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bagerfluff · 8 months

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I Want To Be Like The Birds

Percy Jackson x Non-Binary Reader

Prompt - Birds - February Prompts

You were sitting on a park bench on a cold February morning.

You were bundled up with a thick pair of pants, a long sleeve shirt with a jacket, a beanie, and fingerless gloves. Though you wished you had picked the regular gloves now that your hands were freezing in the cold.

Your ass was freezing from sitting on the bench.

It was also wet. There was a small layer of frost on the bench so when you sat you were it with the chills but once it defrosted you just got wet.

You were constantly rubbing your hands together and breathing on them. It helped for a bit before they got cold again. You just opted to placing them in your jacket pocket.

Though that wasn’t much better. It was windy, so it made it feel colder than it actually was. You wished for warmer weather. The sun wasn’t doing much to warm up the temperature, it was covered by the clouds for a good part of the morning.

You couldn’t really smell anything

The main reason you sat at this park bench was to relax before you went to school. You also liked the work out it was to walk from your apartment to the park. You wanted to keep this routine up during the winter, but you were now regretting it.

Normally the park smelled nice.

The flowers that would be in bloom, the smell of smoke and food from people barbecuing, the smell of the freshly cut grass, even the smell of fresh rain when you went to the park after it rained. You loved it. But since it was winter not a lot of people were here.

Your nose had also gotten stuffed because of the cold. The park had a bunch of things to listen to too. The sounds of kids playing, friends talking, dogs barking, birds chirping, and cats hissing.

All of that made the park the park. It all distracts you from life, it allows you to think about things before leaving.

But it was cold.

So nobody was at the park. It looked like a ghost town. The only thing that was the same was the chirping of the birds. Two blue birds sat in a tree to the left of the bench.

The tree didn’t look like much. There were only a handful of leaves on the tree and they were all brown. These birds were pressed against each other and one was pressed against the tree trunk.

Like they were trying to keep each other from the cold and wind. You had no idea why they hadn’t migrated yet, they were probably the only birds in the entire park.

Watching them made you wonder if they were mated. You sighed at that thought. Your breath freezes almost immediately, making it look like you were a dragon. There was another reason you always came to the park.

It was to see him.

You never got his name, you never asked. But he had short black hair with a patch of gray, you always wondered how he got that. He had sea green eyes that looked beautiful.

He had tan skin and you could always see a few scars whenever you saw his arms or legs. There were even some on his face. He had the brightest smile that made you smile whenever you saw it.

It was safe to say that you had a crush on this mysterious boy. He always came to the park with a girl or another boy. They seemed to be his friends, maybe the girl was his girlfriend?

You always came because once a week they would come here. It was a random day of the week but they always came at least once, sometimes twice.

When you think about it, it sounds weird. It makes you sound like a stalker. But you weren’t, you knew nothing about the boy except for a few things.

He was funny, a little weird, nice, and caring.

He also always did something stupid when he came to the park. One time he tried to climb the tree next to the bench while you were sitting on the bench.

He fell and he ended up falling on the bench with his head on your lap. You blushed a lot when that happened. The boy laughed when he fell, that day you learnt that he had a really nice laugh.

It almost made you laugh.

His head stayed in your lap before his friend, the girl that had blonde hair and gray eyes, ran up and started yelling at him. He got up and apologized before walking off with the girl.

The other boy walking right next to him. You didn’t say anything, you were too busy with your thoughts. You didn’t move either, till you realized you were going to be late for class.

Then you took off running, but you still thought about that encounter for the whole day. You were still thinking about it. You sighed again and looked down at your lap. You hadn’t even talked to the boy before.

Maybe you should.

You’ve been trying to work up the courage to do it but you always chickened out in the end. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed someone sitting down next to you. You wondered who else would submit themselves to this torture so you glanced over. Your cheeks got red, and not from the cold.

The boy was sitting next to you. He was dressed for the cold. A puffy jacket that was open, that was weird. But below it was a smaller jacket that was closed, that made sense. He had on thick pants like you and gloves.

Proper gloves.

He had on a beanie like you but it was blue, a bright blue. It should have been too much but they boy could pull it off. Plus he looked cute with a bit of hair sticking out of the front of the beanie.

You quickly glazed away and looked at the ground. There were footprints and the grass was covered in frost. “Didn’t expect you to be here”, the boy said. You could feel him looking at you but you kept your gaze on the ground.

“Didn’t expect you here either”, you said, looking up but not at Percy, just at the horizon. The bench was right on the edge of a clearing in the park. There weren’t many trees at the park, but most of them were in a ring so there was a clearing in the middle.

That ‘s were a slide, swing set, and marry go round were at. Then they were small grills with chairs and tables. Then around the edges of the park were the paths and benches.

The playground equipment was to your left. You just stared forward at the other benches and trees. A couple people walked by, probably to school or work.

You heard the boy sigh before he asked you another question, “Why did you come?” You kept your gaze forward and responded with, “Could ask you the same thing?”

The boy laughed, his laugh was still amazing. You smiled, you had to keep yourself from laughing with him. “I’m here because I wanted to think. Now, why are you here?”

You glanced over at the boy, he had a small smile on his face and his body was slightly turned to you. You still didn’t look at the boy, you didn’t know what to tell him.

You could tell him that the park calmed you, or that you liked getting exercise, or that you just wanted to see him. Maybe you shouldn’t tell him that last one.

“I wanted to take a walk”, you said once you decided what to say. The boy looked at you and you got a little uncomfortable under his gaze. You finally looked at him.

His nose and cheeks were a little red from the cold but that just made him look cuter. “Then why are you still here? It’s getting colder”, you didn’t know how to answer that.

You really should leave.

You should have left hours ago. Maybe you stayed because you were waiting to see if the boy would show. That was probably it. The boy shrugged and stood up. “See ya”, the boy walked down the path while you blushed more.

That was really the first time you talked to the boy. You didn’t even get his name, or number. You cursed yourself and leaned back on the bench, putting your hands over your face.

You groaned into your hands before removing them and looked over to where the boy sat. There you noticed a piece of paper. You wondered where it came from.

Did the boy leave it?

Did he mean to leave it or did he leave it by accident? Curiosity got the best of you and you picked it up. It was folded in on itself so you opened it.

You blushed as soon as you read it. It read, Call me beautiful ;), with a phone number under it.

He liked you back! You were so happy that you jumped up and yelled with happiness. You scared the birds out of the tree and they flew away.

You smiled as you watched them.

Maybe you could be like them one day. Cuddled up against each other, protected each other from the cold. Hopefully with that boy. You smiled and placed the paper in your jacket pocket. You felt your phone in it and picked it up. You cursed and started running as soon as you saw the time.

You were going to be late for class!

#lgbtq #nonbinary #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x male reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #heros of olympus x reader #heros of olympus #pjo hoo toa #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #pjo series #non binary imagines #nonbinary reader

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thevikingwoman · 26 days

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Meryta, busy in the midst of trying to help her friends get back from the First, takes a time to visit her lover Tansui. Unfortunately she finds him sick - but she doesn't mind taking care of him a bit. While there, she has time for reflection and maybe a few realizations.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 2542 | Read on Ao3

I was recently out of commission with a very annoying cold, so of course I kept myself going dreaming up a sweet sickfic-trope scenario. I hope you enjoy some fluff!

Meryta Khatin x Tansui | Early shb patches | romance Rating: Teen. Fluff, romance, sickfic, food as a love language, feelings, swearing, black magic headcanons, minor black mage jobquest spoilers

Homesick

“You may want to skip out right away,” Rasho says. He’s sitting alone at his usual table, Tansui nowhere in sight.

Meryta lifts her eyebrows, and he explains: “Tansui’s sick in bed.”

“Should I worry? Can I help?”

“Nothing serious - a cold or something. But a sick pirate is a sorry sight if there was one.”

Worried despite Rasho’s reassurances, she finds Tansui’s dwelling. Maybe she can do something, and besides that, she did come to visit him in the short time that she has. She doesn’t bother knocking, gently pushing the door open. It’s dark inside, his curtains drawn and just a small oil lamp casting a dim light across the room.

“Meryta?”

Tansui sits half up in his bed, covered in a twisted blanket, his hair messy. “Is that you or a fever dream?”

He coughs, rough and loud, covering his mouth with a cloth and collapsing on himself.

“Tansui – I’m here, I – how are you?”

She rushes over, her hand brushing against his face. He does feel hot to touch, his brow sticky. The stale air doesn’t help either.

“Not worth much to see me such, sick as a dog. Good to see you well, though –” He coughs a little again, his voice strained, and falls silent.

“Shhh - spare your voice.” He opens his mouth as to protest, but she continues, no wish to hear that rattling cough again. It sounds painful. “And no matter, it’s always worth it to see you, Tansui.”

She tucks a bit of his hair away from his forehead, and he smiles carefully as he looks up at her. He looks awful, really, his lips dry and eyes unfocused.

Meryta gets up and opens the window in the kitchen – fresh, cool air will be nice. There’s a pitcher of water, and she pours a glass for him. He drinks all of it carefully, and she gets another.

“Are you hungry?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m not sure my healing can do much for a cold – but let me try.”

Day or night, the stars and the gates of the heavens are always present and heed her call. Her aether swirls through her, out of her, and over and into Tansui. She tries to find if she can heal or bring relief anywhere, anyhow, but she’s not a chirurgeon. Her healing is meant to close wounds and provide succor in battle, not cure the sick.

“Feels nice enough,” he says – but she’s not really doing anything. She shakes her head and withdraws her hands and her aether. He still feels hot, his skin sticky.

“Are you hot?”

He nods. “Yes. I felt cold earlier, but its too hot in here.” He kicks at the blankets. She sorts them, but puts them back over his legs.

“You have a fever. You shouldn’t get too cold.”

He makes a noise of displeasure, and sticks his feet out from the blanket. Fine. There’s a bucket of water with a rag by the bed – someone else left it, and she dips and wrings the cloth. The water is tepid, almost warm, but she still wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Meryta,” he says, and kicks at the blankets, twisting them again. “So pretty.”

“You should rest, Tansui.”

“Too fucking hot.”

The tepid water is not helping, if only it was cold, or – perhaps she could create some ice? She frowns. The truth is, she doesn’t have that kind of control, her black magic large and destructive. It’s a nice thought, to freeze a bit of water, but she’s just as likely to have a hunk of ice take out the side of the building.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, and kisses his hair.

Meryta grabs an empty bucket and fills it with fresh water from the well. Then she walks off, out of the settlement and around the stone that supports Heaven on High, into the narrow piece of land between the rocks. The ground is sandy, coarse stubborn grass growing where nothing else will.

She places the bucket and stands back. She’s come a long way recently, the black magic proving a great outlet when she feels restless about her aether, worrying it will overwhelm her. But she’s not a technician, and she rolls her eyes thinking of Zhai'a’s admonishments. She does need to control it better, but it’s good enough for battle.

She blasts the bucket, the air freezing, and a block of ice forming around it, then shattering. The grass is covered in frost and ice shards. Not an indoors endeavor. But the bucket is full of ice, and with her goal accomplished, she heads back to Tansui.

He’s still awake when she returns, smiling and then coughing as she enters the room. The ice is easily cut into chunks – her control with the katana is no issue and the blade is sharp and pure. She dumps pieces of ice in the warm water and dips the rag in it. Much better.

“Mmm, nice,” Tansui whispers when she brushes it across his brow. She seats herself next to him. He has closed his eyes now, and she hopes it’s in relief. He sighs when she brushes the rag across his shoulders and his chest.

“That’s why you came, to put your hands on my chest,” he mumbles.

She can’t help but grin.

“A little lower, please.”

She drags the cool water across the top of his abdomen, careful not to make the whole bed wet. Tansui cracks an eye open.

“You could go lower still.”

She starts, and he winks at her.

“Ass!”

“Pirate.”

“You need to rest,” she says firmly, smiling broadly. It would not be useful to give in to his antics, but it’s good to hear them.

“This is helping?”

“S’feel good, yes.”

She returns to her task, and cools his brow again. Tansui’s head falls forward, and he sighs again when she runs the cloth along his nape, lifting his messy hair out of the way. His braid is one big tangle from sleeping on it, probably tossing and turning.

“Scoot a little forward,” she says, kissing his shoulder. “Let me fix your hair.”

He makes a noise that she supposes is assent, and moves himself a little forward so she can sit behind him. She starts, gently undoing his braid and the tangles with her hands. His hair is soft, the purple and black strands parting for her with a little patience. She likes, loves, that he takes the time to dye it, the flash of brightness suits him, for all the Confederacy’s practicality. She runs her fingers through it one more time.

“Do you want me to rebraid it? Or leave it loose?”

She prefers to have her hair loose when sleeping, but she knows he sometimes keeps it braided and she doesn’t know if it’s laziness or preference.

“I like your hands it in, Meryta.”

She’s more than happy to oblige. He should really rest, though, his shoulders slumped as he sits. She scoots herself further back, and leans against the wall.

“Lay down,” she says, hands gently pulling his shoulders, maneuvering them both until his head is in her lap. She resumes running her hands through his hair and across his scalp. “Rest.”

He closes his eyes and makes himself comfortable. Then opens his eyes again, looking up at her.

“How are you, Meryta? Are you here long? Tell me.”

“I can’t stay long, I’m afraid.” She tries to make time, after everything, but once again things start to seem urgent. “We’re looking for a way to get everyone back home. Their bodies and souls being apart is taking its toll. I worry – we’re working on it. We will find a solution, to carry their souls and minds across the void. But it has been a long time, especially for Thancred. I think he’s worse off than he lets on.” At least others share her concern. “It’s not my area of expertise, but I can help with the practical stuff.” Fetching things and people and fighting what she can.

“Mmm. You’ll all find a way. I’m sure of it. Problem solvers the lot of you.” Tansui has closed his eyes again. “And creators of them. What else. There’s always something else.”

She doesn’t admonish him on account of being sick, but he’s also right.

“Ryne – I did tell you about Ryne, did I not? She’s found something, in the empty place flooded by light. She’s going to try and fix things.” She explains, about the Empty and Eden and Ryne’s plans, and the change of aethereal balance they’ve set in motion. There’s a lot to tell and explain, her hands slowly caressing Tansui as she speaks. Her tail winds itself across his chest, she can’t help it. He catches it lazily, his hand holding it close.

She’s so proud of Ryne. The drive of her, to figure out who she is, and to fight for her world on her own premise. Not just fight for it, but change it. Create something, something big. If she can truly transform the landscape – and she will – it’s incredible.

Pulling herself back to the story, Meryta looks down on Tansui, who’s seems asleep now. Without rush or interruption, she really looks at him, and all the ways he is handsome to her. His skin tanned from the sun and sea,. the crow’s feet around his eyes His distinctive nose. His beard, scruffy and dark and a bit novel still. Of course she’s seen lots of people of many races with beards by now, but no au ra has them, prominent scales adorning the jaws on some people instead. Whichever you see in childhood still sticks with you. Same with his ears, soft and round. She holds herself back from tracing his ears and jaw, in case she wakes him, but she loves it. His features are interesting and wonderful and somehow now, familiar too. She doesn’t mind sitting here, while he sleeps; while he gets better.

Is this what love feels like?

She frowns. No use to think of now. Tansui is fast asleep, breathing steadily. She does not want to wake him, so she keeps petting his hair and closes her own eyes. Her thoughts turn back to Ryne.

Ryne’s a better hero than she can ever be, the force of her growing and healing her world. Meryta herself, she’s better at changing things through fighting. For all she’s done, the big things were not her actions. Aymeric is the one ended the Dragonsong war, his political influence and boldness bringing change. Hien and Lyse freed their countries, brought them out from under the grasp of Garlemald, their people following them. She’s a pointy tool, but when the fighting is over, other people are the true heroes. People like Ryne. Meryta is happy enough to fix both a sword and a plough, to make a pretty necklace or dig an irrigation ditch. She likes being a fixer too, but it’s in the small, mundane and physical ways.

She should check on the enclave soon, see how the rice fields are doing; the school too. And Charlemand’s infirmary. Good people, whom she can help in her own small ways. Her thoughts wander – to her friends back at the First, to her friends here she has missed. Back to Tansui, snoring slightly with a firm grip on her tail.

The next thing she notices is the sun filling the room. It’s morning, and she must have drifted off last night, trying not to disturb him. There’s a slight cramp in her shoulder from siting and sleeping, but it’s not too bad. She tries to move it, shuffle around without waking Tansui. She doesn’t succeed. He cracks his eyes open – at least they look more focused today. She rests her hand against his brow, and he feels less warm to touch too. His fever seem to have broken.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Morning.” He frowns. “Did you sit there all night?”

“I didn’t want to wake you. And I fell asleep.”

“Oh.” His cheeks color and she worries momentarily if he’s feeling feverish again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better, I think. Hungry.”

“I’ll cook you something.”

“No need, I’ll just – “

“Please, Tansui, I need to leave soon, but I can do this. You should still rest.”

She wriggles out away from him, and he sighs and shuffles in the bed to sit up.

“I’m not that infirm.”

She ignores him and starts in the kitchen. Rummaging around, she finds some cooked rice and eggs, and it’s fast enough to fry them up for a meal. Tansui hasn’t left the bed, sitting against the wall in it with his eyes closed. Still tired, no matter his protests. She crushes a bit of dried seaweed over the dish. Something simple should do.

Tansui accepts the dish, and she sits on the chair next to his bed to eat her own plate. While he is absorbed by the food, she can’t help but look at him, carefully from beneath her lashes. There’s something unhurried and undefined, eating breakfast together messily like this. She’s happy to see his appetite, and to make him food. She wants to share this with him, whether he’s sick or well.

“Thank you. He looks up from his plate, and then down again. “I’m sorry. I should have cooked, or –”

“You’re not well. And I’m happy to cook for you.”

“And it was good, but you’re – in my house and it’s… well.” He hesitates and shrugs.

“Well, it’s only fair. It’s not as if I have a home to invite you to.”

As she says it she wonders; where does she feel at home? Maybe she should find a more permanent place – once everyone is back. Somewhere she can invite Tansui. It’s an appealing thought, but fleeting for now.

She finishes her own plate, and cleans them both. Simple moments for the two of them. Her heart pounds in her chest. But for now, she has more duties, and friends to help. She can’t bring herself to leave quite yet, though, and finds something else to clean, her eyes drifting to Tansui ever so often.

“You don’t have to stick around, Meryta. I’m not much company.”

“It’s alright – I’m glad to see you – “

He reaches for her, and she sits at the edge of his bed, her hand in his. Easy.

“I do appreciate your care, looking like shite as I do, but I know your time is short. Better be back when I’m well again. Besides – loath as I am to admit it, I should rest more.”

“Promise me you’ll do so?”

“Aye.”

She squeezes his hand, and they both smile, the moment between them suspended in time, filled with unspoken words.

It breaks when Tansui coughs, curling forward and letting go of her.

“Go save your friends.” He waves her off.

“Get well, Tansui. I’ll be back soon.”

“Yes. You will.” He smirks confidently at her, haggard as he looks. Then he leans back against the wall and closes his eyes. Her heart skips and heat flushes through her. She hopes she hasn’t caught his illness.

“Stay safe.”

His words float after her as she slips out the door.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfic #final fantasy 14 fanfic #meryta x tansui #tansuiwol #AHH I just love them so much #and all their feelings #tansui ffxiv #ffxiv tansui #tansui #meryta khatin #writing about meryta #viking writes #published 8/31/2024

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sunboki · 1 year

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SEND MY LOVE — 양정인

PAIRING — Healer! Yang Jeongin x f. reader

🖇️ GENRE — royalty! au, angst, suggestive(no intercourse), bittersweet, coincidences, childhood best friends to lovers, enemies to lovers if you squint

WORD COUNT — 6.9k ☆ 34 minute read

⚠️ WARNINGS — making out, close to smut, implied fwb

AUG’S NOTES — another thank you for notifying me about an open spot in your collab rin(@hyunverse)!! i would never skip the chance to write for my boys, especially a royal collab eeee so exciting—i knew i could ramble on with this for forever, so i hope i supplied enough closure between yn and jeongin! also, i haven’t wrote for innie separately, so feedback is appreciated：）

PLAYLIST — ꒰ 🧺 ꒱

TAGLIST — @writerracha @princelingperfect @ggundeuri @orithyia-eriphyle @vumiixlyy @luvrhyune @hopeladybug @misitmoonlight @baldi-2 @baddecisionsworld @thetaytayray @midsoulz @hyunverse @realbangchan @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @rachabreathing @nixtape-foryou @ameliesaysshoo @jisungsdaydreamer @https-skzology @day6andetcetera @linonyang @hgema @seoli-16 @bokk-minnie @foliea @amagumorii @nhyunn @ravyaryn @ink-spilled-stars @himarose @sherryblossom @shakalakaboomboo @r-arrh @siriusly1 @catwonwoo @suebinn @foxinnie8

💭 SYNOPSIS — Despite the twists and turns in Iredal Castle, the only world you lived in was a world with Jeongin in it. Once the Healer’s apprentice, now the Healer himself, Jeongin has always been right beside you; tending to you endlessly and in turn, becoming close friends. Perhaps more in the castle’s corners. Except the Royals disregard you, and when you ask Jeongin to run away together, he denies. In turn, you leave on your own and begin working at a pottery shop in the villages, sending him abundant letters. Eventually though he stops replying and you assume he’s simply forgot about you, until he walks into the shop.

“Jeongin..” you whispered, voice coming out in a pitiful croak as you reach forward—making out the shakiness of your hand through tired eyelids. There’s a heavy haze that overtakes what’s left of the broken mind you’ve been gifted, surprised your vision remains intact whilst being unused for such a lengthy amount of time. The world is always new for those who don’t open their eyes. You know this well.

“I’m right here.” A small patch of light sneaks through cracks in the window, illuminating the boy’s features beautifully. He smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners while gazing at you from a squat by your bedside in order to speak at eye-level. When Yang Jeongin smiles, he loses his eyes and his cheeks puff out a bit. You never seem to get tired of it.

Since the day you entered this world, it felt like you had been sent to bed. Always so sick, always too weak to support yourself. Oftentimes you would refer to it as a curse until reminded of Jeongin, transforming the bitter judgment in such a way it felt like fate. A certain obscuring fate you would never manage to hold in both hands, but for you, for now, that was okay. If you hadn’t been ill all the time, perhaps you would have never gotten the chance to grow close to him like this.

Your introduction to Jeongin was well out of the books, having only really gotten to know him and his kindness on a peculiar evening when you were laden with cold. Eleven at the time, your blaring fever having spiked dramatically leading to frantic ushering into the Apothecary. The Healer’s apprentice had been hasty to concoct a sort of coriander mixture in an attempt at lowering your temperature, to no avail. Yet when he rose from his squat beside you, you clutched his shirt with sweaty fingers—pleading with the stranger of a boy not to leave you alone to stifle that same, hollow feeling. As if you were stuck in a glass box, a massive clock displayed in front of you representing time in its never ending cycle. Except the key to the box was long forgotten, and you’d simply waste away there.

Tick.

“Don't leave me, please.”

There he goes with that heart wrenching grin, your introduction to not only Yang Jeongin, but his mystifying characteristics as well — gazing at you like the earth might just break apart. It’s a mystery how one can look into his eyes without crying. Raw, unfiltered emotion that feels as if it penetrates every fiber of your soul, your being. He’s comforting, as if you’ve known him for years. Sympathy in the curve of his brows, Michelangelo's sculpture somehow alive. Breathing, thinking.

Becoming acquainted with him came relatively easy opposed to others, able to carry countless conversations of all and nothing. Spurring recollection to occasions you had sneakily slipped from your stead to visit him in extended hours of eve, where the sky had just barely dappled tawny, soon replaced with a midnight hue. He’d tell you of his days, you would tell him of yours, without realizing you grew up with him in the process. Because when you blinked, Jeongin had transformed into more than a coincidence.

“I have to collect more herbs for your head, otherwise your fever will worsen.” Despite being only eleven like yourself at the time, a brush of his hand on your forehead eased all the worries swarming, the achiness, the pain. Sleep you were coaxed to, waking up and craving his presence, his reassurance once more. That simple gesture, he did it again and again every time you would visit, which was more often than not for that of a sickly child.

When you turned fifteen and your first lover had broken up with you, crying out your heart’s contents in the castle’s botanical gardens. Jeongin had done the same then, gently caressing your head like you were a troubled child while you sobbed into his shirt. Letting your waves crash against his shore. High tide in the late of night, Jeongin welcomed the sound of the ocean.

At nineteen, only a year ago when he’d been your first kiss — a soft touch of your forehead that spoke more than could be said aloud. Something delicate, something irreplaceable. It had been prohibited for one of such high profile to be enacting any sort of association with that of the lower class, especially a kiss. Quite risky, don’t you think? Although the riskiness of it sent a childish plethora of giddiness throughout your body that you hadn’t experienced in years time due to the suffocating confinement of restrictions, dutifully enforced by the Castle. He spoke much without words.

Nonetheless, you were twenty years old now, and no matter seemed to claw you in such a way you wept about it or needed to be consoled because of. You didn’t desire that lingering touch anymore, you had grown. Or your ability to fend off illness developed from a seed into a sprout, but your relationship with Jeongin persisted as resilient as the stone pathway leading out to Iredal’s foliage-inhabited Pleasaunce, cracked and overgrown beyond belief however evermore frivolous and alive. When with Jeongin this was possible. Living in a dream before you had to wake up, that is.

Heavy mist of spring blossomed around the Kingdom, a prime occasion to bask in the sun's rays after a millennium of bitter winds. Basking you did, while accompanied by Jeongin of course. It might have been strange for two people of entirely opposing positions to be conversing and picking at daisies awakening from the long thistles of grass — nothing short of casual for the both of you.

“You spoke of your tutoring session earlier?” The Healer, sitting criss crossed across from you hummed, twining vine into pretty bracelets absentmindedly.

“Ah yes, I was informed on the Victorian Language of Flowers, the topic was of great interest.” He leaned forward, appearing immersed though already knowledgeable of the study. On and on you explained, telling him of fantastical bouquets conveying distinct messages and allowing him to appreciate the excitement sparkling beneath your irises, sporadic hand gestures emphasizing each word slipping off your enchantingly cherry lips he longed to feel against his. Essentially, he did bask in the spring’s sun, your sun. Providing him with all the light and warmth necessary albeit far out in a field. Oh to abandon responsibilities and live like this, with you. One can hope, though hoping is sour upon accepting it won’t occur. Still, he’ll hope.

As for your presumed “friendship”, behind closed doors the average witness would immediately assume you were enacting an affair from the stolen kisses and the recurring suggestive touch. To those in front of the door, you were simply good friends. Good friends with a.. lasting connection.

Daisie picking however met a refreshing end, the dark-haired boy accompanying you back towards the Castle’s nearest entryway before bidding you farewell. There was a fondness gracing his features, carefully tucking one of the countless daisies he had picked into your palm, tickling your palm with soft petals and carving a memento of a day you already wished back.

The following morning however was a daring occasion for “good friends.”

“Oh god..”

His neat white shirt adorned with classical ruffles disheveled along with jet black hair, chasing after your kiss whilst you cupped the sides of his face. Your legs wrapped around his midsection, supported by strong hands sinking into the plush skin on the back of your thighs. Jeongin’s lips bruised pink and puffy from where you had pulled the skin between your teeth, eliciting a sort of adorable whine in return. His descent traveled down to your jaw, stopping to mark a love bite right below the ear where he nipped the soft skin relentlessly until you knew you’d have to be dressed heavily in order to conceal the evidence — loving the dreamy sigh that sounded in response to his attention.

“You.. you locked the door?” You breathed shallowly, allowing him to carry you from the wall to the bed, fervently laying you down on the mattress. He nodded in a hurried manner, maneuvering you to straddle his hips — fox-like, chestnut eyes admiring every inch of you he’d seen innumerable times. He slowly traced the fabric of your gown, down, down, lower. Till your breath hitched and the situation truly inclined into dangerous territory, teetering on the brink of collapse. Each reaction, curl of your fingers, flush of your cheeks. Engraved in his memory for as long as his mind would remember.

“I missed this, ‘missed you my dear. Please let me make love to you..” Soft murmurs mumbled against bare skin recalled times you treasured the most thanks to nectarine sweet talk accompanied by the gentleness of his voice that sailed you away into a new universe. A new universe where you and Jeongin were the only ones existing, not hidden in his room disguised from prying eyes.

“No one is keeping you from doing so.” You giggled, leaning down for an equally sugary kiss. No person might have kept him from doing so, but your impending requested presence at dinner could end up guilty. A long forgotten factor if not noticeable already. Yet selection revealed quite mercilessly that all things come to an end, some quicker than others.

“Hey Jeongin, I need to speak to you concerning-WOAH. Woah.”

In strolls Royal Guard Han Jisung, standing stiffly in the doorway relative to a deer suffering amnesia. Loudly declaring that Jeongin did not in fact lock the door, and a person was surely capable of preventing your love session after all. This was humiliating. The intruder slapped a hand across his mouth, waving quickly towards the both of you whilst muttering a jumbled, “Apologies for interrupting!” Before sprinting away. Momentary silence ensued and slowly, you turned to face the man you had nearly slept with, threatening the burst of laughter creeping up your throat.

“Did we happen to scare him?” You take your turn covering your own mouth, doubling back on the bed from not only the situation, but Jeongin’s facial expression as well. So expressive, added to the list of bountiful charms you discover when with him. At this point you should know everything about him, and you do, partially. Apart from what he doesn’t allow you to know, which, defensively, you uncover on your own.

“Ruined the atmosphere more like it.” He scowled, obviously annoyed by the interruption of his love-making fantasy and bemused by your evident inability to feel even slightly vexed. He found it impossible to remain upset when you were around. A continuously repeated cycle of stealing what wasn’t his, what he wanted to be his, and getting his most precious of possessions ripped out of his fingertips. Jeongin was a beggar in that view. For you, he was a beggar.

Reminding, you tapped his nose, wearing the sly grin he’d once sported like a badge of honor, “You poor thing… someone is grumpy.” Earning a pouted reply despite happily anticipating the peck you planted on his cheek as an estranged form of compensation.

“I’m not.. ugh, I find it best to leave before he tells the whole Kingdom about us.” About us, he said. About your adoration, heavily harbored passion. About us, what you could be, what you were, what perception told of. Quizzical. Unaffected, he gives your hips a quick squeeze, allowing you to leave the bedroom first prior to exiting himself.

Low and behold stood the interruption, appearing far too pleased with his latest discovery while he tapped his foot- a bad habit of his- incessantly. The mere thought as to what Jisung’s business here entailed failed to materialize in his mind, a heavily disregarded prospect after being so violently thrashed from paradise, left to drift off at sea.

“Mayhaps..”

“Say nothing more.”

“I wasn’t going to mention your affairs! This concerns Y/n.” Han appeared feeble observing the younger perk at the reference to you, attentive to whatever he was saying once you were involved. He beckoned Jeongin to follow him, adding on to the suspicious layering of what exactly they would be discussing upon arriving on the far side of an open corridor, located on the left wing of the Castle — vastly distanced considering where you would currently be rushing to dine with fellow Royals. The space void of any lurking ears awaiting to hear something they could use to either upgrade their status or stake down someone else’s. Hierarchy in its boldest font and ever apparent in the depths of Iredal Castle.

“Have you taken notice?” There’s a crease in Jisung’s forehead relating to the question. Tentative, like a cat studying its unsuspecting prey residing on a fence post. If Jeongin were a cat, his fur would have bristled apprehensively.

“Taken notice of what, exactly?” A sort of nervous pique to his voice gave away the Healer’s compiling tension, prominently oblivious. Jisung cleared his throat, lowering his tone that ushered his counterpart closer.

“Have you perceived Y/n and the Royal Family-“ Before the Royal Guard managed to pronounce his finishing words, the black-haired ran a hand through his hair, boisterously indifferent.

“-Whatever the Royal Family fancies is not my business and not something I want any association with. You know this.”

“Yes yes I am aware but it would be favorable if you listened for a moment, please?” Jeongin nodded curtly.

“There’s a disconnect, Changbin and I keep seeing it. As if they don’t even acknowledge her. Aside from there being some disconnect since Y/n’s the King’s Goddaughter and all, it has significantly worsened.”

The latter’s brow furrowed, perturbed. He could picture it so realistically — your downcast face, how you would fiddle with your fingers thoughtfully. Fiddling the way he’d seen a multitude of times when you were younger. Your signature mechanism of aiming to ease the discomfort you felt in that moment. He hurt, knowing you hurt.

“..Has she said anything to you about this?” A quiet break in the stillness that had occupied its way between them earned a solemn shake of the head. Of course you hadn’t said anything. You’d keep it bottled up in your heart until the dam broke, and he’d be the one racing to scoop up the water. Always.

Alas, the fiddle of your fingers bared its ugly face, distracting yourself with the rough texture of the tablecloth’s fabric beneath you. Evening’s feast carried on like usual, just as Jeongin had predicted. Except you didn’t rush there, aware you would have in the case of your earlier affair going further prior to being interrupted. Time that could have been spent elsewhere ghosted by, including snide comments easily discarded by each person attending that added to the flavor of pig's blood jelly majestically advertised in the center of the long table. Family friend Madame Belmore tapped her fingernails repeatedly along a decorative wine glass, sparing an excessive margin to clear her throat. One’s next words could not have been dreaded more.

“Speak of yore, I happened to deduct intriguing insight on Your Highness’s God-Daughter Ms. Yn Ln. For I hadn’t been told of your association with erm.. Yun, Yin..-“Yang Jeongin.” You abruptly voice, audibly calm opposed to the exasperation settling itself in your stomach at a bewildering rate. The woman had always inhibited her suspicions just as everyone did. Unlike everyone though, her suspicions were her prowess, her sickening joy.

“Yes! Yang Jeongin, the Healer. About him, I couldn’t help but ponder your… how do I put this, relationship.” Each piece of Madame Belmore’s puzzle fell into perfect place — mirroring the exact moves you had been taught playing Chess. The sight utterly chilling, watching her ferocious glinting sneer scream “Checkmate” right in your face, breath hot with the overwhelming scent of overly sweetened wine.

She thrust her hands forward, clasping them oh so tightly as if she were praying. Praying for something you couldn’t guess, but most likely your demise on first thought.

“You see, to an uneducated eye it may seem unusual I suppose. Reassuringly we are nothing apart from saved and savior. Were you not disclosed of my childhood illness, Madame Belmore?” Narrowly escaping to an empty square on the Chess board, you tip your head to the side, openly inviting the woman to interject. No, she wouldn’t. Madame Belmore wouldn’t dare to allow her sacred suspicions to deliberately falter.

“Oh allow me!” The Queen dramatically gasping her anguish spurred the dissipation of Madame Belmore’s pretentious glare, beginning to enlighten the “uneducated” on your tragedies. Rising aversion to the instigator wasn't much disliked though, comparing the belittling to ignoring. Ignoring in terms of absolute abandonment of your being, not a glance in your direction for a reason you didn’t know. What you did know was the behavior began becoming increasingly prevalent, and that this exact banquet would become an entire accusation pinwheel after the introduction of your saved and savior relationship was provided so diligently to Madame Belmore by the Queen. “Best to flee.” Jeongin had told you that once, after he had snatched a casserole you’d asked about off the Baker's tray. Young then, without thought of genuinely meaning you would run away. Without a need to run away, apart from fleeing from small mishaps.

“And you are not attending dinner, why?”

You’d leave it to the imagination to assume you deserted the feast or caused a scene, storming into no other than Jeongin’s Apothecary before the feast had officially concluded. Escape. The Apothecary was a momentary escape, upon investigation by officials though the forbidden cove would be revealed, unraveling something disgustingly disastrous.

At this time in the evening the Healer was well versed knowing you would be eating with the rest of the elites, afterwards skipping back to his Apothecary to inform him of the gossip you had overheard while there. Scheduled, like usual. This time howbeit things were contrasting to this long running schedule. Divergent in terms of the atmosphere, your body language, the timing. It was unsettling.

“I’m pained because of them. It is much the same as being invisible. Not only that, but Madame Belmore is plotting a distasteful act for me.”

Jeongin’s lips pull into a tight line listening to you. Madame Belmore had always been alternatively plotting, but you would always state your desire to complain about her then forget. To be so troubled by it, furthermore to enter his Apothecary so frazzled confirmed the urgency. Seeing you like this, curled up in a ball on the patient-bed you had basically grown up in, stirs an ugly nostalgia to froth. Grateful his back is facing you, concealing his transparency. He can’t say anything. Not about his gnawing guilt and chiefly not about his previous conversation with Han containing the exact details you’re speaking now.

“Innie, would you run away with me?”

His hands abruptly stop their shuffling, deciding against turning around to face you. Never did he expect such a preposition. Continuously caving when it came to you, too blinded by fondness to register what he was getting himself into before the thicket became too dark and suffocating that he’d reach for you to pull him to safety. Never did he expect such a preposition he would have to reject, indirectly saying to him that if you weren’t to close the book yourself, the pages would be ripped to pieces by someone else. That nickname, “Innie.” Only you could call him that.

This time though, a fine line had been drawn. One half his side, one half yours. Yours with the need to be free, his with the need to be with you. His of which wouldn’t allow a caged bird to venture out. Greater precaution told him he should’ve known that you were both walking a tightrope that would eventually lead to stumbling. He did know, however he didn’t acknowledge. The prospect was nauseating.

“I’m afraid.. I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

Eardrums buzzed, he hears you move. Hears the patter of your shoes on the stone flooring as you approach him. Your arms wrap around him, burying your head into his back.

“You know I will go through with it.”

“I do, and that is what breaks me.” His words falter, yet you don’t look up, aware it would be too much to watch his face crumble. Perhaps make you change your mind. Your best friend, the Healer of Iredal Castle, changed your mind with ease. Perhaps that’s also why this hug feels so bittersweet. You don’t want to let go, worried he’d slip through your fingers like sand upon separating. Bittersweet. There’s a slight croak, the man dissolving into billowing sobs. You carefully turn him around to face you, gazing up at his immeasurably enchanting face that you begged yourself not to see, not to give in to. Yet you did, every time. Clammy thumbs brush stray tears from his cheeks, watery smile disguising a throbbing ache settling inside of your chest. You’ll stay solid in order to keep to your word of running away, but dear is it challenging when Jeongin cries. If you could give him the world you would, despite that world being one without you in it disparate of what fantasy foretold. For Jeongin you would give anything, give in to anything. Anything except this.

“Tomorrow,” You await a sign he’s listening, his shaky hands reaching to hold your own that are cupping his face. He nods, big, emotion-filled globes for eyes shrieking a thunderous volume. Those chestnut orbs have always been mesmerizing, especially now when on the verge of breaking down. What a shame things are so pretty seconds before defeat.

“Tomorrow I will be gone, okay? And I’ll send you letters, Jeongin, and I want you to write back.” You’re coaching him through this, a second attempt to overshadow the feelings you’re experiencing of which you can’t describe. Feelings that harken an unpalatable sound from you you hardly recognized. It’s your turn to begin shaking, biting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood in order to contain yourself along with the cry clawing at your stomach.

“You.. You promise to do that, to write back, okay?” Subtle repetition of words betray you, but you don’t pay mind, or care to pay mind. There’s fervent bidding, holding him close a little longer, wishing for a little longer that things could be different. Except each night the sun set below the horizon, and you would follow accordingly.

The following morning consisted of sitting with Changbin in your room, him gaping at the shamelessly decadent assortment piling into a burgundy chest. You wanted to thank him for helping you cope like this, staying quiet while you packed even though the roaring man would have talked your ear off if preferred. He had a misunderstood demeanor, but Seo Changbin was a good listener. Not as good as Jeongin, but a good listener.

“Are you planning to leave for fifteen years-“Shh!”

Cowering slightly, the Royal Guard mumbled out hushed “sorry”’s as you checked through your belongings, ensuring each and every necessity was visibly there.

“..Alright. I pardon that’s everything.”

Uneasy quiver to your voice betrays you for a second time, lugging the massive chest downstairs with the help of your brown-haired emotional support. Ironic how the foyer stayed empty the entire time, not a soul peering from wooden doorways. Possibilities are limitless as you stand at the entry gates, patting the man’s shoulder farewell and prompting him to tell your acquaintances goodbye in your stead. You could run back, discard all your packaged belongings on your bed like it would make a difference due to primarily sleeping in Jeongin’s Apothecary. You could scream your lungs out and throw the wine Madame Belmore had sipped so precariously last night all over her satin white dress. You didn’t, finding no reason to disorient an outcome gradually worsening without needing your aid.

“You be safe now. ‘Get yourself into trouble and Han and I will go hunting you down.” His words grumble and you crack a ghost of a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, Changbin doesn’t mind.

The village is relatively small compared to the grandeur of Iredal’s Castle, nothing that you hadn’t anticipated before — and not in an arrogant, castle-grown demeanor — instead quaint, peaceful. You arrived by horseback, memorizing individual landscapes you pass on the way to scribble into a letter for Jeongin. Tell him of your trials and tribulations migrating to this foreign land, a prolonged explanation of what actually occurred that would hopefully earn his pretty laugh. A pretty laugh you already missed hearing.

Soon enough you settled into a comfortable household. Settled swiftly conducive to deterring your mind of returning to both the boy you loved and the home you had always known. Moving on was unyielding, this time though no one was glowering in your direction or expecting nothing, your only responsibility being to reach your own expectations. Those expectations built up in the process of working at a pottery shop on the northside of town. Additionally, November, paired with the bustle of customers and climbing income, became favored upon receiving a letter in the mail. Jeongin’s letter, and your first reply.

My Dearest,

How are you faring in the villages? Are you nourishing yourself? I’m hoping this is delivered to you at a suitable time and that you don’t miss me too greatly. Iredal Castle runs as usual without much squander, though I would prefer if you were here as well. The servants have successfully concealed your presence as a “sudden departure” so no need to fret. I cherish you deeply, please know I think of you endlessly and wish you well my dearest.

Sincerely yours, Yang Jeongin 양정인

Crouched over a desk in the pottery shop's backroom, your fingertips bunched the inked parchment, taking extra time to memorize the signature curvature of his “s” and how he would linger the feather tip a tad bit longer to achieve a darker hue on his periods. This was the first letter of what seemed like hundreds. Back and forth back and forth you wrote, on occasion locking yourself in the nearest isolated place to collect your rampaging thoughts. Discovering Jeongin’s confidence when writing relative to his meekness in real life bemused you in the sense of his compelling grasp of literature, example being his innate ability to have you holding onto every word. Oh how you yearned to visit him without constantly daydreaming the interaction. You wonder if he’s changed. If he’s forgotten about you, fallen in love- no. Pondering poorly is rotten for the mind. A worm coring an apple. Mental impressment.

Lovely, awakening to his appearance through letters in defiance to physical interaction, because he was there. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was there. Thinking of you while writing, listening. In spite of that, the certain comfort obtained during your letter exchange paused abruptly when the letters instantaneously stopped. Throughout the span of nearly eight months, his letters simply stopped. Initially you had assumed deliveries were slow, until you started asking the Postal if they had any letters assigned under your name on the daily. None. It left you somewhat starstruck, how rapidly your reality could be twisted. The worm wedging inside your simultaneously rotting apple of a brain you had smothered away days earlier. You wanted to convince yourself he was busy, to ease the worry, arguing that Summer was approaching and hay fever could be assaulting members of the Castle. Summer passed though, and so did the Mail boy carrying no “Yn Ln” assigned letters in his leather satchel.

Next was the anger, the ache. Childlike confusion as to why, when. Jeongin was not one to stop writing back without prior notice of his situation. But like you had fretted, in those eight months he might’ve changed. Yang Jeongin, your Yang Jeongin, might have changed into a spiteful man. Worst case being he forgot. Gradually, he would forget. About your love, about growing up together, about you. Nonsensical anxiety began wading itself through your veins, infecting your head. Furthermore, your anger persisted. Considering your anxiety was infectious, the anger was parasitic. Flaming and unhinged to where you were left no choice after long summer days waiting for a response but to find your own solution to the ghosting.

. ..

“Han Jisung I have every right to talk to that son of a bitc-''And I have every right to give you a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why you cannot see Jeongin right now.” He butts in, addressing your flailing arms with a sheepish expression. Sheepish. Han Jisung is sheepish when he’s making excuses. You’ve determined that rather quickly. Taking a perplexed step back, you cross your arms over your chest, regarding the walking excuse impatiently.

You’ve been sleepless for two weeks now, arranging a time and date as to when you would finally show your face at the Castle’s gates again to confront Jeongin only to be told he was unavailable. Being impatient was a given.

“Enlighten me.”

A big sigh.

“Please don’t misinterpret this, I’m sure he would love to see you, talk to you and all the things a person does with their lover that I know of because of romance novels I’ve read in my past time and oh no I’m talking too much but um, he is quite occupied at the moment.” Along with tapping his foot, Han’s habit you’d learned from Jeongin is he rambles ceaselessly. Only problem being you can’t tell if it’s simply a trait of his or nervousness due to confrontation. You don’t buy it either way.

“And? What has been keeping him occupied if I may ask.” The unconvinced stare etching your face earns lifted brows, and it’s the Royal Guard’s turn to flail his arms, the clank of his metallic armor loudly echoing — causing once calm birds to strike to the skies fretfully.

“With all due respect, do you really believe he would tell me what he’s preoccupied with?”

Hm. That is fair. Jeongin has always been a quiet one apart from conversing with you, his necessary antics placed at the top of the list. Somewhere, you hoped you’d be on the top of that list too, a fleeting thought you knew would be recurring.

Trivial deciding between going back to the village to wallow in your own self pity or make an equally pitiful sprint to Jeongin’s Apothecary to wring the man, luckily, the former reigned supreme in decision-making on this particular occasion. You breathed a long puff of air through your nose, shifting your weight into your heel from one foot to the other thoughtfully.

“Then, can you inform me when he’s not preoccupied?” No, you’re not giving up, simply rescheduling. Venturing back to the villages to await a letter from anyone, telling you the man has gained enough confidence to make room for you, that he had “rescheduled.” Han flashes a small smile, ruffling your hair kindly unlike the same sheepish contortion gracing his features. He doesn’t have to say anything to understand, to know of your struggle. You also know he sees your roaring anguish. Han Jisung has always been like that. Empathetic to a fault.

Changbin as the good listener, Han as the empathetic, and Jeongin as the man who was preoccupied.

Another optic of contemplation negotiates that you should have brushed the doubts away, decided against putting so much into gaining a single letter back. Nevertheless, it was impossible to both diminish the doubts and will a letter, and most certainly to ever let go of Jeongin. Perhaps he could manage to let go when it came to you, but it would never be the other way around.

Eventually you learned he surely couldn’t be that occupied, you mean, if he had the audacity to show his face in the pottery shop his list of priorities couldn’t be that time consuming now could they? Days from breaching a year without even seeing him and the one responsible for your misery causally entered the exact shop you had fled Castle life for. Referring to “eventually” as in right on time to absolutely wreck whatever fragments of acceptance you had gathered during his absence. Jeongin was good at making you lose, almost as good as he was at changing your mind.

Had Han said something to him about your visit? It seemed not, since the man didn’t pay any mind to you, like you didn’t exist just as the Royals had done. Your blood ran cold, standing frozen behind the front desk, eyes glued to the figure who casually strolled through the front door as if he hadn’t shattered your soul into a bountiful disarray a year in advance.

“Why are you here?”

“To get a jar.” He bites back coldly, bitter. Quick upon answering without consideration, not even turning to look at you.

A stranger, Yang Jeongin, is the exact figure who had walked through the door. Not someone you knew, but a stranger, a mere customer with a crude attitude.

“You’re aware you could have sent Han to get a new jar for you, like you had him tell me you were occupied with your duties, right? I see through-“No you don’t!”

Everything seemed to go rigid. Jeongin never raised his voice. But he did, and his mouth lay agape as he stared at you. Eyes blazing with something unreadable. Your hands tremble by your sides, fighting to maintain a composed expression as you stare back. This time, you compose with a heavy tongue, mouth just as dry as before.

“Are you going to say because of your position you could not even bother to acknowledge my feelings, couldn’t respond to my letters? Because you are the Healer and I am the invisible god-daughter you cannot just tell me what is taking up your time? Stop hurting me, please Jeongin.”

His jaw clenched. Pausing, then resorting to stepping over to where you stood and harshly sitting the clay jar atop the counter without a word. Jeongin spoke much without words, today, you didn’t want to listen. Hushed, he parted strawberry lips you’d kissed more times than healthy and there you are, hanging on with the feeble belief this is Jeongin you’re speaking to and not a stranger.

“… I knew if I sent out another letter I would come here, see you, fall all over again and have to stay. But I presume in the end my feet always lead me back to you.”

You feel your heart shattering into a million pieces, worried he’d crumble like a year ago and you’d pathetically follow suit. Instead, you smiled. A real smile that hurt your cheeks because you missed him, missed this even if it was an argument. Missed the hurt and the denial and the rawness of it all. Most importantly, missed your best friend and the love of your life.

Forgiving. You allowed yourself to forgive too easily with Jeongin.

In order to make eye contact you peek beneath dark strands of hair, adorning a big smile while gazing at him you can’t believe manages to appear when you should be fuming.

“You have grown so handsome, Innie.”

Because he has. His jawline has grown sharper(maybe it’s your lack of inspection) and his once tightly cut hair has become overgrown and unkempt, somehow foolishly infatuating. He looks older, he looks lonesome.

Stalling, he sucked in a sharp breath, eyes unevenly flickering from your eyes to your lips.

“.. May I kiss you?”

Considering it, you should’ve pushed him away, drilled him about how cruel he was to you and then shun him from the shop — shouldn’t have smiled or complimented him. Shouted at him for the Summer he left you waiting, wanting. For the never ending worrying he’d burdened you with. Sensible, but not the outcome you favored. After all, it was a refreshing time of year and opportunities like this were a bit too tempting to resist. He gave the impression he felt the same sort of gaping hesitance anyway.

“Just once.”

It’s his turn to laugh sadly, and he does kiss you. Slow and careful like you were a porcelain teacup, like the first time. Like he’s sorry, meaning it without an excuse. And miraculously, Innie had returned to visit you too. The one you knew, not the stranger nor a customer. Not the man who stopped sending you letters, not the one who raised his voice.

“Will you come back to visit? Or is this a fleeting chance?” Thick lashes dust fervently upon pulling apart, attempting to clear his rosy-hazed vision while listening to your whisper. Sneakily, his hand slips forward, spinning the jar sitting between you while another occupies itself on your cheek, caressing the skin he’s dreamt of.

“For another jar and ingredients, certainly.”

You’re quick to shove him, dubiously irritated by his ability to carelessly tease. Charming, but you won’t let him know that.

“Take this seriously!”

Giggles fill the expanse of the pottery shop as you playfully banter back and forth, drinking in the raindrops after your lengthy drought. Omniscient is the mutual unspoken sorry he mutely confessed to you, over and over with his affection, his words, his touch.

“However I have yet to let my unanswered letters go disregarded.” You perplex, Jeongin’s smile a risky jargon — concealing some sort of mischievous intention.

“Don’t fret yourself love, I’ll make up for all the responses you weren’t delivered.” He leans across the wooden panel, ushering a kiss you stubbornly resisted. Finally he maneuvers to your lips, snatching chaste pecks here and there as you struggle, laughing all the while. As if he’s carefully scouring back all the times he could have savored your lips in your time apart.

“Every day,”

Kiss.

“I will deliver a response,”

Kiss.

“With a flower attached from the shop next door,”

Kiss.

“Until all the letters I didn’t answer are answered.”

He’s satisfied with himself after you affirm the decision with a subtle chuckle, patting him on the shoulder and slipping his earlier payment into a compartment below the counter.

“I said you could kiss me just once, but I’ll look forward to my letters of compensation.”

Goodness, have you given enough credit to his smile? No description could possibly describe its beauty. One of his many factors you missed dearly. Imagining the future, you wondered if you would be granted the ability to witness them — all the pieces you thought you had lost after eight months. Time would tell. He left, except his departure wasn’t heartfelt. Instead it felt as if he would drop by tomorrow like back in the Castle, like things were how they used to be.

Awakening the following day, you figured Jeongin had been joking, not anticipating him to immediately write back and definitely not anticipating him to attach a flower alongside. Apart from the many miles separating the villages from the Castle, where he found the time to answer so many letters and supply flowers stood challenging to comprehend. Although you were proven wrong when the Postal service slipped a pristinely pale envelope into the shop's mailbox in the midst of your shift, mesmerizing White Orchids embellishing the visual. And for a moment, your mind streamed clearer. There he goes, leaving you breathless again.

The field chatter, the daisy bracelets. He proves you wrong a second time. He had listened. Listened to you talk all that time ago about those flowers and their meaning, otherwise he wouldn’t have added it with the letter you sent exclaiming your frustration about his sudden unresponsive state. Listened unlike the Royals had. Listened like a best friend, like a lover should.

White Orchids symbolize “I’m sorry.”

The next day, then the next. More letters passing by your window, beneath your door, in the mailbox or by hand on your way to the stalls. Petals littering the floor the only trace of your not-so-secret admirer. Twenty days later, they keep arriving in a constant and you’re left to ponder if perhaps he had planned this. Planned to apologize, planned to respond.

Friday. Pink Camellias symbolize “I missed you.”

Occasionally he would stay a while and watch you read his letters, scooping you up in his arms or wistfully chuckling from afar. Drinking in the time he was longing for and awaiting the time he’d experience now that he had you. And despite being Sunday and early at that, the letters continued to pour. Except today, unbeknownst to you, happened to be your last letter among hundreds, and a knock at the shop's door hadn’t gone unnoticed in the midst of your daily shift. Stirring you awake from whatever illusions had pulled you from the world's atmosphere. Walking outside to see what was the matter, you gasped, shocked by the large bouquet of vermillion flowers the man held that nearly concealed his face due to their abundant size. Jeongin, clad in a clean tanned trench coat, grinned a saccharine beam as he spoke, squinted eyes and puffy cheeks just as you remembered.

“This is your last letter, I hope I can make up for everything I’ve missed, my love.”

The flowers he held?

Red Chrysanthemums.

Red Chrysanthemums symbolize,

“I love you.”

feedback much appreciated :)

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kairiscorner · 1 year

Text

ATE @binibinileonara I SWEAR TO GOD I LOVE YOU PO /platonically

teenage miggy x filipino reader (high school enemies to lovers edition kasi i eat that shit up.)

you two were at each other's throats in grade 7-8, you two were the top students since gr 6, AT TINAASAN MO SIYA BY ONE POINT <333 he was forever pissed off at you for that so he kept teasing you for being a nerd if you wore glasses/had braces/both

kung may nanliligaw sayo, BRO HE'D PROBABLY THREATEN THEM TO STAY AWAY FROM YOU WITHOUT YOU KNOWING, THEN YOU'D BE ALL HEARTBROKEN

if you two were in separate classes, that would actually crush his spirits, because he wants to tease you when you're right in front of him. in the sixth grade, you'd've sat in front of him, and he was so jealous of how bright, sweet, and pretty you were that he kept teasing you so he wouldn't catch feelings jokes on you miggy you fell, and you fell HARD.

he would constantly blush if you called for him and his classmates would go, "MIGGY HINAHANAP KA NI (insert your name)"

HE WOULD DO THAT DOOR FRAME LEAN TO TRY AND ACCENTUATE THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU TWO AND LEER AT YOU ALL SMUGLY, lalo na pag grade 7 when the boys just get a height upgrade like

"ano kailangan mo, shorty?" he asks with the most SHIT-EATING GRIN ON THE FACE OF THIS PLANET

he kept that routine up until grade 8, and by grade 9 he kinda reflected and realized that if he wants to be close to you, that's not the way to do it, but HE STILL HASN'T ACCEPTED HE LIKES YOU, HE JUST WANTS TO CONVINCE HIMSELF HE'S JUST EXPERIENCING NERVOUSNESS BC OF HOW HE TREATED YOU

i think he'd've made you really cry in grade 8 from teasing you too much about a real insecurity you had, and as you were being comforted, you told him, "AYOKO SAYO, BWISIT KA, UMALIS KA NGA SA HARAPAN KO!"

he hated himself so much that day and never forgave himself for it, but in the heat of the moment, he told you he hated you, too, and stormed out. he wanted to get mad, but it was never at you, it was always towards himself for never coming to terms with how he felt about you.

he heard you were dating someone in the eighth grade, but he couldn't bring himself to threaten your partner or get them to break up with you because he really blew it this time. he never spoke to you for the remainder of that school year, and if you two lived nearby, he'd avoid you all summer. it was only in the ninth grade when he tried to be nicer to you and patch things up between you two.

"hi, ah... sorry. sorry sa sinabi ko noong grade 8, um... sorry." he DESPERATELY wanted to say more, to do more about it, kaso di niya alam anong gagawin niya kundi magsorry. he just wants to see you happy and will go to any lengths to see it through, to see you smile, kahit hindi dahil sa kanya.

a/n: omw to play that one december avenue + moira song 🚶🚶🚶

tags !! @thecoolerdor @binibinileonara @q2ie

#miguel o'hara #young miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x filipino reader #young miguel o'hara x filipino reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv #atsv x filipino reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n

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reticent-writer · 1 year

Note

Omg, I LOVE someone request Kanao with a reader who is a ghost rider! What if I request for Kyojuro Rengoku?

What if he met the Ghost rider (he kinda thinks ghost rider is a threat)? or maybe! GR reader save his life in mugen train arc?

Gender Neutral reader pls! :D

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

You were following your intuition and wound up on train tracks, miles from the fast approaching train

Right before the train reached you it was derailed

You watched as the mush of a demon disenigrated

You helped the people from under the rumble but most were scared of your looks

While helping the people you noticed another fight start, this time the demon was stronger

You weren't able to help the slayer in time as you saw he got punched straight through his stomach

You ran to the fallen fighter as a boy with a checkered Haori threw his sword at the demon.

"Another demon?" Rengoku questioned as you came into his line of sight.

"No, my appearance may be deceiving but I help slay demons. I cannot let a well trained fighter, such as yourself, die here." You put a hand on his shoulder and he burst into flames.

"GET AWAY YOU DEMON." A boar head came into veiw, swinging his swords wildly. You effortly dodged.

"Wait Inosuke, he's not a demon. The sun is up." The checkered Haori boy said as he tried to restrain the wild child.

Tanjiro had recognized you from Kanao's description of the man who saved her life.

Walking past the 2 to get to rengoku you see that the flames are burning out as the wound closes the his orgas heal.

"How do you feel." You asked,standing in front of him.

"I feel... AMAZING. Thank kind sir." Rengoku jumped up and bowed as a sign of thanks.

When he raised his head you were gone. You left a small patch of burnt grass where you once stood.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

#gn reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #rengoku x reader #kimitsu no yaiba x reader #reticent writes #reticent writer

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blessyourhondahurley · 1 year

Text

Suptober day 2 - Great Eggs-pectations

A fluffy little epilogue to last year's Fowl Play series, in which Dean and Cas take a big scary exciting step together as husbands and farmers.

Suptober prompt: Pumpkin Patch

(Read on AO3)

“Son of a bitch,” Dean hisses, careful to keep his voice too soft to reach the ears of his son, who's happily engrossed in killing some video game demons in the next room. He sighs and tosses his pen across the kitchen table. The terrifyingly official form laid out in front of him is pristine, untouched.

“Do you really think we can pull this off, babe?” he asks his husband for the fifth time in an hour. “We've been gettin' by alright just doing the farmer's market every week, and the pumpkin patch and the hay rides and stuff here every fall. What if we go all in on opening up this store and it flops?”

Even though he would be well within his rights at this point to roll his eyes or snap at Dean to just fill out the damn form already, Cas simply takes his hand and gives him a soft smile. “I never said it would be easy, darling,” he murmurs. “There are no guarantees for us in this life, of course. But we've gotten nothing but encouraging feedback about our plan from our customers at the market, the loan manager at the bank, our family, friends, loved ones... People are excited for us to open. I'm ready to make the leap. Will you leap with me?”

Dean looks into fathomless blue eyes and feels his world wobble on its axis. It's a familiar sensation, the dizzy wash of love and abject gratitude that he feels whenever he realizes once again that this is his life now: his gorgeous husband, their wonderful son, this thriving farm. It's been over a year since he's touched a gun, and even then he was using it to ping empty soup cans out back with Jack. The last time he bought a bag of rock salt, it was for their old-fashioned hand-cranked ice cream maker.

He's a retired hunter. He's a loving husband. He's a father. He's a farmer. He's alive, and he's here, and he's happy, so fucking happy. It feels dangerous to try for more, greedy. And no matter how hard he works to bury them, those old feelings of being a fraud refuse to lay down and stay dead. Does Dean Winchester deserve to thrive like this? Surely not.

He gulps, feeling the hot sting of tears behind his eyes. Cas stands, then tugs on their still-joined hands to pull him to his feet as well. Then he's being held, snug and warm in his beloved's strong arms. He rests his head on Cas's shoulder and breathes out as his tears begin to flow.

“Don't worry,” comes a whisper in his ear. “I've got you.”

“I know, baby,” he replies hoarsely. “I've got you,too.”

He pulls away just far enough to plant a soggy kiss on his husband's cheek.

“Thank you for putting up with me,” he says. “It's gotta be rotten work.”

“Not to me,” comes the reply with a quirk of those full lips. “Not if it's you.”

Dean huffs a laugh and swipes at his eyes with his free hand. “Okay,” he says firmly. “We're doing it. This is happening. We're gonna open our own little store. We're gonna sell honey and eggs and flowers and preserves, and your knitting and Jack's pipe cleaner spiders with the googly eyes and my hand pies, and it's gonna fucking rock. We're gonna pay back our small business loan and the mortgage on the storefront, and we're gonna put money aside for Jack for if he decides to go to college in a few years. And in the fall we'll have pumpkins and apple cider donuts and horseshoes and hay rides and the corn maze and make-your-own scarecrows. We're doing this.” As he speaks, he feels his own words buoying him up, filling him with a surge of confident energy. He sees this energy reflected back to him in his husband's gaze.

“Yes, love, we are,” comes the certain reply. The expression on Cas's beautiful face is resolute. He looks every inch the avenging angel he once was. Dean can never resist teasing him a little bit when he gets his serious face on like that.

“It's gonna be take a lotta elbow grease, though. You know?” Dean says with a grin. “We're gonna have to... work around the cluck.”

Cas does roll his eyes then, and shove him away. Dean goes with the push and pivots back into his seat at the table. Reaching for his pen, he fills out the top line in neat caps: FOWL PLAY FARMS MARKET.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fluff #suptober23 #day 2

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hotluncheddie · 6 months

Note

i have been lurking in the shadows…biding my time (stressful semester just regular things for a bad bitch) but FINALLY i was able to write this devious little thought down 😈

eddie who hates cooking for himself, so he initiates restaurant fridays. while steve works on fridays, eddie rolls a d20 to pick a local place to eat and get steve takeout from. they range from higher end eateries to hole in the wall bars, and eddie definitely has favorites. he liked the mexican place that serves mole and loved the fried pickle burgers at the diner a town over. it was a nice way to treat himself after years of struggle.

after vecna, eddie’s metabolism already had slowed down significantly because of the treatment. he had definitely put on a few pounds (more like thirty but who’s counting), but it hadn’t been a cause for concern until the fateful day that he went to urgent care after throwing out his back moving band equipment. the doctor at the urgent care had been dismissive and offered him a pamphlet on the importance of “healthy” living. although he hadn’t been disillusioned to the changes in his body, eddie hadn’t thought they were that major. steve should’ve known something was up when eddie stopped initiating sex, and was barely letting steve touch him. however, steve definitely noticed when restaurant fridays stopped. he himself missed the tasty food his boyfriend would bring him, but he could tell eddie was yearning for something more. it wasn’t difficult to look at their shared calendar or to rifle through eddie’s bedside drawer to find the health pamphlet.

lightbulbs flicker on at inconvenient times, and steve orchestrated a plan to convince eddie of his beauty. that friday when eddie came home, dejected over the inevitable canned soup he was going to have, he found their kitchen table set and lit up with candles. steve was at the head opposite to eddie’s chair, hair teased just the way he liked and the top button of his shirt undone. when the younger man saw him, he got up from sitting to take eddie’s coat off for him and untie his shoes. this wasn’t unusual, steve had a tendency to want to serve eddie every once in a while. what was unusual was the variety of smells wafting from the kitchen.

after seating eddie and pressing kisses to his hairline, he revealed that he noticed how off eddie had been. eddie opened his mouth to protest but instead of humoring him, steve held up a hand and walked into the kitchen. when he came back, he was carrying a tray with some of eddie’s favorite take out items, a feast just for his beautiful boy. as eddie murmured a flushed appreciation and began to eat, steve rubbed his back and ran his hands along eddie’s soft body. biting eddie’s neck and whispering praises while he ate, a hand snuck around to palm eddie’s dick. moaning into the food, eddie cried out apologies which steve refused. he needed eddie to know how much he loved him, so steve swung his body around and pressed his own hard cock and squishy belly into eddie’s calf. he begged eddie to notice just how much he’d changed steve, turning him into a whimpering mess. humping eddie’s leg, he pushed eddie’s shirt up and bit dark marks over the scars and stretch marks there before tugging eddie’s zipper down.

it turns out when you haven’t orgasmed in almost two weeks and your hot boyfriend was practically sobbing on the floor as he sucked you off, you blow your load pretty quickly. steve had barely bobbed down twice before eddie was cumming, hot and heavy as he pressed steve’s head further onto his dick. feeling steve’s hot tears and soft hair flush against his belly and the wet patch between the fabric of their jeans could’ve made him cum all over again, but the two knew that after enjoying the post orgasm bliss they would have to talk.

so they talked, and eddie made it clear that his stress came from the fear of overindulgence. he didn’t want to be greedy or ungrateful for his blessings, and steve explained that all of the proof of his gratefulness was seen not only on eddie’s body, but his own. they were finally in a stage where they could stop choosing fear, and if they had to size up their jeans after enjoying a few too many glasses of wine and bowls of pasta, that was a welcome change. the health pamplet was thrown away, along with the wrappers from all of the takeout. all of the food was gone, and the boys had a lot to catch up after two weeks of abstinence.

AAAAAA i don’t usually write about insecurity since i don’t think there’s anything wrong with fat bodies (despite what the medical industry says), but i hope this meets your liking and that the elements of insecurity aren’t out of turn!! -🦂

my lovely wonderful 🦂 anon!!!! i hope u had a good semester in the end!!!! i love thissssss!!!!

i get what you mean, i don’t love writing insecurities either especially when i want their bigger bodies to just be an element of the story! and bc it’s hot! sexy and fun to describe their bodies!!

but some of the elements you added here is giving me insecure eddie but maybe it’s also about providing for steve, maybe it’s providing for steve as a dom. i think those could be really interesting things to look at!

like once they’ve been together for a while, they start exploring different aspects of their kink. steve realising that he really likes serving eddie, likes being guided and given rules for the bedroom. and eddie really likes it too, like the comfort of it, how steve reacts to him, how he looks, the power to direct it and change things as he pleases.

then steve has a string of bad days, work getting to him. and it starts to be a habit, on friday nights, the moment steve gets home, he can turn his brain off. eddie’s in charge, wether they have sex or not, even if it’s just cuddling in the couch and getting an early night. eddie’s in charge. he chooses steve’s food, tells him to shower, picks out his pyjamas. gets steve to help if there’s any chores that need doing, so it goes faster, and he can get his baby in his arms quicker.

and then that stretches, happens on other nights now too, sometimes they play for a whole weekend. wrapped up in eachother and testing the waters, the limits of what they like and don’t like.

and all along that, after healing and moving in with steve. over the past few years of them figuring out their careers and routines. eddie still having some meds to take, stretches to follow. his weight creeps up. he lets himself indulge, try new foods, let his sweet tooth run the show a little more. ups his protein and learns to cook veg in a way he likes, tried sauces and gravy’s and stews.

he gets a belly, fills out his jeans, finally has an ass. and it feel okay, he doesn’t think about it too much, more focused on steve and the life he’s building and the new food he wants to try. making his way through what the city has to offer, taking tips from robin for the best hole in the wall places. she found his fav italian place only because some of the menu was in italian and she could actually read it.

so fridays become a thing, he picks the food for him and steve, orders a lot. gets steve between his knees while they wait for it, petting his head or massaging his shoulders. keeping his mouth full of he’s been good or turning his cheeks red if he’s been bad. and then eddie’s eats, enjoys the new flavours, goes until he’s full. sometimes stuffed, sometimes so full his breathings becomes little huffs and sips of air. and he enjoys every moment.

then he throws his back out, idiot. the doctor wasn’t too much of a dick, although he’s still not sure how the conversation transitioned into him getting on the scale and being given the pamphlet. but it did, and eddie went home with and overall ok and painkillers and some strengthening exercises. and a bit of a fog around him.

maybe he wasn’t living the way he should. maybe the soft bubble of happiness was actually all delusion. he couldn’t provide for steve, or be in control the way steve allowed. not when he’d let himself go so much, hurt himself like an idiot. he couldn’t be steve’s dom, not like this.

and eddie has spiralled before, dipped into the pool or darkness that lurks away in his lungs. rearing its ugly head every once in a while. but he’d been a lot better for the past few years, better once he was with wayne and better still out of highschool and with steve. but it always came back, always there to remind eddie what a failure he was - is. and this was no different.

steve noticed, of course. eddie changing his diet, pulling away, their sex switching to nearly nothing within a few days. and steve worried it was him, maybe he asked too much, let go too readily, scaring eddie.

but eddie still made him kneel that friday, picked out his t-shirt and shorts, told him to sit still when he squirmed. but they didn’t have take out that night. eddie made steve a pizza and he had a bowl of soup. it wasn’t so different, he guessed. but it wasn’t their friday. wasn’t that lovely time of the week where steve could float away and enjoy watching eddie, look up at him all round and flushed and beautiful. when he’d feed steve a bite from his plate to taste and kiss him after, sharing the flavours and holding his chin where he pleased.

and it went on like that, eddie still going through the motions, he would get steve off sometimes but wouldn’t let steve touch, wouldn’t say yes if steve rang asking if he wanted anything from the bakery, would indulge when steve got given chocolates as a gift at work. wouldn’t let steve use him mouth or hands on him, wouldn’t even let steve bury his face in eddie’s belly like he so loved. he’s just hold him firm and tell him no and wrap him up in his lap instead, wrists held in one of eddie’s. it was enough but, it wasn’t the same.

and then steve found the pamphlet, and it all started to make sense. he’d tried to talk to eddie but he wouldn’t explain. just said he was tired lately, feeling a little down, but without a solid reason when nothing in their lives had changed steve had been so confused.

but this had. eddie view of himself had. it must have. the timeline added up.

so the next friday, steve made it special. steve needed to get his eddie back. steve ordered takeout and got on his knees…

and as u know they stuff eddie silly and steve gets off on his leg hehe :3c

#hotlunch #<3 #steddie #steddie wg #🦂 anon #mwah!#chubby eddie munson

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iamlittlelostsoul · 1 year

Text

First Love

Hello my lovelies~!! It's 4am here and I can't sleep yet I'm feeling a lil romantic today (cries in single) no angst (wohooo!) and a lil bonus of some smut<3

Malleus is such a bbg CHANGE MY MIND I DARE YOU<3

first time writing smut so hope you all liked it ≧◉◡◉≦

Summary: Falling for her was the happiest I've ever been. Stay by me hold me tight and kiss me.

warning/s: NSFW. smut.

MalleYuu || Malleus x OC(Yurika)

if you're curious of my oc here's her profile! -> Yuri

(and if you'd like you can listen to this while reading it <3)

youtube

______________________________________________________________

Malleus pov

It was a hot summer evening when we first met.

By the garden at the abandoned dorm called Ramshackle a place that is almost in ruins but still has its lovely charms.

It was where I spend my evening or midnight strolls because of the quiet and perfect atmosphere.

Never did I expect that this place that looks almost like some ancient ruins have 2 inhabitants, If I'd not missed the opening ceremony maybe I might have known?

So like I was saying I was on my stroll when a cat or raccoon (?) looking monster kicks open the door and started throwing a tantrum like a small human child about how is he not getting any cans of tuna when he is such a great and mighty creature soon to be a great mage.

A girl with short, silvery purplish curls came following the monster, grabbed her shoe, and threw it at the little thing before it could even think of running and escaping her wrath.

It was quite a sight I couldn't help but snort.

She halts scolding the little monster and stares up at me.

It was quite weird I felt my chest tighten and my heart skip a beat as her curious dark gray eyes bore at mine.

I could clearly remember how our first conversation went that time.

"Oh-..hey! Sorry you had to see this." she says as she bows politely.

"it's no problem child of man" I said as I take a few steps towards them.

The talking cat monster took this chance to flee which the girl responded to with a groan of frustration.

"I'm Yurika. Yurika Evermore by the way! Call me Yuri" she says as she switches back her attention to me with a smile. It picked my curiosity that she doesn't seem to fear me does she perhaps not know me? I thought that time.

Which turned out to be correct as she waited for me to introduce that time.

Not wanting her attitude to change once finding out who I really am I told her to call me whatever she wanted.

It's better later that she finds out who I am.

She has a very charming personality I thought as I left her that night and lay on my bed fully awake a smile graces on my lips which I only found out when Lilia pointed it out as I came back though I gave him no details on why perhaps I am smiling.

It was not long till we met again. And she was as bubbly as our first meeting, although she does have a slightly sarcastic and sassy attitude it's no surprise she managed to befriend so many such as myself.

Every time we met my heart always skips a beat and would sometimes pound loudly.

Even when she finally discovers who I am she still treats me like she does to her friends and still calls me "Tsunotaro" which somehow eased my heart I got a little too fond of her calling me Tsunotaro.

She taught me so many things and somehow managed to help me get a little closer to the other students.

'I like her.' I thought. 'I really like her very much.' I thought once again as I stroll Ramshackle's garden in the middle of the night. The place is slowly becoming more homey and lively as flowers bloomed along the patches and of course, the garden while to dorm is slowly getting redecorated using the allowance she gets from the headmaster, it was quite a surprise she managed to bargain for an allowance knowing how stubborn the crow man was.

We gradually grew closer and closer. And I was never not thankful for my lucky star for sending this girl to NRC and allowing her to meet me. And become my first friend....or maybe something else?...

Gradually my thought gets almost filled up with her. How is she doing today? Has she eaten already? Is Grim giving her problems? Is she having a hard time with classes? plenty of questions fill up my head the temptation to check on her every time and day is quite a struggle to resist.

And somehow Lilia has me all figured out telling me I fell in love.

'Love. So this is love?' I thought. 'I like it'

If there would be anyone strong and capable enough to steal my heart I knew it definitely is her.

Although I was a little anxious though...does she likes me back? or will I get friend-zoned like Shroud's depiction of an anime he watched.

I was fearful so I got as much bits of advice from Lilia on how to court a human.

And I start with gifts. I send her jewelry, dresses, and fabrics she could use for her hobby. I'm not sure how much I should give to make her content so I gave her as much as I could which is a huge pile that reaches up to the door.

That should suffice right?

I followed it up with quality time. There's nothing best but spending time with the person you love. Watching movies, evening/midnight strolls, studying, and many more. And she seemed quite pleased with my presence in her life.

He also tries to ward off any possible rivals not like they're strong enough to even rival him nor would they even dare or maybe a certain lion beast man might? Although he did try his best not to push them off too much and upset her.

He did everything he could to court her he's not sure though if he's succeeding or not...but seeing as she never reacted badly maybe he is succeeding...

So putting up a brave and confident face as I went to visit her for their usual hangouts.

I enters her dorm and I'm so proud of her seeing the dorm looking more livable and home-like.

We went on with our usual routine chatting about what went on our day, watching movies, and such...till I decided to spill the beans.

"Child of man" I whisper as we watch a musical show she loves so much that she claims exists in her world.

"Yeah?" she says as she turns her attention from the screen to me.

"I...would like to tell you something" I confess I could feel my cheeks heat up and my heart pound loudly.

"go on" she says as she stares up at him curiously

"I...love you." I said.

So many emotions passes through her face as her mouth hangs open and she stares at me in disbelief. "O-oh...really?? Like really?? romantically?" she says sounding a bit too eager and excited.

Which made my heart soar and I felt the butterfly in my stomach flutter around at her words. "Yes...yes I do. I love you, Yuri." I whisper directly on her ear.

She shudders in response as her mouth kept hanging open until she spoke "yes! I love you too" she says jumping in my arms as we tumble and fell on the couch with her on top and we both stare at each other for a moment before laughing in unison.

I've never been so happy in my whole life. Neither could I then imagine a world without her after meeting her I think the world would feel all monochrome and blue.

Cause she's my world now. And I revolve around her like a planet to the sun.

I wrap my arms securely around her waist as I asked permission to kiss her.

She answers with a nod. And I made little effort to waste time as I press my lips on hers.

She answers my kiss with a kiss and we share it passionately on the living room couch thank seven Grim is sleeping over at Ace and Deuce's room.

I roll my hips on hers and she lets out a soft moan as she felt my arousal press on her womanhood.

I continue kissing her not wanting to let go we didn't even realize we were already standing and walking up to her room with her legs wrapped around my torso and I carry her while are tongues clash and dance into the passionate rhythm we share.

I press her on her bed as I pull back to catch our breath. Were both panting with our cheeks flushed and clothes a bit wrinkled and messed up but neither do we mind it as I pepper her neck with soft fluttery kisses before gently sucking and nipping leaving a hickey or two near her jaws.

I hastily began to remove our clothes a little too eager and impatient as I struggle to unbutton the last button of her blouse.

She laughs as she lends me a hand.

She looks so beautiful bare and naked for someone like I. I cup her breast and gave it a few squeezes. She writhes and moans as I gave her left nipple a small lick.

I circle my tongue around her already hard nipples before suckling on it she moans a little louder.

I repeat the same actions on her right sooner she's moaning my name. Oh how lovely it sounds coming out from her lips.

I spread her legs and gets in between her.

My hands slowly glide from her chest to her cunt, gently exploring the entrance before putting a finger inside.

Her eyes flutter close as she throws her head back and her body arches towards me. I continue thrusting and curling my finger in her cunt.

Once i'm sure she's comfortable enough I added another this time moving my fingers faster and pushing in a little deeper. Her walls clench and unclench on my fingers as I move and add another in.

Our hearts pound loudly and became one, our breathing ragged.

She writhes and moans loudly pleading for more and whispering sweet I love you's.

Pulling out my fingers I decided to take it a step up. Making sure she's comfortable in her position I pump my cock a few times and gently rub the tip by her entrance before slamming in.

I groan and she moans. Grabbing on her waist I thrust in while her arms hook around my neck and pull me in for a passionate kiss.

Eager for more I began fastening my pace and pushing in a little too deeper. She moaned loudly as we kiss tongue-to-tongue teeth-to-teeth. Her nails dug on my back it'll surely leave some marks and I'd gladly wear it with pride.

My cock twitched inside her and her walls pulsate and tightens.

A low rumble came out my throat feeling closing and I knew she does too I hasten my pace and thrust deeper occasionally grazing her prostate making her scream and beg.

I let out a groan as I did one final thrust deep inside of her before releasing his orgasm. She follows along after a few seconds passes by.

We're both pant chest rising and falling, eyes hazy with lust and love, Cheeks burning red with passion and adoration for the latter.

Her pussy is filled to the brim with his cock still inside and their adjoined cum some even leaking out of her entrance.

I lean down on her chest, face nuzzled on the crook of her neck as I pulls out. Cum oozes out of her cunt dripping along her thighs to the sheets

"I love you, my child of man" I whispered lovingly.

"I love you too, Tsunotaro" She whispers back.

[...end]

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