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smolvenger · 9 months

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The Twelfth Night Ball, A Cinderella Story (Henry V x fem! Reader one-shot)

Summary: As a lady turned servant, every day you survive under immense cruelty. Then one day, it is declared the King of England, Henry V, is throwing a ball, looking for a potential bride...

Word Count: 7535 (have snackies)

Warnings: Physical and verbal abuse from the "stepfamily" (this is a Cinderella story after all). Some curse words here and there. Grammar and spelling mistakes that slip past my radar. LOTS of angst, but it becomes tooth-rotting fluff.

A/N: Happy Holiday Season! This was gonna be a Christmas ball but things got busy, so it's Twelfth Night (that was a bigger deal back then, anyway, ehehhe) but I hope you enjoy this any time of the year! Comments, dms, reblogs, and comments about my work are always appreciated!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @loz-3 @muddyorbsblr

Once upon a time, you were a little child delivered to a house of strangers. Your dear parents, an established lord and lady, both died of a deadly illness that spread. You were separated from them- sparing your life. But without even a final goodbye.

It the Lord and Lady Brentford who took you in, for they were distant relatives. You could still feel the guard's hand, much bigger than your own, support you when the carriage door opened before the Brentford Manor. You stepped out of the carriage and onto their grounds. They looked at you with polite smiles…but nothing warm behind their eyes as they led you in.

It began small. At first, they were merely strict in their lessons with you. As any daughter of a lord. You tried to adapt, to please them. As much as your little eight-year-old self could allow. Even at your best behavior, they always reminded you of one thing: you were mere charity. Their one daughter you had never met. She was sent off to stay in a convent for her education.

It was when you were thirteen that one day, they requested you to move into a shabbier room. The one you slept in had to be used for guests.

Then they kept insisting the servants needed help with things. Mending, cracking eggs, a stone on the floor that needed scrubbing. You wanted to help, to please them. So you said yes.

Then, you realized one day your pretty dresses were gone. They said that what was left of your family's fortune had been spent already. You had to make ends meet, they said, by selling what nice ones you had. Leaving you with only servants' clothes.

Then, finally, when you were fourteen, you went down after helping cook breakfast. To eat with them…and there were only two chairs at the table.

“Where may I…I sit?” you asked.

The Lord glared up at you.

“You do not eat with us.”

“But…you are my guardians,” you replied.

He snorted. “You. Family?”

His eyes were cold.

“You were never our family, girl,” Lady Brentford agreed.

The stomach within you dropped. Hot tears welled up.

“Bring us our bread, girl.” she ordered.

“If…If my father was alive, he-”

Lord Brentford stood up.

“He is dead. Are you going to keep talking or should I get the horsewhip to get you to shut up? Bring. Us. Our. Meal.”

You went back, sobbing hot tears. Then delivered their meal to them. Banished. No longer as a member of the family. Or of any family that wanted you, loved you. You were unloved. Unwanted.

The Lord and Lady threatened to throw you out if you ran away resisted, or fought back. To beg on the streets. Or whore to survive. So you were stuck as a servant.

And so your life as a servant began for years here. Some of them gaped at first- the Lady Y/L/N turned into a drudgery maid. They pitied you. They did not laugh at you for not knowing initially how to cook an egg but would show you how. They let you hug them and cry and rage. Only in private. For all knew how the Lord and Lady reacted to defiance. You got to know them and talk to them, It was Miss Anne who would give you oranges when they were in season to bite into. It was Mr. Page who would show you the secret bird's nest when you had to gather the apples in the orchard. Their kindness was appreciated.

There was one other consolation in your life- the Brentford’s only daughter, Jane. The time arrived when her long stay at the convent for her education was done. She was considered of age to be married and she moved back. A woman of your age, your very height and size but with pale skin, long chestnut hair, and bright green eyes.

After Jane got home, you brought her some food to her room but found she wasn’t there. You saw her outside in the garden climbing an apple tree in bloom to gather the fruit and flowers. As she stepped on one branch, it broke beneath her weight. With a scream she fell a great distance, breaking her leg. At once, you alerted the servants and helped her in. It was you who stayed by her side, nursing her until she healed.

Since then, a friendship began between you both.

Lady Jane was the sort who became a very different person than her parents. She was kind. If you brought something a little late, she gave you no chiding. Jane was always getting into some sort of mischief, for sometimes she would scrape her hand or burn something, and you would patch her up.

You became each other’s confidantes…and then she considered you not as a servant, but an equal. You were sometimes tasked to be with her, and those were the easiest- delivering her correspondence two and fro, brushing her hair, and dressing her. Even picking flowers for her room to cheer her. Jane loved animals and her pride and joy was her mare, Psyche, who you would be tasked to feed and brush.

It was only a shame she had no interest in marriage or even romance. If only she got married so you could become her chambermaid and live far away from this place! But no. She refused to be forced into a marriage. You were amazed at her bravery to refuse her parents boldly. However, she was their natural daughter and a Lady. She had the privilege to rebel. You did not.

Sometimes you wished you were her, you had to admit. Jane was something of a recluse, not wanting to go to balls and parties and be out in society. Her beautiful dresses only caught her mild interest, preferring riding her mare, her books, climbing trees, and talking with the servants despite her parent's protests.

You wished she’d say yes to one ball- how beautiful it must be to wear a gown and dance the dances you were taught when your parents lived! And to maybe have men show interest in you and show up to see you- to be considered and wanted for marriage by some good-looking, nice lord!

But…what money your family left for your dowry was left to the Brentfords….who naturally spent it for their desires until you had none left. Without even a dowry, you would be considered useless for any Lord’s bride.

Maybe not marriage…but perhaps, as you looked at the married couple kept as servants here- Mr. and Mrs. Kent. Saw them hold hands and exchange small kisses in hallways and smile…love. To be loved. To fall in love. To find romance. Somehow. Something you had never heard, experienced, and could only yearn for in your deepest heart…perhaps there was someone out there who could love you…

But perhaps that was only for daydreams and for sad romances with Knights pining for already married ladies. Much less a scullery maid.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

One December morning, you spent one of the few hours you had alone walking in the woods. You reached the clearing of a field not far away. The Natural spot was so peaceful. No Lord or Lady Brentford. No threats. No names. Just the early winter morning.

You shivered in your dress. It was all you had on you.

That morning, you awoke to see the Lady Brentford. You did not mend her skirts to her liking. So she went to your room and in revenge, ripped apart your only cloak. She tossed it at you.

“There. Until you learn how to mend clothes the right way, stupid girl.”

You only held the torn cloak, tears pouring down over it.

The sun was bright, and the grass frosted. The world was brisk and cold, but it got warm after exercise. The sun was bright. Your breath comes out in puffs of smoke.

Suddenly, you heard horse hooves. Turning your head, you jumped to see a great white stallion galloping and on top of it was a man in a red cloak. You took a few steps in retreat.

Before you could have a good look at the rider, the horse suddenly stopped and bucked, his front hooves in the air with a whinny. It was so sudden, that with a masculine shout, his rider fell off of his horse onto the grass.

You let out a gasp-was he injured? Yes, this was a stranger. And a man. And you were alone. But he could use the help! And if he was injured, he couldn’t hurt you!

“Sir, sir, are you hurt?” you cried, picking up your skirt to go there to see him.

Up got the man with a small grunt.

You finally saw his face and you felt yourself stiffen.

He was incredibly handsome. Young with high cheekbones and a high forehead. Auburn curls and trim facial hair with soft blue eyes and ivory skin. Tall and lean yet muscular and broad. Virile and powerful, but an air of charm, and elegance to him, though you could not name why you could tell.

He managed to get up and wipe off his dirt on him, looking at you. He smiled, hands up in pace.

“I am alright! I’ve suffered worse!” he assured you.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Of course, my lady!” he replied, bowing his head.

You felt yourself go warm. You had not been called “my lady” in years. Much less by a handsome man!

You then saw the horse a small distance away. Trotting off. The man whistled, but the horse did not respond.

You knew you had to feed Psyche later today. Her carrots were in your pocket. You pulled one out and lured it over. Surely, the white stallion walked over. Once you fed him the carrot, you pulled him by the reigns over to the man.

“Thank you- he’s not used to me. A rather naughty fellow, but he shall be my good friend long enough,” the man laughed.

“If you give him enough treats, I’m sure he will be your friend quickly.”

“Thank you, my lady, you’re very kind. Do you need assistance getting home?” he asked.

For you to go home with a man?! They would think something less than chaste was happening out there. Especially since you were both a woman and a servant. Whores and thieves, that was what all thought maids to be.

“No thank you, I do not live too far,” you explained.

The sun went behind a cloud, giving it a slight chill. Though there was concern on his handsome face.

“But without a cloak?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I…I have no cloak I may use and I wanted to walk. I could brave the cold. Once one moves about, it does get warm,” you told him.

“Here, my lady…”

He took off his red cloak and put it over you You let out a small gasp. Feeling his hands brush past your shoulders as he sealed the clasp. It was so large it felt warm on you- the heat of his body and his scent still on it.

“Sir- this is too much!” you gasped.

“No, you may have it. I have a dozen others and you have none,” he refused, a kind smile on his face.

It was like an embrace. You touched the material, feeling it in your hands. It was high-quality cloth, likely expensive from the bright red. He must be some great lord who happened to ride by.

In his nice red leather jacket (it hugged his lean but broad form very nicely, you noted, feeling a sudden heat in you) he swung himself back up on the white stallion.

“Thank you, dear lady. For your concern to me.”

“And thank you, my lord, for your generous gift,” you replied.

“Farewell for now.”

He smiled at you, nodding his head, and then he rode off. You couldn’t help but watch him as he left.

You burst into giggles as you walked through the forest, feeling as if you could float from such an encounter with such a handsome man. For one brief moment, the love story you craved had happened. You drew the cloak around you. Your mind racing with fantasies of an actual embrace from him. Or even more- if he kissed you!

You returned very warm. You folded the cloak and set it down among your things, even the torn-up cloak. You smiled- always keeping that memory in your heart. You would make sure to guard it carefully. But even if the Brentfords tore it up, they could never tear up your memory, your moment, your encounter with this dream of a man. Or your hope that you would someday see him again.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The next day, amidst the fasting and preparations for the Christmastide season, there was a messenger who arrived at the door. He was dressed in fine reds and handed one male servant the letter. Up the servant came as you attended to the Brentfords. Eating their breakfast of simpler fare than they would like.

The servant looked flushed and wide-eyed. He held up the letter, declaring “My lord- it is an invitation from the king!”

There were gasps around the table. From none other than the king! The newly crowned Henry the Fifth. Lady Brentford grabbed it and opened it, reading it aloud.

“We do cordially invite all eligible, unmarried ladies of this household to attend the ball hosted by the king on Twelfth Night. Each lady shall be introduced to his majesty the king in addition to a night of dancing, feasting, and frivolity.”

Eyes went wide. You felt your heart begin to pound in your chest.

“Oh! A ball! How wonderful!” cried the Lady Brentford.

“To have him write us alone is an honor!” agreed the Lord. Though their eyes turned greedily to their daughter. Lady Jane stopped eating her bread, it nearly dropped on her plate.

You looked up from where you poured more drink into Jane’s cup.

“If he is asking to be introduced to eligible maidens...it means only one thing…” Jane began. Her face turned white, her appetite gone.

“He is looking for a bride! Oh, could you imagine? Our Jane- Wife to the King and Queen of England?”

Jane gripped the edges of the table.

“Mother, father, please- I don’t want to go. Please. There are plenty of other women who would be more happy to be there than me! I don’t want to be sold like cattle to a man I don’t know, please! And I hear he was a drunkard and a thief- I don’t want to marry a man like that, please!” Jane pleaded.

“And risk losing the chance to become queen? Besides, we hear he’s a young, comely man, it could be worse! There are lots of old men we could consider marrying you off to! You must go!” argued Lord Brentford

You stepped forward.

“What if…I went instead of Jane?” you asked meekly.

Eyes turned to you, but you stood your ground.

“It said all eligible, unmarried ladies. I shall go in Jane’s place, so she doesn’t have to,” you said, a sudden rush of boldness in you. Perhaps it was the incident with the man the other day. You always wanted to go to a ball. And to go to a royal one was an honor.

Their heads turned.

“It shall break sumptuary laws for a maid to dress in finery. They could fine you. Or worse.” sneered Lord Brentworth.

“But I am Lady Y/L/N, like my mother was before me,” you blurted.

The Lord Brentford got up and slapped you hard across the face.

Your eyes brimmed with tears, feeling the sting of the impact.

“You are our servant and you will remember your place! And will hold your tongue and stay where you are, impertinent, foolish girl!”

You held your cheek, keeping your eyes down. The Lord continued.

“To think. You. A king’s bride- a queen? Yes, women like you were offered to him as whores, but I doubt he’d even want your filth in his bed, much less as his wife. You’d be lucky to polish his boots.”

They sat down, glaring at you.

“Now, there is laundry to be finished. And we have a ball to prepare Jane for- you must do it.”

You turned away, so they wouldn’t see you. You reached the smaller room for laundry. Where you could finally crumple to the ground and sob.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Jane’s dress purchased for the ball was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

It was a creamy white with pearl embellishments. Richly made, beautiful. It shimmered in the light and seemed to glow when it became dark. Everyone smiled big at it as it was brought up. But the envy and greed in your heart stirred, making you feel heavy and bitter. Sometimes, You forced your eyes away from it.

Christmastide arrived. With it numerous feasts. Some drinking and exchanging of gifts. The Lord and Lady were in sour moods but only softened when discussing their ambitions for their reluctant daughter.

Before you knew it, the new year arrived and the fifth of January. The day before the ball.

Jane looked at the dress laid out on her bed. You had merely sat on a chair behind her, mending her stockings. Everything in you not to cry.

“It is beautiful, I will admit. But…I have met cats more pleasant to talk to than some of the lords that will be there,” she sighed. “I love gossip and a nice meal as much as anyone else, but…how horrid I am at dancing! I know I will step on all of my poor partner's toes tomorrow night!”

Finally overcome, you set the stockings down.

“Jane, how can you say such things? Don’t you realize how fortunate you are?! Just merely go and enjoy yourself and think of your blessings!” you blurted out.

She turned to you. You were tearing up.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll be quiet now-” you apologized.

“Y/N, you know I’m not my parents. I won’t punish you for being honest. What is it? You’re crying, tell me!” she asked. She walked away from you and knelt as you sat.

She gave you a handkerchief and you began to wipe away your tears. Her eyes looked concerned.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you mused.

“I will not. Tell me what troubles you,” she offered.

You gripped the handkerchief in your hands, squeezing it for support as you began to confess.

“I wish I could be you. To go to a ball and to meet a king and dance. To feel equal to the other ladies who get to be introduced to him. Yes, becoming queen does sound like a nice dream. But, it’s not just that…I just…always wanted to try a pretty dress and not have to spend my nights working. If my parents lived, I would have experienced one. If the Lord and Lady weren’t who they are, I would have, but now……”

She hugged you in comfort.

“Oh, I’m a selfish being, I am! I am so sorry, poor Y/N! I’ll be more careful, I swear it!”

You hugged her back. Then she looked at the dress, then you. There was a look in her face- a light in her eyes. One that could only be when she had an idea.

“Jane…what are you thinking of?” you asked.

“What if…you were the one to go? Wear the dress and attend the party? ” she asked.

“What! What if- what if they catch us? We’ll get in trouble! There will be other balls!" you cried.

“There won’t be other royal balls. And I know how every servant hates my parent and they love you! Please, we can trust them!”

“But…will they watch?”

“My mother and father are rather fond of strong wine on Twelfth Night….”

You felt your heart race.

“You said you always wanted to. And you should go. We’ll switch clothes in case they wake up! They’ll be too drunk anyway. And you know it is a royal carriage they are lending us with a royal driver and footman- they won’t know you! Would you like that?” she continued.

You paused, your heart racing.

“You are a lady- you must accept it. Here- we shall keep it between us. We shall ask only a few servants…you will go to accompany me and wait- then we shall switch clothes. I shall be the maid to attend on you and you the lady! That way, if Mother and Father arrive in my room, they’ll see me gone and won’t suspect a thing!”

She was getting more excited, pacing about and talking. But then she turned to you.

“But…that is only if you want. It’s just an idea," Jane offered.

Your heart beat hard. A chance. It made you scared. You could get in trouble…but you never wanted to so badly to do it. You would go. Or die trying. At least once, you would fight for something you wanted.

“Jane, I accept your plan. Let’s make it happen.”

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

At last, it was Twelfth Night finally arrived. You and the other servants managed to get the Lord and Lady Brentford so drunk, they were laughing and red-faced. Jane was presented in her pretty dress and curtsied for their applause. Then they had to go to bed to sleep it off. It would be minutes until the carriage arrived.

Jane grabbed your hand.

“Now, haste!” she hissed.

You raced to her room. She took off the dress, the servants all helping. She got into your plain dress and apron easily. You were given her fine necklace and her rings. Her little silvery slippers fit your feet perfectly. Then, at last, the dress was slipped over your head and sealed. It adjusts perfectly to your body. There was a soft gasp from one servant as they looked at you. Their eyes were made big and there were smiles.

“Is it…bad?” you asked.

“No…look,” Jabe offered, gesturing to the mirror in her room.

You hardly recognized the reflection.

You were radiant- the way its color complimented you. It brought out your eyes and your skin seemed to glow almost. The gems sparkled as if they were stars adorned on your chest and fingers.

“I…I look…” you muttered.

“I’ll say it- you look beautiful,” Jane said.

“Fie, Lady Y/L/N looks quite like a princess! They’ll think she’s sailed from France and my, won’t that be something!” agreed one servant.

The carriage arrived. You both stepped forward. A footman in his finest gave came forth and helped you both into the carriage- the Lady and her maid. Then off it went. There was snow on the ground that shone in the darkness as it went forth.

The stone castle arrived. You both were helped off. You could hardly believe it. It was at least three times the size of the Brentford Manor! Picking up your skirt, you went with Jane behind you.

There was already laughter and music. You could smell spices that made your mouth water.

You entered forth, seeing the torches lit around. There was a warm orange light. Part of the hall was cleared so couples could dance. Chatter erupted and wine flowed. You even felt eyes on you, admiring you in your dress. Though, you saw a line of women before one end of the room. The women to be introduced to the king.

“Lie to him, tell him you’re Lady Brentford!” advised Jane.

“I cannot lie to the king. Not without getting into trouble. I’ll only tell him my family name.” you said.

“S’blood, you are right there…best of luck!” she wished as she headed to help herself to the feast.

So all came forward to be introduced. Each lady. You all were smiling. You managed to chat with several by you. All excited and trying to suppress giggling. But it was brief, as there were many women. Apparently, according to them, you just told him your name, curtsied, and perhaps exchanged a sentence or two. Then you were dismissed for the next woman. Nothing more, nothing less. The line went lower- you were happy to chat with them all. But all stilled as they got closer to the curtsy.

Then, before you knew it, it was down to the last three ladies before you. Then two. Then the last one turned and you faced the King of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales.

There, on the throne, sat the man who fell from his horse.

The king?! The king!? The entire time it was the king! Oh God’s blood! He was the king! Harry of England! I have a cloak from none other than the king! You panicked internally. Though your body tightened.

Your skin tingled and a coldness hit your stomach when you saw him. Your hands were suddenly clammy. The wind was out of you.

Henry the Fifth of England sat rigid. You saw his jaw drop a little and his face go pale. He too was in surprise.

Then he let out a small half laugh, a shaky smile growing on his face.

You gathered yourself together. Then, taking in a breath to ground yourself, you announced.

“I am Lady Y/F/N Y/L/N, your highness,” you introduced. Dipping into a curtsy.

He gestured his hand up to stop you from leaving. Your eyes fluttered down, folding your hands properly. Your heart hammered as he walked up, taking your chin and tilting it up. Your heart beat even harder. It was a miracle you were still standing.

He smiled, almost ironically.

“How are you, Lady Y/L/N?” he asked.

“Well, your grace.” you replied.

“Do you have a partner for the next dance?” he asked.

“No, your grace.”

“I believe I have sat long enough. I would like a dance with you, my lady, if you will have me, ” he offered. He extended his hand to you.

“You may, my lord,” you replied. Despite the slight trepidation, you accepted it.

He smiled at you, leading you down to the floor. You heard gasps, whispers, and saw many eyes staring. Some of the women from the line turning red as strawberries, fumes practically blaring out at them. You kept your eyes away from it all. Only at the floor, then up to him.

“I must warn you, I have no strength in dancing,” he warned you.

“Then perhaps this is only a practice dance, your grace,” you replied.

The couples went into lines. You curtsied and bowed. Took hands, walking back and forth. You realized Henry sometimes mixed up counts, but he was definitely not the worst. You smiled at him.

“How is your stallion, my lord?” you asked.

“He listens to me more. Would you like to know why?” he asked.

“Why?”

He turned to you in the dance.

“He cannot resist being given food. And that I learned from a certain lady I met,” he answered.

You grinned up at him. The dance continued. You found your eyes could not lower from his. Yet you knew the steps, knew every one. You were almost floating. As he touched your hand and would lead you, it seemed he was getting better with each other count of the music. You could feel how soft his hands were, how warm. Sense his presence, his steps. Feel the tingles from his touch, from when he looked at you. For a while, it was as if you were the only ones dancing.

Before you knew it, your dance with the king ended. He bowed and you curtsied. He then turned to line of women.

“I shall meet all of you, and shall spare a few dances, sweet, fair ladies,” he promised.

That seemed to appease them- you couldn’t blame them in the slightest.

Jane was already there to fetch you food and drinks now that she was satiated. To make sure all in your attire was well and good, ever the one to accompany a lady to make sure nothing less than chaste was occurring.

As the line shortened, you did notice Henry dancing with a few other ladies. Though there was a slight pang of jealousy, you did your best to ignore it for the other delights of the party- the rich decorations, the sumptuous food, the sweet sips of wine. Besides, as you got to know plenty of people here, men and women, young and old, married or unmarried, you found them all kind and friendly to you. Your fellow eligible ladies befriended you as one among them, not as a rival to be torn apart. None even suspecting you were a servant- only a fellow and equal guest of this ball. Even seeing if you could come to this dinner or this ball in the future or visit. You were making friends outside of your small circle. Friends who wanted you to be with them.

Though you found that since the king had danced with you, you got attention from several other men. And there were more dances you had with them. They were handsome and some were lovely dancers in all. Though one gentleman with scruffy red hair and boyish freckles seemed stiff as a board as you danced with him.

“What is it, my lord?” you asked.

“His grace, the king, is staring-” he whispered.

“He watches everything that goes on,” you dismissed as you took and retook hands in the dance.

“Not at me. He’s stared at you the entire night,” he grumbled.

As your eyes flashed, you saw it was true. Henry’s eyes were on you. Floating up to meet yours again. Recatching your breath, you made yourself focus again on the dance until it ended.

As soon it ended, the king approached you.

“May I have another dance, my lady?” he asked.

After you accepted, he did not hesitate to lead you on the floor. This time, not a single word passed. You felt his eyes, and noticed his touch more. You felt very warm all over all of a sudden. His dancing was better, no counts or steps missed at all. You had to catch your breath from his quiet intensity. Before you knew it, it ended.

The king allowed the party to go on, but asked to speak to you in private. Jane was there to chaperone in the back. Her eyes big as you knew it was everything in her not to say or react to something. She merely folded her hands and watched in awe and suppressed laughter.

“I know you…we met before, Lady Y/L/N” he said.

“We have, my lord.”

“And you truly did not have a cloak at all, my lady?” he asked, noticing your fine gown.

“If I may be honest…it was destroyed by someone in an act of cruelty,” you replied.

His brow furrowed a little in response.

“But I am grateful his majesty was generous to give me his, I am,” you assured him.

“You are…and you live with this cruel person?”

You let out a slight sigh.

“I only wish I could…I could be like you in your wars and fight as you do with France. I’m not a brave person, your grace.” you replied.

His blue eyes softened.

“I wish it hadn’t happened to you. You do not deserve it."

“She would disagree,” you mused.

“No! You are a good lady-you have been nothing but the sweetest maid I have met, even that morning!” he cried.

You felt yourself get a little dizzy at his words. He even blushed, then he looked at you.

“ Perhaps, like my dancing, you may practice being brave.”

“I…I believe I could, my lord,” you replied.

He offered his hand again. How lovely the garden looked with the snow, cooling you from all the exercise with dancing. Already it was late-the ball was winding down.

“I enjoyed my time with you, my lady Y/L/N.”

“As have I, my lord…”

There was the pealing of a bell. The time was winding down. A servant went up and whispered to Jane. She hurried up.

“Our carriage is about to leave, my lady,” she said.

She turned back to the corner, watching the party guests begin to leave. But…Henry’s hand in yours…nothing ever felt so…so right. You hadn’t the heart to flee him. Not with the sad look on his face.

“The Y/L/N family…that is a house that is of good repute, but small. Where is your father, my lady? Is he here tonight?” he asked.

You only eyed back at the vanishing crowd. “He…he is not here,” you finally answered.

You felt emotions bubbling in you. He let go and you began to increase your steps from him. But then he grabbed your hand and you turned.

“My lord!” you cried.

“Please, tell me one thing- where can I call on you? Invite you? Find you? See you again?” he asked, almost pleading.

The look in his eyes was almost heartbreaking. Though Jane was getting huffy and impatient, you went up to him, your voice a whisper.

“I live in the Brentford Manor, with the Lord and Lady there.” you replied.

His jaw hung a little loose. Then his hand let you go. They both hung in the air until they fell.

“I shall see you anon then, my lady.”

“I shall see you anon then, my lord.”

With that, you left, picking up your skirts to hurry to the carriage.

As soon as you got into the carriage with Jane and closed the door, she laughed and applauded.

“Not one but two dances with the king?! Oh fie! How incredible! And you met him already?!”

The carriage jerked into motion as it headed back to the manor. Breathlessly, you explained everything to her.

“Am I in danger?” you asked.

“In danger of making him fall for you! But at least one day you’ll have the most incredible story to tell your children! How glad I am it all worked!” she laughed.

When you returned at the ungodly hour, you hurried to her room and switched clothes. Yet your head was still ringing and your heart beating fast, your mind and body still reeling until it could shut down for a little sleep. You wished you could write it all down- of your one night where you danced with the king.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

It was four days since Twelfth Night and the Tenth day of the new year. You had to content yourself with your life as a servant. The Lord and Lady were of a milder temper. As far as they knew, Jane introduced herself and curtsied before the king and that was it.

That morning, you were serving their breakfast. You cut the bread into slices and brought it up to the table to the family. They placed it down, the knife still on there with the other cutlery.

There was a knock. Heads turned. A servant ran over in.. Red cheeked and breathless, his voice a high cry.

“His Majesty, the king, is here!” he yelled.

There was half a scream and Lady Jane nearly dropped her plate out of her hands. There was a flutter like no other, making sure all was clean and presentable.

“He’s here for you- I know it! He’s here for you!” cried the Lady Brentford.

She began pinching her daughters cheeks to make them redder and prettier in her eyes and fussing and whispering. One heard the marching of boots. Your own heart beat harder than it ever had and you shook as you tried with the other servants to dress the place up.

Finally, a servant announced his presence and all stood up. In, sure enough, walked King Henry in his beautiful red leathers and his crown. Your breath stopped as you noticed a little bouquet of flowers in his hands.

All bowed and curtsied respectfully, then returned to await what he would say.

Henry took off his crown and handed it to a servant. Then he looked around the crowd. You didn’t know if you wanted to shrink or run or both.

“I am here for the Lady Y/L/N. Does she reside here?” he asked.

Their lips curled. They gasped.

“Her-her??” Lady Brentford cried.

The Lord Brentford turned her head to you, his nose flaring. His hands reaching forward, ready to grab you, drag you by the ear to be beaten, box an answer out of you.

“What have you done with the king, you little slut?!”

There was a shift in that second, some of Henry’s guards, even Henry himself was ready to intervene.

Acting quickly, quicker than you ever had, You reached for the table and got the knife, pointing it to Lord Brentford.

“Do not lay a hand on me or you won’t have one!” you rebuked.

Henry stepped forward, his voice angry.

“Lord Brentford, Are you going to deny the King an answer to his question?” he asked.

Heads turned over to you. Jane was smiling seeing the knife still in your hand. Then the Lord Brentford relented and gestured to you.

“She lives here, your majesty.”

Setting the knife back down on the table, you were gestured to step forward and curtsy. He looked at you in your servant's clothes which made your stomach twist in shame. But you held your own ground, poised with folded hands and kept your eyes up at him.

“May I have a word with her in private, Lord Brentford?” he asked.

They all bowed and relented- his servants to accompany you.

He stepped forth and seemed to blush as he handed you the flowers.

“These are for you, my lady” he said.

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” you replied. You took the bouquet in your hands, feeling it’s sweet scent.

His hands free, you saw him clench and unclench his fists nervously.

“Fair lady-I do not know how to say this. I’m not good with words, or speaking with women…” he began.

That itself made you smile.

“Lady Y/L/N, I am a king…and I am a man too. And I speak to you as one now. Should you refuse, I shall never bother you again. But if you shall, would you allow a hardened soldier to speak of tenderness and affection? To spend time to know this lady and plead his cause to her heart? I offer my friendship at least. At most, as your suitor. Only if you shall have me, Harry of England, as yours. To pursue you, ask for you, care for you. To court you, not as king and subject, but as a man and a woman, only if you accept me. What say you, dearest, fairest lady?”

You brimmed with joy. You felt a free hand clutch your chest, wondering if this was even real. But you knew who was the one in fine leather and who was the one in simple cloth.

“My lord, I must tell you something…”

He nodded, listening. You took in a breath and began.

“I am the Lady Y/L/N. My parents died and their fortune dwindled. Leaving me with nothing but the title and what dignity we had left. As you can see, the house of Brentford took me in. But other than the kindness shown by their daughter, the Lord and Lady…do not consider me family. They have made me a servant here and I have worked as one since I was very young. If you are willing to court a lady with nothing but an empty title and a heart full of affection for you, you may. If not, I shall let you go. I shall not begrudge or ask you to change your ways. I understand them. I have nothing to offer to you that you may benefit- no lands, no armies, no alliances, and most of all, no dowry.”

“My lady, you yourself are a dowry,” Henry replied.

A gasp escaped you and you felt everything inside you become warm.

He offered your hand. And you placed yours in it.

“Then…I Accept you as my suitor, my lord.” you said.

He smiled even wider, putting his other hand over yours.

“We have a special dinner prepared in the palace. Would you dine with me?” he asked.

“I shall be glad to…I only ask one thing and one thing in turn in our courtship. This and nothing else…I only ask for shelter. For an escape from this place. To stay in a different home far from Lord and Lady Brentford. You saw what happened-this has been my life for many long years. I want to leave this place, to no longer be under their power. But give only the dearest blessing to their daughter, the lady Jane, and their servants, for without their help the years would have been unbearable…and we would not have crossed paths again. If you cannot grant me shelter from the Lord and Lady, then protection from them,” you requested.

He clutched your hands a little tighter, almost shaking them.

“I shall my lady, you need not be afraid of the Lord and Lady anymore. I will fulfill your wish…and you shall be safe. I shall do everything in my power…may I kiss your hand?”

“Yes.”

He took your hand and kissed it gently, and sweetly. His goatee tickling a little of your skin and his lips soft.

He asked his servants to gather your things, quickly. Much to the astonishment of the whole house. But none dare resist the orders of the king.

“You shall stay as a guest of the palace until a family, a new one, may take you in. I promise, there are plenty who shall not treat you as they have,” he vowed.

He looked at you with a smile. You then went to your room and wrapped the warm red cloak over you. Then, right before the door, stood the family. You embraced each servant as they congratulated you. Then you went to you hugged Jane with a smile.

“Oh, I feel like I am abandoning you!” you sighed.

“Oh no! Do not fret! I can handle my parents, I will not let my them break me. I will fight them every step of the way. Just write to me often, promise.”

“This wouldn’t have happened without you, I am forever in your debt, Jane.” you replied.

“You already helped heal my leg back then. Then your friendship is the only credit I shall ask for.” she replied.

You hugged again as a goodbye.

You then turned to the Lord and Lady Brentford. They did not speak, but you did.

“I shall never forget your cruelty. Your harshness. I held my tongue to survive-but now I can speak. I do not love either of you. I dislike you both more than any person in the world. If anyone asks me of you, I shall tell them everything you said and did to me, for it is the truth. Of the names you called me, the things of mine you destroyed, and of the times you beat me and broke me. And do not think, should the day ever come that God makes me queen, that you shall receive any help from me. I shall never step foot in this place again or call on you.From this day on, I do not know who either of you are. You are both cruel, heartless, selfish miscreants. May you answer to God and only He may show you any mercy He deigns you both to deserve. You shall have none from me.”

King Henry offered you his arm and you took it. How warm it felt-you could feel his muscles beneath his leathers, but how smooth it was and how pleasant he even smelled!

“Now…are you ready my lady?” he asked.

You only looked back at the place, and the people standing there. Then back at the handsome, kind face of your regal suitor.

“I am, my most gracious Lord.”

He walked you to outside the door where the carriage awaited. The snow falling gently, blanketing the world in soft, white blankets.

“When we are alone…would you call me Harry? Henry perhaps, too,” he replied.

“Yes, Henry,” you replied.

He blushed a little to hear his name. He were helped into the carriage next to him.

Henry smiled at you kindly as he sat next to you.

“Thank you. For everything” you wished him.

“Of course, Y/F/N.”

You could have melted how he said your first name. He then held up your hand again and gave it another peck from his lips.

“My, you like to hold and kiss my hand, Henry!” you teased.

“If only it wasn’t so easy to hold and dear to kiss!” he replied with a smile.

Your eyes forward, not daring to look back. Only forward as the carriage moved away. One part of your life ending and another beginning. To live a new life from now on.

A life where you were finally loved.

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seeinganewlight · 9 months

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2024 books read

2024 goal: 150 books

january: 1 - heartstopper vol. 1 → alice oseman (reread) 2 - heartstopper vol. 2 → alice oseman (reread) 3 - heartstopper vol. 3 → alice oseman (reread) 4 - heartstopper vol. 4 → alice oseman (reread) 5 - heartstopper vol. 5 → alice oseman 6 - a fragile enchantment → allison saft 7 - some shall break → ellie marney (audiobook) 8 - only if you're lucky → stacy willingham (arc) 9 - over my dead body: a witchy graphic novel → sweeney boo 10 - notes on an execution → danya kukafka (physical & audiobook) 11 - murder on the orient express → agatha christie (reread) 12 - our wives under the sea → julia armfield (physical & audiobook) 13 - the invocations → krystal sutherland (arc) 14 - red string theory → lauren kung jessen 15 - the breakup tour → emily wibberley & austin siegemund-broka (arc) 16 - the name drop → susan lee 17 - the secret of the old clock → carolyn keene (reread) 18 - bright young women → jessica knoll (audiobook) 19 - last call at the local → sarah grunder ruiz (audiobook) 20 - no one can know → kate alice marshall

february: 21 - worst wingman ever → abby jimenez 22 - drop, cover, and hold on → jasmine guillory 23 - with any luck → ashley poston 24 - the atlas six → olivie blake (reread, audiobook) 25 - that's not my name → megan lally 26 - not here to stay friends → kaitlyn hill 27 - this golden state → marit weisenberg 28 - today tonight tomorrow → rachel lynn solomon (reread, annotation) 29 - past present future → rachel lynn solomon (arc, annotation) 30 - the atlas paradox → olivie blake (reread, audiobook) 31 - the guest list → lucy foley (audiobook) 32 - in the market for murder → t.e. kinsey (audiobook) 33 - the neighbor favor → kristina forest 34 - in the mix → mandy gonzalez 35 - everyone in my family has killed someone → benjamin stevenson 36 - the seven year slip → ashley poston 37 - veronica ruiz breaks the bank → elle cosimano (audiobook) 38 - finlay donovan rolls the dice → elle cosimano (audiobook) 39 - the simmonds house kills → meaghan dwyer (arc)

march: 40 - the mysterious case of the alperton angels → janice hallett 41 - the book of cold cases → simone st. james 42 - what the river knows → isabel ibañez (audiobook) 43 - cut loose! → ali stroker & stacy davidowitz 44 - how i'll kill you → ren destefano 45 - the reappearance of rachel price → holly jackson (arc) 46 - when no one is watching → alyssa cole (audiobook) 47 - outofshapeworthlessloser: a memoir of figure skating, f*cking up, and figuring it out → gracie gold (audiobook) 48 - julius caesar → william shakespeare (rerad, audiobook) 49 - the family plot → megan collins (audiobook) 50 - if we were villains → m.l. rio (reread) 51 - alone with you in the ether → olivie blake (physical & audiobook) 52 - disappearance at devil's rock → paul tremblay (audiobook)

april: 53 - shakespeare: romeo and juliet graphic novel → martin powell & eva cabrera 54 - shakespeare: macbeth graphic novel → martin powell & f. daniel perez 55 - shakespeare: julius caesar graphic novel → carl bown & eduardo garcia 56 - shakespeare: a midsummer night's dream graphic novel → nel yomtov & berenice muniz 57 - twelfth knight → alexene farol follmuth (arc) 58 - kill for me, kill for you → steve cavanagh 59 - murder road → simone st. james 60 - everyone on this train is a suspect → benjamin stevenson 61 - listen for the lie → amy tintera 62 - king cheer → molly horton booth, stephanie kate strohm, jamie green 63 - twelfth night (musical adaptation) → kwame kwei-armah & shaina taub 64 - in juliet's garden → judy elliot mcdonald 65 - fat ham → james ijames 66 - death by shakespeare → philip l. nicholas, jr 67 - a good girl's guide to murder → holly jackson (reread) 68 - good girl, bad blood → holly jackson (reread) 69 - as good as dead → holly jackson (reread) 70 - dark corners → megan goldin (audiobook) 71 - the one that got away with murder → trish lundy (audiobook) 72 - funny story → emily henry 73 - imogen says nothing → aditi brennan kapil 74 - people we meet on vacation → emily henry (audiobook, reread)

may: 75 - episode thirteen → craig dilouie 76 - the girls i've been → tess sharpe (reread) 77 - the girl in question → tess sharpe (arc) 78 - wild about you → kaitlyn hill (arc) 79 - just for the summer → abby jimenez 80 - my best friend's exorcism → grady hendrix 81 - second first date → rachel lynn solomon 82 - the ballad of darcy & russell → morgan matson 83 - the good, the bad, and the aunties → jesse q. sutanto (audiobook) 84 - truly, madly, deeply → alexandria bellefleur 85 - your blood, my bones → kelly andrew 86 - amy & roger's epic detour → morgan matson (reread) 87 - romancing mister bridgerton → julia quinn (reread) 88 - the viscount who loved me → julia quinn (reread) 89 - bittersweet in the hollow → kate pearsall 90 - to sir phillip, with love → julia quinn (reread) 91 - when he was wicked → julia quinn (reread) 92 - it's in his kiss → julia quinn (reread) 93 - on the way to the wedding → julia quinn (audiobook, reread) 94 - emma → jane austen (audiobook, reread)

june: 95 - first lie wins → ashley elston 96 - we got the beat → jenna miller 97 - firekeeper's daughter → angeline boulley 98 - chlorine → jade song (audiobook) 99 - what stalks among us → sarah hollowell 100 - hollow fires → samira ahmed (audiobook) 101 - part of your world → abby jimenez 102 - the road trip → beth o'leary 103 - yours truly → abby jimenez 104 - finally fitz → marisa kanter 105 - the last love song → kalie holford

july: 106 - dead girls walking → sami ellis (audiobook) 107 - home is where the bodies are → jeneva rose 108 - we used to live here → marcus kliewer 109 - the children on the hill → jennifer mcmahon (audiobook) 110 - what moves the dead → t. kingfisher 111 - my throat an open grave → tori bovalino 112 - dashed → amanda quain (arc) 113 - asking for a friend → kara h.l. chen (arc) 114 - beach read → emily henry (reread, audiobook) 115 - book lovers → emily henry (reread, audiobook) 116 - happy place → emily henry (reread, audiobook) 117 - you have a match → emma lord (reread, annotation) 118 - bonnie & clyde musical script → ivan menchell (reread) 119 - such charming liars → karen m. mcmanus (arc) 120 - she left → stacie grey (audiobook) 121 - let the games begin → rufaro faith mazarura (audiobook) 122 - death at morning house → maureen johnson (arc)

august: 123 - cleat cute → meryl wilsner (audiobook) 124 - i wish you would → eva des lauriers 125 - the break-up pact → emma lord (arc) 126 - water for elephants → sara gruen 127 - when you get the chance → emma lord (reread, annotation) 128 - come out, come out → natalie c. parker (arc) 129 - my lady jane → cynthia hand, brodi ashton, jodi meadows 130 - the lies of alma blackwell → amanda glaze (arc)

september: 131 - the spare room → andra bartz 132 - late bloomer → mazey eddings (audiobook) 133 - savor it → tarah dewitt (audiobook) 134 - triple sec → t.j. alexander (audiobook) 135 - the skeleton key → erin kelly 136 - the examiner → janice hallett (arc) 137 - the dark we know → wen-yi lee (audiobook) 138 - pretty girls → karin slaughter 139 - a good girl's guide to murder → holly jackson (reread, annotation) 140 - lady macbeth → ava reid 141 - the pumpkin spice café → laurie gilmore 142 - the main character �� jaclyn goldis (audiobook) 143 - queen macbeth → val mcdermid (arc)

#post: 2024 books read #i always get SO excited to start these threads!#and as y'all know i love starting the new year with a reread #so i figured this year it would be heartstopper and then i'd finally get to read heartstopper vol 5 #i loved it which is no surprise #i just love these characters so much <3

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cosmicalily · 10 months

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Bleached Hair and Blue Ink Stars - Jeongin x Reader

୨୧ a Cherry Drabble ୨୧ inspired by retro teen movies

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Genre: A bit of angst, fluff, pining, friends to lovers

Warnings: Don't think there are any?

Listen to: Ditto by NewJeans

Author's Note: I was talking to @thevampywolf this morning about how my mum wants me to marry Jeongin (for the record, my mum is a skz stan and refers to them as her sons, but recently she swapped from a Chan bias to a Jeongin bias, recently as in yesterday lmao) and I found this drabble which was unfinished sitting in my docs! I edited a bit and finished it up...its pretty short, but gosh it made me feel things!

Friendship that lasted for decades came with many bonuses.

The bonuses outweighed the consequences in almost each and every way, yet so many still loomed heavily above you.

You hadn't been able to stop yourself.

Why couldn't you have just remained a normal friend, his best friend?

Why were you spending hours, analysing the simplest things that he did, things that made your heart flutter, scream, and slingshot all the way to the moon and back?

The way he ate the strawberry liquorice he loved so much; his pink tongue pointed and sticking out occasionally to brush his lower lip as he savoured the candy.

The way he'd drag you home with him almost each night after school, hand you a cherry cola, and you'd spend hours playing video games and talking and laughing. Sometimes, Jisung would join you, but those evenings you got Jeongin all to yourself were something you treasured. And sometimes, those nights would end with more than just you kissing him on the cheek goodbye. Some mornings, you’d wake up, sprawled across his chest, the ghost of his lips on your neck, and the aching feeling of missing something. The feeling that even if he held your hand all the way to school, where you’d enter class together and apologise in unison for being late, he could slip away oh so easily.

The way he had made a habit of sketching little stars in a blue ballpoint pen around the few freckles that dotted your arm.

You looked down at your skin. There were still faded sketches dotting your arm, blue ink melting into your skin. Ghosts of the drawings he’d done yesterday; disappearing but still very much so there.

Of course there were other girls. Girls who’d message him day after day, ask for his Snapchat, stick post-it notes onto his locker and cling to his arm in the hallway.

He tried not to pay too much attention to them; the occasional smile and ‘hey’, but never responding to their affection, to their endless babble.

Jeongin was made to be a high school crush. He had bleached hair with the slightest hint of pink to it, sharp, fox-like features, contrasting wildly with his soft, dimpled cheeks, frequently flushed with a peach tinge.

You sometimes wondered why he gave you the time of day. Jeongin, although he wasn’t necessarily the most popular guy, was known across your grade and even the years above. He was older than almost everyone in the year level; an early birthday had originally granted him a move up to twelfth grade, but he’d opted against it. His friends were all in the year above, and whilst he still sometimes sat with them at break times, he’d decided to go for you.

“He hardly sits with us anymore,” Jisung mumbled to you, after Jeongin had passed out on the couch, head in your lap, arms around your waist.

“I know. I keep asking him why. He says he sees you guys enough.”

Jisung looked down at Jeongin’s babyish expression as he slept, face pressed against your stomach. “Or he’s in love with you,” Jisung had reasoned, ruffling your hair and giving Jeongin’s arm a pinch before leaving.

You’d looked down at the pile of Jeongin lying before you; sleepy, clingy and oh so angelic. His features looked softer in the dim light, and his eyelashes fluttered every few seconds.

Every soft breath against your stomach made your heart swell, and you wished, just for a moment, that he’d say it out loud. Admit to it.

You looked down at your arms, admiring the faded stars again. There was one in particular, a little larger than the rest. It wasn’t really a star anymore. His hand must have slipped. You craned your neck a little closer, getting a better look at the smudge of blue ink.

A heart.

You breathed out a little, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered open.

You stroked his hair softly, hoping he’d fall back asleep, but he sat up, looking into your eyes.

You felt so overwhelmed by him, but in the most beautiful way possible. By his sparkling eyes and his sweet face, the soft scent of his skin, and finally,

His lips on yours.

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years

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Ceasefire | 0.8 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley Bradshaw is in San Diego, summoned to Top Gun for the first time. Commander “Hyde” Simpson is his flight instructor, and she doesn’t have time for schoolboy crushes.

Warnings: ex-husband!beausimpson, divorce, age gap (rooster is somewhere between 26-28, reader is 38), power imbalance between instructor and student aviator, swearing, angst, smut, unprotected pinv, arguing

…

When you had read over Bob’s hastily typed note of Bradley’s address, you had failed to consider than number 4c was likely to not be a ground floor apartment. Three floors up, your heels are digging into your feet and you’ve still got the taste of Beau’s tongue in your mouth.

With your jacket abandoned at the wedding, you pad along the hallway of the building and knock politely at the blue wood. Cold breeze, shame, and an entire day spent near an open bar — you’re not in the mood to be playing waiting games. The civility fades from your touch with each bang against the cheaply painted, powder blue front door.

The door to the apartment finally swings open after maybe the twelfth knock.

Bradley’s standing on the other side, his suit jacket and tie long discarded, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows and the top few buttons popped open. Ignoring you clearly wasn’t going to work. Handsome, hurt — gearing up to slam the door in your face again, you need to work quickly. Words pour into your head and spill out again just as quickly, not a single one of them making it past your lips.

He stares at you, nailing the wounded look. You’re so filled with guilt that it’s already pushing up and spilling out, he rolls his eyes as you start to pour with apologies.

“What do you want, Hyde?” He asks dully, keeping his body between the opening in the door, making it painfully clear that he wants you nowhere near him.

“I’m so sorry that you saw that, Bradley — I didn’t mean-“

He scoffs and pushes at the door, leaving it to swing shut as he turns away. You catch it before it slams in your face, pushing yourself inside and shutting it behind you.

You’re standing now in his living room. It’s a sparsely decorated space, a grey L-Shaped couch in the corner, navy and white area rug in the middle, a big tv with a gaming console plugged into it.

“Rooster, let me explain, please.” You sigh, taking a step towards him. He’s hurt. He takes a quick step back and holds a hand out towards you, keeping you at arm’s length.

“Are you still in love with him?”

It’s a loaded question, and you think that you’ve got the answer to it instantly. He knows what you’re going to say, but after what he saw tonight, he doesn’t want the first answer that springs to your mind. The look in his eyes makes you pause. You sigh softly.

“I’ll always love the memories that we have, the family that we created,” You answer gently, your tone sincere. Rooster stares at you. “But I don’t love him. He doesn’t make me happy, I’ll never be happy with him.”

You take a step towards him and this time he doesn’t move. You rest your hands on his hips, smoothing your fingers along the neat fabric of his white button up, lifting your gaze to look him in the eye. You both know that there’s still a gaping question, waiting for an answer. Does Rooster make you happy?

You trail your fingers up, along his forearm and curl them gently around his bicep, pulling yourself slightly closer to him.

Rooster scoffs, brushing you off of him, “But you’ll let him kiss you in front of everyone when I’m not even allowed to stop by your office anymore.”

“I didn’t let him do anything! — He was drunk and he just did it, Bradley. What was I supposed to do?”

“That’s not how it looked to me.” Bradley answers back, shaking his head. He steps into your space, “You were all over him all night. Look, Hyde, you’ve got kids with this guy — if I’m in the way, if there’s even a chance that the two of you are going to get back together, say it now.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s over between him and I?” You groan, leaning your head back and sighing.

“After he just stuck his tongue down your throat in front of me, you might have to say it again.” He snaps back, cheeks reddening, brown eyes darkening. He hasn’t ever talked back to you like this.

You groan and and follow him forwards again, “Rooster, god fucking damnit — I’m divorcing him, I left him—“

“You’ve been divorcing him since I met you and he’s still wearing his fucking wedding ring!” Rooster bites back.

“He wasn’t — he wasn’t wearing it today.” You answer quietly, brows scrunching together. You hadn’t realised that Rooster had taken notice of that before now. He has, every single time he has seen your husband on base for the entirety of the summer, his eyes have always been drawn down to the gold band on Beau’s finger.

“Fucking Christ, you know what I meant.” Rooster mutters, shaking his head. He turns his gaze back towards you, cold. Your chest aches, knowing that if you reach for him again, he’ll just brush you off. He takes his time to read your expression. It’s clear that you’re feeling guilty, but he knows what he saw today, and it wasn’t two people who don’t love each other.

There’s a long pause. You know that there’s nothing you can say that will calm him down, he’s trying not to say something out of line. Still, after fifteen years of marriage to a man that can count the times he has smiled in the past year on one hand, you’ll be fine.

“I don’t know why you even came here.” He tells you, his voice low and careless. “You should go.”

Unfazed, you tilt your head and squint. Rooster stands firm opposite you.

“So, you’re calling the shots now? — The decision’s all yours?” You challenge, scrunching your brows at him. After the evening you’ve had with Beau, you’re tired of men and their egos, and the blame landing on you every time.

“Yeah, I am.” Rooster answers. “Let yourself out.”

Your mouth hangs open as he turns away from you and grabs his open beer from the end table before heading down the hallway. He makes it to his bedroom and still hasn’t heard the front door slam. He groans as he swings the door open.

The sound of your heels on the hallway floor ring through the apartment. It’s a small space, Javy’s room is opposite Bradley’s and Jake’s is on the other side of the living room.

“Go away, Hyde.” Rooster mumbles, taking a long drink from his beer and setting it down on his dresser.

“No, you listen to me—“

He scoffs, turning to face you, standing in his doorway and scowling at him like he has done something wrong.

“I’m done fucking listening to you!” He snaps. A few steps in your direction, the vein in his neck struggling against the white of his collar. You stand still, turning your gaze towards the ground just so you don’t have to see how much tonight hurt him. “Do I mean anything to you, Hyde? — Do you even give a fuck—“

“Oh my god, can we not do this now?” You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. He chuckles dryly and takes another drink, then shakes his head.

“My thoughts exactly, I don’t have anything to say to you right now, so you should just leave.” He mutters, leaning back against the dresser and folding his arms over his chest. His muscles strain against the white of his shirt, hair messed with loose curls falling down onto his forehead.

The anger slips for a moment and you see just how hurt he is, all of the hurt that he’s holding in those pretty brown eyes.

“Can you at least let me explain?” You bite back, crossing the room and pointing your finger into his stupid, muscled chest.

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He swallows softly and leans back, folding his arms over his chest. An entire summer of trying to convince you that he’s worth the risk, and you crushing it all in the space of one evening. Like you weren’t just laying in his arms this morning, tracing your fingers over each of the freckles on his arms.

Furious is an understatement. His face flushes, throat tightening as he tries to keep his words to himself. Rooster had been wondering this whole time what you had possibly had in common with someone as cold as Cyclone. Now, after a summer of letting him think he had a chance, he gets it.

“No. You should go.” He stands firm, squaring his shoulders and glancing down at your finger still pressed into the fabric of his shirt. Your features tighten.

“Rooster, for god’s sake, it was just—“

He leans forwards and grabs the back of your neck, tugging you harshly forwards and pressing his lips to yours. One hand curling harshly into your hair, he tugs at your roots, taking advantage of the small whimper you let out after.

Lips parted, he slips his tongue into your mouth and grabs at your hip with his other hand. He presses harder into you, kissing at you mouth with a blind passion, your teeth knocking into his as you bump into the foot of his bed.

“Have you thought about doing what you’re told for once in your damn life?” He mumbles against your mouth, curling his hand tighter into your roots. You moan softly into him, pain and pleasure, him and only him. You let him have that one.

His hand comes up, catching hold of your jaw and tilting your neck back, angling your head exactly where he wants it as he drops his mouth down to suck at your throat. Almost painfully hard, leaving purple marks, covering them with his teeth and then kissing softly at the pressure points.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his white shirt, creasing it under your grip as you tug it free from his belt. Rooster curls his fingers tighter around your jaw, cupping your throat in his hand as he sucks kisses against your neck.

Dizzied by his hold on you, his mouth against your skin, you fumble with his buttons, fingers trembling as you try to work them open. As his lips work along your throat eagerly, teeth doing maybe even more work than his lips, his hands are on your chest again.

Knees weakening, you grab onto his shoulders for leverage as he kneads your breasts under his palms, kissing feverishly along your neck. You stumble slightly, finally getting his shirt open. A longing sound slips your lip as you push the fabric back off of his shoulders, almost a groan, not quite a whimper. He pulls back just slightly, shrugging the material down his arms and discarding it onto his floor.

Rooster catches your wrist and turns you quickly away from him, grabbing the zipper at the back of your dress and tugging it down harshly. There’s a faint sound of something ripping, but that’s truly the last thing on your mind when his mouth is attached to your throat and he’s tearing you out of your clothes like a man possessed.

“Rooster!” You gasp, stumbling slightly as he spins you to face him again, letting your dress fall around your ankles.

“You want me to stop?” He breathes out, almost impatient as his hands curl around your hips. You stare at him, silent, blinking and trying to process what is happening in front of you. Slowly, your head shakes from left to right. Rooster nods his head hurriedly, going for his belt. He makes easy work of the buckle, tugging it out of the loops, dragging his zipper down and stepping out of the dress pants, leaving him in black boxers.

Your mouth goes dry, lips parted, eyes widening as he tucks an arm around your waist and pushes forwards, pressing his knee into the mattress and lowering you down onto his bed. He pins your body to the mattress with his, squeezing your hips under his palms.

He lowers his head and kisses at your chest, holding you close with one hand as the other cups your breast. You let your head lull back. You should probably be embarrassed at how easily he coaxes a moan from your lips. He nips at your skin, making his way downwards, glancing up at you with a smirk on his lips as you gasp.

Most of the time, Rooster is careful and tentative with you. Taking his time, taking care of you in every way that he can. Neither one of you is in the mood for that today. You’re his — he wants you to be all his, just his, and he needs nothing more than to let him know that’s exactly what you are.

You gasp again as he grabs your hips and pulls you under him with ease. He plants his forearm beside your head, nudges your underwear to the side, and guides his cock between your legs. You kiss his lips needily, quickly remembering the heavy heels on your feet. You push yourself onto your elbows, reaching for the strap around your left ankle, “Oh, wait—“

“Leave ‘em on.” Rooster pushes you back down, catching the back of your knee and hiking it up around his waist, watching breathlessly as he guides the tip of his cock between your folds. You whine, shifting desperately under him.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take him. You whimper softly, adjusting to the hot, thick stretch of him. He kisses your jaw lazily, fucking into you in short, soft thrusts until he’s buried into you completely.

Rooster barely waits a second before his hands are on your hips, holding you in place as he fucks into you. That gold cross necklace he wears dangles over his pronounced collarbones as he grunts desperately at the feeling of your walls around him.

Your hand trails up his neck, curling into his hair, tugging hard as he rocks harshly forwards. His fingers press into your hips, holding you still so that he can keep up his pace. Filling you completely and then dragging back, rocking you towards your high, making your head spin.

He lets go of one side of your hips, moving it down between your bodies. His thumb presses harsh circles on your clit making you tighten your grip in his hair. Rooster grunts out, moaning against your collarbone. You whine from the added stimulation, squeezing your eyes shut, pressing your heel into the small of his back.

Head falling back against his checkered sheets, your scrape your nails against the nape of his neck, marking up his tanned skin. Rooster grabs your hips and tugs hard, pressing your thighs back so that he can angle himself deeper. He sinks back in slowly, watching your lips part into a desperate, panting ‘o’ shape.

This angle is deeper, but not painful, it just means that the tip of his cock grazes your g-spot each time he’s pulling back.

“Fuck!” You cry out, stomach curling into knots as he drives himself into you. He presses his mouth eagerly against your open mouth, caressing his tongue against yours. Rooster’s palm slides around to your ass, smacking your skin, snapping his hips forwards harder and harder.

Your nails dig into the backs of his biceps, clinging to him, unable to do anything other than cry out his callsign and take it — and you couldn’t be more content with where the events of tonight have led you.

“I’m gonna cum, Rooster — ungh, Rooster, fuck!”

Javy’s walking ahead, stumbling forwards, barely stopping himself from tumbling head first onto the entryway carpet. Jake swings the door shut behind him, brows furrowing slightly as the two of them realise what’s happening down the hall. The rhythmic sound of Rooster’s headboard slamming into the wall, overwhelmed by the incoherent babbling of someone getting their brains fucked out is a pretty good indicator.

Rooster pulls out all together and flips you onto your front, filling you again. He nods hurriedly as your walls squeeze around his cock, nudging you forwards and covering your body with his.

“Holy fuck.” You breathe, cheek pressing hard into the mattress as he bottoms out again and again, pounding into you. His hips stutter slightly as you clench around him again. Still, fighting to keep his head on straight, his hand reaches around your middle to play with your clit, rubbing in tight fast circles.

You moan out, curling your hands tight into his sheets as you feel your orgasm washing over you. Dark spots appear in your vision when your eyes are open and white ones blink behind your closed lids, the sound of his skin hitting yours just as loud as your moans for him. You ride out your high, so breathless that your head is spinning, the sound of his desperate groans from behind you.

His thrusts falter, growing sloppier with each movement, groans growing strained as his fingers press hard into your skin. Your eyes roll back, your walls fluttering around him with each thrust. Rooster just about remembers to pull out, knuckles whitening around your hips as he slips out of you.

Rooster’s heart thuds in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he tries to catch his breath. You exhale hard, resting your forehead against the sheets, whining softly.

He runs a hand through his curls, standing up and grabbing the box of tissues from his dresser. He sits down on the edge of his bed, tucking an arm around you and pulling you into his lap. You rest your head against his broad shoulder as you let him clean the two of you up.

“Listen, Rooster, I-“

Rooster shakes his head as he tosses the tissues into his trash can, pressing his lips to your shoulder as he moves on to getting you out of your heels. He tosses them into the same pile as your clothes. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Hyde.”

You nod softly, letting him wrap you in his arms. Still naked, tucked under the checkered duvet, his chest pressed to your back, you fall asleep in his bed. Falling asleep with him is the easy part. It’s waking up with him, knowing how last night went, that’s the hard part.

Afraid of the conversation that’ll come once he’s awake, you lie as still as you can for as long as possible. Maybe forty minutes, just watching the sun rise from under the blind on his window. He groans softly against the curve of your neck, pressing himself forwards and squeezing his arms tighter around you.

You wriggle just a little, letting him know that you’re awake. He loosens his arms. You turn around, pressing a kiss to the scar on his cheek. He sighs softly, pulling back and pressing the base of his palm into his eye socket, rubbing the tiredness away.

“I’m so sorry about last night,” You murmur softly, tracing your fingertips over his bicep, voice muffled slightly from where you’re tucked against his chest. “I’m going to fix this.”

Rooster presses his lips tenderly to the top of your head, brushing his thumb up and down over the small of your back. He exhales slowly and nods his head. “Okay.”

Your heart aches, curling your fingers around his bicep as you pull back to look him in the eye. “I mean it, I don’t want to lose you.”

His lips quirk softly at the edges, eyes scanning over your features like he’s looking for a sign that you mean this. That you really mean it. Rooster leans forwards, kissing you slowly, lazily, fingers pressing into your back as his naked chest presses into yours.

“I love you,” He murmurs, pulling back and kissing the corner of your lips, brown eyes meeting yours as he leans back again. You know this, you’ve known this for going on a week now — it’s clear in the way he looks at you. Yet, it’s hard not to tense up when you’re hearing it for the first time. “And I’m okay with waiting for you to feel the same, but if there’s any chance at all that you and him—“

As much as it makes your muscles freeze up so badly that it’s a pain consistent with having just worked out, you’ve got a feeling that you’ll get used to hearing him say that. There are definitely worse things in this world than letting someone love you like he does. You can handle this. In fact, you want it.

You shake your head, hooking your leg over his hip and shifting closer. He relaxes into you, closing his eyes just briefly as your fingers smooth over his cheek, your lips grazing his tenderly.

“Just you,” You promise, brushing his curls back off of his forehead, kissing him again. Rooster slides his arms around you, humming contentedly as he pulls you closer, guiding your thigh up higher around his waist. “I want you.”

Rooster kisses you, lips moving lazily against yours as his hands grip your waist. You hum against his mouth, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling yourself impossibly closer to him. He grinds his hips forwards, brushing himself up against your core.

“I want you.” You say again, lips grazing his ear. His arms constrict around your middle, pulling you tight against him as he noses at your jaw, pressing gentle kisses to your neck.

He presses forwards, turning you onto your back so that he can slip between your legs. This time is softer than last night, you want him and you’ve got him — all of his attention, his entire heart. He’s trusting you again. Making sure to be gentle after last night’s pace, you’re on cloud nine, content in your decision by the time you’re done.

Even realising that the zipper on your dress is busted and now gapes open at the back doesn’t dampen your mood.

“Yeah, no — Jake and Javy would’ve come in late, they won’t be up yet.” Rooster promises as he secures the safety pin at the back of your dress, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “This isn’t working… um… here.”

He grabs the grey zip up hoodie from the back of his closet door and passes it into your hands, turning around to find a shirt for himself. You slip it over your shoulders, stepping around him to smooth out your hair in the mirror.

“You ready?” Rooster checks, as he slips a white crew neck over his head.

You make the mistake of stepping out first. Your second mistake is walking forwards, confident that he was right about his roommates sleeping because of the silence from the front of the apartment. The second that you round the corner, you realise your mistake.

Coyote’s got the freezer door open, standing halfway in it as he searches for something to cure his raging hangover. Jake, having given in to the feelings of nausea a while ago, is sitting at the counter with a glass of ice cold water, staring right at you.

Not anticipating your sudden stop, Rooster bumps into your back and knocks you forwards. Now you’re both standing at the edge of the hall, Rooster’s chest pressed into your back, frozen.

“Hey Rooster, did you take the last — holy shit.” Coyote’s eyes widen, jaw hanging open as he registers who is standing in front of him. Jake sets his glass down on the counter and tilts his head slightly, taking time to now understand the big picture.

An entire summer of sneaking around, wondering why the hell Rooster was so adamant on keeping it a secret. It all suddenly makes sense.

“Boys.” You greet sheepishly, trying not to stare too much at their stunned faces. You can practically feel the amusement radiating off of Rooster as he stands behind you.

“Ma’am.” Jake nods back, whilst Javy still remains too stunned to speak behind him. Rooster taps your waist.

“Anyway, we should get going.” Rooster decides, nudging you forwards. Jake’s eyes trail the two of you, an amused smirk toying at his lips as you’re ushered out of their apartment. The door swings shut and you turn quickly, smacking his chest.

This is going to make the remaining two weeks of class significantly more interesting.

…

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au

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the-queer-classic-lit-ship-ever · 1 year

Text

round 4: losers

#tournament #queer classic lit ship losers #l: round 4 #qcls losers #war and peace #twelfth night

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hihello-pinky · 1 year

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11 First Kisses

a record of eleven defining kisses you shared with Yeonjun

Non-Idol Choi Yeonjun x she/her reader! WC: 4.8k words Genre: friends to lovers to exes/strangers to lovers, some angst, some fluff, hurt maybe comfort? TWs: none (please let me know if I somehow missed any!)

A few disclaimers (?):

I know I’m supposed to be writing for Sight but I was trying to look for inspiration and I stumbled upon this in my drafts so...

I know this blog is for Haikyuu but please let me post here because I can barely manage this so I don’t think I can open a separate blog for TXT and also because this may be the first and last time I will write for TXT

ANYWAYs

here we go ~ kindly reblog and/or leave a comment if you liked it!!!!

-x-o-x-o-

Kiss #1

You both were fifteen, paired for a science project. You were sitting at the back-most part of the library, the tables near you unoccupied. You were busy explaining something Yeonjun couldn’t grasp and he could hear the frustration starting to drip from your voice since it was becoming obvious that he wasn’t listening. “Yeonjun, you’re not paying attention,” you said sternly.

“I am,” he replied, but his eyes were still trained on your plump lips as his head rested on his hand.

You dropped your pen and crossed your arms, facing him. With your eyebrows burrowed together, you whispered the threat. “I’m gonna ask Teacher Min if I can still switch partners.”

His only response was, “Can I kiss you?”

You were so taken aback by his question but after a few moments, nodded reluctantly. Yeonjun cheered internally – what he read in the books was right, after all! So, he carefully leaned in and gave you a quick peck. It was sweet with a faint taste of your favorite strawberry milk drink. You and Yeonjun’s very first kiss.

-x-o-x-o-

Kiss #2

His parents held a simple celebration for Yeonjun’s sixteenth birthday and he thought it was the best time to introduce you to his parents as his girlfriend ever since he finally asked you out a few weeks ago. You were nervous as he was your first boyfriend, you even stuttered while greeting them and you were so cute that Yeonjun committed the image to his memory. Who knew a meet-the-parents scenario would make the confident and smart L/N Y/N lose her nerves?

After the celebration, he snuck you into his room (after convincing you for ten minutes that you were not going to get caught and that if you did, it wouldn’t be a big deal, anyway) and as you sat awkwardly on his bed, he laughed and said, “Relax, we’re only going to kiss.” You visibly breathed a sigh of relief and you looked so adorable at that moment, sitting on his dark blue comforter, that he leaned in and kissed you. Your first kiss as an official couple.

-x-o-x-o-

Kiss #3

Last day of summer before twelfth grade, Yeonjun and you were in your living room seated on the couch with a small distance between you two, watching Ouran High School Host Club, while a bowl of popcorn stood on the table in front of you. Yeonjun was starting to get into watching anime, all thanks to you. Your Mama told both of you that she was going on a quick grocery run for some salt or egg, he couldn’t recall.

As soon as the door shut behind her, you pulled Yeonjun closer towards you and he laughed a bit. He was surprised in delight because he was always the one initiating the affectionate acts between you. But that afternoon, after pulling him to your body, you turned your head in front of his and stole a quick kiss before focusing your attention back to the TV. He’ll always remember it – your first kiss that was initiated by you.

-x-o-x-o-

Kiss #4

Your last year in senior high. Prom night. Yeonjun pulled you away from the dance floor, you struggling on your heels as he guided you towards the photobooth. Right before the camera shutter went off, he cupped your face and put his lips against yours. It was your first kiss captured in a photograph.

-x-o-x-o-

Kiss #5

Your eighteenth birthday. The two of you were cuddling on your bed, your head on Yeonjun’s chest as you both looked at your ceiling decorated by the old glow-in-the-dark stars that everyone loved as children. Yeonjun had pasted his on random places but yours seemed to be arranged into constellations.

“And what’s that?” He asked, pointing to the five stars close to each other, which looked like they were the first ones to be pasted on the ceiling.

With his soft breath warm and comforting near you, you answered, “That’s Cassiopeia.”

“Like the calculator?” He asked innocently and felt your body shake in laughter.

“No, like the queen in Greek mythology. Did you not listen to literature class?”

Shaking his head, he looked down to face you and stared at your dark eyes. Before he could get lost in them, Yeonjun confessed. “I was bad in class because I was always busy watching you.”

You blushed, pink dusting your cheeks, and poked his nose. “Since when did you have a crush on me?”

“Seventh grade,” he answered without a second thought. “You were annoyed at me for checking your science quiz messily.”

“Crazy!” you exclaimed, almost hitting your head against his. “That was the moment I began to really notice you. Who would have thought I’d end up falling in love with the boy who can’t grade a paper properly?”

Yeonjun became silent as soon as you finished your sentence and he didn’t tell you then but at that moment, he was so relieved. He’d been dying to drop the L-word on you but was afraid he would scare you away. Could you imagine how he felt when he heard your slip of the tongue?

You realized what you have said and gently snuggled closer to his chest, your hair tickling his chin. In a whisper, you said softly, “I love you, Yeonjun.”

He planted a soft kiss at the top of your head before turning down so you’re face to face. “I love you, Y/N.” Staring into each other’s eyes, you leaned towards each other and closed the gap. Your first kiss after saying I love you.

-x-o-x-o-

Kiss #6

You were crying. Not the tears-silently-running-down-your-face kind of crying but the messy-tears-and-runny-nose crying. It was time for the both of you to go to college and Yeonjun got accepted in the country’s top university for musicians and dancers. When you first found out the news, you were filled with pride because you knew how much Yeonjun loved performing. However, Yeonjun getting accepted into his dream school also meant he would have to move to a city four hours away from home.

His parents were kind enough to let you know you were welcome to tag along when they would drop Yeonjun off in his dorms but you declined the offer, not trusting yourself to bid a proper goodbye and besides, you wanted to give that moment to his parents.

So, you and Yeonjun set a date for the whole day before he moved and as you watched the sunset under your favorite tree, the fact that the day was closing to an end hit you like a brick and you weren’t able to stop yourself from ugly-crying at the thought that your boyfriend would be moving the next day.

“I promise I’d go home as often as I can,” Yeonjun said as he tried to wipe your tears away.

Instead of being comforted, what he said only made you cry harder. Yeonjun pulled you against him and let you cry until it felt like you ran out of tears. And when you regained your composure later on, he sweetly kissed your lips. “I’ll hold on to this,” you said after a while, smiling gently at him, “our salty first goodbye kiss.”

-x-o-x-o-

Kiss #7

On your fourth anniversary, you and Yeonjun had a fight. You were both on your sophomore year in university. You were elated when he told you he’d be coming home for the weekend and you prepared a surprise for him. Yeonjun did come home, but he wasn’t alone.

Soobin and Taehyun were with him, his friends that he met on his first year. As it turned out, Yeonjun only went home to show them around your town, to let his family meet them. He didn’t remember what you were supposed to celebrate. So, Saturday came and it was your anniversary but you didn’t even get to see him until late at night when you dropped by their house.

When Yeonjun saw you, his face didn’t transform into that happy expression he always wore whenever the two of you meet after not seeing each other for some time. Instead, he said with a hint of surprise and something else in his voice, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

You replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Well, you sure don’t know a lot of things these days.”

At that, Yeonjun frowned before he grabbed your wrist and brought you to his room, his guests and family awkwardly trying not to look at the scene. Once he closed the door, he asked in a barely contained voice, “What the hell was that?”

And you knew you should have been calmer but instead, you retorted with, “Who the hell forgets what the date today is?”

Yeonjun’s budding anger was replaced with confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking… about.” The way he slowly trailed off let you know that he just remembered at that moment what the day was. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

You wanted to stay mad but the apologetic look he gave you – like a puppy asking to be forgiven after chewing something he’s not supposed to – made your heart melt. You reached for his hand and squeezed it. “You owe me one day where you’ll only be with me.”

Yeonjun laced your fingers together and raised it towards his lips so he could plant a kiss on the back of your hand. “Of course. And I won’t only give you one day, I’ll give you the rest of my life.”

You were glad that his lights were off because you were absolutely sure that you blushed like crazy at the implication of Yeonjun’s words. “Shut up.”

He laughed at you and leaned closer, your lips barely touching. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“No…”

A sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he lightly brushed your lips against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you replied.

As if to seal your exchanged words, he locked his lips with yours and the two of you shared your first make-up kiss.

-x-o-x-o-

Kiss #8

Yeonjun’s twenty-first birthday celebration. He had come home after not visiting your town for a few months. It was the first time that you were nervous about him coming home because you knew there were a lot of things that needed to be addressed. During the past months you’ve been away from each other, you lacked communication and time together. You weren’t even sure how to interact with Yeonjun. But still, the smile he gave you as you arrived at the celebration his family threw for him was enough to reassure your heart.

You could name a lot of memories between you and your boyfriend which brought you happiness, and you were about to add that day to the memories but alas, it’s as if time just decided to tease you, letting you borrow joy for a quick moment. The whole celebration, you felt confident about your relationship and where you and Yeonjun stood in each other’s lives. But then came the announcement of his Dad.

“Yeonjun has grown into a fine man,” he began. “I’m very proud of my only child and since today is a special one, we want to share with you that he got accepted for a spring program focusing on music and dance in Singapore this coming break.” He paused as if letting everyone absorb what he just said. “On top of that, he also got chosen as one of the cultural exchange students in Japan for one semester.” Applause followed around the room, cheers and hoots of excitement from the guests and you felt bad for not being completely happy with the news.

The spring and exchange programs meant he’d be out of the country for six months. Half a year. Could you both make that work? And more importantly, you kept thinking about how come you had to learn about them that way? Did Yeonjun purposely not tell you or was he just too busy?

Yeonjun walked you home after the celebration and you were silent the whole time. In the past, any silence between the two of you was comfortable, basking in the feeling that you could tell what each other was thinking without words being exchanged. But at that time, it felt as if you were walking the streets with a stranger. You finally broke the silence when you stopped in front of your gate. “Congratulations.”

Your bodies were facing but you weren’t looking at each other. “Y/N,” Yeonjun finally said before reaching for your hand, gingerly enclosing it with his. You could feel he was staring at your face but still felt scared to meet his eyes. Instead, you looked down at your hands, your brows furrowing as you noticed the chip on your newly-manicured left pinky. “Are we okay?”

Maybe it was the way that there was uncertainty in his usually confident voice. Maybe it was the implication of what he asked; a silent acknowledgment of the things you’ve both been trying to ignore for the past months. Whatever the reason was, Yeonjun’s question made you burst into tears. It didn’t help that his fingers were quick to brush them away.

“I don’t know, Jun,” you finally answered after regaining a little bit of composure. “I’m not sure about us right now.” At that moment, you almost spilled everything to him: the fear, doubt, hurt, and longing that you’ve been feeling. But instead, you reached up to your face to wipe the stray tears left. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled you close to him, and the familiar warmth of his arms around you didn’t help in stopping your tears. You felt his lips on your forehead. “To be honest, I’m not sure as well,” Yeonjun confessed and then cupped your face, making sure you were eye to eye as he said the next words. “But this I’m a hundred percent sure of. I love you, Y/N, and I won’t give up on us. Okay?”

You nodded, badly wanting to believe that everything will be okay between you and Yeonjun. “Okay.”

A small smile finally found its way to his lips. He brought your face closer to his, brushed his thumbs against your lips, and leaned down. A kiss. A whisper of promises. With the dark sky littered by stars, it was a moment that you would later try to forget. Your first kiss with Yeonjun that didn’t bring butterflies to your stomach.

-x-o-x-o-

Kiss #9

It was at an old friend’s wedding where you met Yeonjun again after several years. It was an unexpected and awkward reunion. The last time you heard back then, he was happy with his job in Japan, working at a dance academy that had sourced him when he was studying there. You remember how, after the exchange program, he only went back to the country to finish his last term in university and shortly after graduating, moved to Japan.

“Hey.” His voice broke you out of your thoughts, making you look at him. Now that he’s in closer proximity, you could properly observe him. He had grown his hair to barely above his shoulder, the black silky strands looking vibrant as ever. His body was well-defined. He looked different and yet the same. Those warm eyes looking at you intently. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You offered a friendly smile. “Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you that question?”

Yeonjun actually laughed a little and the sound brought a wave of nostalgia to you. “I moved back six months ago.” He rubbed at his nape – a force of habit you knew he had since he was younger. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N. It’s been so long.” He took a sip from his drink and you couldn’t help but stare at his plump lips. You’re reminded of how they felt like against yours.

“Yeah...” You answered distractedly. Upon realizing what you’ve been doing, you quickly cast your eyes somewhere else. “How have you been?”

Yeonjun pursed his lips, contemplating on an answer before settling with a simple, “Great.” His eyes crinkled a little as he smiled at you. “How about you? You look dashing.”

You tried to not put too much meaning on his compliment. “I’m good. I teach kids in fifth grade.”

That made him smile. “As expected of you. You always loved to help others understand lessons they have trouble dealing with.” His words unintentionally brought you back to when you were fifteen years old, trying to explain to Yeonjun a topic for the project you were paired to work on together. That day in the library, when you both had your first kiss.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, setting your glass down on the table. “It was nice seeing you again, Yeonjun.” You hoped he couldn’t hear the hesitancy in your voice and the way your heart was beating loudly in your chest all because of him. It’s been many years since you last saw each other and yet, the moment you first saw him two hours ago, all the longing came back instantly, as if they were always there and were barely contained by a flimsy gate.

“Yeah...” Yeonjun replied awkwardly. He slightly fidgeted in place and it pained you that you could no longer tell what it meant for him. You could no longer read Yeonjun as easily as you were able to before. Still, he made no move to leave you. “Do you want to-”

“Y/N!” An excited voice joined you but immediately faltered once the person realized you were with someone he didn’t know. “Oh, hi.”

You smiled at the guy. “Kai, this is Yeonjun, the one who kept on putting all kinds of bugs and insects inside Beomgyu’s locker up until middle school. Yeonjun, this is Kai. He moved to our town a few years back and is the one responsible for this very event. He’s the one who introduced Beomgyu to his partner.”

The two exchanged greetings. “Oh, you really came! I’ve heard a lot about you!” Kai shared excitedly, making your eyes widen in panic. Realizing his slip up, Kai quickly amended with, “I always tease Beomgyu and he tells me how there’s someone from his childhood who always played a prank on him...”

Whether Yeonjun bought it or not was unknown to you, another reminder of the bitter reality that you no longer knew him as well as you did in the past. Before the three of you could continue your conversation, another friend who hasn’t seen Yeonjun in years called for his attention from a few tables down. He gave you a quick smile before reluctantly going to the said person.

After Yeonjun left, you gave your friend a pointed look and Kai quickly held up his hands in defense. “I’m sorry I slipped up!”

You rolled your eyes before mimicking him. “You really came!” An accusing look was on your face. “Did you know all along that he’s invited to the wedding?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, Kai only gave you a guilty look. “Hear me out, okay? I didn’t tell you because I knew you would be overthinking a lot on the months and weeks leading to this day. You so obviously still have feelings for Yeonjun and I just didn’t want you to... you know... think a lot about him more than you already do on a daily basis.”

“I do not think a lot about him on a daily basis, Kai.”

He scoffed. “You so do.”

You sent him a glare but it was in a friendly nature. Kai became one of your closest friends ever since he helped you get a strawberry milk from one of the vending machines in the school where he also worked as a teacher. He was also the one who tried to set you up on dates with other people, all of which miserably failed, which he attributed to you never getting over Yeonjun, your first love.

“Shut up, I’ve already moved on.” Kai only laughed at that because you both knew that it was far from the truth. He didn’t call you out though and the two of you continued to banter, passing the time, all the while unaware of eyes that kept watching you.

Beomgyu was a friend of yours who always gets back to people who have wronged him and it’s one of the things you oddly liked about him. But alas, you didn’t know the day would come when you would be a pawn in his revenge. Stupid, younger Yeonjun and his locker pranks.

As it turned out, Beomgyu, a dear old mutual friend of you and Yeonjun, oh-so-conveniently overlooked a tiny detail when booking the rooms at the hotel and resort where all the guests of his beach wedding would be staying. The mistake being, you and Yeonjun having to share a room with only one bed.

“This is so cliché,” you groaned out in frustration as you stood inside the room and heard the sound of the door shutting behind you. “Beomgyu is so unbelievable!”

Yeonjun quietly went towards the bed and it wasn’t until he was seated on the soft mattress that he spoke. “That brat.” A small shake of his head before looking to meet your eyes with a slight smile. “He never changed, huh.”

“Yeah.” The way he was looking at you made you feel things and suddenly, frustration was no longer your most dominant emotion at the moment. You cleared your throat, eyes not leaving Yeonjun’s as you carefully said the next words. “But I’m glad he didn’t. It’s comforting to know that despite all the things and people that have changed and slipped away through my fingers, some remained and stayed the same.”

Silence settled in the room but Yeonjun’s gaze didn’t falter. You hated how you couldn’t fathom what the look on his eyes meant. He stood from the bed and walked towards your frozen figure near the door and stopped when there was only a small distance between your bodies. “Y/N.”

“Yeonjun.”

It was a simple exchange of your names and yet, it felt as if there were so many words that were said between the two of you. Thousands of things left unsaid during the past several years when you were out of each other’s lives. Finally, he spoke aloud. “Do you want to talk, Y/N?”

You nodded almost immediately, your heart rioting inside your chest. “But can I ask a question first?”

With a slight tilt of his head to the side, he said, “Okay.”

For a split second, you were tempted to back out and change the question you were about to ask him. But you remembered how you’ve never been truly happy in the romance aspect of your life during the past years and so, with a deep breath, you decided to just go along, knowing your cheeks were flushed pink. “Can you please kiss me?”

His face broke into that handsome smile of his that was all too familiar, eyes turning into small crescents as he closed the short distance between you. It would always be special and you’d be forever grateful to Beomgyu for somehow making it happen.

Your first kiss with Yeonjun, ten years after the break up.

-x-o-x-o-

Kiss #10

If someone would ask Yeonjun what his favorite day was, they’d probably expect him to answer with any of the following: the day he got accepted into his dream school, the day the dance academy in Japan offered the contract to him, the day he met the performer who was his role-model, the day he first kissed you. All of which would be wrong.

His favorite day would be the one where his younger self’s dream became a reality: him waiting at the end of an aisle of flowers, you walking down in your white dress and a bouquet of beautiful flowers in your hands.

The girl of his dreams looking as beautiful as always. As beautiful as the day you were annoyed at him for incorrectly grading your test paper. As beautiful as the day he first asked if he could kiss you. As beautiful as the day he first brought you to his room. As beautiful as that night he took you to prom and you spent the half of it complaining about how your feet hurt from wearing heels. As beautiful as the day you said goodbye to him before he went off to university. As beautiful as the day he broke your heart shortly before he flew to Singapore. As beautiful as the day he saw you at Beomgyu’s wedding.

In every single moment, you looked beautiful. Yeonjun couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be given a second chance of loving and being loved by you. And after you exchanged your vows and put the rings on each other’s fingers, he couldn’t help but shed a single tear for what you were about to share.

A core memory for him: your first kiss as husband and wife.

-x-o-x-o-

Kiss #11

One hundred days after your wedding, Yeonjun was surprised when you came to him with an idea. Let’s record all of our important “first kisses”! He laughed a bit and told you that there was only supposed to be one first kiss. But you had insisted and asked (forced) him to think back to all the kisses you have shared and surprisingly enough, the both of you were able to come up with 10 first kisses that defined your relationship.

“Isn’t this cute?” You had asked him as you finished decorating the small scrapbook that you both were working on. “How sweet that it ends with us getting married. Ah, I’m getting all the feels from a romance book!”

He had agreed absentmindedly as his mind was more focused on taking in every single one of your features. The whisker dimples that appear whenever you smile and laugh. Your eyes that he could spend eternity getting lost in. And most importantly, your lips that he couldn’t kiss enough. “So, you finally agree that we stop recording at ten?”

You poked your cheek with your tongue and after a bit of contemplation, gave him a smile. “Yeah. I think it’s best to leave it at that.” You looked so lovely at that moment, and, unable to stop himself, Yeonjun leaned towards you for one sweet kiss.

------------------------------

Yeonjun closed the book and looked at the woman beside him. She always looked younger than her age and the only indication that she’s approaching her fifties were the streaks of gray hair beginning to peek out from her head. The woman looked at him, confusion written all over her face. “I don’t understand.”

He resisted the urge to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “You don’t understand what?”

“I thought the agreement is to leave it at ten first kisses? Why are there eleven?”

A smile that was a mix of happiness and melancholia made its way to Yeonjun’s lips. “Well, it was supposed to really end at kiss number 10. But something happened that prompted a need for one more kiss to be recorded.”

She tilted her head in question, eyes full of curiosity and urging him to go on. Yeonjun inwardly sighed; this was usually the hardest part. “Y/N, five years ago, we got into an accident and it was pretty bad but between us two, you suffered more.” He watched for any change of expression on her face before continuing. “You suffered a lot, love. Severe global amnesia, you can’t retrieve past memories and you can’t store new ones. For a long time, at least. Your new memories can only last from three days to a week.”

“Oh.”

As usual, Yeonjun waited for the woman to say more but she just stared at the book on his lap, eyes squinted as if she’s waiting for something to happen. Was she waiting for him to break out in laughter and admit it was a cruel joke? However, what she asked next surprised him.

“I still don’t understand why Kiss #11 exists...”

For the first time in a while, Yeonjun let out a genuine laugh. “You see, Y/N, the recorded eleventh kiss in the book is just a placeholder.” He gently cupped her face. “Can I kiss you?”

She blushed, her rose-colored cheeks warming his heart. Still, she managed to let out a small, “Yes.”

And same as that time in the library all those years ago, Yeonjun leaned in to the only person his lips belonged to. “This is our real Kiss #11.” The kiss was gentle, soft but was full of emotions. He smiled at the love of life. “Our first “first kiss”.” The first kiss of many years to come whenever you would wake up not remembering again.

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