kid despite the mutual dislike you seem to have for one another. Everything goes well (more or less), until he nearly gets both of you killed. He gets tired of your mouth.

He was infuriating.

Originally you had given him the benefit of the doubt, when it came to the (stupid) helmet debacle. If you had lived a certain way for the high majority of your life, your beliefs and sense of self completely and thoroughly twisted a particular way, it was difficult to simply step away from that when presented with something different — something that completely contrasted with what you staked your life on.

In other, simpler words, the silver Mandalorian’s response to your face was as expected.

However, as his arrogant and you’re-beneath-me attitude continued, the less patience you could continue to muster. He and his beliefs were superior to you just because he kept an oversized tin can over his head at at times? Don’t think so.

You were just as much a Mandalorian as him.

Nevertheless, here you were. Abandoning Bo Katan and the others for him and the little green bean foundling under his care and protection. While you argued it was for his sake, as no Mandalorian should ever stand alone, you knew it was primarily because of Bo Katan herself. While experienced and cunning, you grew tired of their quest you never saw happening — the retaking of Mandalore. It was a child’s dream. One you were no longer interested in entertaining.

Traveling with the nearly-mute Mandalorian held quite the learning curve. Neither of you were too thrilled with the other (considering the stark difference in beliefs), but there was enough respect for one another to quietly exist around one another. He would occupy himself in the cockpit doing whatever he did up there, while you fed the Child and listened to his cooing and babbling, occasionally offering your own opinions on subjects. You doubted his adopted father encouraged conversation much at all, given he wasn’t much of a conversationalist himself.

While the pair slept in their tiny, shared compartment, you were a few feet away in your own that he had (surprisingly) made out of another compartment that had originally been acting as some sort of storage. The little green bean would occasionally sneak out of his hammock and make his way to yours, often snuggling between your arms and snuggling his little body to your chest.

The three of you fell into a strangely comfortable arrangement, until he agreed to a certain bounty that, apparently, required the both of you. While you were not too keen to the guns-for-hire career he had undertaken, you understood the need to survive and instead stayed behind to watch the little one while he was out.

“I don’t understand who you could possibly be hunting that you can’t take on your own.” You had begun slipping your armor on, which had previously taken estate in your personal storage; there was no need to wear it when the majority of your time was spent in or near the Razor Crest. You could hear him rustling with something behind you, though you focused on the faded-scarlet color painted on your armor.

“They want them alive.” He stated simply, as if those four words completely and thoroughly explained the situation. You turned towards him then, eyes already rolling and an annoyed look sent in his general direction. There were only a few things you missed when it came to traveling with Bo Katan and the others — one of, if not the most major, being conversation.

“What about the little one?”

He glanced in the Child’s direction, currently drawing in his notebook he had been given when your companion had come across it in the shops of Tattooine. “He’ll be fine. No one will be able to come on board.”

You sighed. Of the few things you truly disliked about the Mandalorian, one of them was that he treated the little one as older than he truly was. It didn’t matter that he was soon hitting his 51st birthday. He was mentally as old as a two-year old child. He didn’t truly understand the difference between safety and danger. He was still trying to grasp the whole concept of using the vacc tube.

You must have pulled a face then, as you caught a muffled sigh and one of your blasters being pushed into yours hands. “The sooner we get them, the sooner we can return.” You imagined he held your gaze as you looked at him, his words offering a semblance of comfort and security. “Let’s go.”

With a nod, you tucked your blasters into their respective holsters and kneeled in front of the little one. He immediately softly cooed in greeting, head raising and ears flicking in your direction. He held a red crayon in one hand, seemingly drawing a big, red dust cloud. “Hey, green bean. You stay on the ship, okay? No opening the doors and exploring without us.” He released a sound you knew to be one of disappointment (the same one he made when you said dinner was over), ears and head dropping as if being scolded.

You smiled and touched his hand, heart fluttering as his three fingers curled around one of your own. “Draw your daddy a pretty picture, okay? We have to fill the entire cockpit.” He squealed at the idea, head dropping and resuming his drawing without another sound.

The sound of the airlock hissing open is what eventually tore you away.

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“Will you shut up?”

Your chest heaved as you forced oxygen into your lungs, currently behind the cover of a large tree and the Mandalorian a few feet away, seemingly doing the same as his chest rapidly rose and fell. You sent him a glare that spilled nothing but poison, wishing more than anything that he could see your face through your visor. “You’re the one who didn’t know the stupid bounty had a crew! It’s one against twenty!” You hissed, doing the utmost to ignore the burning in your shoulder. One had managed to a blaster shot in the tiny space between your armor and knew blood was no doubt staining the inside of it. At the back of your mind, you begrudgingly noted you’d have to paint the pretty armor again, once safe and sound in the ship. It was a painstakingly slow process.

The Mandalorian apparently didn’t feel that comment deserved a response, as he merely glanced from cover to the enemy before them. Their footsteps were nearing closer, close enough to hear the shouts they shared between one another.

“You’re insufferable!” You stood and dug into your pouch, eventually coming across the tiny discs you had developed yourself and tossing them about the bushes. If anything were on your side in your current predicament, it was the flush greenery the planet held. It didn’t matter your armor’s coloring was a stark contrast, it was cover nonetheless.

Your companion was forced to follow your lead, the sound of his blaster sounding off and quickly followed by screams of pain. As an ugly blue-colored Quarren neared you, you kicked out a foot to knock his knee out from under him.

It was official. You hated the Mandalorian.

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“You could have gotten us killed.” He dragged the body of the bounty behind him, knocked out cold and his arms cuffed. The two of you had hardly spoken on the way back to the ship, though there was no shortage of dirty looks (from you) aimed at the back of his helmet.

Per usual, there was no response from him as the ramp for the ship descended.

“All for what? A few hundred credits?” Discarding your helmet and tossing it aside, you watched as he froze the bounty in carbonite. It was official — talking to a wall was more entertaining than talking to him. “There are hundreds of different ways to survive! But no, you have to do this bullshit?”

Abruptly and suddenly, as quick as a flash of lightning, he was standing just a breath from you. “If this lifestyle isn’t good enough for you princess,” he spat, “Then, by all means, get the fuck off my ship.”

You stared into his visor for a moment, resisting the urge to take a step back and away from the aura of anger and distaste he was exerting. While you certainly weren’t his biggest fan in the galaxy, you weren’t ignorant. You were more than aware of how capable this man was. Nonetheless, you knew you’d be able to hold your own against him.

“And leave the kid with you?” You laughed, briefly enjoying the amount of sarcasm it dripped. “He’d be dead in a parsec.”

“I seem to remember how completely fine he was without you.” If you were being completely honest, that one hurt. You’d grown so attached to the little swamp rat and the idea of him being fine without you around made your stomach turn.

“You’re an asshole.” There was a brief sound of static before he laughed. As if you had told a fucking joke. He leaned even closer then, arm raising to lean his weight against the wall behind you. Briefly, the smell of leather and something untamed filled your every sense. It was intoxicating, you wanted to drown in it until it was seared in your very brain.

“Yeah?” He questioned, helmet dipped so low you could feel the coolness on your forehead. “Say it again.” He dared, a leather-covered hand inching up until his thumb touched your throat. It was nothing but a touch, but a thousand goosebumps blossomed at the contact alone.

“You’re an...” The breath whooshed from your lungs as the touch left your throat and down to your hip, spun one-eighty and chest suddenly pressed against the wall of the Razor Crest. A bite of metal stung at your back, his beskar pressing into the divot between your own. He remained painfully silent, though deft fingertips began to explore the crevice between your back armor and the waistband of your pants. “Asshole.”

Before the word was out of your throat and past your lips, the buckle that kept your back and abdomen armor was released and the red armor was left clattering to the floor. Large hands were shoving at your trousers until they were loose at your ankles, unsure of just what was happening until a hand roughly grasped your ass, so tightly you were positive fingerprint marks were left behind.

His touch returned to your neck, pulling you against his chest and causing the back of your head to painfully clash against his helmet. “You and that fucking mouth.” He murmured darkly, his own hips pressing against your bare skin. His length strained against his own slacks, offering a sick kind of relief that was anything but. It was a promise, but one you weren’t truly sure he would give — you knew he was enjoying the torment he was putting you through. “I’m going to shove my cock into that pretty mouth and make you shut up for once.”

You made a small noise at the back of your throat, purposely shoving your hips further against him. “Then do it.”

Before you could blink, you were spun once more and a leg skillfully kicked your own out from under you until you were on your knees. His visor was tilted low enough to know he was watching you, his head tilting just enough to say, “well?”.

Without another thought, you were unclasping his slacks and releasing his cock. It sprung free wholeheartedly, his tip swollen a deep red and so pretty and so much.

As if able to hear your thoughts, you caught the faint sound of amusement from him before his fingers curled into your hair and wrenched your head upwards so you were forced to meet his unseen gaze. “I think this is the longest you’ve ever been silent since we met, an’edee.” He took a short moment to trace his thumb over the nape of your head, securely and effectively collecting your hair into his fist. “Now, suck.”

You didn’t argue, lips falling open just in time for the slight jar he gave to your head towards his dick. He pushed no further than past his tip, giving you ample time to explore and appreciate. You did just that with silent glee, tongue swiping slow and languid laps, beginning at his shift and slowly upwards. He remained silent as you continued your slow exploration, the only indication that was he remotely affected being the slight twitch of his fingers in your hair.

You lifted a hand to stroke his length with a lazy admiration, pushing your spit where your mouth had yet to touch... Yet. He was torturously thick and as your fingers traced the pulsing vein on the underside of him, he twitched and it seemed to surge forward on its own volition. As if it was attempting to push even more blood into his dick just to reach your mouth faster.

Nevertheless, he remained eerily but characteristically silent.

You took him in your mouth once more, daring to take that much more and gently caressing what remained. It was hardly more than a caress, but enough to keep him interested and wanting. You set a slow, but steady pace, ferociously ignoring the fiery blaze that licked at your own heat.

He stood there, still clad in his untouchable armor and blasters still in their holsters — untouchable. It didn’t matter his cock was in your mouth. He was still as much as in control as ever.

It became a game. You wanted him to react. You wanted him to fall apart.

Your gaze flickered back up to him as your pace quickened, more than aware that his own had never wavered from the sight of his cock steadily pumping into your hot mouth. You didn’t need to see through his darkened visor to know.

Just as you moved to caress one of his balls, still partially shielded by his slacks, he caught your wrist in a near-painful hold. A displeased growl echoed through his helmet, ripping you away from him and to your feet. You couldn’t help the wicked grin that settled on your lips, swiping your own spit from your bottom lip with a thumb.

“You want to tease?” He questioned, one hand roughly guiding you to the table he tended to use as a make-shift worktable, bending you over it with ease while his other hand swiped for something against the wall. It wasn’t until the lights flickered shut and the sound of heavy metal clashing against metal stung at your ears, that you knew what was happening.

He gave no warning as his tongue flirted between your folds, causing your body to naturally tighten at the abrupt intrusion. It was too good, too much, when there was little warning beforehand.

He lapped eagerly, rotating from languid, deep strokes of his tongue and abrupt, sharp sucking at your sensitive, singing clit. What his intentions were were incredibly clear. This wasn’t soft love between two people who loved one another. He was going to fuck you and tease your every limit, and make you love every fucking second of it.

Each time your body would instinctively jump away, either from a harsh nip at your sensitive thighs or it simply being too much at once, an unforgiving hand would tighten its hold on your leg and drag you back to his mouth.

In a matter of minutes, with his facial hair sharply biting at your skin and his unrelenting tongue, you were keening. However, he refused you any kind of release. The moment your thighs tightened or breath quickened, he would make a soft sound of amusement and deter his movements until your body sagged in anything but relief.

At the third or fourth rotation of the infuriating game, you finally caved. “If you don’t let me fucking cum, I’m going to—,” He cut you off before you could finish, lifting himself up until his lips were touching the shell of your ear.

“I thought you’d learned.” He used one hand to lick his fingers, rewetting his tip while the other caught you around your throat. Mid-breath, he impaled you with one thrust, seemingly unable to help his own gruff groan. “To keep that pretty mouth shut.” He breathed, using his grip at your throat to drag you back down with each thrust.

A soft sound spilled from you each time his hips met your pelvic bone, promising you’d feel him for days, each time you moved. His pace was unrelenting, hardly ever giving you the time to even realize he was gone before he was thrusting back in.

His teeth nipped at your ear as he fucked you near senselessly, quickly and nearly effortlessly drawing the orgasm you’d been begging for once more. “You like this, don’t you? Being fucked like this.” A string of profanities fell from you then, so fucking close and wanting to cum so badly. If he were to give it to you, you would have given him anything.

“Want to cum, pretty thing?” He questioned, the lewd sounds of your fucking only worsening as he continued. “Beg for it.”

You did so without question. “Please, please, please—” A sharp sound from your throat cut you off, just as his free hand circled your clit once and you swore you saw the heavens above. Your orgasm was ripped out of you, squeezing yourself so tight around him, his grasp on your throat loosened and his forehead fell against your shoulder.

He came with a low grunt, pulling out from your warmth and spilling on your back. He stood unmoving for the faintest of moments, as if aware you still hadn’t returned to the present just yet.

You released a shaky breath and touched your forehead to the cool metal underneath you. “Well, fuck Mando. You’ve been holding out on me.”

He instantly sighed and you imagined the curt shake of his head. “That fucking mouth.”

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nct-lian · 3 years

Text

people lian dislike

JI SOO

lian once thought of this guy as one of her role models in terms of acting

like she used to watch him constantly, and she’d always wanted the chance to act with him one day

and that day finally came, when she was cast as a female lead in a new and upcoming drama alongside ji soo back in 2018

the older man was nothing like how she originally thought; he was snarky towards the staff, towards his fellow cast mates, and to her

he would tell her that she was doing everything wrong, and he would constantly give her attitude

ji soo thought that because lian was still a rookie actress, he was allowed to push her around and treat her as if she was a servant

she dreaded going onto set every single day, knowing full well she’d be mistreated by her love interest yet again

it got so bad that she could no longer work alongside him, and eventually left the cast lineup as she wasn’t able to take the pressure of being in his presence

about a month after it was announced she departed from the team, the director of the show ultimately decided to cancel it as they were unable to find another female lead

nobody knows the truth about why exactly lian left, and people resorted to the fact that the production team wasn’t willing to give her proper credits

with the news of ji soo’s rather unfortunate past, lian now dislikes him even more than she did three years ago

she believes that him being exposed was what he deserved, and she continues to stand with her opinion; he’s a horrible person who got what was coming to him

karma’s a bitch

DONI (DEFCONN) AND CONI

this one is pretty self explanatory

these two treated lian as well as the rest of the members like absolute shit behind the scenes of that one weekly idol episode they did

and they would not let the fact that lian got removed from the red velvet lineup go; they were constantly bringing it up as if it was some sort of joke, when really, it was her real life experience-

the mere fact that lian was the only female member was also used as their punchline for the entirety of the episode- they brought it up as often as they possibly could

coni also “playfully” hit jisung a little too hard behind the scenes for lian to let it go

defconn and coni are KNOWN to be too rough with their guests, and unsurprisingly, a lot of lian’s friends have been involved in a physical altercation with at least one of them

(that stupid hammer they’d always use)

not only that one experience, but she also appeared on their show back in 2017 during her solo debut

she was there with sunmi (the start of a beautiful friendship) and behind the scenes, sunmi was noticeably uncomfortable around them?!

like they were teasing her but it so obviously wasn’t friendly; it was actually really mean things they were saying to her

even during nct 2018’s appearance, coni pushed lian right into johnny like wtf ¯_| ಠ ∧ ಠ |_/¯

“are you a crazy fan? why are you the only girl? AHhHHhHh go AWAYYY” *literally mf pushes lian into johnny and almost falls*

lian the entire time: ༼ ಠ ͟ʖ ಠ ༽

JEON JINWOO

literally cheated on her and broke her heart-

she’ll seriously never forgive his ass and he’ll always be on her list of most hated people on planet earth

no kind of pain she’s felt will ever compare to what she went through with jinwoo

he betrayed her when she was most vulnerable

overworked, AND being cheated on ?! the whole package

what makes it better, though, is definitely the fact that jinwoo is still hung up on her

like sir you had the most beautiful woman ever and you cheated on her? tf were you thinking

his instagram and twitter postings are pathetic; they’re all pictures of him and then he pairs them with these cheesy ass captions in hopes she’ll see it

PLEASE MAN SHES MOVED ON- get a life

and you’re blocked on every single social she has access to so good luck with that ヽ( ͝° ͜ʖ͡°)ﾉ

a little example because i’m in the mood to embarrass him:

“*shirtless pic* i miss you baby 🥺🥺🥺🥺”

all the comments: stfu you idiot

serves him right for cheating on the world’s third most beautiful face-

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mavda · 3 years

Text

Beast Tamers

Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) | Ch.5(1) | Ch.5(2) | Ch.5(3) | Ch.5(4) | Ch.6(1) | Ch.6(2) | Ch.6(3) | Ch.7(1) | Ch.7(2) |

Ch.7: Of burdens and duties (3)

Naruto has her hand in his while his eyes scan document after document, he looks unfazed by the carriage’s movement. So does Shino, whose bugs move around the collar of his jacket and buzz out and into the window.

Sai sits in front of Hinata, his eyes full of interest as he stares at the landscape. He sometimes finds interesting features he shares with her in detail, but his body is tense, and she knows he’s ready to jump to action if needed. Naruto squeezes her hand and as she looks at him, he points out the window.

“Look,” he says, moving back to let her get a better view.

The town is filled with people and carriages and stands and it looks like too many people are in one single place. The sound is starting to be heard and Hinata can already know it will make the ground tremble. She looks at Naruto, worried.

“Don’t worry, it has the best security you could find. The Beast Tamers all gather here, you know? We haven’t had an issue since it started.”

Sai edges towards her, “I will be right beside you, my lady.”

Hinata can even feel Shino’s eyes on her and she sits back with a small smile. “I-I understand.”

Naruto comes to her, grabs both her hands on his, “I’ll be with you.”

And that is enough to make Hinata relax.

⁂⁂⁂

They don’t enter through the same way everyone else does. Their carriage deviates and enters a more calm environment, with more stern looking people around.

Hinata doesn't know if she prefers this somber looking entrance or the colorful and loud one. At least she can see they take their work seriously, as even when Naruto comes and talks to them -Shino in tow-, the guards check every nook and cranny of their entourage.

Sakura waves at Hinata from her spot. She is standing right under another carriage window, where Hinata can glance another spiky blonde head that smiles immediately after making contact with her. Lord Minato remains seated and doesn't come out. Much like herself.

Naruto is chatting with a high-ranking looking man and rests his hands inside the sleeves of his kimono. He looks relaxed, and Hinata tries to remind herself that she shouldn't burden him on this trip.

He did say this whole ordeal wouldn’t be a problem.

They get off right inside the stadium where the demonstrations take place. The carriages get lost in the distance, with a number of servants inside, who will prepare their chambers where they will rest. Naruto and his group will go up the stairs and mingle with the other Beast Tamers inside, as well as every other high-ranking noble who wants a slice of whatever they had.

Naruto is unimpressed with everyone attending this show.

His father follows behind, with Hinata right beside him. Sakura, Shino and Sai follow closely, beside them, behind them. They look as alert as ever, and even more professional and menacing than usual. Hinata keeps her head held high, her shoulders rolled back and her eyes glued to Naruto’s back. She can see from the corner of her eyes the people around them. Eyes following their group, and Hinata shudders as their eyes don’t seem to blink.

“Lord Naruto,” a man bellows. Breaking the formal ambience that surrounds the place. Hinata can see Naruto tensing and she knows he dislikes the man. He is large and comes straight to Naruto, without a care to the people around him. His eyes are beaded and they zoom in on Hinata, and she has to force herself to keep her eyes on Naruto.

Naruto moves to stand in front of her, a slight change of his feet, and Hinata lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“What a lovely wife,” shares the man and Hinata can’t help the uncomfortable feeling that overcomes her. Naruto says nothing, staring down at the man whose eyes show no sign of shame. “I would love to have a chat with the lord, if you could be so kind as to come with me. Of course, your wife is also invited, I have the most exquisite of foods at my disposal, I assure you.”

“I have yet to greet my fellow Beast Tamers, Lord Graff, I’m sure you understand.”

The man pouts his lips and tries to look behind Naruto, “I’m sure your lovely wife could come wait with me as you make your rounds, my lord.”

Sai is right beside her, but the moment Lord Graff takes a step to get a better look, Naruto grabs him by the arm and squeezes. “Do not be impolite,” he smiles.

Lord Graff scoffs in surprise, as if the mere thought of him being impolite was ridiculous. “Oh, Lord Naruto, please, I am but trying to be-”

“Naruto,” a monotone voice greets, and Naruto’s head whips around. His stance relaxes, his eyes shine and his face changes immediately into the boyish smile Hinata knows.

“Gaara!” he greets, motions for him to come closer. His body remains a wall between Lord Graff and his wife and the moment Gaara comes closer his own guards move the lord out of the way. There are two of them, a man with purple face paint that looks at Lord Graff with disgust and a blonde woman that stands next to the other guard with her arms crossed. Gaara doesn’t acknowledge the man who was on his spot before.

Naruto brings his arm around Hinata, pushes her towards him, “My wife,” he presents and Gaara looks at her. He is tall, though not as tall as Naruto, although Hinata has to look up anyways. His hair is dark red and all around his eyes he has a thick layer of eyeliner that contrasts with his pale skin, he looks menacing, and the way his face shows no emotion at all is even more intimidating. But Naruto is right beside her and Gaara is the only person he wanted to introduce to her, so Hinata bows and pinches herself to get her words out.

“My n-name is Hinata U-u-uzumaki… It’s a p-pleasure to m-meet y-you.”

Nobody around her says anything. But she wants to die. She can feel the shame rising inside of her and the tears prickling at her eyes, but Gaara remains impassive and he bows to her.

“The pleasure is all mine. My name is Gaara of the desert, I’m glad to finally meet you.” He gives her a smile. A tiny smile, the barest of movements of the corners of his mouth, but Hinata sees it, and she understands immediately that his friendship with Naruto is real and true.

Naruto moves his hand up and down her back, and he kisses the top of her head before turning to Gaara, “Do you mind taking her and my dad as I make the rounds?” He whispers.

“Of course,” says Gaara, with the same tone he has had through all their conversation.

Hinata worries whether someone has seen Naruto’s impromptu show of affection but she realizes immediately that it’s unlikely. Naruto and Gaara cover her front, Sai covers her side, Shino is at her back and Lord Minato with Sakura stand opposite him, all with their eyes away from them.

“Shino, you come with me.” Naruto pushes Hinata to Sai, “I’ll be right back.”

Sakura comes right beside her and Lord Minato covers now her back. Hinata is starting to realize that she’s being overly protected by everyone.

As Gaara brings them towards one side of the room Hinata realizes that everyone brings a couple of guards with them and they -her- do not look out of place at all. Naruto walks away with Lord Graff -who’s already chatting away- and makes a beeline for a group in the distance.

“What a fucking prick,” hisses Gaara’s male guard.

“I said we let Lord Naruto have a go at him, one punch is all he’ll need,” the blonde smiles.

Sakura is the one who comes in with the common sense. "You both know he can't do that," she sighs.

But the blonde just scoffs, "Who's gonna stop him, though? The Ten-tails?" She mocks. The male guard chimes in with another witty remark and Sakura starts bickering back.

Hinata glances at them, nervous, but Sai looks used to this and Gaara stops in front of her while pointing towards a chair. "Care for a refreshment or some food?"

Hinata shakes her head no, doesn't say anything out of shame and ducks her head to make herself look smaller. All habits she wishes she stopped doing.

"Don't worry about them," Gaara continues, "they love to banter with whoever is nearby. I don't usually fall for their shenanigans though, so they always go extra hard with people who do. Sakura is used to this." Hinata sits and whispers a thank you she wishes is soft enough to get lost. But Gaara answers back, sits beside her and crosses his legs, leaning forwards. And Hinata realizes he's looking at her. "They are my brother and sister," his hand raises towards them, pointing to them in turns, "the one with the face paint is Kankuro, the blonde one is Temari. They've known Naruto for as long as me." He turns to her again, "if there's anything I can help you with, be it answering questions or doing something for you, please don't hesitate to ask."

Hinata tenses, because although Gaara has been nothing but nice and respectful she can't bring herself to say or do anything but nod and stare in front of her.

And she hates it.

⁂⁂⁂

Naruto doesn’t come back and Lord Minato has stood and walked away to greet the people who came near them a few times already. Lord Gaara has remained unmoving and the only sound Hinata can hear nearby is the still ongoing conversation Kankuro, Temari and Sakura have going on a few meters from them. Sai has remained a few meters apart, closer to her and Lord Gaara, but still able to chime in when the group asks him a question or he feels the need to share something to their talk.

Hinata realizes that neither Kankuro nor Temari have said anything at Sai’s crude way of speaking, and Hinata soon realizes it’s because they talk that way too. Speaking what they think without wondering first how that will affect the people around them. Kankuro especially has even smirked at Sai’s words.

They have talked gossip and guarding strategies and lords and news and Hinata has absorbed all the knowledge with guilt.

Lord Gaara has remained next to her, sharing his thoughts every once in a while but she has only been able to answer with yes and no and the need to talk is only making it harder for her to do so. She wants to ask and share things and smile and have a good time. Lord Minato is near her, Sai and Sakura are near her. She feels safe, so why?

Why can’t she just mutter a simple answer longer than one word? Why can’t she smile lightly and ask a question enough to keep their conversation going? Hinata bites her lower lip, feeling the turning of her stomach as she feels shame coursing through her body.

Just ask anything. Anything. Anything, anything, anything at all.

It takes Hinata an embarrassing amount of courage to raise her head and turn her head slightly to Gaara, who catches her movement but remains still. The fact that he is nice to her makes this even worse.

She will stutter, she knows. She doesn’t want to, but she will. Feels it in the way her mouth refuses to open, in the way her tongue feels heavy and locked. She will stutter and she will hate it. So it stands to reason that she remains silent.

So she does.

Lord Minato stands again and moves away from the group, talks with a man before coming back, drink in hand. He stands right in front of her and offers the cup, Hinata reaches out and grabs it out of habit. He has shared with her drink after drink of tea in their classes, fewer as they shared more time together. As she started feeling more confident in his presence.

He gave her an excuse to remain silent.

“I think it’s time I go get Naruto away from everyone,” Lord Minato says. His voice calm and soothing. “He should be bored out of his mind by now.”

Lord Gaara nods, scans the room looking for Naruto, but the amount of people makes it difficult for him to do so.

“I’ll be back as soon as I find him, okay?”

Hinata stares at her cup, now resting in her lap and she raises her head. He’s looking directly at her, reassuring her. She nods her head, keeps it down, and feels disgraceful.

“Ye-ye-yes,” she manages to say. Lord Minato’s hand raises and pats her shoulder, and that tells her enough. He was worried.

Hinata remains as composed as she can. Back straight, head held high, and although her eyes are focused on the cup on her hands, she wants to at least appear confident.

Naruto will be back in a minute. It’s that thought that gives her a surge of self-assurance she grabs and holds onto. It’s the cup in her hands that warms her cold skin that she grounds herself with and it’s Sai’s feet moving in front of her as he moves to be beside her that Hinata focuses.

“L-l-lord Gaara?” She asks. Hating every sound that leaves her mouth, looking straight ahead to the sea of people in fear of seeing pity in his eyes.

“Yes, my lady?”

He’s coming back in a minute. He’s coming back in a minute.

“Why… h-haven’t you d-d-done a round like the o-o-other Beast T-t-tamers?”

She tenses, as worry starts to wash over her body. But whatever, she tried, she talked and asked and at least did something about their conversations. Even if he didn’t answer, even if he ignored her. She did it. And that’s what mattered to her.

There is a second of silence that freezes Hinata completely. Until Kankuro’s husky voice lets out a controlled laugh.

“Because he’s the One-Tail,” he mocks. He and Temari are now closer to them than before, as Sakura left with Lord Minato.

“Because his allegiances are already set in stone,” Temari adds with a smirk.

It’s obvious by their tone and glances at Lord Gaara that they want to get a rise out of him. But Lord Gaara stares them down. “I believe the question was directed at me.” He remains impassive and calm, and Hinata is in awe at his composure.

Kankuro snorts, “Oh, come on!”

But Gaara ignores him. “As my brother and sister shared,” he starts, giving them a bored look, “I don’t really gain anything by doing rounds. My friendship with Naruto is very well-known throughout the clans.”

“Everyone and their mothers know that Gaara listens to whatever Naruto says,” Kankuro looks at Temari, shaking his head in confusion, and Temari mimics him.

“But…” Hinata feels more comfortable now, seeing as Lord Gaara waits and listens and doesn’t bring attention to anything else but her actual question. “Then w-w-why does L-Lord Naruto makes t-the r-rounds?”

“Because he’s the Nine-Tails,” Kankuro shares. His antics with Temari dying off as Gaara didn’t fall for them. “He’s powerful as fuck, and everyone wants in on that.”

“Both physically and politically,” Temari adds, “in a way, Gaara is better off than every other Beast Tamer because of Lord Naruto.”

Hinata scans the room again, trying to find his blonde head. If he was nearer she would find him immediately. He towers over everyone here.

“He usually does the rounds to let me and Lord Minato get out of them. People will find him anyway, so he mingles, does what’s expected of him and then comes back.” He turns to her, “though he usually lets people wait for him, I guess he was eager now to get it over with and not expose you too much.”

Temari smiles at her, and Hinata blushes, “Don’t worry, Lady Hinata, we can pull off the don’t-you-dare-come-near-us mean look.”

“Kind of experts at it,” laughs Kankuro.

As if to demonstrate, they frown, glance around and effectively scare off the people around them. And Hinata finds herself relaxing a little.

#naruto #naruhina #fanfic #fanfiction #hinata hyuga #naruto uzumaki #beast tamers #ch.7 #part 3 #just realized I wrote part 1 on part 2 lol #doubt it matters #also thank you very very much to everyone who reblogs and likes <3 #and to those who write tags #I read ya #( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)#have a great one!!#see you next monday!!

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flaminpumpkin · 3 years

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Happy birthday, Jordan

It wasn’t even 4am when Hal woke up to the gentle green glow of his ring announcing a new message from the Corps. They really couldn’t leave him alone, even on his birthday now, could they?

He had half a mind to pretend not to notice and go back to sleep. His last mission had been short but exhausting, leaving him completely drained. His dark circles had dark circles at this point, even though he had slept basically all day the day before, waking up only to go to the bathroom and eat half an apple and a toast.

Unfortunately for him – and fortunately for the Corps – Hal Jordan was a devoted man and an Honor Lantern so he kind of had to.

With a loud groan, he straightened a bit so he could prop his chin in his hand, not moving from his position on the bed where he was sprawled on his stomach, pillow still half under him. He had been Earth-side for barely two days, if they were expecting from him to look decent, they could fuck right off.

But when he ordered his ring to open the message, he was greeted by a short and simple: Happy birthday, Hal! Just this. It made him smile (and also breathe a bit more easily, he really didn’t want to go back to space this quickly.)

Then his ring pinged again and there was a little hologram of his fellow Green Lanterns. He could see Kilowog and Tomar, Jess and Simon. John and Kyle, the younger man grinning like a five year old as he held a notepad with a caricature of Hal drawn on it and come on Kyle, my head is not that big. There was also Guy. Who was… Hal sighed, shaking his head. Guy was harboring a shit eating grin while flipping him off. Typical.

Before going back to sleep, he sent back a simple thank you note to all of them and then, for good measure, he sent another one to Guy with a hologram of himself flipping the bird.

He swore he could hear him laugh all the way to earth. That asshole.

* * *

The second time he woke up, around three o’clock in the afternoon, Hal felt a lot less like a zombie. He probably still had a few hours of sleep to catch up on but it was nothing he couldn’t survive without. He had to be up in a couple of hours for monitor duty anyway, so might as well wake up a bit earlier and enjoy some peace before going back to work.

There was a little cardboard box on his kitchen counter when he emerged from the shower, with a fancy little ribbon and a card. He didn’t even need to open the card to know who it was.

Firstly, because Carol was the only one, with Barry, who had a spare key to his apartment in case he had an emergency call from the Corps and, secondly, because it just had her name written all over it. He recognized the design on the box being from that fancy French bakery close to her apartment and knew that when he would open it, he’d find a generous slice of their famous lemon meringue pie.

He ate it in silence with some coffee, responding to the different birthday wishes he had received. Some were from Tom and a bunch of coworkers. There were also several audio messages from his nephew and niece trying to figure out how to work around the feature until their parents probably had had enough and had decided to take family photos instead. Six in total, all of them blurry. But at least Hal could somehow guess what was written on the sign his niece was holding. It made him laugh and he decided to call his brother, just to tease him.

They ended up talking for a while. It felt good, this small bit of normalcy.

* * *

Hal was on his way for the monitor room, two cups of coffee in hands, when he heard someone call his name. Ah. He had hoped no one would catch him before monitor duty. He was already on the brink of running late and god knew Batman disliked lateness. But hey, after all it was his birthday.

“Hal! Hang on!”

He turned around just when Clark arrived at his level. The other man was smiling widely at him, holding a small plate with a cupcake on it in his big hands and looking like an oversized golden retriever puppy.

“Lois made enough cupcakes for an army because she was bored at home yesterday – I’m starting to think that forced leave really wasn’t our boss’ greatest idea but anyway. She told me to bring it here for everyone,” he said before Hal could even ask anything. “There’s a whole plate in the lounge but with Barry around I thought I’d give you one for your birthday before he wolfs them down.”

He snorted at that because, honestly, that was fair. Because of his powers, Barry was basically a walking stomach and everybody knew he had a giant sweet tooth.

“Thanks, Clark.”

“You’re welcome. And happy birthday!” he said, floating away.

Hal had given up on trying to balance the plate and his two cups in his hands, using a construct instead, when Dinah pounced on him, quickly followed by Oliver and Barry. She was the first one to hug him, kissing his cheek gently.

“Happy birthday, hot stuff.”

“Thanks, Di.”

“Hal, my man! Happy birthday!” Oliver shouted before squishing Hal’s cheek between two big, callous hands, not even waiting for Dinah to be out of his arms.

In retrospect, he should have expected it – it was Oliver after all, the guy didn’t know what “inhibition” meant – but, he couldn’t stop his eyes from going wide as saucers as the blond placed a resounding kiss right on his lips.

“So? How’s that for a birthday present?” he asked, smug, earning himself an eye roll from both Barry and Dinah.

“That was my present?”

“Yes. Wonderful isn’t?”

“Truly. I’m delighted. Such a generous present.”

“I’m a generous man.”

“So charitable.”

All eyes turned on Barry.

“Was that sarcasm, Bear?”

The speedster fixed Oliver with a blank stare. He looked even more exasperated than usual, which made Hal snicker. People assumed way too often that Barry was a goody two shoes but Hal had witnessed firsthand how quick witted he really was. “A snarky little shit” Oliver had called him once. And he was right.

“Happy birthday, Harold,” Barry said after a few seconds of silent judgement, opening his arms to embrace Hal.

He returned the hug good heartedly.

“Bear, you can’t wish me happy birthday and then call me Harold. That’s not legal, buddy.”

“Just say thank you.”

Hal simply squeezed him one last time before letting him go, winking at the group as he started to walk down the corridor again.

“Gotta go. Don’t want Bats to be mad at me on my birthday.”

“Like that would bother you!”

“Well yes, actually,” he almost said but he didn’t want to spend the next thirty minutes explaining to Oliver why so he pretended he hadn’t heard.

Truth was, Hal and Bruce were friends. Good friends, even. Recently, the pilot had even caught himself hoping for them to become more than that. They still had disagreements of course, they were both stubborn but they were past that now. Most of the time, it felt more like some weird kind of aggressive flirting than a real fight.

Hal enjoyed the other man’s company, especially now that he was comfortable enough with him to talk about more personal matters, like his family and boy did Bruce had things to say about the weird little clique that was his family. The fond look on his face just made it all the more worth it.

He cherished those hours spent together on the Watchtower, sometimes wishing they could do this outside of their hero work. Maybe he could pretend to need help on the Javelin’s new update to see him. She needed one and the only other person who knew her as well as Hal did was Bruce. He could buy him dinner too.

Sounds like a plan, he thought, entering the monitor room.

Bruce was already there, of course. His cowl was pulled back like every time when they were paired up, his hair looking ridiculously good even mussed. The man was always so effortlessly pretty, it was revolting.

“You’re late, Jordan.”

He didn’t even glance in Hal’s direction but it wasn’t like he needed to check that it was him.

“Better late than never, Spooks.”

That earned him a huff and then he saw Bruce slide a cup of coffee towards him on the desk.

Oh.

“It’s probably cold now.”

Lukewarm was probably more accurate – Hal wasn’t that late. But he refrained from mentioning it to the other man, instead grabbing the two still steaming cups from his tray construct and handing his to Bruce.

“I thought about preparing some too, so lucky us, I guess.”

He smirked at the Bat, oddly proud when Bruce smiled back, even just slightly.

“Miss Lane’s?” Bruce asked, nodding in direction of his construct while taking a sip of his coffee.

Hal looked back at the still floating, green glowing tray and reached out to retrieve the plate Clark had given him.

“Yep. Wanna share? It was your birthday yesterday after all. And happy belated birthday. By the way.”

It wasn’t lost on Hal that he had completely forgotten to even text him for his birthday but, like he had said, better late than never. He knew it probably hadn’t bothered Bruce, maybe hadn’t even registered with him that Hal hadn’t said anything but it sure did bother the pilot that he had forgotten. Bruce smiled again anyway, something small and secretive. Something just for him to see. Hal could feel an unusual blush creep up his cheeks.

“No, thank you,” Bruce said, turning back towards the screens in front of them, the cup Hal had given him cradled in his gauntleted hands. “Clark actually flew all the way to Gotham yesterday to bring us some. I left it for the kids. Too sweet.”

Hal had to laugh at that.

“Says the guy who takes his coffee with a metric ass load of sugar and cream in it.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

Bruce side-eyed him, half hiding a smirk behind the rim of his cup and Hal laughed again.

They focused on the monitors after that, a companionable silence between them, and Hal regretted not sleeping those two extra hours earlier. He could feel the bone deep tiredness take over him after a mere half an hour, his body sagging in his chair and relaxing into it despite his best efforts to stay alert.

He was nodding off, barely even conscious anymore, when he felt Bruce take his cup from his lax fingers.

“Idiot,” he heard him whisper and Hal wanted to retort something but he was too far gone to even form a coherent thought at this point.

Then he felt fingers graze his forehead, brushing away wild strands of hair, followed by a pair of slightly chapped lips pressing there. He automatically leaned into the gentle touch, sighing long and deep. The lips stayed there a second longer, lingering and warming up his skin, his whole body.

Hal wanted to wake up, to say something cheeky or, even better, just kiss Bruce. Properly. On the lips. Like he had been longing to do. But all he managed was a weak little whine as he turned his head towards the other man.

“Happy birthday, Jordan,” was the last thing he heard before drifting off completely.

(A few seconds later. Training room. Watchtower.

“Hey, Ollie?”

“What is it, Barry?”

“I think I just saw Bruce kiss Hal.”

“WHAT?!”)

#happy birthday Hal!#batlantern #hal jordan #green lantern #clemwrites

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shihalyfie · 3 years

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Daisuke and Miyako

Daisuke and Miyako have a very interesting relationship, given that it’s never given anything you could call front-and-center in 02, and yet is actually one of the more prominent dynamics among the 02 cast in practice. How? Well, let’s talk about it.

It’s rather common for 02 fans to endearingly call the kids “idiots” (and especially after Kizuna, where they’re not only idiots but also idiots with the terrifying power of being recognized by society as adults). They are an incredibly chaotic group, and while all six of them are guilty in some way or another, Daisuke and Miyako are probably the ringleaders of that chaos, since the other four tend to facilitate it by being enablers.

Both Daisuke and Miyako have a similar surface temperament -- they’re messy, all over the place, and not exactly the epitome of dignified, but they’re also just slightly off from each other that it does lead to some degree of friction. Daisuke, despite ostensibly seeming abrasive on the surface, is actually quite deferential and will often “deflate” when people criticize him, or at least, even if he does lash out, it’ll be more in a defensive sense that comes from him thinking he’s being made fun of or attacked. Miyako, on the other hand, is absolutely someone who will go on the aggressive, make her opinions clear and continue to aggressively put her foot down at anything she hates, is more fond of physical contact (both in an aggressive fighting manner and in an affectionate hugging manner), and will easily get much more impatient and demanding about what she wants. You can see them both in action when they bicker over a dumpling in 02 episode 37; Miyako’s the first one to jump on Daisuke for taking “her” dumpling, Daisuke lashes back at her defensively, and then Miyako starts physically manhandling him. They’re both brash, so of course it naturally leads to some friction, because they don’t really give off the appearance of being happy-happy-joy-joy with each other.

But just because they’re prone to bickering doesn’t mean they dislike each other! In fact, 02 was quite big on the concept of friends being able to do more aggressive things with each other because they trust each other so much, most infamously Yamato punching Taichi in episode 10 with full awareness that Taichi wouldn’t take it badly.

Daisuke and Miyako, in particular, come off as the type to be specifically comfortable with their exact level of bickering-and-yet-closeness. As I’ve pointed out a few times, they never used any honorifics for each other, even though Daisuke normally treats his elders with respect and Miyako uses the proper -kun for most younger boys. Miyako will even go as far as sometimes calling Daisuke with second-person anta (Japanese generally discourages second-person when it’s avoidable, and especially clipped/slang versions like this, so Miyako is effectively handling Daisuke roughly). But whenever circumstances cause one of them to start acting weirdly polite or endearing to the other, it’s made clear that the other finds it really weird.

So in other words, it seems like once the two met and started hanging out together as part of their group of Chosen Children, they unconsciously identified each other as fellow disaster children (or, at least, not worth keeping a sense of polite distance with). And really, they don’t actually “bicker” all that much as much as it’s more like bantering -- Daisuke’s an easy target for teasing but can easily deal with Miyako being so in-your-face, and conversely Miyako can take a lot of Daisuke’s lashing out without taking it too personally.

This is especially interesting when you take into account the fact that they don’t actually even pretend to dislike each other! Certainly, the way they’re prone to bantering and not necessarily even that self-aware means they probably wouldn’t be able to easily say upfront that they’re close with each other, but they also don’t really put on the air of disliking each other at all, and are perfectly happy to work together like they’re partners in crime at times. Miyako is very straightforward about recruiting Daisuke into her little scheme to force Iori and Ken to get along in episode 30, and they’re happy to cheerfully play with each other and act generally in-sync like in episode 38.

(The incident in episode 30 is also of interest because it’s also subtly reminiscent of their overall dynamic -- Miyako’s the one who actively hatches the plan that ultimately ends up in disaster, with Daisuke simply agreeing and playing along.)

In fact, I would even dare to venture saying that prior to Ken’s bonding with the group, Miyako was probably Daisuke’s closest friend (even if it’s unlikely he’d have admitted it). With Daisuke putting Hikari on a pedestal due to his crush on her, having difficulty with Takeru not really being straightforward and constantly on the defensive around him, and Iori requiring polite and distant handling in general, Miyako was the right combination of someone he could bounce off of without necessarily offending her deeply (especially because she’s a rather affectionate person and isn’t the type to really hold grudges). Daisuke, being a painfully transparent and straightforward person, plays best with other people who are clear and transparent, so even if Miyako may be a bit difficult to deal with, the fact she’s very honest and straightforward made her someone Daisuke could be comfortable around. Within the series, they never quite got to the more thoughtful and intimate level that Daisuke and Ken or Miyako and Hikari got, but they developed a very comfortable rapport around each other.

Miyako, for her part, cares a lot about Daisuke’s welfare, and is in fact quite willing to be open about it whenever she’s not bantering with him -- a good example is episode 24, when she notices Daisuke is feeling down from V-mon being unable to evolve and himself being left out of Takeru and Hikari going off together, and goes forward, affectionately grabs him, and gives him a job to do in babysitting the Punimon. At first this looks like simply a way to distract him so that Takeru and Hikari can have some space, but we’re later treated to some shots of Miyako looking at him fondly, making it clear that she was very much invested in making sure he was happy with something to do -- and she even muses that she felt he’d be perfect for the job. (And she gets bonus points for correctly catching on that Daisuke is happiest when he has some kind of purpose.)

And there are some times where Daisuke has some, well, interesting reactions when it comes to Miyako -- in regards to expressing preferences with boys, given that he has a sudden taken-aback reaction to Miyako declaring openly that she likes cute boys like Michael in episode 14 (something that really shouldn’t be surprising to everyone...), or suddenly getting invested in making a case for himself when Miyako calls Ken’s laugh cute in episode 38. Of course, the easiest explanation to beeline to is reading this as ship bait or hinting that Daisuke has a crush on Miyako, but regardless of whether you want to read it as shippy or not, I think it’s boring to just end the analysis at merely that and call it a day -- so, either way, Daisuke really does care about Miyako’s opinion of him and her approval, not entirely unlike the way he does with most elders. And given that, in Hurricane Touchdown, he lashes out at Wallace for attempting to flirt with her (to the point of it metaphorically breaking his goggles), he can get surprisingly protective of her, too!

Bring it around a whole eight years later in Kizuna, and the first time you see both of them on screen together, Daisuke of course picks up the banter with her -- cheerfully, of course.

This is later followed up by another amusing interaction in which Miyako, rather impatient with Daisuke being wishy-washy and beating around the bush talking with Yamato about what they found out about Menoa, physically grabs the phone from him (again: much more prone to intervening physically) and gets more directly to the point than he did -- leaving Daisuke to not really argue back, but pout at her irritably.

But of course, they’re still willing to be perfectly in sync at times -- during the drama CD, which takes place right before the movie, Daisuke has no qualms jumping in once she and Hikari go on a dramatic spiel about Spain misadventures.

So in other words -- they’re the same as ever.

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #inoue miyako #motomiya daisuke #kizuna spoilers #shihameta

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arigatouiris · 4 years

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perhaps... // sanemi x reader

Author’s Note: Another vvvvv self-indulgent one shot for my soft babie Sanemi! Idk I just can’t see him as anything but a softie after that episode with Nezuko~ Obviously, this has Kimetsu manga spoilers, so please be warned! Sanemi deserves the world, honestly. I love him SO MUCH.

Word count: 5662 words

Pairing: Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Warnings: angst, pining, somewhat of a crackhead reader?, fluff, spoilers for the manga, mentions of blood and sex

A lot of people were grateful to the Hashira for finally defeating Muzan. However, the fact of the matter remained—after the war was done, they had no place to go if they already didn’t have a home. Most demon slayers sought shelter within the butterfly estate and the wisteria estates till they could get back on their feet, but Sanemi wasn’t the sort to do that at all.

It wasn’t pride or ego, he simply wanted to get away from it all. To learn of troubles that weren’t demons, to go see sights he hadn’t before—live so that his brother and the family he had lost could see life through his eyes.

The sudden optimism flushed into his system upon seeing Nezuko, after all. The child reminded him nothing of Genya, yet there were instances that he’d wanted to cherish. Perhaps, every little sibling had that in common, the aura that makes you want to protect them.

It’s not that he suddenly wanted to explore the world, it’s just that Sanemi wanted to feel excluded in inclusivity. He wanted to live a life that resembled a normalcy he had only dared to dream about in the distant future; but now was the distant future, and the suddenness of it all threw him off guard. He wanted to go a place and feel disliked because he was a man who didn’t look like he could be trusted; he wanted to go to a place and meet kids who would give him weird nicknames and maybe one day find out that he’s actually not the monster that they thought he was.

No part of Sanemi dreamed he would one day find love, but perhaps, the universe wished that for him by sending him you.

Upon moving to a tiny village near what used to be his old home, he met you—a farmer who worked on a land that did not belong to you, offering people smiles and sometimes, cashew fruits to the kids (when your landlord wasn’t looking). People generally liked you, you seemed the sort of person one couldn’t dislike because you radiated warmth with every action. Sanemi tried to stay away from you, but his arrival to the village brought attention—which was unavoidable considering people knew he was a Hashira. How they knew, he would not know, he considered himself to be a rather secretive person; but the mere mention that he once slayed demons alerted you.

You approached him the second day he settled down and handed him a basket full of produce—some rice, persimmons, cashew fruits (of course, one needn’t know you to know you liked these), adzuki beans, and pickled plums.

“I don’t need it—”

“Oh, come on!” You pushed it forward onto his hand, causing him to pop a vein in annoyance, “Don’t be closed off, Hashira-san! You saved our lives, after all!”

He didn’t like to think of it that way, but that was what he had done. Not directly, but he had assisted to bring down one of the biggest menaces the world had seen. It wasn’t that he was incredibly proud of the fact; this accomplishment had taken from him more than it had given, and if Sanemi was ever given a choice, if he was ever given a choice...

He didn’t thank you, though you didn’t leave too easily. You started talking to him about some gibberish that he obviously wasn’t paying attention to, after which he simply headed back inside his hut, sitting against the wall, trying to catch a bit of sleep. He liked that he could sleep without the worry or fear hanging over his mind—he was free at last to be lazy, and what a privilege this seemed before.

“I’ll bring you more things later!”

Sanemi scoffed, “Listen, I don’t need you to bother. Buzz off, and leave me alone.”

“Ooh, you’re the strong and rude type, aren’t you?” You folded your arms in front of your chest, shooting him an idiotic smile, “I’m willing to bet your heart’s soft.”

It didn’t take him long to throw a stone to your side in a way to say ‘fuck off’. You giggled before waving at him and leaving, but something told him you would only return again; what kind of idiot you were, he did not know, but no part of him was grateful for your smiles knocking on his door when all he clearly needed was some peace and quiet.

Sanemi had money; the demon slaying profession had given him enough of money that he carried around. People would often consider it stupid to carry a large amount of money around, but it was Sanemi, and most people did not bother him—and no thief dared attempt stealing from him. He might not have a reason to rage at anyone, but Sanemi’s life was pent-up rage, nestled in his heart in the form of yearning and sorrow that he could not, for the life of him, unravel.

A few days later, Sanemi ran out of the rice you had given him, which meant he had to go to the village to buy things. It wasn’t that the village was overtly welcoming to him, but they left him alone and that was perhaps what he wanted. In his spare time, he trained, he didn’t know for what, and he would hunt. Sanemi learned how to cook better than he ever had before, and thought of his brother, thought of Masachika, and sometimes, if he dared, he thought of his mother.

“Shinazugawa-san!”

He clicked his tongue when he noticed your head pop into the entrance of his house, a wicked smile plastered on your face.

“What is it now, woman?”

It wasn’t that he disliked you. He didn’t want anything to disrupt what was left of his life; he wanted to stay here till he got bored, and leave when the time was right. Getting to know you would only complicate things. But, why was it that you were hellbent on constantly checking up on him and speaking to him? Despite the fact that he looked so scary and intimidating all the time, despite the fact that he was rude to you almost always, you always trod on.

“Would you like some ohagi?”

His eyes twitch at your words, cursing at himself for revealing to you that he liked the sweet the other day. It wasn’t that he explicitly told you, but it was simply that he was eating it the day before and you saw him—trodding on and making a big deal out of him liking a sweet that you apparently knew how to make really well.

“Stop bothering me.”

“Eh? You don’t look busy to me.”

“But I am, woman. Leave me alone!” He barked, only to have you giggle.

“I’ll leave it here. Have them, okay? You saved our lives, after all.”

There you go again, bringing it up like it was something to be proud of. Sanemi clicked his tongue before lying down, showing you his back. He was done with dealing with you for the day, and somehow, you understood that what you had said did not resonate well with him right then. You blinked a couple of times before pressing your lips together and leaving him to himself.

It wasn’t that you intentionally wanted to bother him. You were clearly aware that he did not grasp the affections of your fellow villagers, but you did not see a bad man in Shinazugawa Sanemi. You did not have any family to compare him to, but there was something strikingly similar to Sanemi and a particular demon slayer that had saved your life a few years ago. The boy was definitely younger than you, but scars adorned his face as well, and he did not use swords like most demon slayers that you had heard of.

Looking up to the sky, you walked to your special spot—a spot that you had reserved for yourself and your ‘little friends’. You hoped to tell Shinazugawa about this someday, because some part of you believed he would understand it better than the villagers did.

Maybe I should invite him? You thought, pressing your lips together into a line. What’s the harm?

You made a U-turn and headed to Sanemi’s, to find him asleep. Your eyes wandered on his scarred face, his scarred chest, his well-toned muscles. You noticed that his right hand was missing its index and middle fingers, and you believed it was something the profession he had chosen had taken from him. Maybe, I should stop reminding him he saved our lives, you thought, before absentmindedly reaching forward to touch the man’s face.

You almost yelled when he suddenly caught your arm mid-air, and his eyes shot open at your blushing form.

“What the hell are you trying to do?”

You gulped, “T-There was something I wanted to show you.”

“Not interested, woman. Leave me alone—”

“Please, no one in the village understands. I think,” You frowned a bit, which was unusual because this was perhaps the first time he had seen you frown. “I think you’ll understand.”

Maybe, it was the way you said it. Sanemi noticed how hesitant you looked, but when he thought of it, you were perhaps the only one who was even bringing up his demon slaying in conversation. He sighed before sitting up, ignoring your sudden happy expression and waving his hand at you, telling you by action to lead the way.

You lead him into the forest behind the farm, and in a small clearing, Sanemi saw a bunch of rocks embedded on the ground, facing the sky. Upon one glance, he could tell that they were makeshift graves, but he wondered what the hell you were trying to show him.

Why was he the only one who would understand?

“What the—”

“I met this boy a few years ago,” You said, turning to him, kneeling down by the graves. “He had scars on his face just like you.”

There were many boys with facial scars. But, for some reason, Sanemi kept listening, his heart pounding at your every word.

“He told me about this kind brother he had. The one he wanted to meet and rekindle his relationship with. He told me that his kind brother made him want to get very strong, and from the looks of it, he really was strong. He saved my life, after all.”

He didn’t want to believe it, at first. He didn’t want to believe that you had somehow met Genya. And that Genya had saved your life. He did not want to believe that it was Genya you were talking about, but why did this seem so familiar?

“These graves are of kids with no family. Like me. I didn’t know these children, but my heart breaks when I think of them being left behind like that. This demon slayer boy helped me put up these graves. He told me he lost his family to a demon too,”

Sanemi’s breath was stuck in his throat as he watched you carefully.

“His mother was turned. And his kind brother saved his life by killing her. It must have been a nightmare.”

You weren’t saying that out of pity, Sanemi saw the dead look in your eyes—the lack of understand was present, but there was no pity, no sympathy, just... plainness. Somehow, he appreciated that.

“I don’t know what losing a family feels like because I’ve never had one,” You said, looking at the graves now. “But, that boy carried so much pain in his heart and so much love for his brother that it made me want to know.”

His lips quivered but he swallowed any emotion that threatened to spill out. You turn to spot him staring at you, expressionless, hardened, and you smiled.

“I’m sorry I keep troubling you,” You put your hands behind your back, “You just remind me of that boy, that’s all. He had kind eyes, like you.”

It was a few days after that did Sanemi notice that you were being treated harshly by your fellow villagers. He was getting ready to move, but he didn’t know what to tell you. After that night near the graves, he had grown to tolerate your company, but your visits were fewer than before, you gave him a lot less produce whenever you dropped by (not that he wanted you to give him any, at all).

That night, he told you he was leaving. What he expected was a muffled reaction asking him to stay or beg him not to leave.

But your eyes were wide, a growing smile formed on your lips and you looked at him and only him, the gaze almost weakened his knees.

“I’ll come with you.”

It was a simple sentence but for some reason, Sanemi thought this one sentence could destroy every bit of strength that was left in his bones. He had assisted in ending the reign of demons, but there you were, giving him a determined expression, your hair disheveled, your kimono old from having been washed too many times, and your hands behind your back.

Your determination could end him.

And for some reason, Sanemi wouldn’t mind letting that happen.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” He snapped, eyes glaring at her face.

“Shinazugawa-san,” You said, sweetly, “There’s no need for you to be harsh anymore,”

His eyes widened.

“There are no demons left,” You were twirling on the ground you were standing on, “There’s nothing that should cause you to hide your softness.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

You approached him, looking directly into his eyes, capturing his breath in a way he never thought possible. Sanemi’s eyes widened but you remained put.

“During times like this, Shinazugawa-san,” You smiled softly, “Being soft is a much harder task.”

In an instant, you took his right hand in yours, which he surprisingly doesn’t push away. His heart was beating rapidly and there wasn’t much he could do. Did he want you with him? Did he like your company? What would it be? What could he do?

The way you were looking at him... Damn it, there was no use pushing you away.

He took you to the wisteria estate, which was the closest to the village; Sanemi wanted some relief before heading to a place he had never been to. A hot bath, some good food, and a good night’s sleep on a futon—things he had missed. However, these were things you never had access to, and seeing you try them for the first time warmed his heart.

He found himself talking to you, sitting by the engawa, now that he had learned Genya saved your life. A life that his brother had saved, it was something special whether he would like to admit it or not. He told you about Genya and your eyes widen instantly, recognizing the story, the name attached to the boy, and tears fill your eyes when you learned of what happened.

You couldn’t say anything, you almost couldn’t breathe—and it was Sanemi’s first time seeing you cry.

For some reason, the sight warmed his heart because there was another person feeling sorrow over the loss of his brother. Genya really was kind, Genya was perhaps everything that Sanemi one day wished he was. And here you were, crying for the boy because he was all those things.

Without a second thought, Sanemi’s hand rushed to the side of your cheek, a soft smile sat on his lips as he watched you—the woman whose life his brother had saved—cry because Genya had died. You automatically leaned into his touch, almost as if this wasn’t new, you liked the warmth his hand presented against your cheek and it felt oddly like home.

Huh? You thought, opening your eyes to see Sanemi smile at you. What is home, anyway?

“Shinazugawa-san,” You sniffed, “You really are so kind.”

Sanemi had just given up trying to make you go away. In fact, he had come to accept it, in fact, he was slowly getting used to her being around him. A few days later, you and Sanemi set off in another little journey; where you began to wonder what it was that Sanemi was looking for, and why it was that you followed him so.

Perhaps, you wanted to feel that feeling of home again.

You two were walking across rice fields, the path was rocky yet it was as straight as it could be—and you were attempting to walk along a straight line, just for the heck of it. Sanemi grunted at what you were trying to do, but kept his nose out of it. If you fell down, it would be on you; however, when you did trip, you felt a strong grip grab you by your elbow, preventing your fall. Your eyes were wide at the sudden contact, but you felt grateful nonetheless.

“Careful, idiot.”

You smiled at him, before snaking your arm around his, ignoring the growing redness against Sanemi’s cheeks. You cushioned yourself against him and hummed, suddenly liking the feeling of his warm yet toned stature against your soft and fragile form.

“Sanemi-san,” He had no idea when you started calling him by his first name, but he didn’t mind, “I’ll follow you anywhere if you help me out like that!”

He pushed you away roughly before grunting at you, angered by the sound of your giggling—but ignoring the butterflies swarming in his chest at how happy you looked. Suddenly, all Sanemi could feel was a gnawing sense of fear cascade in his heart, his eyes wide at your laughing face, before he looked away, masking his emotions behind a veil of annoyance.

The fear was familiar; it was the very same feeling he had felt just before losing someone. This fear was the reason he kept pushing Genya away, before it was too late. It was this fear that had turned him into someone he could not even recognize, he was not the Sanemi he was born as. It was this fear that had turned good old kind ‘Nemi into Hashira Shinazugawa Sanemi, brutal, arrogant, brash and ruthless.

“What’s wrong?”

Yet, there you were; figuring him out as if he was meant to be read so easily. As if all the walls he put up were no good. You were like a rabbit that bounced into areas it was not supposed to, yet Sanemi’s wolf-like stature did little to intimidate you.

“None of your business.”

You pressed your lips together before pouting once, pulling away and staring at his face.

“Come on, tell me!”

He gave you a good, long look before understanding something for himself. The woman his brother had saved, it was fate that had brought you to him, and he blamed fate for making you an idiot that he was falling in love with.

It was not hard for Sanemi to accept his feelings; which was what made it so easy for him to accept death, accept the death of his family, accept the death of his comrades. Sanemi might come across as someone who would do anything to run away from his emotions, but he was not the sort. It was because his emotions were so well sought after, because he knew the damage his emotions could cause him, did he put up walls so high.

Yet, how in the world were you getting through?

The two of you reached a tiny village clearing, where its people were more than happy to welcome the both of you. The elders mistook you for a couple, causing you to turn beet red, and earning no response from Sanemi whatsoever. Your eyes widened at his seemingly nonchalant demeanor, but you half expected him to deny that you were anything to him at all.

A small smile sat at your lips before trying very hard to calm your heart.

Sanemi and you were given a regular sized hut, three or four villagers pouring in to give you gifts in the form of provisions and leather. You were thrilled, thinking that this was perhaps the home the two of you needed, however, something didn’t sit right in Sanemi’s mind. Whenever a demon was nearby, he’d get the sense of dread spreading all over the air around him; it would be hard to breathe.

Sanemi slowly felt a tad bit suffocated at the ‘kindness’ the villagers were showing the both of you.

Once inside your hut, Sanemi notices you were watching him as he unpacked—confusing him and shutting him up. He knew that if you had something to say, then you’d say it, but if you were just going to watch him, then he’d let you.

“You didn’t correct them when they called me your wife.”

It was a statement; Sanemi could hear the happiness behind it, and didn’t understand why you were so peppy about the entire ordeal. Something seemed off, weren’t you suspicious? Why were you so ready to accept kindness, even from strangers?

Ah, Sanemi chuckled, it’s because you were like that.

“What’s the use explaining anything to them anyway?”

“Who am I to you then, Sanemi-san?”

Sanemi looked at you now with the wildness of a wolf, his gaze penetrating your very soul. Yet, you didn’t look away; you may have been the most timid creature in the world, but with Sanemi you were fierce, you were everything that he wasn’t, in a world that knew only how to kill. He felt the strange feeling bubble in his chest, before forcing himself to look anywhere else. But, your gaze was fixed on him and even if his eyes were to roam every single inch of his room away from you, he was still being burned by your intensity.

“Do you like boar?”

You gasped, clapping your hands together, “I love boar! Are you going to hunt for me, Sanemi-san?”

He sighed, scratching the back of his head, “Yeah, sure. Beats sitting here being stared at.”

You pouted at his words, “Your skills at turning the conversation away are top-notch!”

All you could hear was his chuckle.

The fear continued to bubble in Sanemi’s heart.

He understood well enough more than anyone else that it wasn’t the fear of the demons that was the most terrifying. Nothing was more frightening than a fear you cannot name, and right then, Sanemi felt scared and couldn’t for the life of him understand why.

Was it because of you? Was it because he could lose you in an instant? And he would feel the same—empty, regret and sorrow that he felt when his brother died in his arms? He couldn’t compare the same pain with the hypothetical one, but the mere thought of losing you left him breathless. It was not blind anxiety, here it was possibility; because Sanemi had always lost everything.

In his entire life, keeping something for himself was a dream he knew he couldn’t achieve. This was perhaps why he kept roaming from one village to another; until he met you. You tagged along, making things all the more complicated. Yet, he liked the sound of your voice in the morning, he enjoyed your company and the sound of your laughter rang in his mind even when you were not conscious. And perhaps, the fact that he was in love with you did losing you become more of a possibility, and perhaps, this was what the fear was addressing. That despite not wanting to get close to anyone, you’d managed to crawl into what was left of his sanity, and make yourself feel at home.

Despite everything he had done to ensure he doesn’t lose anyone again, he was back in the most vulnerable state of affairs. This left him weak, ready to be pounced at—but, like you said, there were no more demons.

But, the mistake people often make is associate an evil with an evident form of it. Most often, evil lurks in corners that one would not notice.

Sanemi’s growing dread only made sense once he returned to you. He believed you’d either be making rice or sleeping because you slept more than you spoke sometimes. He liked the sight of your light snores, but what he came home to knocked the wind out of him.

There you lay, wincing, crying, four mean huddled around you—a knife was lodged in your left thigh, and it was clear from the smell of it that you had lost a lot of blood. This is why the village was welcoming, his mind told him. The second he was away, they pounced on you—because you were the weaker link.

“Nemi... Nemi....” You cried, turning to his form at the entrance, clutching your leg because your life did depend on it.

All his faces were designed to express rage or loathing. Now that something had happened which really deserved a face, he had none to celebrate it with. He quietly unsheathed his sword before killing everyone inside the hut, grabbing the one bag of money that they had come for, and picking you up like you were made of feathers, Sanemi rushed away from the village. He didn’t know where to go, but he was certain of the outcome.

As he was running, his eyes leaking tears either from the harshness of the wind or... or because his insides were turbulent, he could not hear your soft whimpers. Only when your shaking hand touched his chin did he pause, look at you—your lower lip trembling, your face deathly pale, your forehead sweaty, and your eyes were struggling to see.

“I won’t...” What were you trying to say? “I won’t die... Nemi... I won’t...”

His eyes widened at your words. That’s it. That was what he was most afraid of. And here you were, addressing it as you were dying.

No.

Taking a deep breath, Sanemi held on to you tighter before rushing to the butterfly estate. It would take him almost an hour to get there, especially if he used his ability, but he was willing to take that chance. The knife was still in your leg, he was unsure if you would hold out till then, but he wanted to trust you.

“I promise... I won’t die, Nemi...” You breathed, your hand clutching the side of his collar.

On reaching the estate, Sanemi quickly walked inside, ignoring the fact that his entire torso was drenched with your blood, you were barely conscious, your hands limp at your side. Aoi, the blue haired girl who was in charge of healing people in there, immediately rushed to his side, asking the others to take you inside.

Sanemi wanted to follow, but the girl stopped him. It was then he took a long hard look at himself, your blood having turned him red entirely. He felt sobs knock at the base of his throat but he wasn’t going to cry. You weren’t dying, you had made a promise, you were not going to die.

But, what if you did?

What if he lost you too?

Sanemi was so sure he would just follow you. There was nothing for him to live for. There was nothing left if not for you.

He never realized he was praying; he never realized that he could. He sat by the engawa after changing into regular extra clothes, and waited for Aoi to come say anything regarding your status.

I won’t die, Nemi.

You had called him Nemi. The last time someone had called him that, they died. He couldn’t help but correlate.

“Shinazugawa-san,” Aoi’s voice sounded softly from the side, “You can go see her. She’s asking for you.”

That was fast. Sanemi’s eyes widened.

“She’s so strong, I... I don’t understand how she can be awake after losing all that blood. We’ve closed the wound on her thigh, she just needs bedrest now. She’ll be fine in a few days. We’re lucky that the knife didn’t hit the bone.”

Were we lucky? Or were you?

Why was it that Sanemi felt the luckiest?

He rushed to where you were, noticing you lying down, eyes were fixed at the door. Were you waiting for him? Idiot, he thought before going to you, leaning over you by the bed. There was no one else in the room apart from the both of you, and all Sanemi could think of was how you had kept your promise.

Maybe...

His eyes were wet with tears now.

Maybe you could stay, after all...

Aoi closed the door behind her, wanting to give the two some space. What she didn’t tell Sanemi was that you refused to take any anaesthesia just so that you could stay awake for him.

You were crazy. And maybe he was too. She could never say.

“I told you I won’t die.”

Sanemi’s hand strokes your cheek before leaning down and kissing you, squarely. You kissed back as if you expected it, your soft hand covering the side of his face. You couldn’t tell if he had done this with other women, but the kiss felt so strong—it reflected who Sanemi was, as a person. It was the kind of kiss that would inspire stars to climb into the sky and light up the world.

Upon pulling back, Sanemi’s gaze weakened you, but made your heart stronger.

“I love you, Nemi. My Nemi. My kind Nemi.”

He wanted to break something, but this was his reaction to most things soft. However, instead of breaking something, Sanemi instead chose to kiss you again. You were darkness and he was darkness and there was never anything like this before; only darkness and his lips upon yours. You didn’t even want to speak, his mouth was over yours again. Suddenly, you felt a wild thrill, a thrill you’ve never known. Perhaps it was joy, fear, madness, excitement, surrender to arms that were too strong, lips too bruising, fate that moved too fast. You could sense his care when he practically refused to weigh on you, your leg untouched, your injury ignored yet strictly taken care of. When Sanemi made love to you, it was his way of saying he loved you.

He assumed you’d fall asleep after something that intense. He lay next to you, bare chested, the blanket covering only your tiny frame; you were laying on his left hand, with him cradling you from the right. You nuzzled into him more, liking the warmth, and also because you were practically naked under the sheets. He knew you were inches away from falling asleep, which was perhaps what motivated him to speak.

“I love you,” His voice was a whisper, “But I... I can’t lose you.”

A second later, he heard you groan.

“Don’t be stupid.”

Sanemi lay still, vision blurring, and in that moment, he heard his heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower's stem.

Whoever said that heartbreak was only supposed to be sad? Sanemi’s heart broke at how easily you accepted him, and it was every reason worth breaking.

The next time Sanemi had a nightmare of losing you, he felt a mild slap on his cheek, causing his eyes to open, his lips separate in a gasp. Staring into tiny purple eyes, glaring at him, Sanemi realized he had angered his four-year old girl.

“You were groaning again, ‘tou-chan!”

“Sorry, chibi-chan.”

“Don’t call me chibi-chan!”

His daughter was sitting on his chest as he slept; he turned and noticed it was already mid-day, and he wondered why you hadn’t woken him up yet. Getting up, Sanemi held the back of his chid’s form so as to not have her fall off, and he sat up straight.

“Where’s your mother?”

“Scolding nii-chan.”

Sanemi groaned, “What did he do now?”

Your little girl shrugged, so as to say she doesn’t know, which only made the father all the more curious. Sanemi put the girl down before walking toward the entrance of the house that you two shared. He noticed how you were yelling at your eldest boy, who looked glum with a large frown on his face. That’s why you didn’t wake me, he thought, scratching the back of his head.

“How many times should I tell you that picking on people isn’t how you tell them you like them?”

Your son scoffed, “Whatever.”

“Don’t be stupid!”

Sanemi felt his daughter tug at his left hand, which caused him to turn to her with a questioning gaze.

“Pick me up, ‘tou-chan!”

He instantly picked her up, with her weighing as much as a flower did. Immediately, the child’s fingers traced the outline of his scars, bringing a soft smile to his face when he saw the same smile being reflected back in his daughter’s features. She leaned in and kissed his scar, forcing him to still his movements.

“Aren’t my scars scary?”

The girl shook her head as if it was the most preposterous thing she had ever heard. Perhaps, it was. He’d never know.

“They’re so awesome!”

Sanemi raised his eyebrows. A moment later, your son who was being scolded came over to stand beside his father.

“Nii-chan, aren’t 'tou-chan’s scars awesome?”

As if the boy was suddenly taken out of his stupor, his dark eyes widened, and a large grin plastered on his face.

“Yeah! ‘kaa-chan told us the story behind them!”

Sanemi narrowed his eyes.

“Did she now... What was the story?”

“You saved the world!”

Sanemi’s eyes widened when he spotted you, leaning against the entrance of the door, a wicked grin on your face. Sanemi scoffed before looking away from you, you and your idiotic tease of a personality. A hand rested on his son’s head and he cradled his daughter by his left waist.

But for a second, he swore he heard a voice whisper behind him,

‘My Nemi is the kindest’

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