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#life of an aristocratic dog
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kantraels · 2 months
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fakrichie · 1 year
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he's a natural blonde. he was illiterate his entire life. he's a horse girl. he has daddy issues. he's bisexual. he was a youngest child. he has religious trauma. he wanted to be a priest. he thinks only of sex and violence. he likes monotony and routine. he's camp. he's goth. he has a habit of taking things to extremes. he has an oedipus complex. he's a chronic liar. he loves music. he has abandonment issues. his dick is better than black tar heroin. he provokes people for fun. he has survivor's guilt. he's a dog person. he's a manic depressive. he's a rock star. he's a disgraced eighteenth century french aristocrat. he was murdered by his daughter and husband (but he didn't die).
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screeching-bunny · 11 months
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Part 2 on the yandere General hcs
Yandere! General pt.2
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Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’
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Pt. 1
Yandere! General is a battle-hardened leader with a reputation for being unyielding and fierce. An unapproachable force with a bloodthirsty aura present in his mannerism. So it’s no surprise that he’s out of place in the king’s banquet filled with joyous laughter and people waltzing onto the dance floor.
He feels repulsed by just being there, who cares if the royal family personally invited him, he should have stayed home. There were just too many people with ulterior motives for approaching and it didn’t help that the princess had a crush on him. God how he hated her, she just never seemed to want to leave him alone. She is a selfish little brat who whines all the time and always seems to balance others for her atrocious actions. “Please stay the night with me, I promise I’ll make it worthwhile? I’ve just missed seeing your face, I want to spend more time with you.” Yep, he really wished he stayed at home today.
Deciding that engaging in conversation with the princess was not worth it, he simply just ignored her and made his way outside to the royal garden. There, he sees a figure dancing in the moonlight. The way you moved had him transfixed and in a daze. He silently stares at them and waits for them to finish their performance. This dancer is actually you. Now the question arises, why are you dancing and in the royal garden no less? Well the answer to that question is quite complicated, actually.
Your father is a low leveled noble in the aristocratic society. Who is power hungry and strives to raise their social standing no matter what. Everyone in your family hates you and rarely acknowledges you. The reason for this is because your father cheated on his wife with a lowly maid working in his manor and conceived you. His wife, now your stepmother, was enraged by this and ended up murdering your biological mother. She was, however, never caught or tried. The only reason why she kept you around was because she thought that you would be useful for future purposes. Your family never really paid much attention to you and you have an older half sister who absolutely despises you. She treats you as if you were a dog or some common slave.
Your life was extremely miserable but the only thing that seemed to bring you happiness was dancing. You first learned to dance when you were eight. When one day you decide to sneak out of your father's manor and go visit town. Luckily for you, it was during that time that a festival was being held and you couldn’t take your eyes off of the dancers and secretly copied their moves. It wasn’t until one of them noticed you and asked if you would like to join them. Ever since then, you have been secretly going to town to learn and improve your dancing skills. It’s not like your family even cared that you were gone, heck they didn’t even notice.
Many years have passed and your love and passion for dance is still the same. This tranquility, however, did not last for long because the moment you turned eighteen your parents agreed to sell you off to be engaged to a rich but very old nobleman. No amount of begging and pleading could convince your parents to change their minds. It was always met with the same response of “Don’t you know we need the money? Why are you being so selfish?!?! How else could we raise our social status, don’t you know your sister needs this in order to have a chance with the crowned prince?!?! Just be lucky that you're alive and that we feed you!” You have never been more depressed. You’ve always dreamed of marrying for true love, you didn’t want things to end up this way.
The news of your engagement broke in high society which had helped boost your family's prestige. You had briefly met your soon to be husband and had to force yourself to not cry. After the meeting, your father severely scolded you and it was decided that the next time the two of you would meet, would be on your wedding day. Due to your family’s higher social status you were all invited to the royal banquet that was created to celebrate the country’s tremendous victory in the four year war. You’ve heard rumors about it and how it was mostly won due to the general who easily sunk ten battleships in one day.
The moment that you stepped foot into that room, you immediately felt as if you did not belong. You were so out of place and everything was just so suffocating for you. You had to go outside and take a breath of fresh air. When you made your way outside you noticed a beautiful path filled with followers and decided to follow it. There you saw a beautiful flower garden, none like you’ve ever seen before. Being there just felt so peaceful and relaxing. You couldn’t help but just live the moment and dance in the moonlit sky. During that time, everything just felt so right in the world.
After you finished your performance, someone coughed in order to get your attention. Looking to the right, your heart almost shot due to fear, it was Yandere! General. He starts to compliment your dancing and the way you shined brighter than any of the stars that night. You both chat for a few moments when he just randomly asks out of nowhere, if you wanted to marry him! You honestly could not believe this man, why would you want to marry someone you just met. Without batting an eye you quickly reject the offer and before he could say anything, one of his men went to inform him that the king wanted to speak with him. Clicking his tongue in annoyance he agrees to go and tells you that he’ll be back.
Watching him leave, you swiftly make your way to exit the garden and decide to hide out in one of the restrooms. When Yandere! General gets back and immediately tries to find you but to no avail because you successfully manage to avoid him and leave undetected. This does not deter him because he has been there to find you and orders his men to help his search. By the time that the sun starts to rise he learns almost everything about you. Your age, your family, and your engagement.
That same morning Yandere! General makes his way towards your house and demands for your hand in marriage. Your parents are unsure about what to say, on one hand you being married to the general would bring many benefits but, on the other, they already agreed to you being married to the old nobleman. Your father tells him about your engagement and Yandere! General responds calmly with, “Don't worry, I’ll handle it.” In the afternoon he mails the head of your fiancé to your parents. Welp problem solved, guess you’ll just have to marry him.
Running away in this situation is useless, the only thing that you can do is to just accept your fate. With a heavy heart, you interact with him everyday getting to know your future husband.
There were of course many protests from the upper class of society. How could someone like him marry a person of lower status? It just wasn’t right. These complaints mainly came from the princess who was the most vocal about it. She loved him so much how he could do this to her. She tried to stop the wedding of herself but Yandere! General threatened to kill her. When that didn’t work he told the royal family directly that if she tries to interfere any longer, then he won’t hesitate to rebel against the royal family. After that, all attempts were stopped.
Your wedding day is very grand, there is not one speck of dust to be seen anywhere. Everything seemed so perfect, with the best of items that only money could buy. There, in one of the rooms stood you, putting on your wedding outfit with many maids swarming you like a pack of bees. As you walk to the altar you are greeted with the smiling face of your fiancé. It felt like such a blur to you, that you could hardly even comprehend what was going on. It was as if some sucked all the air out of you.
“Do you take Yandere! General to be your lawful husband?”
“… I do.”
Pt.3
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lizzaneia-elizalde · 5 months
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you do historical au right? So how about a Villainess who actually is a regresser but she saw too much hardships in her previous life that this time she's all set on herself (you can add revenge or not if you don't want). A tyrant disguised saw her real self which is extremely kind to general public (she built orphanage, hospital and schools for her people) (she's the heir but got scammed in previous life, so she used all that knowledge to get even more riches with beneficial businesses so she's practically richest aristocrat). She's evil and rude on the looks (because she hates limelight and does all good will anonymously). So yeah. The tyrant is real deal evil and he's obsessed with our Villainess now. Oh dear. What a plight..
Sorry for the request being all over the place, i didn't know how to put it better :(
Yandere! Villain x Regressor! AFAB! Villainess! Reader
Anon, you know how to capture my attention. And the request is comprehensive, don't worry!
Another historical AU for the roster. This time, rather than starting off with the villain, let's start of with the MC/you! (Because most of the time it doesn't really focus on the ML now, does it? Hope you don't mind.)
Yandere! Villain name: Eros
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You don't remember how you got here, except for dying by a stupid woman who can't aim for jack shit.
You just got home from a grueling day's work. Always getting ahead of yourself and working yourself to the bone just to please your boss who's a major asshat, and loves when his employees curry favors with him.
It's a dog eats dog world, so you curried favors with him.
You're his favorite employee. Always giving you snacks and an extra day for your vacations. But that meant working harder than what's needed. Overtime, going home late, it drained you. But hey, it's worth it.
Yet, this wouldn't happen, and you would still be living like a young princess if it weren't for the damn mistress your fiance, the crown prince, has.
Elysia, a daughter of the baron, spent the night with the crown prince, Yuno. Earning the affection of the prince since...
Actually, you don't remember how Yuno became infatuated with Elysia.
Is the fuck really that good that Yuno neglected his fiancee?
And you, the daughter of the second Ducal household (who's not related to the royal family, of course) was blinded by rage and betrayal that you made Elysia's life a living hell.
Erm, why not the crown prince's too, then?
Remembering your past life made your head hurt. From the cliche love story down to the way you were treated made you scream to the oblivion.
After all, after Yuno figured out how you treated Elysia, he made your family kick you out. Powerless against the royal family, they had no choice but to exile you.
You got employed by your employer by then, an eccentric man who spoke of other worlds called 'Earth' and is bringing 'modern day capitalism' here. Whatever that means. But hey, he developed these things called 'cellphones' that made him skyrocket with money.
He's a weirdo, but at least he's easy to please.
But the bitch Elysia "accidentally" blasted light magic to your way, killing you instead of an assassin. Great.
But, then, you're only the minor villainess. The main villain was someone named Eros. The other Ducal household and your father's rival.
As young as 16, he already conquered the ducal household he's in and then, 6 years later, he had wealth rivalring that of the royal family's. Heck, maybe even surpassing it.
"Hello? Where's the checks and balances of this world?" That's what you usually ask yourself.
You never saw him outright, since he's always been so busy. But you clearly remembered when you're in and out of a coma back then after you got struck with the magic, a war broke out due to him.
Fortunately, you regressed into a baby still, so you could avoid being engaged to Yuno, and being involved with Elysia.
Growing up again with your mature mind was weird. Unlike last life, you weren't a brat, but a proper, cold, and an unattainable standard of what a noble woman should be. Well, if you exclude the coldness and the bitchy attitude sometimes.
In all honesty, your family loved you dearly. A clear contrast from your last life. You're a role model, perfect in every way. Beautiful, smart, talented, and shows clear interest in politics and business.
The previous life, you were only a mouth to feed with a pretty face and a political pawn to integrate yourself into the royal family.
And as usual, you got engaged to the crown prince, much to your dismay.
Yuno was easy to read. He doesn't like clingy women, and he likes the chase. He's dumb, and only knows how to spend money.
"Ah, he's worthless."
What did you saw in him in the previous life, really?
Since you were unattainable to Yuno, he became attached to you. Wanting to conquer you.
And you always returned his advances with a flick of your fan and covering your face with a glare with your sharp eyes.
You're the thorned Rose of the Kingdom. Beautiful, yet prickly. It brought you to the limelight, but also, not. Due to you being closed off, news of you rarely get out.
So in the free time you had, you always disguised yourself with your dark magic and filled up your own coffers with the help of your knowledge of business last life (from your employer.)
You built hospitals, made schooling accessible... You were basically the saintess rather than Elysia.
Oh, did I mention that Elysia, with light magic, was the saintess, and you with dark magic was the prophesied Villainess? It's complicated.
But right now, with Elysia failing to bed Yuno in his crown prince coronation, due to him being only attached to you, you were free to do what you want while thinking of your next plan.
What you didn't know is that a certain pair of crystal blue eyes followed you.
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You walked along the street of the outskirts of the Kingdom, inspecting the newly built school.
You just got out of the ducal household and immediately went here after being confronted by Elysia once more, who "accidentally" stumbled into the chateau and into you and Yuno. Can she get more obvious, really?
You never used your dark magic here in the outskirts since you felt safe in the people's arms. They never judged you, nor used you for your money. They're just glad more and more accessible facilities are being erected by the young lady.
While walking around, you got into the councilor's office who's busy with enrolling the children. He's the chief of the town, and is one of the few people who graduated fully back in the capital.
He graciously accepted the position of being the councilor after you approached him, since you genuinely wanted to help the outskirts.
You saw children happily playing around while the parents lined up, excitedly talking to one another.
When they saw you, they immediately curtsied and said hi.
"My lady! Hello!"
G-greetings my lady..."
"Oh my stars! It's the lady!"
"Look over here, my lady!"
You giggled and decided to mingle with them more, talking about mundane things in life and what other facilities can you put here.
"Okay, so a shopping center, huh? Okay, that's noted. Also, I think a gymnasium would work well also, so that there will be a place where all of you can have meetings, and also have children play."
They all excitedly nodded and bid you goodbye as you went out.
You felt like yourself here in the outskirts.
Maybe you can convince your father to give you this part of the territory, and your brother can manage the main household?
Your thoughts were interrupted by children pulling your skirt to play, cheekily grinning and playfully pushing a ball up to your arms. You grinned and chased them around, roaring loudly like a monster and pretending like you're a dragon.
The giggles and screams of delight of the children filled the lively streets, along the chatter of the townspeople.
"Sir? Are you okay? What are you looking at?"
"..."
Eros' eyes widened, then softened as he saw you, chasing the children around, playing with them and not minding the dirt clinging to your outfit.
He gulped, suddenly feeling his heartrate pick up as he cleared his throat. Red flushed his cheeks, as foreign yet also the familiar feeling of infatuation filled his heart.
The noise that surrounded him faded into the background, and somehow, everything seems so bright and colorful. All he could see is you, and you, and you...
You...
You...
Beautiful, thorned you.
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Eros.
The name itself sends shiver down the spine of people.
Of fear? Love? Or arousal?
He's a man of few words, only letting his actions talk to other people.
Such an otherwordly beauty like him garnered unwanted attention since he was a child.
Other than being extremely handsome, he's also very talented with politics and business, also with physical activities like horse riding and hunting.
Due to this, his mother developed a twisted inferiority complex, and also an almost incestious relationship with him.
She always hurled words that hurt his soul and emotions.
Then she'll hug him while saying sorry.
This cycle would continue on and on until he's 16.
It was supposed to be a joyous day, not until his mother forced himself on him.
Disgust, fear, and rage filled his body that time, and all he remembered is awakening his dark magic and consuming his mother.
After that, he was knocked out cold.
When he woke up, he remembered his past life on Earth.
He's a business man of such a high position, CEO.
He clawed out of his way from poverty. Stealing, investing, selling, he did everything just to get out of the clutches of being a plebian.
And, when he struck gold when his stationery business thrived, his genius made it possible for him to talk to investors and convinced them to invest in his work.
God, he's rich.
And once he reached the age of 24, he's a rich man.
Then he died due to being assassinated by his rival.
With now his previous life in his roster, he became a formidable business man. Eccentric even.
By some weird cheat, he developed cellphones.
Something so revolutionary was first met with skepticism, but it boomed in popularity when his friend, the crown prince Yuno, bought and used it.
it was weird, really. Yuno approached him to employ his ex fiancee in his company and take care of her.
Eros, who didn't mind, employed you.
Sweet, lovable you.
It was funny seeing you struggle to curry favor with him. Not used being the one who had to try to get close with him. The way you struggled to hide a frown when he mentioned over time, the way you hide your disdain when he talks about extra work...
God, you're so cute.
He spoiled you in the best he could do. Extra vacation days, snacks, all he could do without being too obvious.
Then you died.
You... Died.
By the hands of his friend, well, ex-friend's mistress.
Elysia.
That damn bitch doesn't know her place.
Then and there, his eccentricity died down, and all he knows is revenge back then.
You were in and out of coma, and seeing you swim between life and death made his heart roar out in pain.
He felt so helpless seeing you pale and vegetative, something that wasn't you.
So, with a soft promise leaving his lips, he waged war in your honor.
He fought blood, sweat, and tears in your name.
All he could think is you.
All he could see is you.
And as he ignored Yuno's plea, he beheaded Elysia.
The damn bitch raised the notion that dark magic users are evil, despite dark magic being only an another element.
She turned the tides on you.
Why should she live?
Yuno also. He betrayed you.
Once the royal family was dead, he brought your comatose body to the throne, and killed himself with you at the throne.
He made you ingest poison, something that doesn't cause pain to your already pained body.
Meanwhile, he killed himself by striking a sword down to his chest, and to his heart. The very same heart that loved you dearly.
Then he woke up,
a child again.
Back in time.
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Getting away from the busy bustle of the ball, you got out to the garden and sighed. Letting the cold air bite into your skin.
Dread filled your heart as you realized once more that Elysia was nowhere to be found, and so did Yuno.
Your nerves got to you and you left the scene, overthinking the worse of the worst.
Did Elysia actually bed Yuno successfully?
Albeit just a bit late?
You covered your mouth, shaking dreadfully. The pain of your last life was getting to you once more. Trauma trembling you to the core.
"My Lady? Are you okay?"
A deep voice broke you out of your reverie. Something so silky, smooth, and familiar.
You turned around, your heart pounding as you saw your employer, Eros. He's dressed in noble clothes, gold, black, and blue.
He looks more uptight and strict this time around. What happened? Why does he look like that?
You never connected the dots, since you thought your employer and Eros were two different people.
But this?
Your heart trembled.
"G-greetings, your lordship." You curtsied, fighting back a frown just like how you did with him last life.
"You're still the same as ever."
"What is it?"
"Oh nothing." Eros waved his hand.
This life, Eros was more brutal than the previous life. He exposed his mother, a pedophile who touched him and stole money from the household, letting her get beheaded by a rusty axe in the middle of the colosseum. After that, he joined the interkingdom war, and won it much earlier than before.
He's basically a warlord. A tyrant to his territory who imposed such strict rules that you doubted yourself if this was the same Eros you knew.
You both silently stood in front of each other before he took off his coat and gently draped it on your shoulders.
"It's cold out here, my lady." He whispered. His long eyelashes fluttering as he blinked.
He inhaled your scent, his lips trembling.
He missed you so much.
His precious rose.
He gently brought your hand to his lips, kissing it softly and lingering there, with his eyes screaming obsession.
His grip was strong yet also loving.
It made you blush.
"My Lady, if my friend, Yuno, hurt you, approach me."
Your eyes widened.
"Approach you?"
Eros smiled. His handsome face blinding you momentarily.
"Yes, i'll help you take revenge."
Eros eyes swiftly looked at the balcony up above.
"Like this."
Eros swiftly dipped you and kissed your lips.
God, you tasted so divine upon his lips.
His tongue delved into your mouth, sweeping and tangling with your much more timid ones. He cupped your cheeks, bringing you impossibly closer to him.
His eyes were glaring at Yuno back at the balcony, who was naked on their bottom half with Elysia, shielding you from the scene.
Yuno's eyes widened, and he hastily dressed up, his eyes boring into Eros', and you.
This life, he'll protect you from pain.
He'll protect you from Yuno and Elysia.
He'll burn down the ground for you.
Just say the word.
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Hmm, twist upon twists. I love it. HEHEHEHE
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mamayan · 7 months
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★彡THE QUEEN’S DOG☆彡
Yandere! Knight! Obanai x Princess! Reader
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Synopsis: Your loyal Knight would do anything for you. Absolutely anything.
TW: Murder • Massacre • Knight/Princess • Yandere Themes • NSFW • Oral (F)(M) • Dubcon (initial) • Mild gore description • Happy Ending
@desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi @ahashiraswife Thank you for the idea and inspiration♥️ Happy ending just for you!
It’s pitiful.
The scene before him so tragic he feels as if the air in his lungs has been stolen. There you lay, his Master, tearfully clutching a pillow to your chest while you attempt to stifle your cries.
You always do. No one in this entire palace or kingdom knew as much as him, how strong and compassionate you are, and how much suffering you endure quietly. Not for your own sake, but for that of others. Unworthy civilians and aristocrats alike, you smile and bare their sins upon your shoulders. He’s been a silent shadow for you, since the day you saved him all those years ago from his disgusting family, Obanai has dutifully devoted his entirety to you. His Master. His Princess.
Yet not even a full day has passed since you told him he could no longer serve by your side.
The memory making veins appear on the sides of his face, his scars tugging painfully as he grits his teeth.
Yes, his sweet and lovely Master, you, told him he was free. As if someone as filthy as him could ever be free, the closest he’s ever got being by your side alone.
The King had declared your marriage partner as the 5th prince of some low neighboring kingdom, hardly worth a rock compared to the jewel in which you were. It was an insult meant just for you, because your political standing had been slowly rising higher than the King’s himself. Your father merciless even to his own children. You hadn’t even been attempting to over shadow him, his own incompetence just being displayed better due to your charitable heart.
As revenge for doing your duties perfectly, the King has set to marry you off to a pathetic and unworthy prince.
Everyone was unworthy of you in his eyes.
A soft movement around his neck drew his attention to Kaburamaru. The white snake looking in your direction as well, as if offering his own silent consolation to your sorrows.
Sorrows that soon wouldn’t matter, his hand tightening around his blade as his eyes narrowed.
“Princess—!” You were awoken from your tear induced slumber by your closest lady’s maid, her expression drained of blood and horrified.
“Princess, we must leave at once, your life is in danger—!” Her hushed but trembling whisper has your attention, as you realize the palace is deathly silent when it would usually be bustling around this time of evening. Balls or parties hosted by your lavishly spending family.
Instead it’s still and chilly.
Wrong
You’re out of bed quickly, aware that as a member of the royal family, you are in constant danger of losing your life. Whether from internal or external strife, especially as a disposable Princess.
You look for him, eyes scanning for his familiar figure and worry nagging in your mind for his safety as you realize he isn’t here.
Why wasn’t he here? Your most trusted guard, your closest friend admittedly too…
Oh
You told him to leave.
Your heart sinks with a bit of melancholy. It was better this way then, he’s suffered so much in his life, shouldn’t he be freed at last? From the shackles of your position, from the drama and thorns inside this palace, and from the hatred he still holds in his heart towards himself.
“Princess—please!” You’re being dragged towards the secret chamber located in your room. The hidden lever pulled to reveal a passage leading into the inner palace where an exit existed. You’d likely rendezvous with your family if they were safe. You drew close your outer sleep robe, the chill of the stone passage ways seeping into you and causing your teeth to minutely clatter. Your lady’s maid keeping you moving quickly, fear and adrenaline moving you both.
As you near the end and prepare to take a left turn out to exit the palace, you spot a sight of pure carnage and horror.
Blood everywhere, splattered up even onto the tunnel ceiling, with rivers flowing from common palace knights before you. Their corpses piled as if to act as a blockade, and the echoed steps behind you alert you to someone coming after you from your bedroom.
You drag your lady’s maid and rush to the right, your exit clearly blocked out of the palace that way, but you knew of several other secret spots to release you from the confines of your home. The sobs and cries she made breaking your heart, but you knew you both needed to stay clear headed to survive.
“I know it’s scary, but please keep moving! We’ve got other exists as well.”
“B-but Princess— they were all dead—!”
“I know… I know.” You pulled yourself together anyway, fear and terror propelling you faster until you were the one dragging your lady’s maid. Her feet tripping behind her as she began slowing and dragging you down.
“My lady—! Please don’t leave me, I don’t want to die—ah…” you stop in horror as you look back and realize she’d stopped, halting you as well.
Through her chest was a wavy blade.
“What…?” You freeze, stupidly you freeze, as you watch the blade exit your servant’s chest as she drops dead to the floor before you.
Your eyes travel from her dead body up to the one who killed her. Before your eyes is the one person you trusted unconditionally.
“Obanai…” you whisper his name, dazed and unsure of the reality happening around you.
The bandages around his lower face had spots of blood dotting them, his loose robes also soaked from the torso down, dark red dripping onto the stone floors. His normally lavender blade saturated in red.
“…O-Obanai…” The tremble in your voice and hushed whisper pathetic. Nothing like the dignity a Princess should have, but even so, tears leak down your cheeks as conclusions can be made.
Were you going to die now?
His hand lifted, and with the same attitude as always, Obanai pointed a finger at your dead lady in waiting.
“Unforgivable… Master, she was trying to drag you down with her. She’s not loyal to you at all! That thing isn’t worth keeping alive.” The conviction in his tone has you standing on unsteady feet. Fear and dread consuming you despite the one you adore and love being the one to inflict it.
“Stop… Obanai I’m ordering you to stop!” Your cry doesn’t shake his resolve in the least, in fact, it merely solidifies his feelings. This kingdom, this palace, these people… none of them are worthy of your tears which you shed. He’s well aware he isn’t worthy either… but at least his loyalty is true. He would never waver like that woman slowing you down and begging for her life.
He’d never liked her, her eyes always greedily taking in your jewelry or clothing. She believed she was clever when she begged for rewards despite her salary and pay being one of the highest of any servant. A greedy and disgusting woman which should’ve never been by your side.
He moved slowly, because though it pained him in his heart to scare you, he also wanted you to see.
The freedom which he’s given you, which you deserve.
You act according to plan, turning and running. Your footsteps fading as Obanai stops to observe. His lips turn down in disgust as he eyes the corpse before him disdainfully.
“Disgraceful.” He mutters lowly, turning and walking the opposite direction in which you ran.
It’s so quiet you want to scream. The once ornate walls and beautiful bustling palace now a wasteland of corpses. Severed heads and limps strewn about, the massacre leaving you struggling to breathe. You stumble through it all, blurry vision looking for any signs of life. Your feet carrying you not from the palace, but towards the throne room.
You knew if this was entirely his work… even if you ran your fate was sealed.
Dead
All of them. Your father’s bloody and beaten body the only one different from the others which had been cut down.
You held no personal attachment to them, no, but it didn’t make the image any easier to stomach.
“Master has always been too kind. You always stay true to your heart no matter how corrupt the world is outside. He didn’t deserve to sit on that throne…” you turn, eyes staring vacantly at your once trusted and beloved Knight. “You deserve to sit there though…” his eyes meet your own. Yellow and turquoise, eyes he complains over, which you’ve endlessly told him how beautiful they were. They looked the same, which terrified you more, because was he always capable of this?
Was the catalyst you telling him to retire and be free from this nightmare? You didn’t have any answers.
Your knees hit the soft carpeted floors, a dull thud all that rings as a minor ache travels up your legs.
Obanai walks carefully, as if he’s scared of making you even more fearful of him. You note blankly his clothing and bandages have been changed.
He cleaned up while you looked at the dead bodies of your family and the palace.
He stops before you, your eyes staring at his thighs silently as you wonder if he plans to make it quick.
He crouches down, Kaburamaru sneaking out to peak curiously at you. Your shoulders are slumped in defeat, tear streaked cheeks and disheveled appearance only furthering the image in Obanai’s mind that you need him. Only he can protect you, his belief that you had no need for worthless subjects by your side. While he’s not clean himself, he doesn’t mind taking on dirty tasks like cleaning up vermin around you like this, not at all.
It’s his honor to serve you, his savior.
“C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.” His calm demeanor leaving you pliant in his hold, your mind truly incapable of comprehending all the mess which has unfolded tonight. Picked up in his arms, he takes you back through the carnage all the way to your bedroom, the only place in the palace untouched or sullied.
He walks you over to the bed, setting you down and moving a step back to observe you for a moment.
His silence leaving you quaking with distress, your eyes looking up to his.
“You’re not… going to kill me too?”
There, in your bed looking so pitiful and sad, Obanai is overcome with an overwhelming need to protect you. To keep you safe. Away from the nightmares which plague you and hostility in every word thrown your way.
He wants to destroy this kingdom for the harm which it’s done to you.
And the words which won’t leave his heart, which he can’t help but feel each and every time he looks at your pure and perfect picture.
He wants to ruin you. Dirty you with his filthy hands and blood, drag you to hell with him and bask in the satisfaction of having you as his own. Corrupt you so throughly you can’t live without him.
It’s you who told him he was beautiful after all. His face, his scars, his blood. His eyes dance over the locket he had given you recently, the golden chain with jewels matching his eyes subtle but lovely on you.
He’s fighting, internally as you watch quiet, for the winning side.
He wants to protect you and he knows he’s not even worthy to lick your shoe—but he wants to similarly push your face into the floor and make you cry and scream for mercy only he can bestow.
Something wins… as he seems to settle and calm down, raising his head to look into your eyes once more. Holding your gaze steadily as he steps forward.
Obanai allows Kaburamaru to slither onto the floor, letting his friend keep watch for anyone foolish enough to interrupt.
His hands shaking as he moves to unwrap his hideous appearance.
Just like the first time, and the followings times after, you don’t flinch. Your eyes don’t waver, and while fear is still in your depths he knows it’s not form his appearance but his actions. He’s not delusional.
“I love you.” He speaks without the bandages, his scars on display for you.
“I love you.” He repeats.
You can barely swallow past the lump in your throat, emotion gripping you tightly. You’re shaking terribly as he sets a knee on the bed, torso and face leaning closer to your own.
“I love you.” He whispers against your lips, before he finally indulges the madness inside of him, kissing you.
I know, you wanted to say, but his tongue is quick to slip inside your mouth, clumsy and without any indication. You choke a bit, moving away to turn and cough, but his hands are gripping your face and turning you back for him to kiss again.
Licking over your lips and forcing your jaw to open again, Obanai is messy in his passion. He’s trembling with you, though his reasons are for holding back more than fear. He’s certainly nervous, but excitement seems to be winning.
“You’re so perfect. So kind and wonderful. I don’t deserve you.” His lips only disconnect with your own so he can whisper his heart to you. The straw which broke the camels back, letting loose a dam of emotions.
“I want you. I need you. You need me too, don’t you?” He bites a little too hard on your lower lip, you sharply jerking in his hold only causation for him to grip you tighter.
True to his love for serpents, he’s wrapped around you like one, constricting you almost to the point of pain. You taste blood as your tears flow, unable to fight back despite his lean stature. His strength not matching his appearance in the least as he pins you to the bed. Greedily drinking your swollen lips which he’d kissed and bitten. His eyes full of desire and awe, as he goes to kiss you again, not letting you deny his advances.
“I need you… I need you… I need you…” his whiny voice slightly hissing his speech as his hands begin to wander and grab at your clothing.
“You need me too.” It’s as if he’s trying to convince himself.
Even as the tears and sorrows in your heart flow out, you realize brokenly how terrible this all is. His desperate whimpers against your mouth, his mindless babbling, and the atrocities he’s committed in your name.
If you push him away, what will happen come day when the nobles come for morning court? Their King and royal family slaughtered and all but a fragile and politically weak Princess remains. Sure, you’re loved by the people, but you’d be a puppet for their play at the very minimum. Married to some noble’s son looking to rule, shoved to a corner of the palace and forgotten.
Even if this massacre had never occurred… would you be any better off either?
“I love you… please…” he sounds more broken than you, his eyes soft and watery as he looks down on you with those pretty eyes you love so dearly.
Your loyal servant, your faithful knight. He didn’t mean it all did he? He wanted to protect you… or at least that’s what you’d make yourself believe.
Because in the end, no one in the royal family is ever innocent, and you knew your survival rested now in his hands.
Your resolve strengthened by your survival instinct, your hands slowly moving to wrap around his neck and hug him closer.
“I love you too…” and though these words are spoken in a husky whisper from your lips, and though tears pool down your cheeks, Obanai is overcome with joy. Your fate is sealed, but you’re a brilliant tactician in the end. Isn’t this the best route anyway? You’d sit as the power holder on the throne with his strength and the aid of your allies.
So you kiss back, less clumsy than him, more confident and sure because though he’s capable of disastrous violence, he’s still Obanai. Your sweet guard with a slightly immature attitude and a loyal heart.
It doesn’t take much to flip your positions, his body happy to fulfill whatever you desire as you break from his lips to kiss his face. Kiss his scars which he hates so much but you love, because they meant he survived. Down to his neck your lips follow, sucking a few marks and pulling a few needy moans from his lips.
Despite his evident intentions, it’s you leading. You keeping this violent man on a leash. Your hands move, slipping beneath his clothes to feel the skin of his bare chest.
“Master—“ he’s breathing heavily beneath you as you lean back and take in his disheveled appearance very similar to your own.
You don’t answer with anything but a tired smile and stained face, weakly beginning to remove your nightgown.
Obanai is captivated. Your skin slowly being revealed to his eyes, the most he’s ever seen as he sees your breasts bare before him. Your nipples hardened by the cool air and adrenaline which had been dumped into your system earlier.
“C-can I touch…?” He sounds so unsure, so sweet and meek, and you’re nearly convinced he is before reminding yourself firmly of what he’s capable of.
“Please,” you nod, gripping his wrists and bringing his hands to your chest. You’re resting over his abdomen, but when you relax and fully sit back, you feel his erection pressing into your ass.
Obanai is an eager lover, hands moving to cup and squeeze, to softly tug on your nipples until you’re grinding back into him. Your little moans fuel to the fire in his chest as he leans up to lick and suck. Leaving a trail of salvia in his wake.
He pulls back too soon, but he’s quickly removing his clothing and encouraging you to as well.
There’s no real time for you to regret and reminisce, not in a world like yours and especially not when his eyes are so bright. You’re kissing him again, as his hands explode and map your naked figure, pampered from a life indoors and so soft. Your wet heat leaving a sticky mess over his hard cock, you sneak a quick glance down at the tip peaking out between your thighs, reddened and engorged.
He’s not exceptionally long, but he’s certainly thick and slightly worrisome when it comes to fitting inside you.
“If you look at it like that…” his words snap you from your daze, eyes meeting his as you realize you’d been staring for a minute.
“I—w-will it fit?” your question is simple, practical even, but his reaction is anything but.
“Fuck, I’ll make it…” he’s muttering to himself more than speaking to you, an arm wrapping around your waist and forcing you face first against his clavicle. This position forcing your ass up in the air, where he uses his free and to dip behind you and run a finger through your messy folds.
“You’re wet…” he doesn’t hesitate to slip a finger inside, moaning at the feel of you wrapped around him. Your walls tightly flexing as he curls his finger, you gasp and moan as you relax, delighting him.
“Does that feel good? Am I making you feel good?” He’s watching you intently, every reaction you make noted in detail in his mind. You don’t get to answer as he slides another finger inside you, your hands finding purchase on his firm shoulders as your hips wiggle.
“You’re so beautiful… so soft…” his light praise is intoxicating as you further throw the tragedies of today from your mind and let him pleasure you. “You get tighter when I do this,” you jolt against him, pushing your face into his neck while your back further arches, his fingers becoming soaked in your slick. “I can add another…?” You mewl right against his ear, a shiver of pleasure wracking his body at the new sensation. “Obanai♡” your hips are pushing against his hand now, trying to take his fingers deeper inside your greedy cunt, your tongue lolling out to lick and suck at his neck.
Obanai jerks under you, hissing in pleasure as you nip and suck at the tender areas of his neck, groaning and whining as his hand speeds up.
“You’re shaking so much… are you going to cum?” His observations spot on as you shake your ass and further arouse Obanai, his eyes heavy lidded watching you.
“I’m… I think m’gonna—yes—ngh—♡!”
Your slurred speech against his neck as you cum is erotic, your wet lips parted and panting as your pussy gushes and spasms with his fingers deep inside you. You go pliant, panting and breathing hard as you return back from your high. Obanai softly patting your head with his hand not soaked in your cum, bringing the one that is up to his lips for a taste.
He licks his fingers like one might when they steal a taste of some icing or whipped cream. Sucking his entire finger into his mouth and groaning, his eyes sliding and finding yours to hold as he cleans his entire hand.
“You’re going to do that again.”
Your eyes widen, bewildered as you realize he means another orgasm.
“But what about—“ you’re on your back quickly, Obanai between your legs as his mouth opens and his long tongue takes a bold lick of your pussy.
You’re gripping his hair in an instant, your knight quick to catch on to your pleasure as his tongue slides inside your pussy. The feeling of the soft warm appendage moving and licking inside of you has your heels digging into the mattress and hips jerking up. “Obanai!” your shout startles him, his face quick to snap up and check on you, but you’re whining and yanking his face back down, grinding your pussy back onto his tongue. He takes the hint, sliding back inside of you while he works to absolutely devour you. You can’t help it, the feeling unlike your fingers or even his, stretching you open. Your fingers in his hair aren’t gentle, gripping the silky black strands tight as you moan and grind against his face, driving him wild as he works to send you over the edge again. The loud lapping of his tongue and squelching of your cunt almost matching the volume of your moans.
“A-again—!” is the only warning before you’re soaking his face. His moan of pleasure echoing yours, not pulling from your pussy even as you try to push him away. “N-no more, Obanai,” you pant and struggle until he finally relents, pulling back to look down at the mess you’d made.
His lower face glistening with your release, scars and lips glossy and making for a pretty picture in your head. His heterochromatic eyes look up your body to your face, widening as he sees the smile on your lips.
“Again?” He’s hesitant in asking, because you look mildly distressed at the prospect but equally enthralled with the idea.
Aren’t you a wicked woman? Having her way with her knight after he committed treason.
“I want you to feel good too.” Your sweet words echo in his heart, his chest feeling tight as he leans over you, giving you a gentle kiss and pushing the taste of you on your own tongue. Obanai can’t help the nearly manic look in his eyes, swirling with obsession and happiness as he stares down at you.
“I love you.” A kiss. “I love you.” A deeper one. “I love you.” His tip lines up with your entrance. “I love you.” He’s pushing in, grunting as you cry out. “I—ah, I love you!” He’s pushing deep inside, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth as he grips your hips to bring you up closer.
“Thank you—,” he sounds emotional, his eyes a bit watery as he gives you the sweetest look, your chest aching before he’s pulling out and sliding in again.
You’re lost, as he begins a slow and steady pace, taking his time as he pulls you into his arms to kiss and whisper to you while his hips work to test how deep and fast he should go. His soft pants and moans right beside your ear, occasionally letting his tongue flick out and caress the shell while you tighten and mewl for him. “So pretty, I don’t deserve this but— I need you.” The desperation in his voice makes you believe him. “I don’t want freedom.” He holds eye contact, finally setting a steady but deep rhythm with his cock as he works you towards another orgasm. “I don’t want fortune or status.” A hand travels up your navel and grips your jaw, ensuring your focus is on him even though his soaked cock easily plunging into you now would say otherwise.
“I want you, only you, just you, be mine—“ it’s like he’s trying to cast a spell, “I’m already yours—ah, so be mine Princess, no— Queen.”
Your eyes widen, not just from the intense pleasure and slow burn building inside of you, but the title in which he calls you.
Queen
That’s right, without any other royal family members alive, you were the next in line.
Obanai knows you, even deeper than you know yourself at times. He sees it in your eyes, the urgency to do more but forced to stay silent due to your gender and birth rank. He knows you crave more, more power, more ability to be of use. While you smile and never show anyone the hardship you endure, he’s watching.
“So fucking tight— ah,” he’s whining loudly, a nearly boyish muffled moan against your neck making you close. “I want to cum, my Queen, please—“ despite his begging, his hips are moving faster, thrusting harder and erratically inside you while you wind even tighter listening and feeling him.
“Yes, m-me too, Obanai,” you pull his hair, eliciting a sensual groan as he pulls up so you can see him.
“I want to taste you too—,” your words have him nearly finishing then and there, his face scrunching into almost a pained expression as he tries to hold off until you finish.
It doesn’t take long, but feeling you cum but holding back his own has him almost passing out. His breathing coming to a halt as he grits his teeth and holds onto you for dear life.
“So good, oh, please I need—,” you’re gently pushing him away, his whine adorable as you slide to your hands and knees before him, opening your mouth similarly to those story books you keep hidden in your private library.
He tastes a bit spicy, his sweat and your slick combined an arousing combination as you lick and suck while Obanai does his best to stay still for you. His mind reeling as his hands twitch out at his sides, unsure where to put them. Unsure where to put himself, as his eyes roll back when you finally take him inside your warm wet mouth. Little tongue swirling around his tip so gently, it’s impossible not to release a choked cry and fill your mouth with his hot cum.
You’re kind enough to clean him up thoroughly, a bit of revenge for the earlier overstimulation he’d caused.
You both lay in your bed, taking a moment to just sit in silence.
And while Obanai pulls you into his embrace, you think logically as your hormones and earlier panic ease.
He’d saved you.
In the most irresponsible and inhumane way possible, but nonetheless, he’d saved you.
What to do now though, was up to you.
“I love you…I love you…” his murmurs lulling you to sleep as you come to a solution. Resting in your faithful but insane servant’s arms as exhaustion pulls you under. Your own words barely caught by Obanai, a soft muttering of “love you too…” before your following snores is his entire world. He glances apologetically at Kaburamaru, having forgotten his friend was keeping guard for a while during his passion.
Though his friend had no expression, he could feel the judgment nonetheless.
“Congratulations you Majesty, a peace treaty with XYZ has been at a stand still for nearly thirty years, and you’ve accomplished it!”
“Her Majesty looks so lovely, I wonder when the next royal ball will be.”
“Your Majesty, asking for advisory on the military rations on the border-“
“You Majesty—!”
You slump at your desk, relieved as the last meeting for the day ends and you can slouch inelegantly as you sigh.
Warm calloused hands come to your shoulders, massaging with the perfect strength to lessen the tension you hold.
“You need to rest, my Queen.” The sultry words in your ear cause a shiver to run down your spine, and you can feel his smile.
“I need to work, I have a lot of upcoming events due to national holidays and charity fundraisers—“ he’s twisting you around to capture your lips, only pulling away when you cease your struggles.
His gaze dark and swirling with something you can’t name, the beautiful duel colored eyes staring straight through you.
“Rest, let’s go. You’re always perfectly on schedule, no need for extra work now.” Despite his own strict attitude and work ethic, he seems to determined to keep you from burning out. Kaburamaru peeking out as if in agreement, his tongue flicking out in a friendly gesture.
“I know a few ways you can relax.” His teasing tone eluding to something you’re very much in agreement with. Though you wished he’d stop wearing his mask all together, you’re also happy to be the only one to see him in his entirety.
Your teasing banter with your royal guard and escort is dutifully ignored by all palace staff, commoners, and aristocrats alike. Nobles may whisper behind closed doors, but none are brave enough to dare go against the Queen’s Mad Dog.
They don’t want to be bitten after all.
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jisungsdaydreamer · 4 months
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Anti-Romantic | CHAPTER THREE | 18+
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«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»
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DRUNK IN LOVE
“I haven’t been the same since we met.”
«PREVIOUS CHAPTER» · «SERIES MASTERLIST»
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Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Genre: Non idol au, fluff, smut, romcom, drama, opposites attract Chapter Warnings: explicit sexual content, switch!Hyunjin, switch!reader, mentions of emotionally abusive ex, mutual fantasizing, sexual fantasy sequence (dom!reader, sub!Hyunjin), cumeating/cumplay, masturbation (f), heavy insecurity and self deprecation, oral (f receiving), rough sex, degradation, titfucking, pussy slapping, edging/orgasm denial, creampie, unprotected sex, misuse of alcohol (reader is a very sad drunk), both of them are actual idiots that will make you want to to scream ⚠️not beta-read yet, but will be updated with the edits soon⚠️ Word Count: 20.5k
P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡
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The first thing Hyunjin understands when he comes to is how disgusting his mouth tastes. The faint, bitter taste of alcohol lingering on his tongue brings the memory of the night prior’s bad decisions; he’s never gone a single day in his life without brushing his teeth at night, in addition to the rest of his extensive pre-bedtime routine. The lack of moisture that pulls at his skin like a scratchy draft has him reaching for his nightstand, from where he’s burrowed in blankets like a corn dog. For a few embarrassing minutes, Hyunjin puts up a valiant effort trying to locate his special night repair face lotion solely with his flailing palm, before he’s rudely interrupted.
“Wake the fuck up, Sleeping Beauty.” 
The strangely familiar, feminine yet husky voice brings him hurtling back into reality. Cautiously, Hyunjin retracts his arm and opens his eyes; the blinding light that meets them does not help his splitting headache that rivals the shaking faultlines of San Andreas. 
When he finally adjusts to the brightness, he realizes that he’s in a room that’s definitely not his. The vast SolarSmart windows that would have already dimmed to match his sleepy blinking have been replaced by an antique bay window. Instead of the aristocratic fragrance of his favorite Le Labo candle, the air is thick with the smell of maple syrup. And his beloved Egyptian cotton sheets are gone in favor of a sherpa set that has him sweating in the year-round heat, which isn’t helped by the fact that this place isn’t humidity controlled.
“I’ve always thought of myself as more of a Rapunzel,” Hyunjin groans, stretching and tilting his head up to meet Lisa’s eyes. “You know, great hair and all.”
“Ha ha.” Lisa rolls her eyes, trying to maintain her expression of annoyance, but Hyunjin catches the hint of a smile on her lips; it’s inevitable, trying to fight the effect of his charms, especially when he’s just woken up all adorable and rumpled by sleep. “It’s almost noon, I thought I’d wake you up.”
“Noon?!” Hyunjin flies into a sitting position, frozen in an unfamiliar panic and unable to think of what to do next. By this time in his usual daily routine, he would have been enjoying a light lunch in his office while journaling in his gratitude notebook. Fuck, his stomach calls out for a nice balsamic arugula salad, maybe with a freshly-squeezed orange juice on the side to help with the regrettable effects of alcohol.
Lisa coughs lightly, bending down to pick up a discarded collection of clothing strewn on the floor, before handing it over to Hyunjin. The nausea rises up in Hyunjin’s stomach as he sifts through the clothes that he recognizes as his own. And then, as if in sudden remembrance, he looks down at himself and realizes that he’s completely naked except for his Gucci boxers. Horrified, he looks over at Lisa, but before he can say anything, she cuts him off.
“No. We didn’t have sex.” Lisa avoids Hyunjin’s eyes, picking at one of her burgundy-painted nails. She seems strangely skittish, in stark comparison to her confident, nearly feline-like mannerisms last night.
“Then what happened last night?” Hyunjin slips on his shirt and slides out of bed to pull his pants on, resolving to get dressed already right there; at this point, there is no more mortifying himself.
Lisa shrugs, an embarrassed blush overtaking her features. “We did some shots at the bar, before I suggested you come over for better drinks, so we could, well, you know. Hook-up. But you really did drink more. A lot more. And just as you took off your clothes, you blacked-out.”
“Blacked-out?” Hyunjin’s whole body feels racked with disbelief. And yet, the memories come fading back in: the botched matchmaking event, him retreating to drink away his sorrows, the handsy taxi ride back to Lisa’s place. “I barely even get tipsy.”
“It seemed like there was a lot on your mind last night. I don’t know what to say to you right now.” Lisa scratches her wrist lightly, as if trying to occupy herself while waiting for Hyunjin to get the hell out of her home. But the movement draws Hyunjin’s attention to her hand, where a fat, glimmering diamond rests on her ring finger, one that wasn’t there the previous night.
Realization flows in, ghastly and unwarranted. He clears his throat, tossing his jacket over his shoulders. “And you’re fucking married.”
Lisa freezes, the blood completely draining out of her face as her lips go paper thin. “I can explain.”
Hyunjin tilts his head with fresh resolve, taking his phone and wallet from where they’re fortunately perched on top of the nightstand. “Nope. I’m getting out of here. Looks like you’ve got some personal things going—” 
“Hyunjin, I’m not married. Please, just—” Lisa quickly crosses in front of him, blocking the doorway, looking at him with pleading eyes. “I’m engaged.”
“Big difference that makes,” Hyunjin mutters, crossing his arms. Nevertheless, he waits for her to speak, softening when he catches the glimpse of pain flash in her eyes.
“My fiancé. He’s… I- I know he’s not working late all those nights, like he says he is.” Lisa exhales shakily, closing her eyes. “I know who you are. The Love Doctor. Initially, I thought I would talk to Hoseok, maybe book us an appointment with you. But then I saw you at the bar, and I don’t know, it felt like a sign.”
“And you wanted to make him hurt like he hurt you,” Hyunjin finishes for her. He’d had clients like Lisa, the vengeful wives looking to bite back at the ones who wronged them— he just never imagined that he would have almost been a part of such a plot. 
She nods guiltily. “And I also just wanted to forget everything, even if it was going to be temporary. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, so when you fell asleep, I was kind of relieved.”
Hyunjin snorts and snaps back with no real malice in his words, just a hint of mirth. “Glad me blacking out worked well for you.”
Lisa shoots him a tiny, sheepish grin. “To be fair, I don’t think you really wanted to go through with it. When you were drunk, you kept repeating the same name over and over again.”
He stills at her response, remembering no such event. But of course it makes sense; there’s a certain someone lingering in his thoughts 24/7, and she has no plan of leaving him anytime soon. “I guess.”
If she notices the immediate color in Hyunjin’s cheeks, Lisa says nothing. She just shuffles to the side, letting Hyunjin exit the bedroom before leading him to the main entrance of her apartment. “Again, I’m sorry about everything, Hyunjin. I shouldn’t have tried to use you like that. I really am sorry.”
Hyunjin accepts her apology, a strange mix of sympathy and understanding unfurling in his stomach. After all, he tried doing the same thing, to find someone else to warm his bed and take his mind off of the one person he really wanted. It was a bad night for both of them. “You’re still welcome to find me anytime.”
“Thanks a lot.” Lisa gives him a smile, before it fades into something more playful, one that fits her better than any expression he’s seen on her so far. “If I’m being honest, though, you're not really my type.”
“You know exactly what I mean. Call my secretary and book an appointment if you ever want one. With or without your fiancé.” Hyunjin scoffs, glaring at Lisa over his shoulder as he walks away. “And I’m everyone’s type.”
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When his Uber finally pulls up in front of Oasis, Hyunjin hurries up to his penthouse and tries to make the most out of the rest of the cruelly shortened day— after a quick shower to wash off the stench of alcohol and pine air freshener.
Hunched over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch at his kitchen island, Hyunjin swipes through all of the pop-ups on his laptop, going through everything that he’s missed in the time during which he’d dissociated from all common sense. Everyday, Wonyoung makes sure Hyunjin stays up-to-date on all of his engagements by adding all of his event invitations to his Google calendar; Hyunjin spends a good few minutes clicking through everything, accepting all of his upcoming meetings. He’s been slacking off at work lately, skipping team lunches and sitting out on evening debriefs— but that’s all about to change, because Hyunjin needs to get his life back together again. And that includes making things right with you. 
“Want to pull up for a quick afternoon appointment?” Hyunjin mouths out loud. He then makes a face and deletes the letter, groaning out loud. “This isn’t a high school date…”
After a few more failed attempts at trying to write a breezy but appropriate check-in email to you, Hyunjin resolves to call his no-nonsense secretary, knowing that the Velma to his Daphne would help him rediscover his suavity again. Maybe she could even catch him up on today’s SeoulSpark gossip that he’d missed, if they had time. But he underestimates her temper when she finally picks up after the fourth ring:
“Where the fuck were you?” Wonyoung screeches into the phone, making Hyunjin wince and pull his iPhone away from his ear. “Do you know how worried sick I was? How many times have I called you? You didn’t even show up to the brunch you had with the Carters! I had to practically beg Beyoncé not to drop us, only after promising her and Jay-Z five free sessions! I hope you’re ready to deal with the company's losses!”
“I’m sorry, I know, I know.” Hyunjin whines. “I know I’ve been really sidetracked, but I promise I’m making things right.”
“You’d better, Hyunjin.” Wonyoung bites, before taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. “I want you over at SeoulSpark on Monday at 6 AM, sharp. We will be going over each and every single client, and then making a game plan for the next five months. You have a meeting with Dr. Jeon, and then Mr. Jung. And Ms. Y/L/N requested an appointment last night, and you can most certainly afford it right now, so you’ll also be meeting with her. Respectfully, I suggest you get your ass over here as soon as possible.”
“Yes, yes— wait.” Hyunjin perks up, dropping his spoon into the soggy bowl of cereal, not minding the tiny droplets of milk that splash up at him. “Did you say Y/N?”
“What’s the matter?”
He shakes his head, dumping the remnants of his meal into the sink. “Nothing. I’ll see you!”
The slow drag of the days until the next week turns into a blur on Monday morning. Hyunjin pulls on a crisp white Celine t-shirt to go with a flowy pair of pleated trousers from the back of his closet, the kind of casual, chic outfit tailored that can always uplift any day. As a final touch, Hyunjin shrugs on a simple yet effective cardigan and dabs some cologne onto his wrists. 
During the drive over to SeoulSpark, Hyunjin reflects on the fact that he’d be seeing you in just a few hours, even though he just saw you a few days ago. When you could barely look Hyunjin in the eye after his colossal blunder. When you’d run away to be far, far away from him, somewhere he couldn’t hurt you again. But he wouldn’t let that happen again, ever. You’re far too precious, and he doesn’t plan on losing you anytime soon, even if you’ll never know what you truly mean to him.
He sighs, parking Cami in her specially reserved spot in the SeoulSpark garage, before taking off his shades and heading inside. As soon as he steps through the sliding glass doors, he can barely muster up a ‘hello’ to his receptionist, Felix, before Wonyoung pounces on him. In the blink of an eye, Wonyoung has dragged him up to his office, where she sits him down at his desk and begins to ferociously rattle off his to-do list for the day.
Luckily, he’s saved by Dr. Jeon, who raps on the open door with a wry smile on his face. “Can I come in, Wonyoung, or are you still busy disciplining Hyunjin?”
Wonyoung huffs at him, before picking up her tablet and making her way out. “He’s all yours. Make it snappy, though. He has a full schedule.”
“Yes, Ms. Jang.” Dr. Jeon says with mock seriousness that makes Wonyoung shoot him a murderous glare, before making himself comfortable on the sofa and turning to Hyunjin. “Damn, where’d you buy this thing? I could take a fat nap here.”
“West Elm.” Hyunjin is unable to keep the smile off of his face. “What’s up, Jungkook?”
“Well, this is kind of an awkward question, if you don’t mind…” Jungkook shoots him a hopeful look, and Hyunjin gives him a nod to continue. “I was just wondering about the company policy about dating clients? It isn’t clear whether we’re allowed to or not, but I know it’s a little iffy.”
Hyunjin sits up in surprise, mind immediately going to you. The SeoulSpark guidelines on dating clients were never explicit to begin with, but it was kind of unsaid that dating clients is out of the question, especially when it could jeopardize business. Of course he’d thought about this before, on the nights when he had been feeling extra delusional over the thought of having you all to himself. But it could never be real.
“What’s this all about, Jungkook?” Hyunjin shifts in his seat warily. “We generally advise against it, even after clients decide to end their memberships. It’s messy territory, one that we try to avoid.”
Jungkook clears his throat. “I mean, she’s not even my client. I think she’s one of yours, actually. She caught my eye at the matchmaking event yesterday— she was wearing this sexy blue sundress. Y/N was her name, I think? I thought, I don't know, that I could maybe ask her out or something? If she didn’t have any matches?”
Oh, hell no.
Hyunjin’s blood immediately goes cold. He likes Jungkook— a lot, actually. He’s a good colleague and friend, and a great drinking buddy when he feels up to it. Jungkook has tagged along with him and Seungmin quite often, whenever they decide to go out to find someone to warm their beds for the night. The topic of women has never been foreign between them, especially in a setting like SeoulSpark. But his woman? Absolutely not. 
Even if you aren’t actually his, Hyunjin would rather break Jungkook’s annoyingly perfect nose than see his hands all over you, and that’s saying something, because Hyunjin hates killing even mosquitos. Jungkook watching you laugh over a plate of pasta. Jungkook helping you into his car. Jungkook kissing you while he brings heaven to you in his bed. All of the things that Hyunjin should get to do.
Technically, it wouldn’t be the end of the world for SeoulSpark if Jungkook dated you, especially since you aren’t his client— but it would be for Hyunjin. Hell if Jeon Jungkook, the notorious player of SeoulSpark, would have you in his stead.
“No.”
Jungkook frowns. “But—”
“I said no, Dr. Jeon. Don’t make me repeat myself,” Hyunjin snaps coldly, barely fazed by that uncharacteristic iciness in his own tone. “Please see yourself out, and come to me when you have something actually useful to discuss.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, running his hands through his hair. “You seem to be in a mood today, Hyunjin. But whatever, I’ll back off. See you later, I guess.”
Hyunjin knows he should feel bad as he watches Jungkook shrink out his view, but all he has is a vicious sense of satisfaction. That’ll teach him— Christ, is he jealous? Hwang Hyunjin doesn’t get jealous. The world is an oyster, and you, his shimmering pearl. He really is so screwed.
The next few hours are a blur, as Hyunjin does his best to be attentive as he sits through meetings with his executive team, including the one with his Chief Marketing Officer, Jung Hoseok, to discuss potential brand partnerships that would be good for SeoulSpark. He deserves an award for not falling asleep during the very essential Zoom call to confirm whether he should allow his face to be stamped onto a cat food brand (the answer was no, he’s forever a dog person).
By the time the sun has dipped below the horizon, Hyunjin has finished meeting with his second-to-last client of the day, Yang Jeongin, that brazen college student who had talked back to him during his TED talk. Poor guy had been through so much, really, with a history of being dumped, the latest offender being a cheating girlfriend who had effectively ruined his outlook on life. But over the past few months, Hyunjin had been able to chip through that broken exterior to find a brilliant young man in need of just a push in the right direction. He reminds Hyunjin of you so much.
“Thanks, Hyun. I’ll see you next week.” Jeongin waves goodbye at Hyunjin, who’s already rifling through his desk drawer for his compact mirror and breath mints.
Hyunjin flashes him a quick smile. “You too, Jeongin.”
As quick as Jeongin has left, the feeling of being alone washes away when you step into the room, knocking the wind out of Hyunjin’s lungs, as always. Today, you’ve foregone those usual pinks, a constant that Hyunjin had loved so much about your outfits. Nevertheless, you’re stunning; the sea-green floral maxi dress floats delicately around your ankles, and Hyunjin has to mentally kick himself to stop staring at the dainty line of buttons crossed along the ruched bust of the bodice.
“There you are!” Hyunjin beams like the sun, the stress of the day’s burdens melting away.
But instead of getting all cute and flustered at his theatrics like you always do, you give him a thin smile and sit down on the couch. “Hey, Hyunjin.”
Hyunjin tries not to let the concern flood into his logic, but it’s impossible, when it comes to you. However, he makes a valiant effort in crossing his legs and trying to hide the turbulence of emotions beneath his skin by plastering a placid expression onto his face. “So… want to talk about last week?”
“There’s not much to talk about.” You shrug and avoid Hyunjin’s gaze, looking out the window with a forlorn glint in your eyes. 
“Darling, please.” Hyunjin breaks. He gets up from behind his desk and folds himself into the space next to you, failing to maintain his impartiality. He hates to see you like this, like you so steadfastly believe that you’re alone, when he’s been here for you the entire time. “Open up to me.”
You look directly into Hyunjin’s eyes, prompting a shiver to run down his spine. He wishes you could look at him like that while forcing him down onto his knees. “I had sex with Han Jisung.” 
Of everything, hearing that was not on Hyunjin’s 2023 bingo card. For a moment, he just gapes at you in shock. As your dating coach, he never thought you’d be ready to become intimate with someone so soon, especially the guy who made you run off in horror just a few days prior. And as the person who is secretly in love with you, he could never actually imagine you with anyone except for him. Yet, he now has the wonderful, vivid image of you and Han Jisung getting it on. How nice. 
And then comes the complete fury. But before he can act upon it, throwing aside his zen policy to bestow you with an aggressive line of questioning— that he is absolutely not entitled to, at all— you hold up your hand, shutting him up.
“And I think we should stop seeing each other.”
In that moment, nothing but utter horror slashes through every fiber of Hyunjin’s being. Of all of the scenarios he’d gone through in his mind, the worst case is actually happening— goddamnit, universe. What would the point of life be if you weren’t in his, anymore? “Are you… are you breaking up with me?”
You give Hyunjin a pitiful smile that makes him want to go crawl into a hole somewhere and die. “That’s one way to put it, I guess. But I’m your client. This is a good sign.”
That’s not all you are. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This can’t be real. 
“You know what I mean!”
“Shouldn’t you be happy for me?” You purse your lips. “I guess I’ve finally moved on from Jisung, now that I’ve slept with someone else. I can finally go forth in the world without his shadow holding me back. I’m completely over it.”
Hyunjin closes his eyes, lightly massaging his temples using the stress-prevention technique that his old masseuse taught him before she moved back to Thailand. It doesn’t work. Fuck, is he sweating? “Well, I think you’re not completely over it. This is a step, not the destination. Having sex with a guy you just met is definitely not what we programmed into your love life GPS— we’re still driving! Besides, you still have a month of sessions left on your contract!”
“Uhhh, okay.” You give Hyunjin a puzzled look that makes him cringe inwardly— fuck his fruity metaphors. “Either way, I just don’t think I need your help anymore, to be honest. But I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“No.” Hyunjin shakes his head stubbornly, resolve set deep inside of him. If you wanted him to get all technical and make himself sound like a pretentious prick, then fine. Anything to keep you from leaving. “As the person who you have entrusted to provide you with a professional opinion, I do not accept your rationale for ending our contract. It’s sudden, and you’d just be wasting your own money because everything was prepaid. It doesn’t make sense for you to go like this, don’t you think? Talk to me.”
And Hyunjin sees you pause, the doubt written across your gorgeous features. You put on a little eyeliner today, and when your eyes crinkle in doubt, the winged ends of the liner downturn, making you look impossibly cute. Hyunjin wants nothing more than to kiss that pout on your lips— not smooth it away, but make it his, somehow, to watch you look down at him with that same expression when he’s on his knees for you.
He waits with bated breath, until you finally throw your hands up, relenting. “Okay. Alright. But only because I have a month left. After that, I won’t be renewing the contract.”
You grumpily sit back down on the sofa, and Hyunjin has to clench his jaw to keep from grinning like an idiot. “So, tell me. What’s gotten you so worked up?”
You sigh, looking away from Hyunjin as you toy with one of the beads on the skirt of your dress. You take your time thinking, and Hyunjin doesn’t rush you, wanting you to be as authentic as possible when providing him with an answer. “There’s this guy…”
Hyunjin then feels all of the blood drain out of face right then. If the abrupt announcement of your departure from SeoulSpark’s services had not sent him into a panic, then this definitely did. He sees that unsure yet determined look in your eye, the kind he’s observed appearing whenever you have a strong opinion to share, the thoughts of other people be damned.
“Who… who is it?” He manages to spit out, thinking back to his go-to metaphoric fork and stabbing himself in the thigh with it, over and over again, to keep himself in place. “Someone from the matchmaking event?”
“It’s not any of those guys, no. You probably don’t even know him. Some guy from work,” you explain quickly, prompting a fresh wave of confusion to wash over Hyunjin. “But that’s not the point. He’s, um, always on my mind. I can’t stop thinking about him, no matter how much I don’t want to. Because, for obvious reasons, I can’t be with him. And I don’t want to hurt him, because the pain from the past— from Jisung— is still there, even if I don’t love him anymore. I don’t trust myself with love.”
Love? Is that what this is? Do you love whoever this useless idiot is? 
Hyunjin’s thoughts cower in betrayal, even though you owe him absolutely nothing. He shakes them away, focusing on everything else you’ve just confided in him with. “It’s okay to not be completely over the past. You might never be, and that’s okay, because what you went through was traumatic. That kind of hurt sticks, and you’re strong for trying to move forward. But you can’t let the fear of the unknown stop you.”
You shake your head. “But it’s too significant to ignore, that fear. My worst nightmare is hurting him like Jisung did to me. What if I end up doing that, Hyunjin? What if I leave him, like Jisung left me?”
“Don’t compare yourself to that piece of shit,” Hyunjin says sharply, making you jump a little. Normally, he’d apologize for coming on too strong, but he couldn’t. Not when you talk about yourself like that. “And it’s just a risk you’re going to have to take. And if he’s really worth it, then he’ll stay by your side no matter what.” 
I would. I wouldn’t ever fucking leave you. 
Before you can say anything, Hyunjin keeps going, unable to restrain himself from asking this next question, because he has to know. He has to know if you truly mean it. “So, the question is, do you think he is? Is he worth it?”
“I love who I am because of him,” you state, and with the way your voice doesn’t even waver, Hyunjin knows it to be completely true. “I’m ten times less pessimistic than I usually am. He makes me feel like a morning person, even though I’m not. And I actually want to do more with my life, see everything it has to offer. He makes me a better person, but I never feel forced to do anything for his attention, for the way he cares.”
“He- he sounds wonderful,” Hyunjin responds, and he’s trying— he really is— but he just doesn’t believe he can be genuine, not now. Not when he feels his heart breaking inside, not when he knows he’s a selfish bastard who should be celebrating you. And what did he fucking expect? That someone wouldn’t see a diamond and pick it up, keeping it for themselves? He’s so, so stupid. 
“He is.” You give him a meaningful look that makes his head spin. Now, what does that mean? Hyunjin doesn’t have it in him to be an interpreter today, strolling across the shoreline rocks of your mind, trying to decipher what today’s tides bring. It’s his literal job to know what you’re thinking, and yet, today his mind is completely clear of any sense of logic.
“He makes me feel seen, even if he may never feel the same,” you continue, biting your lip. “He’s the most beautiful person I know.”
“I’m not supposed to say this, but anyone who wouldn’t return your feelings is a total idiot.” Hyunjin smiles at the way you shoot him a skeptical look. He wants to at least try to convey even a single sign that tells you that he’s glad you’ve found someone good, someone that could make you happy— what he could never do for you himself. “And I’m glad, Y/N. It’s a good thing we still have a month, because I can tell that there’s still some unease on your end, because you’re clearly holding yourself back. I just want the best for you.”
“I know,” you sigh. “I’m sorry if I was making a scene. I just so want to be done with all of this fixing. I just want to be ready to let go of all of that baggage, and I guess I was in a rush to do so.”
“No, no. Don’t apologize. Trust me, I get the feeling, more than you know.” Hyunjin reaches across and places his hand on yours, trying to relax you. “It’s okay to want to move on. It’s okay to be frustrated. And it’s okay to want someone. Let yourself be happy, because ultimately, you’re the only one who can control that, no one else.”
For the first time during your meeting today, you break out into a smile, and Hyunjin has to blink to readjust him to the sight. It’s like a rainbow has cut through a stormy sky, joining in a perfect Yin and Yang. Hyunjin loves all of you, both the color and the tempest, because together, they make you who you are. He wouldn’t change you for the world; all he’s ever done for you was try to make you realize that yourself.
“You are such a gift, Hyunjin,” you say fondly, and Hyunjin has to remind himself that it’s because you see him as a friend, as a confidante. It would never be in the way he completely wants it to be, and he’ll have to make his peace with that, for you.
“I know. All I’m missing is a big pink bow,” Hyunjin jokes, plastering a smile onto his face. For the first time ever, he wishes you would walk out of his office, taking with you your infectious laugh and incandescent gaze. You can’t be here when he falls apart like he so badly needs to. 
You laugh, thankfully not sensing his internal turmoil. “Alright, Hyunjin. I have to get going. But I’ll see you next week?”
He nods, rising as you stand and turn for the door. “Of course. Have a good one, darling.”
“Same goes for you.” You reach up and give his shoulder a little squeeze, before you’re walking away, too soon and yet, not fast enough.
From where you touched him over his cardigan, Hyunjin’s skin burns with desire. But it isn’t enough to keep him from clumsily shutting the door closed behind him as he stumbles back inside of his office. He screws his eyes shut and tries to rapidly think of a list of his favorite things. Pink roses. Sequined Versace blazers. Puppies. Monet paintings.
But he should know by now that such sorrow is inevitable. It was written in his fate, the moment he set his eyes and heart upon you, knowing he would never get that happy ending. After all, he’s the Love Doctor, not a miracle worker. He knows this to be true especially when he feels a dampness on his cheeks and thinks it to be some kind of bewitched rain that’s able to fall inside his office. It’s only when he looks into his compact mirror that he realizes that he’s crying, broken and hopelessly gone for you.
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That did not go well. You walked into SeoulSpark with a plan and had promptly failed, when Hyunjin decided to persuade you into staying. But you gave in to his pretty eyes and assuaging words, conveniently forgetting about the half-hour long promises you made with yourself in the morning. 
You were supposed to end your contract, regardless of whether you would be wasting your money or not. That would have been a small price to pay for the pain of love. And you know you’re right, because you start to cry during your shameful walk through the parking lot.
You don’t know what it is that made you open up so profoundly to Hyunjin, past the point where it was safe to conceal your feelings for him. But you just had to keep speaking, going so far as to describe Hyunjin as the object of all of your agitation and pretending like it was someone else that he had no idea of. You’re a fraud, and your only consolation is that Hyunjin sees you so platonically that he probably would never catch onto your feelings. After all, in what world would someone like you being with someone of his caliber ever make any sense? And it’s ironic, really, that you’ve fallen for him, the person who is there to help you find someone else to spend lonely nights with.
After unlocking your car, you collapse into the front seat, letting all of your emotions out for a good few minutes into the night. When the sides of your face finally begin to dry, you open your eyes with a groan, turning the key in the ignition and driving back home. 
You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, because that godforsaken networking party was looming sooner in the future than you’d like, and you still had to buy something to wear. Your current wardrobe was much more vibrant than it had been just a few months ago, the jeans and plaid blazers hidden behind fluttery sundresses and silky skirts. However, it was all far too casual for the heightened class that you knew the event would require, and therefore, you’d recruited Yeonjun to help you shop, with the promise of all of his meals being paid for the next day.
As soon as you get home, you toss your keys onto the little side table next to the doorway with a huff, knocking your heels off and not bothering to arrange them neatly back onto your shoe stand. With the efficiency of a carpenter ant on a mission, you march into your bathroom and slip out of that god-awful dress, changing into a pair of soft pink pajamas with a magenta heart pattern printed all over them. The set had caught your eye as you were strolling through Costco the other day, a little more expensive than you’d like, but they reminded you of Hyunjin, so into the cart they went. You could allow yourself this comfort, you tell yourself.
Once freshened up, you head into the kitchen, dumping some leftover pasta into a bowl to heat it up, glowering at the microwave as the seconds tick by far too slowly. And as always, you eat at your crappy dining table, alone. Just this morning, you had been sitting in this same place, brainstorming ways to secure project funding, navigating the path to reviving your old startup, ITEM.
Before Hyunjin, you had ditched the excitement of indulging in work, your passion, for more self-destructive, wasteful behavior. In the past few months, after meeting him, there was this renewed sense of productivity in you— he inspired you, made you ache to find your own success in the world. So even though Mark denied you the opportunity to participate in the upcoming function, you disobeyed him and secretly went through with your own idea anyway, especially after hearing through the office grapevine that a lot of big-name investors would be attending. Somehow, you decided, you would figure out a way to present to them and achieve your dream. It was optimistic, maybe a little foolishly so, but that hadn’t bothered you. 
Today, however, you felt this sense of loss that hadn’t touched you in a while. It was nothing related to work, fortunately, but still, you couldn’t focus, mind wandering to your meeting with Hyunjin at the end of the day. For the first time, the thought of him was hurting you, not motivating you. And it still hurts you, with the way you disinterestedly poke at your fettuccine. 
So when you go to bed that night, touching yourself to the thought of him doesn’t have the same velvety allure to it. No, it’s more of a physiological need that forces its way into your hand that glides down your body. It’s the rabic, animalistic desire that drives the tips of your fingers under the waistband of your shorts. It’s the anguish, the longing, that makes you spread your legs, hips bucking up against the mattress.
You had smiled at him, earlier today, after that short drama you’d exerted, when he calmed you down and placated you with a soft, but commanding tone. You had poured your heart out to him, holding back just his name on the tip of your tongue, and he had listened. And you had feigned being amiable, and he accepted it, when in reality, you were so fucking furious with Hyunjin.
After you paraded into his office like a brat, demanding to end the contract as if you cared nothing as to what he might think, he had still treated you with so much understanding, with a quiet concern. You haven’t lost your temper in a long time now, but Hyunjin never failed to respond so well, so kindly to you. In every way that you were irked, he remained calm and gracious. It makes you inexplicably angry, so much that you just want to scream into the cool Angeles night air, letting the sound reverberate off the crumbling buildings of your shitty neighborhood. You hate how good is to you almost as much as you despise yourself in your absolute lowest moments, moments like these. You don’t want the sensuality of his gaze washing over you, worshiping you. You don’t want to melt into his touch, let him take care of you. You don’t want to fuck him like a lover would— no, you want his tears, you want to ruin him like he has done so easily to you.
You think of Hyunjin and his lovely, lovely mouth. A lip pulled in between his teeth in thought, slightly slick with spit when he licks them before speaking. You want to feel the stretch of them around your fingers as you force them into his mouth, choking him and chasing away his breathy complaints. 
You close your eyes, the image of you working yourself with your fingers fading in favor of imagining Hyunjin doing it for you instead. You, gripping his wrist harshly, pumping Hyunjin’s own fingers into yourself, berating him for not being able to do it well enough on his own. 
Then you’d slap his hands away, pushing him onto your bed and straddle his narrow hips, grinding your dripping pussy onto his thighs while getting off both in the friction and Hyunjin’s pleas for you to ride his cock instead. 
But when you decide to put an end to his torture, it wouldn’t be for his pleasure. You want to fuck Hyunjin hard, fuck him sore, the minuscule gap between your bodies clogged and messy with sweat and a mixture of arousal and saliva, from where you’d spit onto his cock. You want him on his back, staring up at you hopefully as he falls apart, begging you to let him come. You want to refuse him, snap at him and make it mean, but he’ll come anyway, guilt and arousal on his beautiful face. Of course he’ll have to clean up his own mess, sucking obediently on your fingers covered with the come you had retrieved from where it was splattered between your legs. 
And then you’d kiss him, slow and deep, nothing like how you took him apart under the sheets. You’d cup his face and whisper praises, running your hands down his body. Declarations of love would fall from your lips, because no matter how much he worked you up, the truth would never change. 
You finish to that final thought, barely hearing the shameful, wet sounds of you abusing your cunt with your fingers that thrust in and out of yourself wildly. But even though you have already come, you cup your pussy again and run your finger, feather-light, through your folds, imagining it was Hyunjin’s lips placing a kiss there, instead. Imagining that no matter how many spiteful words you spat at him during the time you fucked him, he knew that you would never hate him. You understand, that no matter how enraged you have the potential to be, you will never, ever hate Hyunjin. Because you love him— so much that it hurts.
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“You’d think that my body was made for Gucci, but there’s something about Privé that turns me on so bad.”
You fight the urge to gag as Yeonjun brings the ugly sweatshirt up to his chest, holding it up in front of the mirror in an attempt to model it on his scrawny frame. You briskly snatch it out of his hands and shove it back onto its hanger, grasping your cousin’s hand like a mother and her toddler. 
“Stop talking about brands like you want to fuck them,” you scold him. Yeonjun rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation, but doesn’t try to wriggle out of your hold when you drag him to the women’s section. Sometimes, you feel like you’re an exasperated single parent, toting him around and snapping at him to behave, even though he is barely three years younger than you.
As you enter the evening wear end of the department store, you let go of Yeonjun to sift through the variety of fabrics available. He gleefully bounces around, swishing through the dresses you’re both drowning in and nearly knocking a couple of them off of their racks. But you can’t find it in yourself to chide him again, not when he looks so happy to be here with you. Not that you would ever let him know that you have the capacity to be soft when it comes to him.
“This beats working on job applications,” Yeonjun sighs, sticking his arm through an armhole on a particularly gaudy tea gown. You snicker at how the satin pools beneath his underarms, making him look like a child cosplaying in their mother’s old outfits.
“How’s senior year? I haven’t even been asking you about school, lately.” The last part is less of a rationale for your question to him, and more of a surprised self-proclamation on your end. You can’t remember the last time you ever listened to Yeonjun complain about his ancient professors and weird roommate. The thought fills you with a certain sense of regret; you might not have a lot, but Yeonjun has always been there for you. Most of the time, he annoys you to no end, but his constant presence reminds you that you’re never alone.
The playfulness melts out of Yeonjun’s demeanor, a sight to see with someone who is always so easy-going, never taking life seriously. But you see the somber look in his eyes as he turns to gaze at you critically. “You’ve got a lot going on, I know that.”
You flush, mind automatically going to Hyunjin. Outside of the slice of your day in which you are truly focused on work, the rest of your time goes into dreaming about the attainable object of your fantasies. Eat, sleep, work, and think about Hyunjin. “I— yeah. Work’s been crazy. And reopening ITEM, as well. But that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”
Yeonjun gives you a wry little smile, foxy and sly. “Work. Sure. Definitely not a certain sexy ass dating coach, right?”
For a guy that presents himself to be so unendingly superficial, Yeonjun has the ability to read people in the snap of a finger. You don’t understand why he tries to act so vapid when he has such a capacity— if you had such a power, you’d use it to no end. 
Your cheeks flush, embarrassingly evident. “Got me there, but I’ve already reached a resolution about him. I’ll go through with the rest of the contract, pull away gradually, and then stop seeing him. Easy.”
Except it is not easy, and both of you know it. Yeonjun rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “I just don’t get it. Why are you so down bad for him? He’s pretty, don’t get me wrong, but there are a lot of pretty people. He’s the guy who’s supposed to be setting you up with other people. Like, you’re not supposed to be falling for him.”
“I know, Jun,” you sigh. “But I think we’re more alike than outward perceptions allow. I feel like he never really lets his guard down around other people. I just wish I could have the chance to make him feel as seen as he does for me. He’s like no one I’ve ever met.”
Yeonjun stays quiet for a long moment, scrutinizing the way you lower your eyes and resume haphazardly shuffling through the dresses. “I think you should tell him how you feel.”
You would burst into laughter at how ridiculous his proposition is, except it’s not funny at all. “Now that would be crossing the line. Our relationship is completely platonic. Imagine how uncomfortable it would be, to find out that the client you’re trying to help connect with others falls for you instead? I couldn’t do that to Hyunjin.”
“I think Hyunjin still deserves to know. He’s your dating coach, Y/N. If there’s anyone who can understand you, it’s him, because if he really cares about you, nothing about your relationship will change. And who knows, maybe he reciprocates. You never know.”
Listening to your cousin give you such advice makes you feel strange, but not in an unpleasant way. You truly are thankful for it, even if you might not completely trust in it. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Jun.”
Yeonjun looks like he wants to say more, but he seems to notice the note of finality in your voice and decides to move on. “Back to me. Ask me again, about how school’s going, and I’ll tell you all of the tea.”
“How is school going?” 
“Oh, thank God you asked. Beomgyu is still trying to get me to feature on his OnlyFans, but even though he’s a little creepy with it, he’s the only one who agrees to come thrift shopping with me. And he’s a pretty chill roommate overall, so I can’t really complain. Ugh, and it turns out, my evil ex is still obsessed with me…”
You grin and listen to Yeonjun ramble on about his very animated life at UCLA, thankful for the distraction as you comb through the racks. After a few minutes of tuning into Yeonjun’s story about how he walked in on Beomgyu hooking up with some guy named Jeongin, you freeze, because you meet eyes with the one person you wished you would never see again. Yeonjun’s babbling comes to a jarring stop, and you both just stare at the monster who tried to ruin your life.
“Y/N! Is that you?” 
He saunters forward as you stay rooted to where you are, and it’s like he has walked right out of an old photo album carrying the bitter memories of your past. You recognize those round, sparkling doe eyes, the ones that reminded you of the dark pearls in the milk tea drinks you both would always share at night markets. The same choppy, boyish haircut streaked with caramel, the locks you would quietly run your fingers through after every time you forgave him. That delicate, nearly fairy-like face, the one that you could never bring yourself to hate, no matter how much he pushed you. Park Jisung has not changed one bit, except for the space you used to clutch on his arms has now been occupied by someone new. 
The girl is stunning, you can admit, but on closer look, you realize that it’s Kazuha Nakamura, the last girl he cheated on you with, the one that severed the final threads of your relationship. She, on the other hand, looks completely different, with her blonde curls chopped into a dark Brazilian-permed lob that swishes when she tilts her head down derisively, surveying you from head-to-toe. She looks like the epitome of the girl that Jisung was always trying to get you to be, stuck into the mold of a life predetermined for her. And for the first time in a long time, you’re glad you didn’t fit.
You regain your bearings a moment later after the initial shock wears off, when Park Jisung laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that contrasts with the way Kazuha titters next to him. But instead of acknowledging Jisung, you turn to Kazuha first instead.
“Kazuha! What a surprise!” You smile sweetly at her while she just gapes at you blankly, clearly surprised by your absence of hostility. In the periphery of your eye, you can see Jisung ball his fists at his side, ever the narcissist to be irked by even a slight dearth of attention. “You look great, girl!”
“And you look exactly the same, Jisung,” Yeonjun says flatly in a way that obviously conveys insult, before slinging a protective arm around your shoulder. You stifle a snort, and watch the way Jisung rolls his eyes.
“Ever a delight, aren’t you, Yeonjun?” Jisung shoots him a venomous smile, that Yeonjun responds to with a cheesy little salute. This time, you can’t contain the chuckle that escapes your lips. 
Before anyone can say more, you pipe up, determined to have the last word in the conversation you have no intention of repeating. “It was wonderful to see you, Jisung. You and Kazuha make a lovely pair— hope it works out!”
With one last gracious nod of your head, you loop your arm through Yeonjun’s and move past where Jisung and Kazuha stand rooted to the spot, speechless. As you and Yeonjun flounce away, you feel Jisung’s gaze burning into the back of your neck, but you don’t care. Not anymore.
“Damn, and I thought I’d get to watch a fight today. I really would have liked to see that dickwad get his just desserts,” Yeonjun grumbles, but you see the impressed look on his face.
You feel an unfamiliar rush of both adrenaline and triumph coursing through your veins; you saved your anger, and yet, you know you’ve won. For months, you told yourself that if you ever got the chance to tell Jisung off, you would use it. But the thought didn’t bring you as much satisfaction as it did before, and besides, you have someone more worth your tears now. Seeing Jisung again didn’t affect you as much as it once would have, because you finally, truly have moved on. And comparably, your current predicament seems much more daunting than some loser who never deserved you. 
“They looked like morons when we didn’t give them the reaction they wanted. Besides, I’m taking the high road.”
“You’re boring when you’re not a bitch.”
“Thanks.” You grin, pausing your gait when you see it. The giddiness drains into something more mournful as you take in the dress, delicate folds of pink chiffon that dissolve into a painstakingly threaded gold-beaded skirt. “This is the one, Jun.”
Yeonjun doesn’t miss the beat of sadness in your voice, the thickness of your words. “Seriously though, you don’t have to talk about Jisung, but I feel like that’s not who you’re upset about. You don’t seem okay.”
“I’ve found my peace with Jisung, but there’s still something else.” You inhale sharply. “I’m in love with Hyunjin.”
He stays quiet for a moment, before taking the dress off of the rack for you. “This is on me.”
“I appreciate it, but you don’t have to—”
“I want to. And if you’re not busy tonight, I have somewhere to be, and I’d like it if you came with me. What do you say?”
You’re not oblivious— you recognize the sympathy, Yeonjun’s clear attempt to cheer you up, a switch-up from the banter you usually trade. Before, you would refuse, retreating home to bury yourself deeper into a hole. But for once, you don’t want to push away the people who care about you. So you accept and look forward, accepting the poignance of it all.
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“Hwang Hyunjin, you’d better get your ass over here on time, or else I’ll—”
Hyunjin bursts into a dramatic fit of coughing, cutting off Seungmin’s nagging. “Remind me to take you to one of my yoga sessions. Your chakras are seriously off, but there’s nothing that Dr. Sachet can’t fix.”
“Hyunjin.” 
“I know! I just got here, Seungmin.” Hyunjin sighs, ending the call before Seungmin has the chance to say anything further. He slides his phone into his pocket, already regretting his choice to accept Seungmin’s request— which was actually more of a demand— to be his plus-one at his college reunion. 
Any other day, he would have loved to ditch his introverted activities to accompany his best friend to get tipsy and gossip about everyone’s glow ups. Today, however, all he really wants to do is curl up in his bed with Princess Diana and binge-watch Friends. But alas, his loyalty— and fear— for Seungmin won out, and now here he is, standing in a rounded glass elevator on his way up to Highlight, the upscale rooftop bar venue of the event. 
When the elevator finally reaches the top floor, the telltale bell dings, opening the door into what can only be described as high-end chaos: people decked out in crisp suits and cocktail dresses and jewels, as they crowd around the lighted bar counters, shouting out their drink orders to harried bartenders while trying to brag about how successful they’ve become over the past few years. Waiters walk around, serving hors d'oeuvres to the guests that promptly ignore them, and the orchestral jazz, courtesy of the live band crowded into the corner, is drowned out by the raucous laughter of a group of men situated at a section of tables next to the windows. The whole effect is ridiculously ostentatious, and even Hyunjin has to restrain himself from letting his lip curl with disgust.
“Fuck, there you are.” Hyunjin feels a warm hand on his shoulder, and turns to see Seungmin staring at him with an overwhelmed look in his eye.
Hyunjin takes in his friend for a moment, admiring his black and white silk polka dot shirt that’s tucked into a pair of belted navy slacks. At least someone at this place had style, and it’s always a pleasure for it to be Seungmin, as by now, Hyunjin has gotten used to seeing him wearing bloodied scrubs. “You look good, man. But why in the world would you want to come here and see all of these jerks?”
Seungmin shrugs, and Hyunjin is surprised to see a slight blush overtake his features. He traces Seungmin’s wandering gaze over to the edge of the open balcony, where a devastatingly handsome man strangely stands on his own, sipping on his cocktail while observing the view of skyscrapers stretching out around the building. Ah. 
“He’s Seungcheol, isn’t he? Your old crush that you never talked to? That’s why we’re here?” Hyunjin teases, remembering those nights when he got Seungmin tipsy enough to confess his unrequited feelings for Choi Seungcheol, the resident heartbreaker of the pre-med student body at UCLA. 
“Shut the fuck up.” Seungmin grumbles, but his complexion betrays him, turning as red as a tomato. 
Hyunjin laughs heartily, thanking a passing waitress before accepting a mango and vanilla parfait from her tray. “Alright.”
And then it’s Seungmin’s turn to check out Hyunjin, who strikes a little pose and preens at the attention. “I don’t know how, but even with all of your designer shit, you never seem like a dick.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Hyunjin grins. Hyunjin never dresses to appease the dress code— instead, he makes it his bitch, and does it in a way that’s classy, not ostentatious. It’s clear in today’s sophisticated yet roguish ensemble: a crisp white Givenchy suit paired with Nike Air Forces to deflate the grandiose of the former brand. And the sheer black tank top and silver chain-link necklace under his oversized blazer was just enough to add a touch of gender-bending sexiness. 
The corner of Seungmin’s mouth quirks up, and he hooks his arm into Hyunjin’s, steering him towards a high table tucked into a more quiet section of the bar. “Having fun, Hyun?”
Hyunjin fights a smile. “Moresoe now that you’re here with me, babe.”
That is Seungmin’s cue to shove Hyunjin away, who continues to bat his lashes prettily. “I hate you. I should’ve asked Nicholas the hot nurse to be my date instead.”
“But then you couldn’t flirt with our Seungcheol!”
Seungmin groans, head falling onto the table, lolling to the side hopelessly. “I don’t even know how to approach him, though. I mean, did you see him? He just managed to get even more gorgeous! His hair? His height? He’s totally out of my league.”
Hyunjin immediately morphs into wingman mode. “Trust me, I can just tell he has a thing for cute nerds. And, not to be crass, but his body language screams brat tamer.”
“I am not a brat,” Seungmin scowls. 
“Touché.” 
After a few more minutes of hyping Seungmin up, Hyunjin triumphantly sits back and watches his friend slink off in the direction of Seungcheol; he snickers to himself when Seungmin tentatively taps on Seungcheol’s shoulder, shaking like a fangirl about to ask a celebrity for a picture. Seungcheol turns, a friendly beam cutting across his stern features. Seungmin says something indiscernible to Seungcheol that makes him laugh, and that’s Hyunjin’s sign to leave the rest to his friend. 
By this time, the company around him has eased slightly, with everyone digging into the buffet-style dinner that the caterers have set out. 
“Don’t mind if I do,” Hyunjin mutters under his breath, thinking back to the flimsy cup of ramyun that he had scarfed down earlier. He picks up a plate from one of the long tables and gets in line, mouth already watering at the spread of food. After loading his plate with copious helpings of every dish of carbs in sight, he also makes sure to secure dessert, snagging a couple pastries and slices of cake. The gaggle of ladies behind him shoot him pointed looks, but he ignores them, walking away to find seating; he’s needed this, after the week he’s had.
He winds up sitting next to a giddy couple that just cannot keep their hands off of each other. Most of the time, when he winds up somewhere with people who exhibit excessive public displays of affection, he tries to discreetly slip away or make himself as unknown as possible, the hopeless romantic in him quietly cheering them on. Now, however, he unceremoniously plops onto the farthest end of the loveseat opposite of them, all alone and just grateful that the food is good.
“Earth to Hyunjin!”
Hyunjin looks up, mouth stuffed embarrassingly full of a caprese salad sandwich. “Mrph?”
Seungmin stands there, hands on his knees while he pants a little to catch his breath. “You will not believe what just happened.”
“Well, what happened?”
“Seungcheol and I are going out to dinner tomorrow!” Seungmin huffs, cheeks flushed a bright red as he looks over at Seungcheol where he’s standing by the elevator. Seungcheol gives him a shy smile before quickly looking away. Seungmin smirks and leans down to speak into Hyunjin’s ear. “And he just asked me if I have any plans for the rest of the night.”
He leans back to gauge Hyunjin’s reaction, which, in Hyunjin’s knowledge of his friend, does not disappoint. Hyunjin gasps theatrically and nearly drops his plate in trying to clap him on the back in congratulations. “That’s my man!”
“That’s right!” 
Hyunjin grins. “Even your ship name would be cute. 2Seung. Meant to be.”
“You’re such a dork.” Seungmin rolls his eyes, but fails to hide his blush. “Now, I’m gonna go get railed by the man of my dreams.”
Hyunjin bids Seungmin goodbye, remaining enthusiastic up until the moment he sees Seungmin and Seuncheol take their leave. As soon as they do, he lets his smile fall. He’s happy for Seungmin, really. He just wishes it could be him disappearing into that glass elevator with his lover. He would press you up against that heavy gold railing that rounds the inside, kissing you as you begin your descent down the building. Kissing you as fireworks go off in the distance, brighter than the Los Angeles skyline. Kissing you even when the elevator door opens, an irked crowd of people waiting to get in. He wishes he could flaunt you off to everyone in the world, show everyone how perfect you are for him. 
Hyunjin is so lost in his muddled, wistful thoughts that he doesn’t notice the couch dip, someone just as miserable as him occupying the tiny space next to him. 
“Hyunjin?”
He turns his head, slowly, to see you, of all people, glaring at him with a bewildered expression on your face. He remains in a momentary stunned silence, taking in the slight redness of your nose, how watery your eyes are. The space in between your eyebrows that’s painfully scrunched. The way your lips are pressed together tightly. You’ve been crying. Still gorgeous, no matter what.
“Darling?”
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For the second time today, you are caught off guard. You have been stewing in your loneliness all evening, ruminating over your hopelessly unrequited love. It surprised you, a little bit, how you were barely affected by the run-in with Jisung, but that faded away when you took your first sip at the absurdly lavish open bar. For others, alcohol can be liquid courage— for you, it’s a depressant that brings out the sad drunk in you.
You shake your head, trying not to let the immediate horror seep into you. But how can it not, when the gorgeous man you are in love with has just become witness to your ugly tears for the second time? And from where did he just appear out of, when you thought you were going to be able to spend your time wallowing in your sorrows alone? Life is truly unfair.
“What- what are you doing here?” You sputter. 
You imagine that Hyunjin looks stunned, for a moment, but his face lights up when he realizes that it is you who is the mess curled up next to him. If he seems put off by the remnants of your crying, he does not show it. “I was here as my friend’s date, but it seems as though he’s ditched me for a better one.”
He gives you a furtive smile that makes you feel like you’re in on a joke, and in spite of your pitiful state, you immediately feel the warmth spread through you. “The Love Doctor always works, doesn’t he?”
“It’s my nine-to-five, as well as my five-to-nine,” Hyunjin jokes, chuckling. “So, you’re a UCLA alum? You didn’t strike me as the sort, I didn’t think.”
You scoff playfully. “Absolutely not. Proud Case Western grad here. Where else would I get my inherent computer geek complex?”
Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle. “Then what brings you here?”
“My cousin.” You jerk your chin in the direction of Yeonjun, who’s currently trying to break up a fight between two men who seem to be arguing about something related to stocks. “He’s trying to fulfill his senior undergraduate community service requirement by volunteering at this thing. But this is barely community service— I think the UCLA Alumni Association just wanted some free labor.”
Hyunjin laughs at your shitty joke, and you nearly feel like your attitude just turns up at that sound, unfurling like petals when touched by sunshine. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“Too kitsch.” You tilt your head towards the dizzying display of debauchery currently swarming your little bubble: most of the guests have separated into their own cliques by now, and the one closest to you has set up an uproarious gambling circle on their table. This is a bit much, even if for a swanky college reunion.
“Agreed.” Hyunjin stays quiet for a moment, and you watch him curiously, wondering what he’s thinking of. He relieves you a moment later. “Darling, I don’t want to intrude, but I just wanted to ask if everything’s okay?”
You hesitate to answer, because although you know he genuinely wants to check up on you, given the astronomically considerate person he is, you don’t want to burden him with your problems— especially if the problem is him. So you do what any sensible person would do and deflect. “It’s a long story. How about we check out the bar?”
You expect him to turn you down, but maybe you’re not the only one who needs a drink, because he accepts. “I feel like I’ll regret it, but alright.”
Hyunjin helps you up from where you sit, grabbing your purse for you and handing it to you as you stand, making your heart squeeze even tighter in your chest. But you both make your way over to the open bar, snagging two seats at the very end of the counter on one side. 
The teariness made your intoxication a bit more discreet, so you’re openly able to ask for a beer without raising Hyunjin’s eyebrows. Hyunjin, on the other hand, orders a pink champagne on the rocks. He really is so sophisticated. After you both finish speaking with the bartender, he turns to you, placing his elbow on the counter and propping up his chin in his arm. The soft smile on his face fits perfectly as his eyes lock onto yours, and it feels… flirtatious. 
You’re suddenly transported into all of those times you were alone at a bar, men approaching you with a similar demeanor, but with very much different intentions. Therein, with Hyunjin, the aura of respect and boundaries still hangs in the air, so it doesn’t linger, no matter how much you wish it would stay. 
The bartender sets your choices in front of you, and you try to enjoy the drink, but the overwhelming bitterness of it just makes everything come crashing down. You sniffle, and then immediately hope that Hyunjin has not noticed that you are beginning to cry pathetically— again— into your mug of beer.
Hyunjin looks concerned, leaning forward as if to put his arm around you, but after a moment’s hesitation, he retracts his arm and instead, focuses on your face. "Y/N?"
Shit. You try to laugh it off as an extremely severe case of allergies, but even besides the fact that there's barely any pollen in the concrete jungle of Los Angeles, you suck at acting. Too bad Hollywood is only a ten-minute commute from your apartment.
"I’m… I’m okay. I'm totally okay." You try to laugh it off, but instead, it sounds like a strange, very unattractive quack. The thick tears that begin to roll down your cheeks are not even necessary for Hyunjin to call you out. He is not buying any of it.
"Darling, please. Don’t lie to me.”
"Hyunjin, I'm fine! God!"
At this point, you're full on sobbing in the middle of the room, and people are shooting you weird looks. Hyunjin should leave. Being seen with a mess like you could taint his spotless, perfect image, and outside of his office, he has absolutely no obligation to you. Fuck, you don’t even know why you’re being such a crybaby— before Hyunjin, you could actually down booze without losing it on the spot, especially surrounded by a bunch of strangers.
But as if he couldn’t tug at you anymore, he doesn’t think this time to cross the miniscule space between you both and pull you into a tight hug. You feel like utter crap, and it’s been so long since someone just held you, assuring you that everything is going to be fine. But you can’t help notice one insignificant detail: Hyunjin smells fucking amazing and expensive and elegant— perhaps Chanel or Tom Ford? And in that glorious suit too, he’s like the real-life, less embarrassing embodiment of the mafia overlords that dominated your questionable high school fanfiction phase. Fuck. This isn’t helping the situation.
Hyunjin, meanwhile, rubs soothing circles on your back, definitely unaware of your inappropriate intrusive thoughts. “Shhh, it’s going to be okay. Do you wanna get out of here?”
You blink up at him tearily, mind frazzled but remembering your engagement. “But, Yeonjun…”
And as if the devil whispers in his ears, your cousin manifests out of thin air, collapsing onto the empty stool next to you. “My dear cuz, smack some sense into me if I ever volunteer again with— wait. Bro, are you crying?”
The shame piles up on you again, heating up your skin in a way that’s too obvious. But before you can muster up a lie, Hyunjin speaks for you, taking the mug away from your hands. “I think it’s best if Y/N gets some rest, she isn’t feeling too well.”
Yeonjun just stares dumbly at Hyunjin for a second, jaw hanging open a little, as it does for anyone when they are first in the presence of Hwang Hyunjin. “I, uh. Yeah. That’s good. You’re Hwang Hyunjin, right? Her dating coach?”
Even through your intoxication, you feel like you see something flicker in Hyunjin’s eyes, but as always, it doesn’t last. “Yes, it’s wonderful to meet you, Yeonjun. Y/N has spoken a lot about you.”
“Same to you.” Yeonjun snickers, before clearing his throat and turning serious. “Listen, man, I hate to ask you this. But can you please help her home? I can text you the address? I really can’t leave this stupid shindig until it’s over, but I don’t wanna leave her alone—”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of her.” Hyunjin states firmly, motioning to the bartender to bring you a large class of water. The way he’s looking out for you brings up something hot, aroused in your stomach. 
Yeonjun nods, and to his credit, he really does look as apologetic as you can discern in your drunk haze. Hyunjin helps you finish your water, before buying a water bottle for you to sip from, as he slides his arm around your shoulders and helps you out of that terrible room. In most cases, when sober and thinking straight, you would be as rigid as a bar, humiliated and unsure of what to do with yourself. But you let yourself have this, just once, melting into his side and enjoying your misery more than you should.
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Sometimes, Hyunjin really can be such a piece of shit. Like the time he promised Princess Diana extra cuddles before bedtime, but forgot because he had been working late at SeoulSpark on some overdue reports; he had felt like such a horrible father to his baby. Or the time he mentioned a Gucci product during an interview, inadvertently advertising for Versace’s biggest competitor; Donatella wouldn’t reply to his texts for nearly a week. But all of that seems tame in comparison to today.
You’ve had too much to drink and can’t stop crying, and here Hyunjin is, thinking about how much he wants to kiss you. In his defense, you look so adorable, with your cheeks flushed from the alcohol, eyes drooping with drowsiness and lips pouted preciously. But it’s still highly inappropriate of Hyunjin to be thinking of you in such a way, so he shoves those treacherous thoughts into the back of his mind and focuses on staring at anything but you.
After a few swipes on the Uber app, your ride pulls up in front of the hotel in which Highlight is located inside. At this point, you’ve become pliant in Hyunjin’s arms, cuddling into his side and clutching at his waist. Hyunjin can barely breathe, and is vastly thankful for the distraction of the car's arrival.
He helps you into the backseat of the car, before getting in from the other side. The drive back to your place is quiet, save for the breezy orchestra music that the driver plays on the low and the soft sounds of your sniffling. Hyunjin clenches his jaw and stares out the window, trying to focus on the green highway signs whizzing by and not the fact that you’re barely centimeters away from him, humming sadly along to the radio. 
Twenty minutes pass, and suddenly, you’re both standing in front of your apartment building, an old but dreamy housing complex tucked away in one of the quieter sectors of the city. Hyunjin walks you up to your door, telling himself that he’ll leave as soon as you’re safe inside. He watches you sway on your feet a little while you take a few extra minutes to fumble with the door lock. Hyunjin wants you to go inside and slam the door in his face, bringing him back to his senses. Instead, you look over at him, a lilt to your voice.
“Wanna come inside?” You slightly slur over your words, giving him a small glance. It’s innocent enough that Hyunjin knows your motives are pure, even if a tiny part of him wishes they weren’t. 
He hesitates, the logical side of his mind screaming at him to politely refuse and bid you a goodnight. But then again, he hasn’t been very logical whenever it comes to you. He now promises himself that this is just a little post-party hangout. You can be friends, can’t you? And besides, you need someone to look after you. And friends look after each other, don’t they?
Hyunjin steps inside, instantly in awe of your apartment. The open floor concept allows him to explore the entire layout with his eyes, from the soft throw blanket lying on your very comfortable-looking couch to the bellowing linen curtains hanging over your windows. The mismatched furniture and nearly overflowing book cases are incredibly charming, the artful dissonance of your decor coming together in a harmony that just makes everything feel so cozy. 
In Hyunjin’s mind, your apartment is so quintessentially you, a feeling of home that his own place never quite felt like. Yes, he loves Oasis more than anything, but there’s this slightly pretentious air to it, this urge to keep it constantly pristine. It feeds into Hyunjin’s obsession over perfection, instead of being the one place where he can truly be himself. Here, however, Hyunjin feels comfortable, secure in his own skin, even when in reality, he probably looks ridiculously out of place in his over-the-top outfit.
“Hm,” you mumble, prompting Hyunjin to whirl around and rush forward to steady you when you lean a little too forward. “Do you wanna drink?”
Hyunjin frowns at you while you just giggle nonsensically. You’re nowhere near sober, but at the very least, at least you’re not distressed anymore. Hyunjin hates to see you upset; your face was made for smiling.
“Absolutely not. We have done enough drinking for today.” Hyunjin chides you sternly. “You can’t go to bed on an empty stomach, though.”
You prop yourself on one of the chairs at your dining table, giving him an anticipating look that Hyunjin takes as permission to rummage through your cupboards. After looking through the fridge as well, Hyunjin settles on cooking you his comfort grilled cheese recipe. He pours you a glass of water and gives you a little pat on your head when you obediently finish the entire thing and accept another.
You quietly watch Hyunjin while he putters around the kitchen; the sheer domesticity of it all makes him yearn for this to be a regular occurrence. He’d cook for you everyday, filling you to the brim with all of the affection you deserve. But that’s not going to happen, so he keeps his head down and concentrates. Hyunjin flips the sourdough bread on the griddle until it’s golden brown, spreading liberal amounts of butter on each side. And the pièce de résistance, he adds one-third white cheddar, one-third yellow cheddar, and one-third American cheese, his favorite combination of cheeses for a rainy day. 
“This is so yummy,” you declare after your first bite, eyes full of delight. “Here, have some. You’re such a good cook, Hyunnie.”
Hyunjin doesn’t know whether to be more shocked at the fact that you’re holding out your own sandwich for Hyunjin to try, or how you just called him such an endearing nickname. “I– it’s okay, darling. I’m not hungry.”
But you don’t accept it, because it looks like you’re just as stubborn even when inebriated. “You need to taste, or else I’ll be sad.”
You flash him a heartbroken set of puppy dog eyes that makes him melt and give in. He reaches across the rickety little table and tries to take the sandwich in his own hands, but you pull away slightly and hold it out to him expectantly. Oh. 
Hyunjin gingerly leans forward and lets you feed him a bite of the grilled cheese. He chews quickly, trying not to blush under the intensity of your gaze. Once he swallows, he watches you finish off the rest of the sandwich, satisfied with his compliance. When you’re done, you look up at him proudly, and he just can’t help but be endeared by you. 
Hyunjin clears the table and washes the dishes, wiping his hands on the fluffy towel hanging from the oven handle. After a moment’s hesitation, he reaches out to brush a few stray crumbs off of the corner of your mouth, trying not to revel in the sensation of how soft your lips are under his thumb.
“Thank you,” you say, giving him a guileless smile while you bite down on an orange-colored candy from the small bowl on the counter. “Let’s do something fun, that party was so boring.”
Hyunjin lets you wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling him to the living room and onto the couch. He huffs out a laugh as you clumsily fall onto the sofa, moving to get comfortable. “What are you thinking?”
You tap your chin dramatically, making a show of trying to decide what to do. “How about… karaoke?”
Hyunjin grins and takes the TV remote that you hand him, hopping onto YouTube and flipping through the list of lyrical videos. “Any preference for a song?”
You shake your head vigorously. “Surprise me.”
He settles on “Gone Away,” a ballad by one of his favorite underground rock bands. The slow notes of a love song float out through the speaker, the lovely voice of the lead singer, J.One, filling his ears. He nervously glances over at you, but you give him an encouraging nod, and Hyunjin lets himself go.
“Inside collapsed time, even my hopes for us to be together, no longer matter,” Hyunjin sings along to the lyrics, the song resonating within him more than he wishes it did. “My love, tangled up while looking for you, is gone, gone away, gone away.”
“I don’t think I can stop you from leaving anymore,” you join in softly, and Hyunjin looks over at you in surprise, but you’re staring straight ahead at the TV. He tamps down his nerves and gets through the rest of the song with you, both of you somehow harmonizing together in tune. At some point in the middle, the tears start pouring down his cheeks slowly, in the way he can never control. He just hopes that you don’t notice every time he reaches up to swipe at them, before inevitably fall.
The song doesn’t finish quick enough, and an advertisement begins to run on autoplay, but Hyunjin can’t bring himself to look at you again, terrified of the way his heart beats so deafeningly in his chest.
“Hyunjin.”
Serious, without a single hint of playfulness. Hyunjin clears his throat and lifts his head to see your indecipherable expression. He notices the traces of haziness in your eyes, but there’s undeniable determination written across your face. “Yes?”
“Don’t cry,” You nearly sob out, breath catching in your throat. “It doesn’t suit such a beautiful person to be filled with so much grief.”
Hyunjin covers up his astonishment at your words with denial, trying to push them off as an emotional reaction to the song. But you’ve just called him beautiful, and that cannot be covered up. “I’m sorry, that was a bit much.”
You swallow harshly, the dry sound of it audible. Maybe Hyunjin should excuse himself to bring you some water and escape this conversation. But— “You can never be too much. I want you, all the time. I think of you, all the time.”
This time, Hyunjin is effectively rendered gone. Frozen to the couch, time stopped and his train of rational thought put on hold. He reruns the sentence in his brain, trying to piece them together. You want him. You think of him? You want him? His confused, frantic contemplation is interrupted when you crawl over the couch and lift your palm to cup his jaw, so close that he can nearly feel the soft puff of your breathing against his face. Fuck, you’re still drunk.
“I’m gonna kiss you now,” you murmur. Hyunjin is sure he has died and gone to some otherworldly dimension— maybe heaven, or hell, depending on how the higher powers have judged his situation to be— when he feels your lips slot against his, reeling him in like a needle through thread. So what else can he do, but accept what you give him and circle his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer so you’re on his lap.
You taste like the mango candy you popped earlier, sweet with a hint of tanginess, and it’s driving Hyunjin absolute nuts. Your eyes flutter shut and so do Hyunjin’s, both of you melting into each other, diving into the dangerous waters that Hyunjin swore that he wouldn’t tread. But he can’t stop, he just can’t, not when you lick into his mouth with a passion to rival the one he’s felt for you since day one. 
“Hyunjin…” You whisper, a long, obscenely drawn-out syllable that’s reminiscent of the noises that Hyunjin imagined eliciting from you. That one sound snaps him out of it. You’re drunk, you’re drunk, and this means nothing. This means nothing to you, and he’s just been here, the unfortunate sap to receive your sweet, empty words just because he’s been here for you once. He doesn’t deserve any of it. You’re not going to remember any of it. You are so fucking drunk.
Before he knows it, he’s shoving you off, and with the way you heavily land on the cushion next to him, he wasn’t gentle at all, in his panic. You just stare at him with a half-dazed, half-dismayed look on your face that makes him cringe away. 
“I am so sorry,” Hyunjin croaks, grabbing his phone and scrambling to stand up. He will pull himself together, eventually, in time to see you for the next appointment. And then he will remind himself that he is a mere service to you, and nothing more. As it should be, and as it always was.
Hyunjin doesn’t even wait for your response before he’s running out the door and into the night.
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You come to at around noon, groggily blinking a few times before the memories come flooding back in. You drinking yourself stupid at the bar. Hyunjin leading the way back home. Karaoke while relaxed on your shitty couch from Craig’s List. Kissing like in a movie before the atomic bomb dropped. You kissed Hyunjin. Your drunk, sentimental ass was lucid enough to remember your feelings, but not sober enough to remember to conceal them. You kissed Hwang motherfucking Hyunjin, and you have colossally fucked up. 
You scream about it for a good half hour, ripping at your hair and keeling over on the couch, dry heaving in a failed attempt to let out your guilt. It sticks. You’re mortified. Scared. Disgusted. How, how could you do that to him? Taking advantage of him when he was in your own home? You didn’t even get proper consent from him! You are such a damn asshole, and now, Hyunjin is probably never going to want to see you again. 
All you want to do is jump under your covers and cry yourself to a sleep that you’ll never have to wake up from. But you love Hyunjin too much to do that to him. You owe him an apology and the entire world, which you have no qualms about bringing to him if he asked you.
And that’s why you’re at SeoulSpark, ignoring the fear pulsing in your body as you push open the door, closing your eyes as the cool gust of the air conditioning washes over your skin. But the drop in temperature does nothing to tamp down the nerves boiling under your skin. 
All of the composure that you have carefully curated in the past few minutes shrivels up— charred to a crisp and punted out of Hyunjin’s ridiculously extravagant floor-to-ceiling windows— when you lay eyes on him. Because that’s the effect he’s always had on you, and you feel like an idiot for not already anticipating that familiar cyclone of emotions that hits you whenever he’s in vicinity. 
There he stands, gazing out at the view leisurely spread out at his feet, lax hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers like he has no worries at all. In the perfect world, you could have just an ounce of his self-command, of how assuredly he carries himself. You envy him almost as much as you want him. Almost. 
When he turns away from the glass at the sound of entrance, the sharp angle of his side profile is shadowed by the light pouring in from behind him, portraying him as some magnificent sort of Greek god. And he might as well be, with the way he has directed both torrents of lightning and spelled arrows through your heart. 
You just stand there awkwardly as he steps out of the sun and completely into your vision; you don’t trust that there will ever be a day when you are not so devastatingly floored by his beauty. The buttons of his shirt are haphazardly hooked in a way that seems not so careless, but more effortless, and you have to fight everything in yourself to not stare at the smooth expanse of skin revealed at the top. 
The moment Hyunjin recognizes the intruder of his office as you, his lips erupt into a smile that seems too genuine given the stunt you pulled just a few hours prior. If he carries any disgust towards you as a result of last night’s events, he doesn’t show it. Warmth pools in his eyes like honey, and you find yourself swimming in it, insatiable and begging for more of that lovely taste. You wish you knew how it would feel to have him look at you so sweetly while he harshly fucks into you, a complete juxtaposition to the adoration painting his expression.
“Hey,” you wave your hand lamely, and then immediately mentally punch yourself in the face; you really missed your calling as the awkward main character of a Disney original show. 
“Good morning, darling. I wasn’t expecting you today.” Hyunjin gestures towards the sofa and you hastily sit down on it, whereas Hyunjin elegantly settles himself across from you. 
“I know.” You avert your gaze, feeling the blush creeping up your neck and onto your face. “Last night was, uh, something.”
That’s one fucking way to put it.
Hyunjin lets out a surprised little chuckle, a sound so cute that you have to ponder ways to inconspicuously pinch your arm. “Well, I was talking about how you didn’t have an appointment. But I’m glad that you’re using the walk-in hours.”
“Yeah… so I thought we should maybe talk about what happened,” you stutter out, shifting under Hyunjin’s steady gaze. “I don’t even know where to begin though.”
Hyunjin hums encouragingly. “It’s okay. What do you want to tell me?”
You take a deep breath, thinking back to the previous night. “I’m sorry. I crossed so many lines yesterday and I was too drunk out of my mind to even tell. I must have made you feel so uncomfortable, and that’s the last thing I would ever want to do.”
And you mean every word. You would rather hurtle yourself into the Grand Canyon than hurt Hyunjin, Hyunjin who has been so good to you even when you never deserved it, Hyunjin who you’re hopelessly and utterly in love with. Hyunjin, who you can never have.
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything during that miniscule gap in which you pause, so you take it as a sign to keep going. You’d rather get it off your chest all in one go anyway, as you fear you may not be able to finish if you stop. “I get it if this changes things. If you don’t want to see me anymore.” 
You shut your eyes as soon as you finish speaking, too apprehensive to see his reaction. This is it. This is the part where he agrees and so very politely asks you to leave his office and never come back again. It’ll probably take Wonyoung all of five seconds to boot you out of Hyunjin’s Google calendar, and then Hyunjin will go back to charming the next poor sucker to walk into his office. Gosh, you want to continue being that poor sucker, as pathetic as it is.
“Did you mean any of it?”
Against every fiber of your being telling you not to, to stay in blissful ignorance, you pry your eyes open to see Hyunjin waiting with his arms folded. Something about the intensity of his gaze, coupled with the unexpected potency in his usually soft voice, makes you shift uneasily. 
“I know it was inappropriate. I’m sorry—”
Hyunjin cuts you off, shaking his head in exasperation. “I need you to tell me the truth. Did you mean what you said to me last night?”
You tilt your head down so that you get an eyeful of the plush rug spread under the sofa. Of course you meant everything. You might have been drunk, but the intoxication only brought out the deepest, most hidden parts of yourself; it gave you the courage to manifest what you want the most. But to admit anything to Hyunjin— again— when he clearly did not want any part in it would hurt even more, because this time, you didn’t have alcohol in you to numb the pain of rejection. 
“Why did you leave?”
For a moment, you think that Hyunjin will ignore your question and insist on you giving him a hard answer. Instead, he tentatively reaches his hand out and hooks his thumb and index finger under your chin, carefully angling your head up to meet your eyes. That familiar gentleness once again radiates from him, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from melting into it. In spite of how utterly miserable you feel right now, the telltale flutter of your heart betrays you. God, you want to be his. 
“I left because I didn’t know how much of it was real,” Hyunjin rasps. His words are hushed, but you feel the weight of them, soaked and dripping with both tenderness and hesitation. “I didn’t want you holding my heart when you couldn’t fully feel it in your hands.”
You exhale slowly, trying to ignore the false hope rising like bile in your throat. The way his eyes brighten whenever he sees you. The stolen glances you thought you were imagining all this time. Darling. It can’t be. “Hyunjin… what are you saying?” 
“Do you have feelings for me? Because I do.” Hyunjin purses his lips and slides his palm up to caress your cheek. “I have feelings for you, and I’m so tired of pretending that I don’t.”
“You what?” You search his eyes wildly for any sign of a joke, because you’re unwilling to believe that this is really, truly happening. All of your reasoning feels tightened by this nostalgic lavender haze, a dizzying sense of deja vu pulled from your thoughts. The ones in which you get to call Hyunjin yours. They cannot be real, not in this universe.
He nods bashfully, a pretty new color in his cheeks— a shade that both astounds and confounds you. The cherry lips that you’ve endlessly fantasized about shine red and swollen with how he has so anxiously bitten into them. Hyunjin’s eyes shine in the hazy glow of his sunset lamp, full of feeling and twinkling brighter than any high rise. You’ve never seen him like this, vulnerable and laid bare in front of you. You’ve always been the one to fall apart in front of him, and yet, here he is, surprising you once again. And that’s something that will never change, how he remains the warlock of your wildest dreams and unraveling sanity. 
“I haven’t been the same since we met.” Hyunjin murmurs, softly stroking the side of your face. “And- and after last night, I think I actually might be going crazy. Because maybe it’s not all in my head. Maybe you want me as much as I do. Do you?”
You shake your head, heart fluctuating with every emotion that has ever been registered in your mind. Exhilaration. Doubt. Fear. Devotion. You are so overwhelmingly in love with the man in front of you that it hurts, even when he stands in front of you with his heart in his hands. It hurts, because you know that no matter what, there’s no going back now. You know you can’t leave him alone now; you are completely and utterly his. 
“Hyunjin—”
“Y/N.” Hyunjin pleads, and all you can feel is disappointment at the address. Not darling. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. Just please—”
“Hyunjin.” You cut him off harshly, and he freezes, his arms dropping back to his side. You immediately feel the magnitude of losing his touch on your skin, and it does nothing to tamp down the mix of frustration and arousal inside of you. “Hwang Hyunjin. You drive me absolutely insane.”
There’s a moment of charged silence, before his lips are on yours. When you were younger, you’d spend hours hunched over romance novels and rereading the parts when the leads finally kissed, their repressed emotions finally amalgamating in one stunning, golden moment. But nothing about kissing Hyunjin feels golden; it never did. 
No, it’s an ardent, burning red, a fire blooming in the hands that you use to yank him closer to you, a distance that will always feel unending whenever it’s him. It’s sin, pouring over hot coals and shimmering ore, enchanting yet raw. It’s so perfectly imperfect, wet and frantic, shameless and desperate. It’s rose vines creeping up crumbling brick and the roll of thunder in the middle of the night. It’s you and him and no inhibitions whatsoever, until… 
“Wait, wait, wait.” To your disappointment, Hyunjin pulls back. Even though he was the one who kissed you, you don’t fail to recognize the uncertainty written on his reddened lips. 
You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to block out the nagging thoughts in which Hyunjin has already regretted you. Moving out of his hold, you give him space by backing away. “Is everything okay?”
“I wanted to make sure that you are one-hundred percent okay with this. Like, I drive you insane in a good way, right? Not a bad way? Just checking. Consent is key and all,” Hyunjin breathlessly, letting out a nervous giggle. It’s a display that is shockingly similar to how you act whenever you’re agitated, and you never expected it to be put on by Hyunjin, of all people. It’s… cute. 
You give him a small smile, letting your handbag carelessly slip off your shoulder and onto the rug. You take a tiny step towards him, wrapping your arms around Hyunjin’s slender waist and reveling in how Hyunjin’s breathing quickens, pulse jumping with your touch. Drawing him close to you, just until your lips are barely touching, you look up at him through your eyelashes, focusing on that gorgeous beauty mark under his eye. 
“Hyunjin, is the door locked?”
He just stares at you for a good moment, and you let him, enjoying the way his lips part at your husky tone. “No. I didn’t lock it.”
“Good.” You lift your hand and trace the outline of Hyunjin’s bottom lip with your finger, observing the way he shivers at your touch. “Pay attention, because I’m about to prove to you just how much I like you.”
A blush speckled across his features is all that is needed to induce that familiar urge in you, the one that makes you unreasonably aroused. You want to make him yours, to take care of him and demonstrate to him specifically how insane you are for him. You want to make his wildest dreams come alive, just like he has done for you.
Hyunjin’s eyes flutter shut, a movement so delicate that it almost makes you cry. “Please… just touch me.”
Talking will come, eventually. Both of you will sit down tomorrow morning and establish what exactly this is, what you have done by that point— what you plan to do to Hyunjin now. You’ll find out what this is for Hyunjin— whether this is lust, a brazen act committed in the heat of the moment, or the complete opposite, what you’re too afraid to even think of. Your heart wishes for the latter to be true, for Hyunjin to want you not only as much as you want him, but in the same way as well. Maybe you can’t put it in words, what you feel for him, but you can show him your sincerity in other ways. It’s all you can imagine doing, after Hyunjin has currently rendered you with no other form of thought. Right now, it’s just you and him and a novel of proofs to be written on each other. 
And so you cup his cheek and draw his body closer to yours; this time, you move slowly, every action deliberate, exploring Hyunjin and his depths. Your lips touch his softly, a ghost of longing on skin. In turn, Hyunjin’s hands clutch at yours, silently asking you for more, and you indulge your prince, because there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.
Hwang Hyunjin tastes like a sunrise, if dawn’s dainty fingertips blessing the sky with a brilliant, fiery spectrum of light could be encapsulated in that sense. Coffee ice cream, spearmint, unadulterated eroticism. Finally, you’ve found the end of your questions. You shut your eyes as Hyunjin slips his hands into your hair, pulling it out of its tight hold and deftly sliding the tiny pink elastic around his wrist. You mirror his actions, carding your fingers through his soft, silky strands and holding onto him as he deepens the kiss. Instinctively, almost, you part your lips, allowing for him to slip his tongue inside and have his own answers.
Hyunjin pulls back from you to look at you directly when he starts to run his trembling hands down over the curve of your hips, the way he regards you full of attention and lust. You are sure that the confidence that you might have projected earlier has diffused into something more unfocused, with the way you already feel so high off of Hyunjin. Taking control has always been something that has come to you easily, until Park Jisung subjugated that part of you. But you don’t mind it right now, Hyunjin taking all of you and turning you into a mess, because this is the very comfort that you’ve been craving for so long.
“Are you sure?” Hyunjin whispers, even though there’s no secret to be kept. He leans down so that his forehead touches your own, in a way that feels too intimate, but at the same time, it makes you want it and more. It’s a genuine question ringing with the slightest hint of hesitation, and yet, you can’t believe he has to ask you; you love him, even though you may not be able to say it, yet. 
“This. This is what you do to me.” You take Hyunjin’s hand into yours and lead it to the place between your legs that’s been begging for his touch since you first laid eyes on him, second to only your heart. Hyunjin’s eyes widen in surprise when you guide his hand under your skirt, pupils dilating in want when he realizes how drenched you are just for him. But his reaction is nothing compared to you, to how you suck in a sharp breath and try not to fall apart with just one touch.
That one sound is enough for his gaze to darken, before he’s gripping your hips like a vice and pushing you against his desk. You let out a small gasp at the roughness of the movement, and even more so at how Hyunjin is finally taking what has always belonged to him, and him only. In response, he captures your bottom lip with his teeth, nipping at you slightly, not enough to cause pain but just enough to have your back arching at the sting of it.
“Did that hurt?” Hyunjin asks you, a smirk painting his features as he drags his lips across your cupid bow ever-so-softly.
You try to hide your blush by rolling your eyes defiantly, fisting the collar of his shirt in your hands. “No, it didn’t.”
Hyunjin laughs as he places one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, before he’s moving to your neck, attentively peppering kisses along it just to garner more proof of the utter pleasure that has pervaded your senses— and he has barely even touched you yet.  
Your hands slide down to the bottom of his shirt and to tug at it, the desperation of the movement mirroring the pulse of your heart. Hyunjin lets you unhook the top few buttons before hastily tearing off the rest of it, the tiny silver knobs scattering across the floor. But you can’t think about the mess now, not when Hyunjin takes your hands in his and runs them down smooth, toned places of his torso. 
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he mutters under his breath, easily untying your blouse with just his right hand, something that shouldn’t be as attractive to you as it is. He pushes it off of your body, the material now a nuisance to the way he begins to explore every inch of skin his lips can find purchase on. 
You decide to help him out, unzipping your skirt to step out of it, kicking it away along with your heels to some forgotten corner of the office. Seeing no point in prolonging your mutual misery, you also reach behind your back and unhook your bra to free your breasts to him, shrugging it off with a smile as you meet Hyunjin’s eyes.
“Do you want to touch me?” You give him a teasing grin, loving the way he audibly gulps when taking in how you’re nearly bare, all for him. 
“I want to fucking ravish you.”
You tense with his words and how his gaze hardens with the challenge, trying to maintain your cocky front. “Let’s see how you do, Dr. Hwang.” 
Hyunjin doesn’t reply immediately, the corner of his lips just barely tipping up. His fingers find the band of your panties, hooking under to pull you forward to him as he guides you to sit on the desk. “I can literally smell how wet you are for me, you know.”
And you nearly come to his words, but he doesn’t give you the chance, hands coyly smoothing up your stomach before gripping your panties on either side and ripping them off your body. Before the lace has even touched the floor, his mouth is on your cunt, blazing hot and wet. 
You gasp, sucking in a shattering breath as his lips move against your pussy as if spelling out letters in the filthiest language known to man. He envelops your clit with his lips in a slight kiss before you feel his tongue delve out, adventuring between your folds and getting his first, full taste of you. Hyunjin moans as he dips into you, blessing your ears with the prettiest sound to grace them, and it seems as if eating you out pleases him just as much as it does for you, if not more.
Hyunjin pulls away momentarily to look at your center, hands wrapping around your thighs and encouraging them even farther apart. Trailing kisses along your shin, he lifts your right leg to place it comfortably on the desk, caging himself between your legs. The sight makes you clench and grasp onto his hair, bringing him right back into you. 
“Fuck,” he breathes out as he pressed his mouth against you once more, relentlessly starving and savouring the taste of you at the same time. “You taste even better than I imagined.”
You moan, taking fistfuls of his soft, soft hair as he fulfills his sinful promises. You can’t think of any good comeback like you would prefer to do, but this position, while compromising, isn’t anything but ideal at this moment. The worlds have coiled in your throat, coming out as broken sobs, and you have effectively gone crazy for Hyunjin.
“So pretty,” he compliments, eyes drinking in your core before softening as they glance up at you. He slides a lone finger inside of you, and you immediately tighten around it, making him chuckle. “You like that? Like my mouth on your cunt? Like how I’m fucking you like this, so slow yet not enough?”
You just whimper in answer, but Hyunjin remains unbothered by your lack of coherent response. “You taste fucking heavenly, by the way.”
And then he pulls his hand away harshly, leaving a stinging slap directly on your aching pussy, immediately rubbing your clit after to lessen the harshness of it. 
“Oh my God—”
He hooks two of fingers inside of you this time, thrusting in and walking the tips of them along your g-spot, making your head go hazy with pleasure. Your breathing hitches as a pressure starts to build in your lower stomach, your walls shamelessly sucking at Hyunjin’s fingers. 
“Mm, you’re going to drench me, aren’t you? You talk up a big storm, but you’re dripping down my hand already.”
Hyunjin’s talk is almost as dangerous as his touch, and he knows it, with how he grins knowingly at you while he so sweetly puts you in your place. He attaches his mouth to your clit, sucks deftly, and moves his entire arm against that one beautiful place, making your legs give out beneath you. 
“Hyunjin, please,” you sob, amazed with how you were even able to form that sorry excuse for a sentence. “I need—”
“Need what?” Hyunjin mocks you, knowing exactly what you want, but he takes his time, playing with you and drawing out this sublime form of torture on your body. “Can’t wait for me to fill you up, yes? So greedy.”
Fuck, you love the way he talks. Measured and polite when fully clothed, but uninhibited and dirty behind closed doors. Your spine straightens as he starts to pump you so hard that you begin to see stars, or maybe just the lights from the buildings outside. You can’t be sure. You begin to arch your back, trying to lessen the intensity of his movements, but he wraps his arm around your hips to hold you down.
He flicks your clit mercilessly, his tongue winding you close to your climax. You mewl his name softly, rolling your hips up towards his face and on his fingers, clenching impossibly tight around him, but he only responds by fucking you harder. Faster. 
You can feel your orgasm approaching in addition to his heightened attention in your blissful facial expressions, watching the way your brows turn up in the middle. 
“Close, aren’t you?” He murmurs against your clit, and you concentrate on his voice, the sole thing you can comprehend past the obliterating pleasure you’re suspended in. You swear he smiles, before he pulls away from you. 
You cry out pathetically at the loss of contact, feeling that tsunami of ecstasy fail to crest and eventually fade back into the shallows, leaving just an unbearable ripple of disturbance behind. You can feel the tears form in your eyes at your interrupted orgasm that was so cruelly taken from you, and you narrow your gaze at Hyunjin. 
“And you’re such a brat, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” Hyunjin responds cheekily, tracing his middle finger slightly against your folds, and you have to grind your teeth to keep from shuddering. “I want you to come on my cock instead.”
You’ve had enough of his games. This is something that you started, and you completely intend to finish it, even if it means not playing by Hyunjin’s twisted rules and making your own board. You dig your nails into Hyunjin’s shoulders, feeling him wince under your touch, and push him back roughly. He collapses onto the couch, looking up at you in wide-eyed surprise. 
“Did you have fun, Hyunjin? I hope you did.” It’s your turn to smirk down at him, all of the explicit thoughts of what you would love to do to him running through your head. “Because we’re going to be doing things my way now.”
Before he can even muster up a retort, you are already straddling him, shifting back to unzip his trousers and shove them down his legs, while he just obediently lifts up his hips to help. All in one go, you get both his pants and boxers off, freeing his length. And he really is so pretty— all of him, down to his cock that’s perfectly hardened for you to use. 
Hyunjin shivers as you experimentally palm his cock, testing how sensitive he is, and you’re pleased with what you discover. “What are you going to do to me?” 
“What do you want me to do to you?” You question him right back, pretending to actually listen to him. Hyunjin takes the bait, relief and desire evident in his features.
“I want you to fuck me with that sweet little pussy,” he responds, the urgency filling his throat making you smile.
“I see.” 
You shrug nonchalantly, gripping him and enjoying the way he gets even harder in your hands. Slowly, you begin to pump him, spitting into your palm and spreading it down his length for better friction. It works, with the way he curses under his breath and looks at you pleadingly. 
“Darling, stop… stop doing that,” he pleads, eyes involuntarily rolling back as you lean forward, pressing your tits together and sliding his dick between them teasingly. 
You cock your head to the side and let your hair fall slightly over your eyes, smiling innocently at him. “Stop doing what, baby?”
“Stop fucking teasing me!” He gasps out, watching you lift yourself just barely onto his cock, holding him at the base and rubbing his tip between your slick folds. Both of you let out soft sighs at the sensation of him nudging your entrance, but you still don’t relent. 
“I don’t know… I kinda like the position we’re in. Think I could get myself off just watching you like this,” you say, lightly circling your hips as you grind your clit on his cock. “Be patient.”
“I’ve been patient for months,” he whines— in any other situation, you’d laugh at how adorable he is if you weren’t so damn turned on right now. He places his arms around your waist, squeezing lightly. “I have to have you.”
You take Hyunjin’s hands and bring them up to rest over your breasts, keeping eye contact with him. As if a trying to placate you by seduction, he traces his fingers over your nipples, sending a jolt through your body; he need not know that you have been wrapped around his finger ever since he pushed you against that desk, and that you’re this close to surrendering to his pleas. You need him.
“Say ‘please’,” you giggle, your cocky façade cracking. After all, you’re endlessly weak for him. 
Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but obliges you anyway. “Please, fuck me.”
You want to have one last word with his attitude, but then his palm cracks hard against your thigh, and your legs give up. Your hips sink fully down onto his lap, and you both cry out at the feeling of being sated in the best possible way. Hyunjin is so deep inside you that you feel like you can barely breathe; yet, your chest rises and falls rapidly, as Hyunjin anchors his hands on your ass, assisting you in riding him.
Hyunjin tilts his head back, the veins along the graceful arch of his neck prominent as your walls pulse around him. Meanwhile, you’re practically shaking at how full he makes you feel, pressed up so deliciously inside of you. You’ll lose your mind if it means you can’t have him like this in every moment for the rest of your life, but it’s an unfortunate truth you’ll have to confront later. For now, you know he’s going to make an absolute mess of you.
“There we go, sweetheart. Use me, take all of what you want from me.” Hyunjin just whispers, guiding the roll of your hips while staring up at you in a way you can’t believe is reserved just for you. Enamored, raptured, and completely captivated. It’s so similar to the way you know you always look at him, that you nearly want to cry at the sight.
You’re breathless, gazing down at the man you love through hazy eyes. Hyunjin always looks beautiful no matter what, but right now, he’s simply breathtaking, with how his hair is so artfully mussed, and how his cheeks are tinged with the blush of pleasure. He’s especially exquisite, knowing that he’s like this just for you.
“F-feel so good, Hyunjin,” you manage, both of you fucking each other at this point— you bouncing on top of him while he fucks into from below with equal energy.
Hyunjin smirks, control coming back to him as you give it up. He licks the pad of his thumb and reaches between you both to rub slow, firm circles on your clit. “Fuck, are you going to come already?” 
In spite of yourself, you shoot him a look that isn’t nearly as sharp as you intended it to be. “You already got me halfway there.”
“Definitely more than halfway— eighty-percent’s more accurate,” Hyunjin responds with haphazardly feigned indignance, before shaking his head and kissing you. He bows his head down to encase your nipple with his lips, gently sucking at the bud while his hand trails over across your chest to grasp and squeeze at your other breast, eliciting a strangled moan from you. “It’s that nice, right? I know, baby. Let go for me.”
And you do. Shattering, fierce, red-hot. You can’t handle the way he’s looking at you, touching you, talking to you. Your toes are numb from how harshly they curl, and your fingers sting from how you dragged them down Hyunjin’s back, hopefully leaving marks for him to smile at later.
“Hyun—” You can’t finish even calling out his name, the attempt fading into something nonsensical. Your eyes water from the intensity of your climax, before nestling into his neck.
But he pulls away to look you in the eye when you come, whimpering hopelessly. “That’s it, let go for me, darling.”
Your vision blurs as your orgasm finally crashes into you, overwhelming and so earth-shatteringly beautiful. Hyunjin’s voice soothes you as he guides you through your high, whispering hushed praises against your skin and doing dangerous things to your heart. A wave of unmatchable euphoria washes over you, but it never passes, like his body is an expert in prolonging the pleasure so intricately. You cannot believe that Hyunjin is real, with the way each time he thrusts into you tips you closer and closer into a never-ending free fall into absolute ecstasy. 
With a soft, drawn out sigh, you finally come, and Hyunjin swears under his breath as you clench around him, your pussy gripping his cock so hard that it almost draws the climax from his body. You find a single ounce of strength in the aftermath, wrapping your arm around Hyunjin’s neck and turning his chin to make him look at you.
“I need you to come for me, Hyunjin,” you say, lips quivering against his.
He groans into your mouth, kissing you deeply. “Where, baby? Tell me where.”
“Inside of me.”
Hyunjin throws his head back, moaning desperately before capturing your mouth in a messy kiss. When he breaks away, a string of saliva connects your lips, and it feels so treacherously erotic. Hyunjin comes while calling your name over and over again, pressing your ass down on his lap as his thrusts become shallower, and more erratic. He rolls his hips a final time, pumping his come as deep as he can into you. And then he slumps against you, panting heavily as he gently lays you back down on the couch to fit you comfortably under the crook of his arm.
You hold each other just like that for a long time, hands clasped together while simply existing in the universe that feels like it is all your own. Hyunjin sighs, kissing you deeply in a way that makes your heart flip. He then pulls back to look down and inspect you, both concern and care written deep in his expression. 
“Are you okay, darling? Was that too much?”
You give him a fucked-out grin, cupping his beautiful face with your palms and reveling in how warm his skin is. “No. That was perfect. You are perfect.”
“I… I’m glad.” Hyunjin blushes and looks away like he’s suddenly tongue-tied, as if he wasn’t moaning the dirtiest things into your mouth just minutes earlier. “I don’t even have the words to describe how I feel about you. You’re… everything, and I won’t ever be able to convey that to you completely.”
Something tells you that he isn’t lying, that he means every word, that this isn’t just some kind of lust-filled one-night stand that’ll merit those awkward, unwanted conversations in the future. Maybe it’s the earnesty in his voice, the pure devotion in his eyes, or maybe, you’ll allow this for yourself, just once. You’ll let yourself be happy, let yourself fall and be caught in his arms. 
“I feel the same way,” you say, feeling the tears of something bittersweet form. “You’re gorgeous, Hyunjin. You know that? I just need you to know that.”
Hyunjin wipes the fresh dampness on your cheeks away with his lips, placing a kiss on your forehead when he’s finished. “We have so much time for you to tell me. We’ll talk tomorrow, baby, I promise. Just rest, for now.”
You sniffle, swiping the backs of your hands over your eyes. “I just wish I was completely sober for our first kiss. I remember it perfectly, but it just had to happen when I was a drunk mess.”
He shakes his head, blinking at you like you make no sense to him. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”
“Hyunjin,” you start, heart aching and wistful for his thoughts. It seems like you would want to know everything going on in his mind, but perhaps, the challenge of not knowing and being vulnerable to the mystery, that’s what makes it truly so special.
“I wouldn’t change our first kiss for anything. You were so cute, I should have taken a picture.” Hyunjin smiles down at you fondly, tapping the tip of your nose with his finger. “But if you really want, we can say our first kiss was today.”
You give him a doubtful but adoring look. “That wouldn’t be real.”
Hyunjin shrugs carelessly, nothing but adoration in his tone. “No one has to know except for us. Our lives. Our rules. Our secret. Don’t you trust me?”
Our. You can’t help but feel giddy at that word, the very one that joins you two in the harmony that you’ve yearned for so long. 
“Always.”
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Long after the sun has dipped far below the horizon, after every other SeoulSpark employee has gone home for the day, you and Hyunjin lie together on his sofa in a tangle of sated exhaustion. The many hours of finally acting on long pent-up desires have rightfully ended with you drawn close against his chest as you both silently gaze out at the twinkling cityscape. 
For the years that he has been settled in this office, Hyunjin couldn’t help but feel a strange twinge of sadness whenever he looked out at the stretch of towering skyscrapers. After all, he spent all of his time helping others find love, but there he was, left with a great view that he would never be able to share. He told himself that he didn’t mind it, not when his dreams lay solely in working. He would be happy to be the one to bring love to others, if it was never meant to be his. And he repeated it to himself everyday like it was just another mundane step in his cherished daily routine, until he truly started to believe it. 
But how could any of that be true, when he can feel your heartbeat against his own? When the scent of your gardenia shampoo has so gracefully invaded all of his senses? When the moon so delicately traces every single one of your curves, bathing your smooth skin in a silver glow? How could he ever be meant to be alone, when the void in both his heart and arms have finally been filled?
It’s too soon to tell, and it scares the hell out of him to even think about it. But when you look up at him with those starry, radiant eyes, it all seems so worth it, so justified. You are simply the aurora to his night sky— you light him up beyond his own flimsy understanding. Therein lay the words that haven’t strayed from the tip of his tongue ever since he laid his eyes on you. The words he so fervently spelled earlier into your core, joining them with your essence. The words he’ll bite back for as long as he can because he doesn’t want you to leave.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
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«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «TAGLIST»
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AUTHOR'S NOTE (& IMPORTANT WRITING UPDATE) Announcement: Jisungsdaydreamer™ has risen from the dead after, like, four months. I apologize, once again, for the terrible wait time. This was my longest gap in posting yet, because it took a while for me to make the adjustment to college. I'm trying to get back to regularly writing, but even when I don't respond/post on here for a while, I just want you to know that I'm still here, and I see you, and I appreciate you! Anyway, I hope you liked the turning point this chapter was (i.e. THEY FINALLY CONFESSED!!!). Cue the fireworks and doves and wedding music!! Also, I just want to mention Yeonjun being a UCLA student- he is sooo Los Angeles coded, and I could totally see him being one of the most popular students at a school like UCLA. And did anyone get my Jane the Virgin reference (hint: it has to do with the grilled cheese recipe)? I used to be obsessed with that show and I have re-watched to the point that I remember almost all of the dialogue... Another thing- for Hyunjin's outfit at the reunion party, I totally was going for what Jungkook was wearing in the 3D music video. I would actually die if Hyunjin dressed up like that IRL. If you know, you know! You can expect the next chapter to come in mid-to-late December, right after my finals (pray for me) finish. Right now, I anticipate finishing Anti-Romantic by the New Year, so I can move onto finishing my other WIPs. Ideally, I'd like to also make a dent on Love Playlist before 2023 is up, but I'm getting ahead of myself! Here's to Dr. Hwang and designer obsessions and being on that sigma grindset. For the next two weeks, I'll be crying over my textbooks in the library while blasting Rock-Star in my headphones. Here's to getting through what I believe is the worst time of year for students! Stay strong and 樂 on 🎸💫 -Dreamy
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TAGLIST @skzfelixlove @army-stay-noel, @hwangjuhong, @chizumiyoshi @hyunjinswifeee @geneziesm @sherryblossom @yeetfellx @bennetbutton @chillseo @hyuneyeon @seosalad @nhyunn @hyunjinnie2000 @ajxreads @n2tl4na @yeahhspider @8makes1scream @jetblackbelle @143hyunes @raginghellfire @sinforsuccubus @lixiesw1fe @chartrucewhore @freckleboilix @ultimatestayandminoronce @cheesytangerine @leyknowsbin @stay278 @strawberry-dreamland @lvrgrl-xo @moasworld @hyunnielix @httphans @chaotic-world-of-the-j @nyasstars @beautifulmusicaddict-blog @imasimplol @1clickawayfrominsane @xsw-void @queen-klarissa @hyunjinsamdl @heavenhannie @moasworld @kykeu @sxlxna @writingkills @boomfrogg @tyongyuta @levislifeline @hyunzerolv @starlost-andfound @browniebearr @hanniemylovelyquokka @ardef38 @loveemmy08 @anyhow-everything @liillii @sweetpickledjins @insertsomethingaboutanimehere @kylielovesu @moon0fthenight
***The users that I could not tag are written in pink***
If you'd like to join the taglist, click here!
NETWORK TAG @k-films
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©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.
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ego-meliorem-esse · 6 months
Note
TBH your Francis sounds like he sees Matthew more as a pet rather than a child
I think thats the root of the problem. Not really a pet but rather a status symbol. Look at him he has a child who is a personification who looks like a mini version of him that means he is truly influential and an empire bla bla.
I consider love Arthur has for alfred pretty linear. From year 0 when Al is born he is loved fully. He is loved fully by his father (even if showing it would be less likely than cutting his own limbs off with a shovel) during the civil war, he is loved fully during the great war and the war that followed. He is loved fully today.
Matthew and François have a different love. Or rather, François' love is very non linear. I imagine it has spikes, but also periods of drops. When Mathieu is born François is proud. He loves his son but pride is stronger. Is always is for François. He has his own very kitch life, he is not made to be a father. Especially not to an emotional and sensitive lil babe. Mathieu is forgotten often and when he does ask for his needs to be fulilled, when he asks for any kind of attention form his papa, it comes to him with conditions. Yes, you can have new books imported from Paris but I will choose what you read. Yes, you may spend time with me but its going to be at a ball with hundreds of other aristocrats. Pets? Alright, but only the small and weak dogs that show status. It died during the winter? Oh well, that happens.
After a while Mathieu doesnt ask for anything. He yearns and accepts whatever comes his way in regards of a show of affection from the one who made him. If he gets attention its because he did something right, if he is forgotten, its becouse he isnt adequate.
I like to compare Arthurs and François' love by comparing their homes. Arthurs country mansion where Alfred grew up has signs of Alfred everywhere, in every room. You can tell there is a child living in this house. Not only is there a child living in it, you can tell exactly what type of person that child is, what their interests and hobbies are. One look at the bookshelf and you see what fascinates the boy. When you look at the very desk in Arthurs study, its cluttered with neat and precise handwriting with scribbles and doodles right under. The garden with fantastic and grand flowers has small patches of trampled flora at every point. The room where the child resides is always open, always visible from the staircase.
Françpis' home in the heart of Paris is clean. It smells of parfume and repolished wood. His hallway is cluttered with French history. The partlor is tidy except from vibeantly dyed clothing hanging drom the chairs and sofas. There is a half empty bottle of expensive wine on the table next to neatly placed, yet scattered papers. The only noteworthy contents of those papers is the exquisite handwriting that lays upon it. The floor is clean. The sofa is clean. The space is tidy. You can tell a man lives there. A man. Nobody else. If you were to take a peak behind the closed doors of the other rooms you'd find a room with a grand bed with eternaly disheveled blankets and pillows along with pieces of clothing hanging from the edges. Its a used bed. This bed is used by a man. Another peak behind another door at the end of the hallway shows a guest bedroom. A guest bedroom for a child. Some ten books are stacked neatly on the small yet elaborately decorated table next to the bed. A bed with clean and unwrinkled bedding. The colors of the room match to a fault except for the small personal items of the guest child. One could assume the child had no idea what the room they are staying at would look like and whatever it did look like, theyd spend so little time there that in the end it doesnt matter how it looks. The closet is extensively decored with patterns of gold and light blue without a scratch on it. The floor is clean and tidy. It would seem the child forgot to bring any toys while residing here. One wouldnt be at fault for thinking this man has some distant relatives or personal friends with children, and would ocassionaly let them stay at his home.
It's a long conparison but its the best way i can explain myself while sporting a pulsating headache after a long day of classes
So yeah, while I dont think Mathieu is in a position of pet by his father, he is in a position of child who is the result of an one night stand and has to visit his father whenever the court decides and whenever his father decides its convenient.
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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 1 year
Text
Let me
Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader
Summary: You got hurt. It was his fault. And he feels absolutely awful.
Word Count: 3.4K
Warnings: Angst, Claustrophobia, Near-death situations, Some lightly mentioned family issues, Arguing, Couples? Quarrels, ANGST.
AN: The summary is awful - I feel like I say this every time. Idk if Reader and Lockwood are a couple, they don't have to be, but they can be if you want to. Love you all! (BTW I have not read the books in years so creative liberties were taken - I'm sorry for any and all book inaccuracies.)
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The body of one 'Sergeant M. Bowers' floated precariously towards Lockwood. He backed up against the door of the bedroom, eyes darting between you and Bowers, rapier extended in front of him. You rifled through the bedroom, looking for anything precious or valuable. You had to find the source for Lockwood.
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Lockwood had taken the case of this particular house out of pure greed. Mrs. Miller was willing to pay a pretty price to take care of her 'little problem' as she called it. You had warned him against it - the Bowers' manor was about a mile outside of the town you grew up in and you'd heard almost every story there was to hear about the house. About the family that inhabited the house. Lockwood hadn't listened.
He'd convinced you to come, saying the stories were 'probably just stories told to children to scare them away.' He assured you they weren't true. After George had done his research, you were more confident - apparently, reports of apparitions of children predated the problem and were therefore hoaxes.
The Bowers were an affluential aristocratic family before the war - the First World War, that is. "They were known for hosting Gatsby-esque parties to celebrate the most menial of affairs - like their dog turning one." George had rolled his eyes at that pushing the picture of the newspaper your way. April 6th, 1912. A week before the Titanic sank.
The sinking of the Titanic began a series of unfortunate events for the Bowers family, starting with the death of the youngest son, James. James and his to-be wife, Miranda, died aboard the ship, thrusting the family into a long period of mourning. In the following two years, 6 of the 12 members who lived in the house had passed away, forcing the rest to flee the countryside manor, claiming it had been cursed - which brought about the misfortune of the family.
The last of the family to inherit the manor was Sergeant Michael James Bowers, who was the youngest nephew of James. He had lost his life in the second World War; after being shot in the arm and leg, he had been honourably discharged and sent home. He succumbed to sepsis not long after, surrounded by empty halls and unhappy memories. Apparently, he had never left.
You shook your head in discomfort - dispelling the dark feeling that had crept over you since reading about the family's terrible fate. Something seemed off about this case - something seemed to have been omitted from all the research you and George had done.
At first, you disregarded it as nerves. The Bowers manor was big - bigger than any other case you had taken. Plus, it was close to home, which was full of unpleasant memories. Maybe the added pressure was playing on your mind. You tried to explain yourself to Lockwood, who dismissed you. Apparently, Lucy had to help Kipps with some research, and George was working on another case. There was no point in arguing with Lockwood when he had made up his mind, and he was not going to budge on this case.
Which led you to your current predicament.
There were many ghosts haunting the halls of the Bowers manor. It seemed that everyone who had died here didn't want to leave. You had rid the house of most of the ghosts - sealing almost ten sources in different iron boxes. Lockwood had danced his way through the Type Ones that he was dealing with - he was evidently the better agent out of the two of you. You had lucked out - you came face to face with a Type Two. The small girl kept repeating about her teddy which you had found in an upstairs bedroom covered in filth and cobwebs. You threw an iron net over it before leaning against a wall to catch your breath. You were exhausted - and you hadn't even dealt with the real problem.
Sergeant Bowers.
Sergeant M. Bowers was a lot more tortured than you had initially thought. His wife left him when he left for the war, leaving to follow her true love into the country - countless correspondences scattered across the rooms told you as much.
Then came the matter of a child - Timothy. Pictures of him were littered through the halls - toys left to rot in the hallways. Clearly, no one had cleaned it until Mrs. Miller bought it at that country house auction. Except the trace of him ended there. There was nothing in your research to tell you about him, nor any sign of him outside the walls of this home.
It was peculiar.
You had tried to tell Lockwood, but he brushed you off. "The kid must have died - explains the tortured relationship between his parents."
It seemed odd to you. What kind of mother would run off without her child?
A glint caught your eye. A small jewellery box lay on the vanity, dust laid over it as if it hadn't been touched in decades. You dashed towards it, opening it quickly to find a simple silver band inside. A wedding band. A source.
You placed the ring in a small iron box - one of your many engineering feats that made your job safer and easier to do. Bowers disappeared from over Lockwood and you ran over to help him up.
"See? Not too bad, was it?" Lockwood joked, taking the box from your hand and putting it in his bag with the rest of them.
"The only reason I'm glad we don't work with Fittes is the paperwork. We'd be drowning in it after tonight. Can you imagine? With all those Type Ones and the two Type Twos. I'd be crying into my pillow for weeks." You grabbed the rest of your equipment and headed towards the stairs. Lockwood's fingers wrapped around your arm, pulling you back sharply.
He pulled out his rapier and pointed it toward the woman - an apparition of a young woman, dressed in a maid's uniform and carrying a basket, seemingly full of laundry.
"Another Type Two. Great." Lockwood sighed, "You check downstairs and I'll check upstairs. She's a maid. Look for... maid things? I don't know." You nodded before hopping downstairs, armed with your rapier.
You went down to the servants' quarters, which you had seen on the blueprints of the house. The room was small, just off the side of the kitchen - and was perhaps the cleanest room in the house. The maids had been let go long before Sergeant Bowers had inherited the house. Clearly, they had taken the cleanliness with them.
You looked around for anything that could be a source. Why would staff die here, you thought, when the Bowers were known for treating staff well? And why would she choose to stay? You walked around the room, running your fingers over the sparse wooden furniture around the room, leaving trails in the dust in your wake. You tripped by the door to the bathroom, cutting your hand on a small loose nail by the door - probably used for hanging coats or aprons. You winced as you stretched your hand, closing your fist to stop the blood from dripping all over the floor.
You heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "Did you find anything, Lockwood?" No response. "Lockwood?" The door to the servants' quarters slammed shut. You pressed up against the door, trying to force it open. "LOCKWOOD? LOCKWOOD, HELP!" You screamed, trying to push the door hard. "LOCKWOOD, PLEASE! I NEED YOU!"
Lockwood called to you from the landing, telling you he's found something interesting. You tried screaming for him again, but he was too far away to hear you, just like you were too far away to help. Ghostly yelling startled you as you turned around. The maid was here, clearly oblivious to you in the room. She was humming softly as the ghostly yelling continued.
You watched her from a distance as she folded some invisible clothes, her humming still ringing out around the room. She laughed at nothing, before turning towards the door, expectantly. You turned towards the door, expecting to see some other apparition in the doorway but there was nothing. She seemed to get frantically worried by the lack of whatever presence she is expecting, her humming becoming erratic and eerier by the second.
Her eyes grazed over you, and she seemed to relax. She spoke to you gently, reaching her hand out to you, "Come, Elizabeth. There's no need to be scared." You felt the effects of Ghost-lock wash over you, as lethargy numbs your senses. You saw her drifting toward you, but you had no energy to run or even to poise your rapier in front of you. And she seems so nice.
You heard the door fly open and felt someone grab your arm, tightly. You were pulled out of the room and back into the kitchen. "Thanks, Anthony." You whispered, resting on the kitchen counters.
"Anthony? Who's Anthony?" You looked up, unamused by Lockwood's attempt at a joke.
Your jaw dropped. In front of you was a man that you thought you may never see again, "Grandpa? What the hell are you doing here?"
"I heard you screaming. Just wanted to make sure you're okay?" He said, eyes looking you over, searching for injuries. You hid your arm further behind your back, not wanting to worry him more.
He brought his hand up to brush your cheek, staring down at you lovingly. "I'm sorry about this, kiddo."
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You felt hands pulling you up off the floor, and a strangely familiar voice whispering soothing words in your ear. You struggled in the grasp of this strange person, trying - unsuccessfully - to flee. They held you firmly, arms tucked neatly beneath you.
Tired from your busy night, you gave up, resting your head against the person's chest. You knew this cologne. It was Anthony's - you teased him for putting on too much and the scent lingers in the hallways some mornings. You settled, seeking his warmth and his comfort.
"Nice to have you back. You worried me for a minute back there."
"Lockwood? Worried? God, are there pigs in the sky?" You bantered back, your voice weak with exhaustion. He laid you down on the stairs, running back to grab your rapier and your flares. You must have dropped them when your Grandpa showed up. Grandpa?
Where did he go? You stood up trying to walk back to the kitchen. Grandpa couldn't see any apparitions - if one came for him, he'd be as good as dead.
"Whoa, slow down, Usain Bolt." Lockwood caught you as your legs folded beneath you. "You took a nasty hit to the head, plus you might have had a bit of ghost-lock as well."
"Lockwood, my grandpa," You said, looking past him, and back at the kitchen door, "He can't see them. We have to help him."
"Your grandpa? Honey, there's no one here." The nickname fell on deaf ears. You tried to scramble back towards the room, but Lockwood held you tightly.
He walked with you back to the kitchen - to prove there was no one there. There was no sign of anyone being there - nothing at all.
"Look - there's no one else here. You must have hit your head while getting away from the maid. Just," He huffed, pulling you closer to him, "let me get you home. Let me check you over - make sure you're alright."
You let Lockwood drag you towards the taxi and push you inside. You let him maneuver your body so that your head is resting on his chest and your legs dangle over his. You let him carry you like a rag doll into the house and set you down in the kitchen.
You shivered slightly - involuntarily - but Lockwood noticed. He draped a large blanket over you, boiling some water for hot tea. He grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and sat down in front of you.
He held out his hand for yours, "Let me clean it for you." So you do.
He spent the better part of the next hour meticulously cleaning every scratch and scrape he can find - only slowing down when you wince, or to pour you more tea. He makes it how you like it - a spoonful of sugar and a dash of milk
Once he's done, he lifts you again and carries you to bed, tucking you in like a mother would their child. He turns out the lights with a soft goodnight and crosses the landing to his own bedroom. The first floor is plunged into darkness, but you stare up at the ceiling.
Sleep doesn't come to you easily. When you close your eyes, the maid's face is above yours - her hand reaching out to you, beckoning you. You want to take it. You see her holding Elizabeth, cradling her as she cries. Your grandpa's face comes up next to the maid and you see your grandpa die. How he screams for you to help him as the plasm burns through his skin. Your mother blames you - tells you that she should never have let you go to Fittes. The maid shields Elizabeth from the loud arguing coming from upstairs. No, not from upstairs. The arguing is happening below you. You shake yourself awake from your restless night, wincing as you contort your bruised body. You slip on your Fittes hoodie and creep downstairs.
Lucy and Lockwood are facing off in the kitchen. Again. You sit on the step, listening in.
"She told you she didn't want to go! And now, there's a chance she won't be able to go into the field."
"She'll be fine. She's tough, she'll get through it."
"You don't know that, Lockwood! You can't just assume that everything will be fine just because you want it to be." You could hear Lucy's voice breaking as she fought back tears.
"Maybe, she won't want to go on missions anymore," George piped up. Clearly, he'd been forced to sit there through breakfast and listen to the argument, "After all, you didn't listen to her doubts when she said she was scared."
"No, she didn't. She just had nerves."
"No, Lockwood. I was terrified. And you didn't hear me out."
"You're awake!" Lucy threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly. "God, I'm so happy you're okay!" You smiled at her warmly, hugging her back. She moved past you, saying something about needing to meet Kipps to finish their case.
"I'd hug you too, but you should probably shower first. Who knows what kind of bacteria fester in hundred-year-old manors? I'll see you after lunch - heading to the archives." George walked out quickly, almost as if he was being chased out by rats.
Lockwood stood in front of you, straight as a board, "You look like you've been electrocuted. Sit down. I'm not going to bite." Lockwood sent a weak smile in your direction.
You poured yourself a mug of tea and put some bread in the toaster. You made a mental note to send George a shopping list before he came back.
"So..." Lockwood started, and you wanted to laugh. In the almost three years you'd lived with him, you'd never seen him so nervous.
"So?"
"We should probably talk about what happened back there." Ah. He wanted to do this now.
"Yeah. We probably should."
"What happened? I mean, one minute you were fine, the next you were unconscious in the kitchen?" Lockwood said, leaning back in his chair slightly.
You grabbed your mug and sat in the chair opposite him, "Was I, though?" Lockwood raised his eyebrows, "Was I really fine, Lockwood, or did you just want me to be fine?"
"I don't understand?"
"Lockwood, I voiced my doubts to you! I told you to let it go! That this was a case we didn't have to take! That we'd find something better." You were standing now, leaning over the table, staring Lockwood down.
"Worth more than 90 grand? Do you have any concept of how much money that is?"
"YES! YES, LOCKWOOD, I DO! IT'S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH MONEY! We fought how many ghosts? 10? 12? Do you even consider that?"
"14, actually."
"YOU ARE NOT HELPING YOURSELF. YOU MAY BE THE LITTLE PRODIGY OF FITTES, BUT SOME OF US ARE NORMAL. SOME OF US ARE AVERAGE." You sat back down, your legs shaking. You were still too weak to force this argument. Your voice trembled, "I can't keep up with you, Lockwood, none of us can. Lucy, maybe, but even she needs a break. Hell, even you need a break sometimes."
"We're fine, aren't we? We're all alive and kicking, still fighting ghosts another day?"
"Yeah, but for how long? How long do we keep getting to cheat death?" How long until one of us gets buried for the unnecessary risks we keep taking? You didn't say it but the question took root in the back of your mind.
Lockwood sighed, "I don't know where this is even coming from. We survived. We did the job. We got our money. Aren't you happy-"
"HAPPY! HOW CAN I BE HAPPY, LOCKWOOD? I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT HOUSE YESTERDAY! One minute, we were sealing up a source, the next I was being lured in by a Type Two, ghost-locked and bleeding. Somehow, my GRANDPA WAS THERE, AND THEN I'M UNCONCIOUS ON THE FLOOR. NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE, nothing - nothing makes sense. I feel - I feel like my brain's been scrambled. It just - I can't - I don't-" Lockwood kneeled next to you, his palm gently cradling your face, and let you cry. You stayed there for a few seconds before you looked up into his face, eyes brimming with tears, "You know what the - what the worst part was?"
"What was the worst part, honey?" There it was again, the nickname. Your heart skipped slightly at the sound of it.
"That you couldn't hear me." Lockwood looked at you, pain sweeping over his expression. "I called for you. In the servants' quarters. I needed you, but you couldn't hear me. I screamed and I cried and I begged and I- I needed you, Lockwood."
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap, before stroking your hair. You cried into his shirt, the white fabric turning translucent in the dampness.
"I will always come." He whispered to you, eyes bright with determination. "I may not have always been there before, but I will be now. I promise. No matter where or when, if you call, I will come to you." He cradled your face in his hands again, thumbs gently rubbing away your tears, "I will listen to you - and George, and Lucy. If you tell me you're scared, I'll hear you. I won't take jobs out of greed, we'll make decisions together. We're a team. I'm sorry I haven't been acting like it."
You wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking yourself into his neck, "I like the sound of that."
You felt Lockwood smile against your neck. "I'll take care of you. If you'll let me."
You pulled back, "Taking care of each other goes both ways. You have to let me take care of you too." He scoffed lightly, but you knew that he had agreed. He couldn't ever say no to you. Not even at Fittes.
"As much as I hate to ruin the moment, George was right. I don't want to think about how much bacteria was probably growing in that house." Lockwood helped you up, "You should probably shower." You nodded your head, chuckling lightly. You grabbed Lockwood's phone from the table and before he could steal it back, you sent a text on the group chat.
"We need food. PLS. WE HAVE NOTHING." You threw him his phone as you ran up the stairs. Lockwood laughed at the text.
"They'll know it's you." He said waving his phone as you grabbed your towel.
"Or they'll have a heart attack knowing that Frosty can change his mind."
fin.
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caught-on-tape-fest · 5 months
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Caught On Tape: A Carry On Podfest Masterlist
Caught On Tape is a podfic festival for fanfic related to Rainbow Rowell's Simon Snow Trilogy and Fangirl that runs October 29th to November 11th, 2023.
Listed below are all of the podfics posted so far for the fest! (You can find them on AO3 in our collection too.) Thank you so much to all of the wonderful creators who have participated and to the writers who volunteered their works to be podficced.
Rated G
[Podfic] Figure It Out (length: 3:22) read by @forabeatofadrum, written by @wellbelesbian
[Podfic] The Plum Tree (length: 6:21) read by @fatalfangirl, written by @otherpeoplesheartachept-2
[Podfic] Threads of Fate by Aristocratic_Otter (length 1:51:59) read by @caethes, written by @aristocratic-otter
Rated T
[Podfic] The Rise and Fall of Simon Snow Squeaksbury (length: 19:15) read by @youarenevertooold, written by @aroace-genderfluid-sheep
[Podfic] namesakes (length: 6:34) read by @forabeatofadrum, written by @tea-brigade
[Podfic] Crisp and Sweet (length: 22:00) read by @bookish-bogwitch, written by @mostlymaudlin
[Podfic] We Still Bloom (length 1:45:00) read by @hushed-chorus, written by @artsyunderstudy
[Podfic] A Prickly Disposition (length 11:56) read by @fatalfangirl, written by @you-remind-me-of-the-babe
[Podfic] A Restless Mind (Chapter 2 added) (length Ch 1 35:21, Ch 2 45:21) read by @cottagepodfics, written by @whatevertheweather
[Podfic] Worst Disney Princess Ever (length 54:28) read by @youarenevertooold, written by @hushed-chorus
[Podfic] Return to Sender (length 40:08) read by @spiri-a, writtenby @tea-brigade
[Podfic] Meet Me Under the Mistletoe (length 25:48) read by RattleandHum, written by @artsyunderstudy
[Podfic] Raining Cats and Dogs (Without the Cats) (length 32:23) read by @youarenevertooold, written by @whatevertheweather
[Podfic] This Is What We'll Tell Them (length 13:55) read by @captain-aralias, written by @mostlymaudlin
[Podfic] The Sound of Silence (length 49:00) read by @spiri-a, written by @captain-aralias
[Podfic] Petrichor (length 34:26) read by @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, written by @martsonmars
[Podfic] Tuesday (length 6:51) read by @freclface, written by @sillyunicorn
[Podfic] Light Me Up (length 37:28) read by @larkral, written by @mostlymaudlin
[Podfic] "Bro. You can just sleep with me." (length 7:13) read by @larkral, written by @mostlymaudlin
[Podfic] Bestie Status Achieved (length 12:14) read by @larkral, written by @mostlymaudlin
[Podfic] Who Cooks For You? (length 8:16) read by @karry-on, written by @sillyunicorn
[Podfic] 5 times agatha wellbelove should have realised she was a lesbian, and 1 time she did (length 14:35) read by @karry-on, written by @wellbelesbian
[Podfic] Flowers, Cake, and Filthy DMs (length 11:24) read by @iamamythologicalcreature, written by @you-remind-me-of-the-babe
[Podfic] Is This the Real Life? (length 42:52) read by @petrodobreva and @ivelovedhimthroughworse, written by @captain-aralias
[Podfic] Icarus (length 3:02) read by @forabeatofadrum, written by @mostlymaudlin
[Podfic] The Selkie and his Boy (length 2:07:00 spread over six chapters) read by @spiri-a, written by @hushed-chorus
[Podfic] Wielded by the Righteous by Maanorchidee (length 12:32) read by pectinouscube, written by @forabeatofadrum
Rated M
[Podfic] Sleeper Agents (length 13:31) read by @larkral, written by @mostlymaudlin
[Podfic] Shiver (length 43:48) read by theimpossibledemon, written by @captain-araliasand @facewithoutheart
[Podfic] Hold You Close Just Like a Photograph (length 20:05) read by @captain-aralias, written by @skeedelvee
Rated E
[Podfic] The Worst Chosen Ones (The "Let It Snow" Remix) (length 39:19) read by @bookish-bogwitch, written by @captain-aralias
[Podfic] Playing the Field (length 45:56) read by @cutestkilla, written by @fatalfangirl
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downbadf0rficppl · 2 months
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let me
Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader
Summary: You got hurt. It was his fault. And he feels absolutely awful.
Word Count: 3.4K
Warnings: Angst, Claustrophobia, Near-death situations, Some lightly mentioned family issues, Arguing, Couples? Quarrels, ANGST.
AN: The summary is awful - I feel like I say this every time. Idk if Reader and Lockwood are a couple, they don't have to be, but they can be if you want to. Love you all! (BTW I have not read the books in years so creative liberties were taken - I'm sorry for any and all book inaccuracies.)
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The body of one 'Sergeant M. Bowers' floated precariously towards Lockwood. He backed up against the door of the bedroom, eyes darting between you and Bowers, rapier extended in front of him. You rifled through the bedroom, looking for anything precious or valuable. You had to find the source for Lockwood.
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Lockwood had taken the case of this particular house out of pure greed. Mrs. Miller was willing to pay a pretty price to take care of her 'little problem' as she called it. You had warned him against it - the Bowers' manor was about a mile outside of the town you grew up in and you'd heard almost every story there was to hear about the house. About the family that inhabited the house. Lockwood hadn't listened.
He'd convinced you to come, saying the stories were 'probably just stories told to children to scare them away.' He assured you they weren't true. After George had done his research, you were more confident - apparently, reports of apparitions of children predated the problem and were therefore hoaxes.
The Bowers were an affluential aristocratic family before the war - the First World War, that is. "They were known for hosting Gatsby-esque parties to celebrate the most menial of affairs - like their dog turning one." George had rolled his eyes at that pushing the picture of the newspaper your way. April 6th, 1912. A week before the Titanic sank.
The sinking of the Titanic began a series of unfortunate events for the Bowers family, starting with the death of the youngest son, James. James and his to-be wife, Miranda, died aboard the ship, thrusting the family into a long period of mourning. In the following two years, 6 of the 12 members who lived in the house had passed away, forcing the rest to flee the countryside manor, claiming it had been cursed - which brought about the misfortune of the family.
The last of the family to inherit the manor was Sergeant Michael James Bowers, who was the youngest nephew of James. He had lost his life in the second World War; after being shot in the arm and leg, he had been honourably discharged and sent home. He succumbed to sepsis not long after, surrounded by empty halls and unhappy memories. Apparently, he had never left.
You shook your head in discomfort - dispelling the dark feeling that had crept over you since reading about the family's terrible fate. Something seemed off about this case - something seemed to have been omitted from all the research you and George had done.
At first, you disregarded it as nerves. The Bowers manor was big - bigger than any other case you had taken. Plus, it was close to home, which was full of unpleasant memories. Maybe the added pressure was playing on your mind. You tried to explain yourself to Lockwood, who dismissed you. Apparently, Lucy had to help Kipps with some research, and George was working on another case. There was no point in arguing with Lockwood when he had made up his mind, and he was not going to budge on this case.
Which led you to your current predicament.
There were many ghosts haunting the halls of the Bowers manor. It seemed that everyone who had died here didn't want to leave. You had rid the house of most of the ghosts - sealing almost ten sources in different iron boxes. Lockwood had danced his way through the Type Ones that he was dealing with - he was evidently the better agent out of the two of you. You had lucked out - you came face to face with a Type Two. The small girl kept repeating about her teddy which you had found in an upstairs bedroom covered in filth and cobwebs. You threw an iron net over it before leaning against a wall to catch your breath. You were exhausted - and you hadn't even dealt with the real problem.
Sergeant Bowers.
Sergeant M. Bowers was a lot more tortured than you had initially thought. His wife left him when he left for the war, leaving to follow her true love into the country - countless correspondences scattered across the rooms told you as much.
Then came the matter of a child - Timothy. Pictures of him were littered through the halls - toys left to rot in the hallways. Clearly, no one had cleaned it until Mrs. Miller bought it at that country house auction. Except the trace of him ended there. There was nothing in your research to tell you about him, nor any sign of him outside the walls of this home.
It was peculiar.
You had tried to tell Lockwood, but he brushed you off. "The kid must have died - explains the tortured relationship between his parents."
It seemed odd to you. What kind of mother would run off without her child?
A glint caught your eye. A small jewellery box lay on the vanity, dust laid over it as if it hadn't been touched in decades. You dashed towards it, opening it quickly to find a simple silver band inside. A wedding band. A source.
You placed the ring in a small iron box - one of your many engineering feats that made your job safer and easier to do. Bowers disappeared from over Lockwood and you ran over to help him up.
"See? Not too bad, was it?" Lockwood joked, taking the box from your hand and putting it in his bag with the rest of them.
"The only reason I'm glad we don't work with Fittes is the paperwork. We'd be drowning in it after tonight. Can you imagine? With all those Type Ones and the two Type Twos. I'd be crying into my pillow for weeks." You grabbed the rest of your equipment and headed towards the stairs. Lockwood's fingers wrapped around your arm, pulling you back sharply.
He pulled out his rapier and pointed it toward the woman - an apparition of a young woman, dressed in a maid's uniform and carrying a basket, seemingly full of laundry.
"Another Type Two. Great." Lockwood sighed, "You check downstairs and I'll check upstairs. She's a maid. Look for... maid things? I don't know." You nodded before hopping downstairs, armed with your rapier.
You went down to the servants' quarters, which you had seen on the blueprints of the house. The room was small, just off the side of the kitchen - and was perhaps the cleanest room in the house. The maids had been let go long before Sergeant Bowers had inherited the house. Clearly, they had taken the cleanliness with them.
You looked around for anything that could be a source. Why would staff die here, you thought, when the Bowers were known for treating staff well? And why would she choose to stay? You walked around the room, running your fingers over the sparse wooden furniture around the room, leaving trails in the dust in your wake. You tripped by the door to the bathroom, cutting your hand on a small loose nail by the door - probably used for hanging coats or aprons. You winced as you stretched your hand, closing your fist to stop the blood from dripping all over the floor.
You heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "Did you find anything, Lockwood?" No response. "Lockwood?" The door to the servants' quarters slammed shut. You pressed up against the door, trying to force it open. "LOCKWOOD? LOCKWOOD, HELP!" You screamed, trying to push the door hard. "LOCKWOOD, PLEASE! I NEED YOU!"
Lockwood called to you from the landing, telling you he's found something interesting. You tried screaming for him again, but he was too far away to hear you, just like you were too far away to help. Ghostly yelling startled you as you turned around. The maid was here, clearly oblivious to you in the room. She was humming softly as the ghostly yelling continued.
You watched her from a distance as she folded some invisible clothes, her humming still ringing out around the room. She laughed at nothing, before turning towards the door, expectantly. You turned towards the door, expecting to see some other apparition in the doorway but there was nothing. She seemed to get frantically worried by the lack of whatever presence she is expecting, her humming becoming erratic and eerier by the second.
Her eyes grazed over you, and she seemed to relax. She spoke to you gently, reaching her hand out to you, "Come, Elizabeth. There's no need to be scared." You felt the effects of Ghost-lock wash over you, as lethargy numbs your senses. You saw her drifting toward you, but you had no energy to run or even to poise your rapier in front of you. And she seems so nice.
You heard the door fly open and felt someone grab your arm, tightly. You were pulled out of the room and back into the kitchen. "Thanks, Anthony." You whispered, resting on the kitchen counters.
"Anthony? Who's Anthony?" You looked up, unamused by Lockwood's attempt at a joke.
Your jaw dropped. In front of you was a man that you thought you may never see again, "Grandpa? What the hell are you doing here?"
"I heard you screaming. Just wanted to make sure you're okay?" He said, eyes looking you over, searching for injuries. You hid your arm further behind your back, not wanting to worry him more.
He brought his hand up to brush your cheek, staring down at you lovingly. "I'm sorry about this, kiddo."
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You felt hands pulling you up off the floor, and a strangely familiar voice whispering soothing words in your ear. You struggled in the grasp of this strange person, trying - unsuccessfully - to flee. They held you firmly, arms tucked neatly beneath you.
Tired from your busy night, you gave up, resting your head against the person's chest. You knew this cologne. It was Anthony's - you teased him for putting on too much and the scent lingers in the hallways some mornings. You settled, seeking his warmth and his comfort.
"Nice to have you back. You worried me for a minute back there."
"Lockwood? Worried? God, are there pigs in the sky?" You bantered back, your voice weak with exhaustion. He laid you down on the stairs, running back to grab your rapier and your flares. You must have dropped them when your Grandpa showed up. Grandpa?
Where did he go? You stood up trying to walk back to the kitchen. Grandpa couldn't see any apparitions - if one came for him, he'd be as good as dead.
"Whoa, slow down, Usain Bolt." Lockwood caught you as your legs folded beneath you. "You took a nasty hit to the head, plus you might have had a bit of ghost-lock as well."
"Lockwood, my grandpa," You said, looking past him, and back at the kitchen door, "He can't see them. We have to help him."
"Your grandpa? Honey, there's no one here." The nickname fell on deaf ears. You tried to scramble back towards the room, but Lockwood held you tightly.
He walked with you back to the kitchen - to prove there was no one there. There was no sign of anyone being there - nothing at all.
"Look - there's no one else here. You must have hit your head while getting away from the maid. Just," He huffed, pulling you closer to him, "let me get you home. Let me check you over - make sure you're alright."
You let Lockwood drag you towards the taxi and push you inside. You let him maneuver your body so that your head is resting on his chest and your legs dangle over his. You let him carry you like a rag doll into the house and set you down in the kitchen.
You shivered slightly - involuntarily - but Lockwood noticed. He draped a large blanket over you, boiling some water for hot tea. He grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and sat down in front of you.
He held out his hand for yours, "Let me clean it for you." So you do.
He spent the better part of the next hour meticulously cleaning every scratch and scrape he can find - only slowing down when you wince, or to pour you more tea. He makes it how you like it - a spoonful of sugar and a dash of milk
Once he's done, he lifts you again and carries you to bed, tucking you in like a mother would their child. He turns out the lights with a soft goodnight and crosses the landing to his own bedroom. The first floor is plunged into darkness, but you stare up at the ceiling.
Sleep doesn't come to you easily. When you close your eyes, the maid's face is above yours - her hand reaching out to you, beckoning you. You want to take it. You see her holding Elizabeth, cradling her as she cries. Your grandpa's face comes up next to the maid and you see your grandpa die. How he screams for you to help him as the plasm burns through his skin. Your mother blames you - tells you that she should never have let you go to Fittes. The maid shields Elizabeth from the loud arguing coming from upstairs. No, not from upstairs. The arguing is happening below you. You shake yourself awake from your restless night, wincing as you contort your bruised body. You slip on your Fittes hoodie and creep downstairs.
Lucy and Lockwood are facing off in the kitchen. Again. You sit on the step, listening in.
"She told you she didn't want to go! And now, there's a chance she won't be able to go into the field."
"She'll be fine. She's tough, she'll get through it."
"You don't know that, Lockwood! You can't just assume that everything will be fine just because you want it to be." You could hear Lucy's voice breaking as she fought back tears.
"Maybe, she won't want to go on missions anymore," George piped up. Clearly, he'd been forced to sit there through breakfast and listen to the argument, "After all, you didn't listen to her doubts when she said she was scared."
"No, she didn't. She just had nerves."
"No, Lockwood. I was terrified. And you didn't hear me out."
"You're awake!" Lucy threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly. "God, I'm so happy you're okay!" You smiled at her warmly, hugging her back. She moved past you, saying something about needing to meet Kipps to finish their case.
"I'd hug you too, but you should probably shower first. Who knows what kind of bacteria fester in hundred-year-old manors? I'll see you after lunch - heading to the archives." George walked out quickly, almost as if he was being chased out by rats.
Lockwood stood in front of you, straight as a board, "You look like you've been electrocuted. Sit down. I'm not going to bite." Lockwood sent a weak smile in your direction.
You poured yourself a mug of tea and put some bread in the toaster. You made a mental note to send George a shopping list before he came back.
"So..." Lockwood started, and you wanted to laugh. In the almost three years you'd lived with him, you'd never seen him so nervous.
"So?"
"We should probably talk about what happened back there." Ah. He wanted to do this now.
"Yeah. We probably should."
"What happened? I mean, one minute you were fine, the next you were unconscious in the kitchen?" Lockwood said, leaning back in his chair slightly.
You grabbed your mug and sat in the chair opposite him, "Was I, though?" Lockwood raised his eyebrows, "Was I really fine, Lockwood, or did you just want me to be fine?"
"I don't understand?"
"Lockwood, I voiced my doubts to you! I told you to let it go! That this was a case we didn't have to take! That we'd find something better." You were standing now, leaning over the table, staring Lockwood down.
"Worth more than 90 grand? Do you have any concept of how much money that is?"
"YES! YES, LOCKWOOD, I DO! IT'S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH MONEY! We fought how many ghosts? 10? 12? Do you even consider that?"
"14, actually."
"YOU ARE NOT HELPING YOURSELF. YOU MAY BE THE LITTLE PRODIGY OF FITTES, BUT SOME OF US ARE NORMAL. SOME OF US ARE AVERAGE." You sat back down, your legs shaking. You were still too weak to force this argument. Your voice trembled, "I can't keep up with you, Lockwood, none of us can. Lucy, maybe, but even she needs a break. Hell, even you need a break sometimes."
"We're fine, aren't we? We're all alive and kicking, still fighting ghosts another day?"
"Yeah, but for how long? How long do we keep getting to cheat death?" How long until one of us gets buried for the unnecessary risks we keep taking? You didn't say it but the question took root in the back of your mind.
Lockwood sighed, "I don't know where this is even coming from. We survived. We did the job. We got our money. Aren't you happy-"
"HAPPY! HOW CAN I BE HAPPY, LOCKWOOD? I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT HOUSE YESTERDAY! One minute, we were sealing up a source, the next I was being lured in by a Type Two, ghost-locked and bleeding. Somehow, my GRANDPA WAS THERE, AND THEN I'M UNCONCIOUS ON THE FLOOR. NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE, nothing - nothing makes sense. I feel - I feel like my brain's been scrambled. It just - I can't - I don't-" Lockwood kneeled next to you, his palm gently cradling your face, and let you cry. You stayed there for a few seconds before you looked up into his face, eyes brimming with tears, "You know what the - what the worst part was?"
"What was the worst part, honey?" There it was again, the nickname. Your heart skipped slightly at the sound of it.
"That you couldn't hear me." Lockwood looked at you, pain sweeping over his expression. "I called for you. In the servants' quarters. I needed you, but you couldn't hear me. I screamed and I cried and I begged and I- I needed you, Lockwood."
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap, before stroking your hair. You cried into his shirt, the white fabric turning translucent in the dampness.
"I will always come." He whispered to you, eyes bright with determination. "I may not have always been there before, but I will be now. I promise. No matter where or when, if you call, I will come to you." He cradled your face in his hands again, thumbs gently rubbing away your tears, "I will listen to you - and George, and Lucy. If you tell me you're scared, I'll hear you. I won't take jobs out of greed, we'll make decisions together. We're a team. I'm sorry I haven't been acting like it."
You wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking yourself into his neck, "I like the sound of that."
You felt Lockwood smile against your neck. "I'll take care of you. If you'll let me."
You pulled back, "Taking care of each other goes both ways. You have to let me take care of you too." He scoffed lightly, but you knew that he had agreed. He couldn't ever say no to you. Not even at Fittes.
"As much as I hate to ruin the moment, George was right. I don't want to think about how much bacteria was probably growing in that house." Lockwood helped you up, "You should probably shower." You nodded your head, chuckling lightly. You grabbed Lockwood's phone from the table and before he could steal it back, you sent a text on the group chat.
"We need food. PLS. WE HAVE NOTHING." You threw him his phone as you ran up the stairs. Lockwood laughed at the text.
"They'll know it's you." He said waving his phone as you grabbed your towel.
"Or they'll have a heart attack knowing that Frosty can change his mind."
fin.
buy me a coffee
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dia-souls · 3 months
Text
Diabolik lovers Bloody Roses Novel [ prologue ]
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‌‌ Prologue
A sad legend was told in a small village called Roseland. This legend tells the memories of a girl in love who fell from a high cliff. The young girl survived but could never remember her memories. She forgot her lover and started a new life. Legends say that the girl's lover looked at her every day and picked a rose in his memory and put it in the window of his room.
These roses represented his sweet memories with his beautiful and kind lover. But the girl forgot him and could never remember her old and bright love. With the passing of time, her lover died, but the roses that he had planted in his memory remained on the windowsill of his room. No one may remember the name of the dried roses, but his love for that girl became a legend. A legend that named this small village in memory of the roses picked on the way to an unrequited love in the village of Roseland.
Centuries passed, but this legend was always told in the village of Roseland so that people remember that in the way of kindness and love, even if you don't reach your lover, always with a bit of love like a rose, your memories will be eternal forever.
Outside this village was a big castle where six royal heirs lived. King Karlheinz had driven his sons out of the capital to make them independent and teach them a great lesson.
The castle of the crown princes was outside the village and none of the people of the village had the courage to approach it. The villagers had heard that the crown princes were very dangerous. They consider themselves to be aristocrats and do anything and never feel guilty. Every girl who came near that castle disappeared and has never been found.
The castle of the crown princes was very infamous in the city and all the villagers were afraid of it. The church believed that demons resided in that castle. For this reason, it was forbidden to approach that fort, and no one was allowed to approach that fort, otherwise they would be charged with a great sin and they would be known as criminals and sinners in the village.
The people of the village lived a peaceful life and worked hard in their fields so that they could live a hard life with the heavy taxes of the king. Everything in the village was peaceful and fine until one day a sad day came. The same day the rose fell into the trap and withered.
A 15-year-old and very beautiful girl lived in this village, whom the people nicknamed her White Rose. She was a pure and beautiful girl who was amazed by her beauty. This girl's name was Yui and she lived with her father Seiji in a very small hut. Seiji was a hunter and used to hunt animals to support himself and his daughter. He was often out hunting and Yui didn't spend much time with him.
The city library was a safe and relaxing haven for Yui. Where she would imprison her watch and travel to her imaginary world by reading. This work of Yui often made the village girls dislike her because they considered Yui to be a naive and simple girl who lives in her own dreams.
On one of the most beautiful autumn days, while the wind was blowing very strongly, Yui threw the warm scarf that the kind old woman of the village had woven for her on her shoulders.
The old woman of the village was the oldest person in this village and she had known her since Yui was born. The old woman remembers very well that Yui was a weak and abandoned girl in the forest whom Seiji rescued and took her in, and from that day on, he introduced Yui as his own daughter. That old woman loved Yui with all her heart and visited her every day.
While throwing the scarf over her shoulders, Yui put on her leather boots and took her leather bag and came out of the hut. As usual, when she is alone, she goes to the library to immerse herself in her fantasy world.
Before walking away from the hut, Yui went to the back of the hut to pet her father's guard dog. She had a strong interest in animals and talked to farm animals more than she talked to girls in her own age.
*woof woof*
Hearing the voice of the guard dog, Yui moved closer to him and reached out to pet him. While caressing him with her delicate hands, she smiled softly and the guard dog was drowned in her kindness.
*woof woof*
Yui: Fufu.... good morning Piku.... how are you? Did you sleep good last night?
*woof woof*
Yui: Hmmm... I think you are hungry. Wait, I'll give you a delicious meal.
Yui opened her leather bag and took out a small sandwich. She made this sandwich for herself to eat in the village library when she is studying and not be hungry. She cut the sandwich in half and held one half close to the dog's mouth to encourage him to eat it.
Yui: Be quick Piku.... Fufu.... Come eat it.
While sniffing Yui's hand, Piku approached her slowly and took the sandwich from her and started eating. While eating the sandwich Yui was staring at him with a soft smile and Piku licked Yui's hand and Yui giggled. Piku usually does this to thank her.
Yui, who was sure that Piku was no longer hungry, got up and picked up her bag to go to the library.
Yui walks slowly on the dirt roads of the village on the way to the library. The autumn wind was blowing and the leaves were coming off the trees. A few leaves fell on Yui's golden hair and Yui smiled brightly while looking at the sky.
Yui continued on her way until she saw the village girls gathered together as usual, talking about colorful clothes and braiding each other's hair. Yui never wanted to join them because the village girls teased her for her interest in books. And she always ignored them.
When she passed by the girls of the village, she hugged her bag tightly, fearing that they would steal her bag like the previous days and harass her. Yui could feel their serious look and grin while passing and that they started to chatter when they saw Yui. Yui was sure that they were making fun of het, but without paying attention to them, she walked away from them and continued on her way to the library.
Yui continued on her way until a soft voice caught her attention. She knew this voice well. The voice that always brought a smile to her face.
???: Yui my dear girl.... is that you?
Hearing the sweet voice of the old lady of the village, Yui smiled softly and looked behind her and saw the most lovely person in the village. An old woman with braided white hair stood a few steps behind her, walking with the help of a wooden cane, and always had a soft smile on her face. This smile always gave Yui energy and made her happy.
Yui: Good morning Hina-san.
Yui slowly walked up to the old woman and hugged her. This was a habit that Yui always did after seeing her. The love that this old woman had for Yui was unparalleled.
Hina: Yui my dear. I am very happy to see you. Where were you going?
Yui: I was going to the library.
Hina: Hehehe.... Just like always, you are going to your dream haven.
Yui blushed hearing Hina's words. Old Hina knew her well and knew that the library was a place where Yui would hide from the world to be in her own fantasy world and she always admired this quality of Yui.
Hina: Yui, my dear, didn't anyone bother you today?
Hina knew about the cruelty of the village girls towards Yui and she never wanted anyone to hurt her.
Yui: Don't worry, Hina-san. I am fine. Today, after I finish my work in the library, I will go to the forest to collect some firewood. Since autumn has arrived, the weather has become very cold and we need to collect and store more firewood as soon as possible.
Hina gave Yui a sweet smile. She caressed her cheek with her old hands and kissed her forehead. Yui's cheeks were cold and reddened from the cold when the old woman transferred the warmth of her heart to her by caressing her.
Hina: Yui, my beautiful flower... Be careful not to go near the castle of the crown princes. It is very dangerous there and no one knows what will happen to the girls who go near there. I can never see my beautiful and pure flower wither, so take care of yourself.
Yui smiled warmly and took the old woman's hand in hers and gently caressed and kissed it.
Yui: Hina-san, don't worry at all. I will take care of myself, I promise you.
Saying this, Yui placed a kiss on Hina's forehead and said goodbye to her and went to the library. The library was usually empty because none of the villagers were as interested in reading as Yui was, except for a young man named Peter who worked in the library.
Yui opened the library door and caused the bell hanging above the door to ring and Peter noticed Yui's presence in the library.
*ding ding*
Yui: Good morning, Peter-san.
Peter, who was cleaning the books at the top of the ladder, smiled when he heard Yui's voice and went down the ladder and went to Yui.
Peter: Hello Yui. As usual, I knew it was you. No one comes to this library except you.
Yui: I'm sorry, Peter-san. If I could, I would definitely do something so that more people would come to your library and read books.
Peter: It's okay Yui. As long as you are here, I don't need anyone else. You are the only one who keeps the light and warmth of my little library alive.
Yui smiled at Peter and opened her bag and took out a very old book with almost torn cover and presented it to Peter.
Yui: Thank you very much, Peter-san, for lending me this book. I really enjoyed reading it, it was really amazing.
Peter took the book from Yui and put it on one of the shelves while Yui looked around to find a new book.
Peter: What are you doing?
Yui: Ummm... I wanted to read a new book, but...
Peter: Hahaha... let me guess. But you have read all the books here and there is no book left that you want to read.
Hearing Peter's words, she blushed. She tried to look more and more carefully to maybe find a new book but apparently to no avail. Yui had already read all the books and there was no book left that Yui had not read.
Yui: What should I do now?
Peter: Don't worry Yui. I will go to the city next week. I promise to bring you new books. Until next week, I will give you something very special to read. Follow me.
Peter took Yui's hand and led her behind the shelves. A place that was almost hidden from others. There was a secret shelf, which Peter opened with a key he took out of his pocket and took out a very old book, the cover of which was covered with dirt. Peter brushed away the dirt on the book causing Yui to cough.
Yui: *Cough* *cough*.... Peter-san...what kind of book is this?
Peter: This is an exclusive book with a true story behind it. You must have heard the legend of bloody roses that is told in the village. This book is the diary of the man who narrated the legend of bloody roses to him.
Yui: .....! Does this mean that this legend is true?
Peter: Of course it was real. This diary shows how much that man suffered in the way of his love. This book is one of my most valuable possessions. Yui, I know that I can trust you and entrust this book to you. Take good care of it and remember that every legend can represent a story in the future.
With trembling hands, Yui took the book from Peter and glanced at it. Seeing the old cover and the pages smelling of dried roses, her eyes sparkled. Yui, who until now thought that the story of bloody roses was just a myth, finds it hard to believe that there was a man who suffered so much in the way of his love.
Yui delicately and slowly put the book in her bag. As if she wanted to protect a valuable treasure, she did it very carefully so that the book would not be damaged. She looked at Peter with a soft smile to thank him.
Yui: Peter-san, thank you for trusting me and letting me read this book. I promise you that I will take care of it with all my heart.
Peter gave a big smile and put his hand on Yui's head and patted her with all his might, making Yui's hair completely messed up.
Peter: Hahaha... I'm sure you'll take care of that book. And I promise you that I will bring you a lot of new books by next week.
Yui: Thank you, Peter-san.
Yui thanked Peter and left the library, and after walking a few steps away from the library, she waved goodbye to Peter. Peter could see the smile on Yui's face. He was sure that Yui was very excited to read this new book.
Yui decided to read a few pages of this book before going into the forest. She couldn't control herself but she was very excited to read this book. That's why she went to the center of the village. Where there is a big fountain and Yui sometimes sits by that fountain to read a book. This fountain and the apple tree are Yui's favorite places to read a book.
Yui sat by the fountain and took out the book from her leather bag, opened it and started reading. She could feel the scent of roses in the pages, tickling her nose. Without pausing, Yui opened the first page and started reading.
People may call me crazy.
But the feeling in my heart was not a lie.
If I had wings like birds, I would fly with you.
To go to a place far away from here where we can be free together.
Yui hadn't read a few more lines but she felt tears welling up in her eyes. It was very strange. Yui didn't even know that man, but she could feel the pain hidden in these words. As if she knew the great sadness that the man had hidden in his heart for years.
If they called me crazy, it was because of you.
Because I was crazy about the beauty and purity of your heart.
If I could wish, my only wish would be you.
I wished for the world to be with you and see your smile.
But my wish had a heavy price that this world would not give me.
Even if I am crazy, I will make this world for you.
A world where you can smile and live happily.
???: Hey crazy girl, what you are doing?
Yui, who was engrossed in reading, did not notice when the village girls approached her. Whenever Yui saw them, her heart beat faster and her hands and feet trembled. She was always afraid of these girls because they were never nice to her.
Seeing that the girls were approaching her, Yui quickly put the book in her bag and stood up. She shook off the dirt on her skirt and decided to ignore those girls as usual and walk away from them.
She had not gone a few steps when she felt her hair being pulled by someone and she fell to the ground and her bag fell from her hand. The girls pulled Yui's ponytail, causing her to fall to the ground, and started laughing and teasing her.
Nina: Clumsy girl... you are so stupid.
Tina: Fufu... Yes, you are really stupid. With this situation you have, I am sure that no man will fall in love with you and you will never be able to get married. Of course, this is better for you and you deserve to be alone for the rest of your life.
Nina: But I think someone is willing to marry you.
Tina: Who will marry her?
Nina: Maybe her books are ready to marry her... hahahahaha.....
Saying this, Yui blushed and had tears in her eyes. This was not the first time that the village girls made fun of her for being different and simple and shy. But this time they went too far.
The girls, who were laughing at Yui, noticed that Yui's bag fell on the floor and an old book was taken out. Without any hesitation, they all passed over that book and soiled it under their shoes. And with cruel grins on their faces, they left Yui alone.
As the girls left, Yui stood up and shook the dirt off her skirt. She went to her bag and took the book that got dirty under the shoes of the village girls. She was holding the book with her delicate and trembling hands, and while tears were gathering in her eyes and slowly flowing down her red cheek, she cleaned the book with the corner of her clothes and put it back in her bag.
Although she was not feeling well at all, she went to the forest to collect firewood with a trembling body and dirt clothes. Maybe at least this will make her free from thinking about the cruel words of those girls.
Yui went to the forest to collect firewood with a great sadness in her chest and her hands shaking from anger and sadness.
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teecupangel · 4 months
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@blue-cat-ter-flies-blog left this reply in the English Mastiff!Desmond idea:
TBH I always thought if Desmond was a dog he'd be a Great Pyrenese thanks to that one post floating around about how great flock guardians are. Also he'd not only be Assassin-coloured but ridiculously fluffy too.
Wikipedia links to the Pyrenean Mountain Dog and it looks like what you’re describing.
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This dog is apparently wildly used in France so now I’m thinking of Desmond getting adopted by Charles Dorian and gifting the dog to his son, Arno. He wasn’t there when Charles died because they didn’t take him and he waited for hours for them to come back until, finally, Monsieur de la Serre comes in to get Arno’s things and to take care of Charles’ belongings as he had no one else (as far as the French aristocrats are concerned anyway). He sees the dog and feeds it before taking it home.
Desmond immediately goes straight to where Arno is crying and Arno holds onto him as he cries.
No one questions how Desmond was still alive even though Arno was already a grown up and Desmond himself is just chilling, helping Arno with his chores, sometimes barks at Olivier when he’s being too rude to Arno.
He knows the de la Serres are Templars but they take care of Arno like their own son (and he also knows about Arno and Élise’s secret relationship and he’s pretty sure her father knows it too) so he doesn’t make any move against them. He never stops to distrust them though because he’s been burned by Templars too much to not have even just a flicker of mistrust but he won’t stop Arno from bonding with them.
Then Monsieur de la Serre was killed and Arno was imprisoned and Élise came home with a grave expression on her face.
She looked at Desmond for a moment before walking away without saying anything.
And that’s when Desmond knew…
This peaceful life as Arno Dorian’s canine companion has come to an end.
(Desmond ends up guarding the living 'lifestocks' known as 'Assassin recruits'. Pierre is the one who coins the term 'lifestocks' because of how protective Desmond is with the three recruits who usually work with Arno in missions)
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pazzesco · 4 months
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Too loud, too bright, too sexual… Mexico's Lupe Vélez was utterly broken by scandal-hungry 1940s Hollywood – even after her death.
The wild saga of Lupe Vélez, Hollywood's first tabloid casualty
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On the evening of December 13, 1944, 36-year-old Mexican film star Lupe Vélez was found by her personal secretary, laid out on her bed in California like a painted doll and wearing blue satin pyjamas, surrounded by fresh flowers and burning candles.
She was dead, having intentionally overdosed on 75 Seconal pills (a barbiturate) with a glass of brandy after dinner. She was also pregnant, no doubt suffered from bipolar, and left behind a life papered in tabloid headlines and scandal.
Yet, what should have been an international tragedy – a wake-up call to the media around the fragility of celebrity and mental health – was soon turned into farce by underground filmmaker Kenneth Anger. He published Hollywood Babylon, a widely-sold compendium of Tinseltown’s juiciest rumours.
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“Her ethnicity was played up for her films, and, for the sake of her 'public image' she fell into that characterization, both on and off screen,” writes Vélez biographer Michelle Vogel in her book Lupe Vélez: The Life and Career of Hollywood’s Mexican Spitfire.
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Oliver Hardy, Stan Laurel and Lupe Velez, in the 1930s
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Lupe Velez and Douglas Fairbanks in O Gaucho
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Violent love: Lupe Vélez and Gary Cooper in 1929
Vélez exercarbated the intrigue in her interviews, chillingly telling one fanzine, “I think I will kill my Gary, because he does not get angry when Lupe is angry with him.” Eventually Cooper left her, and was ordered by Paramount Studios to take a holiday on account of his nervous exhaustion and 45-pound weight loss considered a result of his relationship. The day he boarded the train to get away, Vélez ran onto the platform, smashed the glass of his window pane and tried to shoot him with her pistol while reportedly shouting, “Gary! You son of a bitch!”
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A brief marriage to Tarzan star Johnny Weissmuller followed suit in October 1933, and the bruises and love bites they both sported as a result of their “passionate lovemaking” were regularly noted in the press (and commented on by makeup artists on the Tarzan films, whose task it was to cover Weissmuller’s up).
“Another misconception is that she was a loose woman…” said Vogel. (In Hollywood Babylon Kenneth Anger described her “going through a small army of lover – cowboys, stuntmen, and American gigolos.”) “Sure, she loved to party and have a good time, but she was fiercely loyal to her men. She was committed to Gary Cooper and Johnny Weissmuller for almost 10 years of her life. She helped everyone and supported her extended family in Mexico for much of her life,” continued Vogel. Indeed, it was reported that Vélez kept her personal phone number listed so that fans could call her up and chat when they were in distress. She also had a big heart, keeping a large menagerie of rescue animals which included horses, monkeys, canaries, turtles and dogs.
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“Although the public thinks that I'm a very wild girl. Actually I'm not. I'm just me, Lupe Vélez, simple and natural Lupe. If I'm happy, I dance and sing and acted like a child. And if something irritates me, I cry and sob. Someone called that 'personality'. The Personality is nothing more than behave with others as you really are. If I tried to look and act like Norma Talmadge, the great dramatic actress, or like Corinne Griffith, the aristocrat of the movies, or like Mary Pickford, the sweet and gentle Mary, I would be nothing more than an imitation. I just want to be myself: Lupe Vélez .”
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I don't care if Biden is supporting the UAW because he agrees with them or because he's scared of them - all that matters is that he's supporting them
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I don’t know whether Biden is doing this because he understands that it’s good politics, or if it’s because he’s found a moral center at the end of his life in politics, or if it’s because he wants to cement his legacy.
I don’t care.
Money talks and bullshit walks.
By walking the picket-line with UAW members, Biden is doing well and he’s doing good. He’s venturing where Republican strategists can’t follow him, taking the side of workers against bosses in the fight that matters most: the fight for workplace democracy.
FDR delivered the New Deal, a foundational reworking of the power structure in America, putting the American government on the side of the people, not the side of the money.
FDR wasn’t a political radical by nature. He was an American aristocrat who broke with his class in order to secure the power he sensed he could get by channeling the rage of the American people. His “New Deal” was a blank sheet of paper until he took office, and that sheet of paper was filled in by the organized workers who dogged his heels — and backed his plays — while he was in office.
-Joe Biden is headed to a UAW picket-line in Detroit: “I want to do it, now make me do it.”
Image: Fabio Basagni https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/:Sahara_desert_sunrise.jpg
CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en
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