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bontenten · 3 years

Text

Efficiency

Pairing: Daishou x f!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings/Tags: smut, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, light degredation, aftercare, established relationship

Thank you so much @/bakatenshii and @/thirstyforthem2dmen for beta-reading. This is a repost from my main after it went fully sfw. Originally for the hqhq (now Anilysium) hard at work collab.

Pen scrawls and keyboard taps sound throughout the conference room as your boss goes over current client projects. Daishou is sitting across the table and you notice he's wearing the tie you gave him for his birthday last year. Looks good, you think to yourself. It's not just the tie, it's his entire outfit, and him.

Daishou notices your lingering stare and makes eye contact, granting you a cheeky grin and a head tilt. Pompous bastard. In response, you send back an expression of mock disgust before turning your attention back to your laptop.

For any newcomer at the firm, it might seem like the office is split down the middle into either your camp or Daishou's, with opinions and jabs on completely opposite ends of the spectrum. Why else is there so much spite being tossed around between the two of you, if not due to a deeply entrenched layer of grievances?

It might leave the newbie confused as to why Daishou affectionately calls you his "most significant problem". Or why you preface notes to him with, "to whom this may piss off, my royal pain-in-the-ass".

Then there comes a revelation to the newbie that you and Daishou are not mortal enemies, but rather the most wretchedly in-love couple in this skyrise building. It's a bad decision to cross either you or Daishou for any matter. Not only are the both of you perfectly vindictive, crossing one means submitting an application to be on the blacklist of the other. There's no doubt, in your humblest opinion, that Daishou, even if he'll never outright admit it, absolutely worships the dirt under your heels. And when you are in remotely a good mood, fine, you don't mind his coffee breath either.

It's heartwarming, that in this tower of cold, hard stainless steel and immaculate glass panels, there's love floating around the disinfected air of money, money, and more money. When it counts, you can be sure that Daishou will stand on the same side of the fence as you.

While the meeting goes on and you multitask with the spreadsheet open on your screen, you think you hear your name being tossed around. To your knowledge, everything is lined up already and unless there is some sort of overnight emergency, there's absolutely nothing left on your plate to take care of.

At the same time, there is also the off-chance that someone decides to drag you into hell with them and include you in a project. Now, who could possibly have the audacity to put you into the wringer with them?

"Daishou! Excellent, I'll leave this to you," the boss exclaims. "This pitchbook needs to be done by tomorrow. It's high urgency and the client just sent the numbers in."

A sinking feeling begins to churn in your stomach. You pause your frenzy across the keyboard and pay attention to the meeting to hear the rest of what Daishou has to say.

"If I may," Daishou curtly asks with a smile that's a tad too wide, "I'd like to work with Y/N on this. As you know, we work best together. It'll be done before the meeting tomorrow."

You can feel everyone's eyes turn to you in the meeting room, begging you to please say yes to the man holding titles such as your boyfriend, co-worker, and also 'royal pain-in-the-ass'. You force a smile and match Daishou's client-ready, saccharine expression. "Of course, we'll have it done tonight."

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the entire meeting room relaxes by ten notches. Bastards, all of you.

"Our firm's best duo!" the boss praises, "We'll leave it to you two then. Meeting adjourned."

It's the two words everyone has been waiting for. The moment the syllable falls, the conference room is filled with the sounds of shifting seats and scuffling feet eager to leave work for the day. With a huff, you shut your laptop and see Daishou coming around the conference table with his laptop and files tucked under his arm. He adjusts and tugs on his tie.

"Guess it's you and me again tonight," Daishou comments.

"And here I wanted to leave work early for once."

"Hey, just a special date night. It's called 'overtime', sounds pretty sexy don't you think?"

You snort and walk past him, going towards the direction of the elevator. Daishou eyes your figure strutting down the hall. The lines of your ironed shirt and the pencil skirt that hugs your figure perfectly match the echoing clack of your heels striking shiny tiles.

Even if you don't remember, Daishou's impeccable memory absolutely remembers how the last time you paired that shirt and that skirt together, it was an overtime situation very much similar to tonight. And the cock that's starting to grow hard in his slacks certainly remembers a lot more. He can feel it twitching just trying to conjure up the sensation of your gummy walls milking him in the breakroom a month ago.

"You coming or what?"

Daishou sees you holding the elevator door open and waiting for him. Daishou won't ever admit to this, maybe to you in privacy, but Daishou will rather be dead than admit to anyone else how lucky he feels to have someone as incredible as you in his life.

He takes a few quick steps and enters the elevator.

"How sweet," he coos. "I knew you wouldn't just leave me hanging and working in this dismal place all alone."

"Shut-up, Suguru," you snap, but you lean your head against his shoulder anyway. It's been such a long day already, and the night is only going to be longer.

"Stay the night at my place later? I'll order your favorite."

"Let's get this project over with first."

"I caught you staring at me during the meeting."

"Huh, is that so."

"Practically stripped me naked with your eyes. Ooh, I felt tingles all over."

You lift your head from his shoulder. "You're so full of yourself Suguru," you remark before tugging on his tie to pull his face closer to yours. "If anything, I think you're the one getting hard at work."

Daishou leans in even closer. A hand encircles your wrist and his thumb brushes your inner-wrist across the bump of the vein. Your pulse is throbbing against his fingertips. You feel your adrenaline and anticipation rushing through your body as your heart pounds harder and faster.

"Then do something to help poor lil' me out?"

"At your place later, we—"

"But I want you so badly right now," Daishou breathes out, body tight against you so you can feel his straining desires through the layers of fabric. "I want—

Ding.

The elevator opens up to the floor the two of you work at. The co-workers waiting for the lift can only see two pristine and exemplary office workers without any semblance of dishevelment walk out. Daishou even says a polite "see you tomorrow" to them.

"If only the elevator stopped working," you joke after taking a deep breath to swallow the fire building in your core. "Sly snake, no one here in the office knows your true colors."

Sometimes, you wonder just how Daishou can switch his persona so quickly. Or maybe he just likes the precarious edge of being horny at work.

"Love you too dear," he sneers.

A couple workers are still at their desks scrambling for their deadlines. You and Daishou take a seat at your work stations and begin to chip away at the urgent, overtime project. Every now and then, you'll say good-night to the other remaining co-workers finally able to go home. It doesn't take long before the halls are completely vacated and empty except for the two of you still slaving away in front of the bright monitors for hours into the night.

"Where are you going?" you ask Daishou who is returning to his seat after disappearing down the hall again. "This is the third time in the last hour. Are you shitting in the toilets or dumping all the work on me?"

Daishou comes by your desk and leans on the back of your chair. "Just making some phone calls. Want to go home now? It's getting late."

"Uh...work's not done yet."

"It's fine, let's have dinner first, we can just work remotely at my place. The bulk is done anyway."

You glance at the clock and ponder Daishou's offer. It doesn't hurt to leave a little early and continue the work later in a more comfortable setting. "Okay, let me pack."

After cleaning up the workstation and packing everything the two of you will need, you and Daishou are back in the hallway waiting for the descending elevator.

Daishou takes the heavy tote bag from your shoulders. “I’ll hold onto this,” he explains.

“Why so nice today, Suguru? First luring me over with food, the compliments, and suggestions to leave early…” You trace a finger along the line of his spine and observe, pleased with the nervous grin spreading on his face. “Someone’s losing patience, hm?”

Daishou gives you an ingratiating smile. “Princess, as fancy as our work is, we still work in client-services. What can I say, I live to serve and please.”

“Cheeky.”

The elevator arrives and the two of you enter the space.

"How long do you think we still need?" you ask Daishou.

"Must we talk about work, right now?"

"You're just horny, Suguru."

"Oh, so it's 'just' me, is that what it is?"

You shrug and admit, "Nah, I was wondering why you didn't suggest anything earlier when the office was empty."

"Baby, if you wanted me that bad, you should've just climbed on my lap."

You laugh at Daishou's retort and prepare a comeback. "I think—"

A loud screech sounds through the elevator and the lights flicker briefly before a jolt causes you to stumble. Your hand automatically flies to the handrail. Daishou also wraps an arm around you tightly to steady your balance.

"Is the..."

"Seems like we're stuck," Daishou comments.

You rapidly press the service bell button, but it's no use. "No one's picking up, it's like the signal got cut. Should've just taken the stairs!"

The cell signal is also terribly weak in the elevator space. There's nothing else to do but wait and see how things play out.

Daishou laughs dryly and smooths his hair back. "We work on the 18th floor, since when do we take the stairs?"

"There's that one evacuation drill..." you reply weakly.

Daishou raises an eyebrow, giving you a look that says, really now?

"You're right, we're doomed. Last moments and—"

"With the love of your life, isn't that pleasant a way to go?" Daishou tightens his arms around you. "Don't worry, it's all going to be okay."

You reciprocate and respond to his hug, while your brain searches for a solution. "I once saw on the internet that if the elevator drops, you have to time your jump right before the elevator hits the ground floor. Otherwise—"

"Shhh," Daishou shushes you quietly with a quick kiss. He rocks you from side to side and reassures you again that everything is okay.

"Trust me, it'll be okay. Let's just have a little fun while we're waiting," he suggests one hand already tracing up your thigh. "Maybe it'll relax all those nerves you've been holding onto."

Daishou wants to laugh. Whose nerves exactly? Do you have any idea how he’s been counting the minutes and seconds for this moment while you innocently worked on the project like the good, model worker that you are?

It took everything in him to somehow put down a few excel formulas and not shove the monitors onto the floor to fuck you senseless across the worktables. Not to mention, the pleasure of having those witty remarks that spurt out from that little mouth of yours replaced with incomprehensible whines and begs for your precious Suguru to fill you to the brim. And now that you also admit to thinking along the same lines earlier, Daishou knows the dirty little thoughts clouding into your mind already.

Some slut that you are, acting proper and put-together at work, basking in the praise from co-workers and the boss; they just don’t know how ten minutes after those morning touchpoint meetings, you are bouncing on Daishou’s cock in a hidden corner while the financial markets open for the day. It’s an art, really, the number of quicks you two manage to fit into the crevices of a busy office schedule. But that’s why Daishou is one of the best employees of the firm. Daishou Suguru works quickly. He works efficiently.

The patterns Daishou's fingers trace tickle and send shivers up the skin. His low voice and hot breath across your ear elicits a soft gasp as you press your thighs together in the tight, figure-hugging skirt, seeking some hidden relief for the needy throb inside. The scrap of fabric down there is barely able to soak up the wetness beginning to pool. You are pressed up against him for comfort and security, your breasts plush against his chest. Each inhale and exhale you take is a test of patience.

"T-there's a camera," you remind him through shaky breaths, eyes flickering to the black mechanism in the corner. This is your final thread.

Daishou eyes the camera that is staring expectantly at the tryst about to happen in the cramped space with a wicked grin. Like that has ever bothered you, but if you want to play coy, he’ll humor you. He pinches the soft flesh on your thighs. "But we both know you're an attention whore. Always wanting to be the center of attention?"

You bite your lip to stop a whimper and look away, unwilling to admit that Daishou is completely right. You're already squirming in anticipation and delight. How cute, Daishou savors before deftly undoing the first two buttons of your crisp blouse. He has all of your clothes memorized, and how to take them off in the least amount of steps. At this point, it's completely second nature, and even if it isn't, the particular outfit you are wearing today has a special pedestal in Daishou's memory of interests. He pulls the tucked fabric apart to expose your delicate neckline and the soft curves of your breasts in the bra.

Oh, this one? What a coincidence then. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhales the scent of your lingering fragrance. His hot breath and tantalizing lips drag across your collarbone, brushing your sensitive skin.

"So fucking sexy. Let's put on a show shall we?"

The thread snaps.

You harshly tug on the Daishou’s tie and capture his lips with yours. Daishou presses his body even closer, resting a forearm right above your head to cage you against the elevator wall. You wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair, as you meld into the searing kiss. The zipper of your skirt is tugged and the fabric is pushed up to your waist. His hand snakes up your thigh and a thumb hooks the side of your panties, pulling the soaked scrap down.

"Step," he instructs, pulling your panties down all the way and guiding your heeled feet out. "Don't want them dropping on the floor," he says, tucking the bunched fabric into his shirt pocket.

"Touch me, please," you beg, pulling Daishou back to you. You grab his hand and lead him to between your legs, grinding yourself against his thick fingers for some relief.

“No need to rush, the elevator isn't getting fixed anytime soon," he coos, "We're not going to get distracted this time."

Daishou spreads your lips apart and rubs along your sensitive bud, coating his digits with your slick. "Fuck, you're so wet already," he marvels before slipping a finger in and then another.

Daishou pumps his fingers in and out of your sopping pussy, occasionally dragging over to circle your clit. "That's it, isn't it?" he groans, feeling your walls clench around his fingers when he finds the spot that has you falling apart into streams of whines and mewls.

Daishou withdraws his fingers and brings the glistening digits up for you to see. "How much are you enjoying this? Wanting to be fucked in an elevator, watched by who knows who behind that camera."

You whimper and watch Daishou take the coated fingers in his mouth, licking off every drop of you. "You taste so good," he breathes, before pulling you into a kiss and letting you have a taste of your own arousal.

You break out of the kiss and turn around, resting your hands on the handrail. "S-Suguru, want you in me," you beg. You bend over just enough for your Daishou to see how much more wet you've gotten from tasting yourself on him. Your glistening hole is dripping and desperately clenching around nothing.

"Patience, princess." Daishou quickly unbuckles his belt and lets the cock pressing against his tight slacks spring free. He prepares to give himself a few more strokes but you reach behind and slap his hand away, replacing the hand on his cock with your own.

"Fuck," he groans, bucking his hips into your hands. "Always the impatient one."

"Hurry...please."

The building anticipation is making your knees weak and head dizzy already. You keep both hands on the handrails for support and squirm over trying to better line yourself for that thickness you need to fill your hole.

"Shit, stop teasing me!"

Beep.

The emergency intercom you pressed when the elevator first malfunctioned finally lights up. The line connects after a moment of static and radio noise and temporarily shocks a thread of rationality into your thoughts.

"Hello? Hello? Are we connected now, finally? Hello? Can you hear me?" the voice urges from the other end.

"Ah-" you gasp out, feeling Daishou fingers draw out slow circles on your clit. You press your lips tightly together to muffle a moan.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, can you hear me?"

Daishou leans next to your ear. "Answer them, sweetheart." The tip of his cock teases the entrance of your pussy, running along the wet lips. "Do well and I'll give it to you."

You manage, with difficulty, squeak out, "Y-yes!"

"Good girl."

Your legs buckle slightly when you feel Daishou's thick cock being pushed into you, finally giving you the gratification you have been craving during Daishou's ministrations.

"Oh, careful now, don't want you falling over," Daishou's grip on your hips tightens and he groans at how warm, wet and tight you are around him. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good," he mutters under his breath.

The speaker buzzes again. "Great, finally connected. Ma'am are you doing okay still?"

"Yes!" you cry out as Daishou gives a firm and deep thrust; a wave of pleasure shoots through you.

"Don't panic, our team is already coming—" The line disconnects as abruptly.

Daishou revels at how your soft walls hug and clench around him. By all means, he didn't expect the interruption happening at all. It seems like you are not the only impatient person, he wonders, before flashing a nasty look at the camera in the corner and flipping said object off.

"Come on, princess,” he encourages and pats the side of your ass lightly. “Let me hear how pretty you sound."

"Sugu—" you gasp out, feeling the tip of his cock rocking into you. "R-right there right, ah—"

"Yea, you like that?" Daishou groans, pushing into you again feeling your walls clamp around him so tightly. So perfectly. It's addicting and all he can do is thrust in and out, over and over again. Each time seeking out the sounds of your pretty moans when you are completely filled and stuffed with him.

Lewd squelches and the slaps of skin meeting flesh fill the elevator space, along with Daishou’s grunts and your pants. Your hips meet each of Daishou’s thrusts in perfect rhythm, taking his entire length until the base. You can feel each stroke dragging along your walls, the size and length of his cock pushing against your tightness and prodding your cervix.

Neither of you can bother with any other distractions now that bliss is just teetering on the edge. Daishou pulls out and turns you around so you face him. He then scoops you up from under your ass with your legs spread over his forearms and hoists you up against the elevator wall. You feel the stinging cold from the cylindrical edge of the handrail as a dubious support against your heated skin.

"Suguru!" you squeal out, "I'll fall! I'll—"

"I got you, don't worry," Daishou reassures, "You're okay, I won't let you fall."

Once he feels your arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, Daishou slides into you again with a loud squelch.

"We're right outside now! Won't be long before we get you two out." A loud voice calls out from beyond the shut elevator doors.

"Smile for the camera, princess," Daishou encourages before picking up the pace, chasing the high that's just around the corner. His thrusts become faster and rougher, hitting your sweet spot deep inside you over and over again making your mind spin. The countless reflected images of Daishou's unrelenting pursuit and speed, and the expression of your fucked out face collide together in a blurry, infinite kaleidoscope.

“Gonna cum! Gonna-”

All thoughts leave your mind with each ragged breath as you near your own edge. You can only cling onto Daishou tightly, nails digging into his shoulder and back. You don't hear the sounds of mechanical whirring outside the elevator. Whatever it is that the people are shouting outside does not matter. The bright lights don't make any sense to you anymore. You don't even remember what Daishou Suguru looks like.

The blank stare from the camera is the last thing you see before you squeeze your eyes shut, face tucked in the crook of Daishou’s neck, and body feeling like putty in his arms. All that's left is the euphoria sparking through and broken syllabylic babbles you struggle to utter out.

With a few final thrusts, Daishou grunts and pulls you completely flush against his hips, finally spilling himself into you. Release after a long day never feels this sweet, Daishou muses as he holds your languid body close. Each deep breath you take only pushes your soft breast against his chest, and Daishou can feel your spasming walls still hugging him. He peppers a few kisses on your sweat covered brow. So good, so fucking good.

The voices and mechanical whirs outside interrupt Daishou’s moment.

That’s right, we’re still in this damn elevator. Daishou carefully pulls out his softened and twitching cock and lowers your wobbly form down from your make-shift seat. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the drool from your face then lightly dab away the trail of mixed fluids seeping out of your puffy cunt. The overly saturated handkerchief does a poor job soaking away the mess the two of you made.

Daishou reaches for the crumpled panties he shoved into the shirt pocket, but decides against letting you wear it. In your current state, your legs are like a newborn deer, barely able to support you let alone try to maneuver into underwear.

"Once we get back to my place, I'll draw us a bath.”

The increasingly loud mechanical clamor and sounds of the elevator workers pull you out of your daze for a moment too. You try to fumble around and haphazardly button your shirt, but the buttons miss their proper buttonhole by one. You pout and look at Daishou who just buckled his belt and tucked in the edges of his crumpled shirt. He looks ready for a client meeting already, if not for the obvious smell of sex clinging into him.

Daishou chuckles at your state and helps you slip into his long coat. He kisses your brow again in apology. "Sorry baby, just bear with it for a moment."

"Hungry."

"Yes, yes. I'll order your favorite too, like I promised."

You nod, pleased with his answer.

Ding.

The doors of the elevator open, to the relief of the elevator workers outside. They were in the process of getting ready to pry the doors open, but it seems like the elevator is back to normal already.

"Sir, Ma'am, we apologize for our tardiness."

Daishou waves a hand. "Not at all, it was fine. My girlfriend," he nods to your hidden form in the coat, "a bit frazzled, that's all."

Daishou's coat is like a bathrobe and hides absolutely everything. Turn up the collar, hide your face in Daishou's neck, and no one can see the mess that you are still underneath the thick layer. If they don't look, they won't know about the cum that's already dripping out and trailing down the curves of your legs into your scuffed heels.

"Is she okay? If there are any problems, we can direct you to-"

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of her. Thanks for helping fix the elevator." Not that there was anything wrong with it to begin with.

"We'll be inspecting all the elevators in the building as well. We assure you this will never happen again."

The musty smell of sweat and sex is all that lingers in the elevator, but it'll dissipate soon enough. Maybe there are tiny puddles of your juices on the tiles but the 5 A.M. cleaning workers will wipe it all away. By tomorrow, the elevator and rest of the building will be just the way it always is again. The stainless steel is cold, and the glass panels are pristine. In the early hours of the morning, leather shoes and heels will be strutting around on the marbled floors. Phone calls. Printers. Clients. Meetings. And more overtime.

Daishou smirks to himself, supporting just about your entire weight. His phone rings in his coat pocket. He reaches for the device and answers the call. Those bastards.

"Heh, glad you enjoyed the show you fucker. And tell Kenma, 'that was a dick move he pulled back there.'"

He listens to the response from the other line.

"Yea sure, thanks for hacking the system...uh huh, tell him to cum in your dirty sock-rag then...yea whatever, go eat shit."

Daishou ends the call and shoves the phone into his pocket.

"Su-gu-ru..." you mumble.

"Yes princess?"

"...Pitchbook..."

Daishou presses a light kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

Even all fucked out, you still manage to not forget about corporate responsibilities, some overachieving show-off you are. After getting you cleaned up and warm, he'll finish up any remaining work. Daishou Suguru works quickly. He works efficiently.

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #daishou x reader smut #daishou smut #daishou x reader #tw exhibitionism #tw voyeurism #emi.freshtea #ch daishou #in celebration of cleaning up the main whooowheeewhoo #🍵.daishou

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ellaofoakhill · 3 years

Text

My Thoughts on Boxes

Something has kinda been bugging me the last little while, that I like to think a lot of people can relate to. We live in a society that, generally speaking, likes putting things into boxes; we like analyzing and sorting and organizing. And there’s nothing really wrong with that in and of itself--frankly, I could stand to do a lot more of it in the more practical aspects of my life--but such a system only really works with things that easily fit into discreet categories, and the things that aren’t or can’t be easily sorted are either forced into a box where they don’t fit, or left adrift without any real place to be.

In particular, I’m talking about fiction. You have numerous genres that multiply by the day, and the age categories that stories within those genres are deemed suitable for. And don’t get me wrong, there are lots of practical reasons for those categories; they make advertising and the organization of bookstores and libraries dramatically easier, and for most stories, this system works great, with each finding the audience most likely to derive benefit from reading it.

But--again, solely my opinion here--this may have produced stories that are a lot flatter than stories written in previous eras (which had their own problems, I will NOT get into that today). By flat, I don’t mean boring, or a failure of the story. I mean that the story feels like it was changed to fit into the category it most closely matched. In the most egregious examples, I feel like things were either added to a story that did nothing for it besides make it fit its box better, or taken out that were either integral to the story or added a depth and breadth to it that improved the work overall, even if that made it harder to sort.

This makes me think of the Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch quote, “Murder your darlings”, but completely opposite to what he was getting at. The general interpretation is “Even if you like a given piece of writing/painting/sculpture/etc., if it does more bad than good for your work, you need to remove it for the sake of the art.” What I feel is happening is “You need to change your story so it fits the target demographic, no matter what it looks like at the end.” The former serves the story and its spirit; the latter sacrifices the story for... I don’t know, ease of advertising, perhaps? Certainly financial gain is involved there.

So my first argument against this jaded, greedy way of thinking runs thus. Look at the stories that are now considered classics of Western literature: look at Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice; look at White Fang and Call of the Wild; look at Dracula and Frankenstein; look at The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia (no, I couldn’t resist throwing in two classic fantasy titles, and no, I won’t apologize for it). If you haven’t read these stories, you probably should. Yes, they have problems that mark them as products of their time, but every last one of them has one thing in common: none of them were written with a box in mind. We’ve thought of lotr as a fantasy staple for so long that we’ve forgotten that, prior to its popularity, fantasy as a genre wasn’t really a thing. There were fairy-tales, yes, and stories with fantastical elements, but a genre of story with precise conventions? Not really.

Let’s zoom in on Tolkien’s work, for a moment. Look at his world and its origins, and it draws heavy inspiration from Old English and Scandinavian myths and legends. Look at his characters, in particular his four hobbits, and he drew from his love of the English countryside, his respect for the common working man (Sam, the gardener, literally carries Frodo, the wellbred young gentleman, on his shoulders in the final leg of their gruelling journey to the Cracks of Doom), and his horrific experiences in the First World War. Hilariously enough, a big part of the reason he wrote the stories was as a self-justification for his indulgence in and lifelong love affair with language invention (look at the huge appendices at the back of The Return of the King and tell me I’m lying!). Read his work and any and all interviews with him, and a “genre box” seems clearly to have never crossed his mind.

Putting aside the genre box for a moment, let’s talk age categories. The Hobbit was a story he invented for his children, and it does show. Look at the Lord of the Rings, and it is clearly at a higher level of reading comprehension, and written for a more mature audience; there’s less silliness, though he keeps the wonder at this wild, magical world. But where to put it? The hobbits run a spectrum from basically teenagers (Pippin) to almost middle age (Frodo is in his fifties when he embarks on his journey to Rivendell), yet they’re clearly his protagonists, though we also see some narration revolving around Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, all of whom are adults, though the latter two are somewhat younger for their respective races, whereas Aragorn is in his eighties (this being offset somewhat by the fact that he lives to over two hundred, but I digress...). We’re told today (falsely; VERY falsely) that the main character(s) should match the age of their target audience. Where does lotr fit, then, in terms of age category?

The answer you’re looking for is: not really very well anywhere; at least, not according to modern convention. As for my personal experience, I could and did read both The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion at age thirteen. I consider myself a fairly intelligent young man, but I was varying degrees of lost when I read those. When I re-read them as an adult I was fine, but that isn’t to imply that teens shouldn’t be reading lotr, far from it. There’s nothing in them content-wise one wouldn’t reasonably expect a teenager to handle, and there’s a lot of good, powerful story and commentary in there that’s relevant to this day.

My point is, the age category doesn’t really matter. If I may shamelessly plug my own work for a moment, when I was first writing tftem, and even as I’m editing and publishing it now, I wondered and still wonder about this age category business. There is nothing in these stories I’d consider inappropriate for kids, and anyone above the age of about 8, with perhaps a slight stretch to their vocabulary, could comfortably read every story beginning to end. Further complicating matters, my beta readers ranged from 8 to almost 80, and most of the spectrum in between. They all liked it; whether they liked it for the same reasons is moot.

Which leads me into my second argument against boxing and categorizing stories. The boxes aren’t very reliable. If I may change media for a moment, cultural convention says, as an adult, there is only a narrow sleazy strip of cartoon entertainment I should be watching and enjoying. That tiny slice of the cartoon pie is the only slice I avoid like the plague. Yes, there are stories that don’t appeal to me because they’re too simplistic, or are problematic in ways that I find repellent, or just aren’t executed very well, but aside from things aimed at toddlers and the aforementioned “adult” cartoons, any cartoon is fair game. Give me an interesting concept, or a fascinating character, or hell just give me a good laugh or line of dialogue or beautiful fight scene, and I’ll give it a try.

My point is (yes I had one, and no, believe it or not I didn’t forget it), don’t write or draw or create with a box in mind. You will murder the spirit of your darlings. The box does not exist to define what you, the writer, are allowed to do, or what you should do. At best, the box exists in hindsight, once the work is done, to tell your prospective audience whether your story was written for them. And even then, lots of fantastic stories don’t sit well in boxes. Some of them actively rip the boxes to pieces. Lotr is a story that transcends boxes, and as a result has many layers and rabbit-holes and nuances that you can pick up when you’re ready to appreciate them, however old you are. In many ways, it’s ageless.

I didn’t write tftem to emulate Tolkien, nor even as an homage to him, or C.S. Lewis, or anyone else. But I did want to write a similarly ageless story, a story that could be read and appreciated a hundred years from now, by an audience of eight-year-olds or octogenarians. Why did we ever start moving away from stories like this? They were the foundation of stories for as long as stories have existed on Earth. People are still reading and marvelling at The Epic of Bloody Gilgamesh!

Tl;dr: don’t try to force your stories into boxes; they suffocate. Write what you enjoy writing; chances are it’ll live longer.

#writing #my posts #the box must fit the story not the other way around #on writing #on publishing #tolkien #lotr #my thoughts on the industry and its flaws

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lemonjoonah · 5 years

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No fr how long does a sex scene have to be to make a believable orgasm?? Is there a point where it gets too long ?? What DO blowjobs feel like?? How much detail should go into this dick? 🤔

LMAO 😂 thank you for this Anon! I’m going to try to answer these to the best of my ability, but just remember I ask myself these question of myself because I’m still not 100% sure on the best routes to take. A lot of it has to do with personal preference, my writing style, and editing process. In addition the answers might change from story to story.

Warning: Rated M (for sexual content)

-How long does a sex scene have to be to make a believable orgasm?

The reason why I typically ask myself this question is that I’m a very ‘straight to the point writer.’ I often find it difficult to stretch scenes like this so I use this as a safe guard to make sure that I do the scene justice.

There can also be so many factors related to this question. What lead up to this point? Was there foreplay? Has the MC been lusting after this character for a while? What erogenous zones are being stimulated? (This always reminds me of the scene in Friends when they’re discussing the best order of those zones).

I don’t go based on word count but I like to make sure that at least a few of these zones have been well tended to and usually finish of with both clit and vaginal stimulation (a personal preference…).

Now a do have an MC in a WIP who has had a bit of difficulty reaching that climax in the past, so of course those scenes are going to have to be far longer to be believable. So in the end it’s going to be different for every story based on the factors listed above.

-Is there a point where it gets too long?

I’ve never personally seen any feedback on any story saying that a smut scene was too long. Heck if you want to write a 30K sex scene I would say go for it, and be sure to send me a link!!! But just make sure to keep it fresh or eyes might start to wander down the page. I personally find that dialogue always draws me back into a story. A heated conversation is always a good way to pull a reader back in if you find your descriptions becoming to long.

-What DO blowjobs feel like?

Okay, so there’s kind of a funny story behind why I asked myself this question. When I was writing Let the Villain Win, I knew that I wanted Namjoon to write his point of view of their intimate moment in his own book. The only problem was I had no idea what it would be like to be on the receiving end. Soooo I asked my boyfriend… 😂. Unfortunately he wasn’t helpful at all, he said that he didn’t know how to describe it, mumbling something about pressure and sensitivity. Even my beta (god love her) @m00nchild-shi asked her boyfriend and he didn’t really have an answer either.

Instead I ended up working around the problem. Taking from personal experience, I had Namjoon focus on the specific actions which he really enjoyed, rather than the feeling itself. Still not quite sure what it feels like and I’m kinda hesitant to google it…

-How much detail should go into this dick?

This is something I am very much still working on figuring out myself. Right now I am leaning to the idea that it is completely based on your MC. Since your seeing the world through their eyes, you have to ask yourself, what would they focus on? What are they looking to get out of this intimate moment? Would they flat out focus on what their partners dick looked like?

You’ll notice in Beastly Gods there’s very little description when it comes to Taehyung’s dick. That’s due to the fact that the MC is far more focused on his wings, both the look and the feel as they drag down her bare back. Sure she likes Taehyung at this point but the allure of his wings are what draws her too him, far more than his dick 😂.

Now on the opposite end of the dick description spectrum I am going to reference one of my favourite author’s works, Void by @btssavedmylifeblr. The main character in this story is a highly detail oriented science officer who has spent the last two years completely deprived of cock. You bet she’s going to focus on every aspect of an erection. The descriptions are so brilliantly written, mixing the descriptions along with actions that make the MC lust after it even more.

Keeping descriptions faithful to what a character would see in my opinion is absolutely key, so in the end just follow their lead!

#i hope this helps!

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wichols · 4 years

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This is my first time ever doing any type of fan prompted writing event for myself and let me tell you I have some thoughts!!

But before thoughts let’s talk numbers.

Start Date: 1/8/2020

End Date: 1/24/2020

Total Fics Created: 9

Total Word Count Posted: 11,935

Prompts Received Anonymously: 5

Prompts Received By Users: 4

Longest Fic: Burning Intentions (2,203)

Shortest Fic: Attorney First, Wife Second (754)

Thoughts:

It was interesting to see which pairs and couples my general audience was requesting. By far the two most popular requests where anything to deal with Kyoya (my OTP) and Mori. You wanted my two favorite boys to get some comfort and happy endings and I was happy to supply them. Now that I step back and look at them, I will give you little fun facts or interesting thoughts I had while writing each one (mostly because I think it is interesting how writers explain their process of writing or their opinions on their own writings). The list starts chronologically from first to last fic posted.

1. Bland Cereal & Pregnancy Brain (Mori x Haruhi)

I imagine that of all the hosts these two will have the closest thing to what Haruhi would deem a normal life. They will make time for each other and always try to check in on each other. If Haruhi wants normal life filled with a steady stream of love then Mori is her guy. I giggled my way through this prompt at Haruhi and her oblivious nature (my favorite quality about her). This prompt took two sittings to complete. The first to write it and second to edit. Overall one of the quicker ones I wrote in this batch.

2. Attorney First, Wife Second (Kyoya x Haruhi)

This fic is one of my favorites that I have written. It is also the first posted fic where stuff gets steamy. I was gasping and eeping the whole time writing their steamy elevator interactions. This story took 1 sitting to write, edit, and post.

3. Solemn Tears (Kyoya x Mori)

As stated in the original post this is the first-ever M/M fic I have written. IT WAS SO HARD. Not because it was M/M but because both characters don’t really ever let their guards down long enough for them to cry. Not only that, I really had to dig and analyze what would really push them to the point that they would cry. Have you ever seen two brick walls cry? Cause I sure haven’t! Their dynamic is interesting and I am glad that I got this prompt to stretch my writing skills. Multiple sittings required because I had no idea how I was going to write it.

4. Shrouded Kiss (Kyoya x Haruhi x Tamaki)

Oh, the angst! Out of all the fics posted this one felt the most OOC. My first thought when I received the prompt was, “Kyoya never does anything by accident.” Haruhi was a little OOC in my opinion but that’s because of how Kyoya proposed the idea of finding love. Do I believe what he says about only knowing once you have tried things with different people? No, but there is merit to say that each relationship and person you are with is going to feel different. Some people are just naturally passionate people while others are more subtle with their love. From what I recall this was a pretty easy write and edit.

5. Obliviously Pregnant (Kyoya x Haruhi)

Haruhi probably couldn’t even surprise Kyoya with a pregnancy even if she tried. She might not have married a doctor but when you marry into a family who is a leader in the medical business nothing will stay a secret for long. On top of that, I am sure that Haruhi is so focused on work that she would actually just convince herself that she is sick rather than being pregnant. Now reader, I know you are curious as to why I decided to bless them with twins. Well, you see…..plot device. That’s really it. Plus, after I asked Google about multiples and pregnancy I was plagued with diaper ads. Note to self, use incognito more often when asking questionable questions.

6. Salmon Side Effects (Tamaki x Haruhi)

This was the first “Free Space” prompt. And I was in the thick of writing and posting. By the time I got to this prompt, I was tired. Not long after I got this prompt I experienced a depressive episode and spent the week slowly crawling out of the pit. I just couldn’t bring myself to work on this fic. I knew I would have to write Tamaki super excited and all I could think about was trying to make it throughout the day without crying. But I got out of the pit and finished it. Multiple sittings needed for completion.

7. Unyielding Devotion (Mori x Haruhi)

I am not sure when it comes to other writers but I cannot read and write fic at the same time. And after binge writing the last few fics I needed a break. I needed to read some fic! One night I was scrolling through FF.Net and decided it was time to start working through my 70+ fics waiting to be read. Picked a fic and I was off to the races (Something Honorable This Way Comes by ilovemori9). It was sweet and wonderful and totally the opposite of a break-up prompt. I think with the break up he was trying to do right by her, wanting her to not be held back by what was required of him. When I first started brainstorming this prompt I was going to have Kyoya lurking in the shadows waiting to take Haruhi as his own but the story wrote itself and it wrote Kyoya out of the story. I think it is better that way.

8. Broken Banner (Mori x Haruhi)

TINY HAMMER! Running joke between @ohshcscenerios and myself. This was such a fun story to write! Once I started I just had to finish. I don’t normally lean towards cute and innocent so it was a nice change of pace. Mori is held in high regard but he is, after all, a high school 3rd year. And he has a soft spot for Haruhi. Also, did you know that Mori is 6’2” while Haruhi is 5’1”? How do you accidentally kiss someone who is a foot taller than you?? So part of the issue in creating this story was how to get their mouths close enough to bump lips. I think the outcome suited the prompt. This was a two sitting story.

9. Burning Intentions (All Characters)

The final prompt….this prompt I tell you what. I will be honest I loathed this prompt in the beginning. I was utterly at a loss as to how I was going to write this. I opened the doc, stared at the prompt and closed the doc multiple times over the span of a week. It was like that episode of Spongebob where he had to write an essay and he felt like he was doing so much work but all he did was the fancy-looking “The”. I almost gave up on it. I almost posted an apology instead of actually trying to write something. In a last-ditch effort, I pulled up Pinterest and searched the word ‘fire’. And then an idea hit me! I wrote part of it one night and finished it up the next day. This story quickly became a favorite because of the witty banter between the hosts. I was laughing at my own writing. I am now very proud of this story!

Final Thoughts & What’s Next?

Throughout the last 16 days, I have accomplished many things when it comes to writing! I went from only having posted 4 fics to now having 13 fics. Today (1/24/2020) on FF.Net Boundless Opportunities (Kyoya x Haruhi) reached 200+ views. On top of the 11,935 words I have posted I have also written an additional 9,124 words for other projects I am currently working on. That is a grand total of 21,059 words written from January 1-24! In my free time, I also finished The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins and am 13 chapters deep with The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. On top of everything else, I created a beta profile! I have done so much this month and I want to thank everyone for their support and kind words! They really do me so much to me!

January has been busy! So I am looking forward to celebrating Freedom February!! I am giving myself permission to do whatever I want in February. I still have 11 more paper books to finish as well as 100+ fanfiction stories waiting patiently waiting to be shown attention. Basically what I am saying is I want to spend more time doing other hobbies as well as work on some of my wips that I have been neglecting since I started this project.

Speaking of wips I will be spending February obviously working on my Kasanoda x Haruhi fic but also an idea that sprung up into my head this past week produced a very interesting idea for an AU bad boy fic with Hikaru x Haruhi that has some potential to become another multi-chapter story. Too soon to say if anything will come of it but I want to keep my options open!

TL;DR: January was crazy. Lots of writing. Background information for each fic posted from the bingo prompts. A list of January achievements. Don’t expect me to post anything prolific in February. Using my free time to explore hobbies other than writing. Diving headfirst into digital and paperback stories. Hopefully, make progress on my two main unposted projects. Stay tuned for updates and questions regarding my wips. Thanks!

Special shout out to @ohshcscenerios for helping me out so much! Half of my stories wouldn’t be nearly as good without your help!! Thanks for pushing me to write some fluff instead of just sad angsty fics! Go check out the blog for all your burning host club asks.

If you would like to read any of these fics you can find them on Tumblr, AO3, or FF.Net.

#100 hits bingo #OHSHC #ohshc fanfiction #haruhi fujioka #tamaki suoh #Kyoya Ootori #takashi morinozuka #mitskuni haninozuka #hikaru hitachiin #kaoru hitachiin

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rael-rider · 5 years

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So was guardians #9 any good?

It wasn’t awful, I mean some stuff happens in this issue but the story goes at a snail’s pace and that just drives me nuts. You can tell the writer is padding this issue for the trade. The last storyline could have easily been told in three issues and I have the feeling this is going to be the same. I dislike when a writer trade writes and they decompress the hell out of the story because it usually shows that they didn’t plan to make a story that long. A good example of trade writing without excessive padding is the IDW TMNT comic because every issue in that comic has something happening. Even in the issues where the main story line doesn’t advance that much side plots are concluding (or starting) and characters continue developing.

The other thing is that Heather, Phyla, and Beta Ray Bill don’t do much in this issue and haven’t done much in general (Peter, Gamora, and Rocket have been the main focus of these stories and Peter so far is a passive agent for most of it). Heck it’s annoying how much characters get wasted in this title. CGR didn’t do much in the last comic either (now he’s gone and irrelevant), Rich apart from accidentally bringing the Dark Guardians (who were super hyped and now are pretty irrelevant) to Gamora could have immediately left and no one would have noticed. In this story we got Rocket dying and it’s mostly used to keep readers hooked until the very last issue (he most likely won’t die) oh and he’s piloting a giant robot too.

Getting to the issue itself…

We find out this UCT is from a future where Death kills the whole universe which if you read Thanos Quest and Infinity Gauntlet it goes against why Death wanted the universe killed in half. So the UCT are trying to take out Death which if you read Thanos Imperative is a very, very, very bad idea.

Speaking of Thanos Imperative, this UCT is giving me big Cancerverse vibes. They glow purple, hate Death, and have a bunch of tentacles grab people.Also Drax is their UCT’s Messiah that they had in the cocoon (so it’s just him now or multiple Drax’s or are other characters there?). I admit I didn’t expect that but I guess knowing the Church’s motives and again, freaking Thanos Imperative, it’s more obvious. In Thanos Imperative we learn that Drax is the Avatar of Life and the opposite of Thanos who is the Avatar of Death.

He’s even in his old outfit just like he was in Thanos Imperative so now I am more convinced that the Cancerverse might be involved (which I am kind of tired about and I can only accept that universe coming back just so Rich can rescue Worldmind but otherwise they outstayed their welcome and shouldn’t have come back post Thanos Imperative).

Look, Drax had a nice send off in Duggan’s run and I wasn’t expecting it to be permanent but bringing him back this soon just keeps showing me that writers really don’t care much outside the MCU Guardians (just go read Old Man Quill, the writer could introduced so many other Guardians or do a different team and he still chose to do the MCU lineup).

It’s also accentuated more by the fact that Phyla, Heather, and Bill really don’t do much (first subplot was focused on Gamora and Peter, this subplot is mostly about Peter, Rocket, and now Drax. Even Groot gets a lot of moments and scenes focused on him and we get to see his relationship with the other Guardians). Heather moved the plot in this story line but she’s not a central character but hopefully she gets more involved in the story when she meets the resurrected Drax.

Heather and Phyla don’t have that much personality in this other than “we’re cool and we are a couple”. It really bothers me because PAD’s single GotG related Prodigal Sun issue showed a Moondragon with much more personality than all the issues of Cates’ GotG combined. Even in the end we get Phyla and Heather having a discussion about them stopping Prah’d’gul from destroying his people’s sun and we see how they both differ in opinion regarding if they should or not (and you really get to see Heather is all about the “eye for an eye” type of justice and she thinks Prah’d’gul’s actions are justified while Phyla-Vell’s more compassionate and heroic side thinks he needs to be stopped).

I don’t know why Cates is trying to sell me that J’Son is a caring father or that Peter really cares about him. That scene where Peter tells him that J’Son would never kill him, after all that has happened between those two I ain’t buying it. I will never stop saying that they should just retcon J’Son into being Gareth and make it so the actual Jason of Spartax was lost and have him finally meet Peter (and introduce 616 Kip Holm while you’re at it). Bendis’ J’Son was awful and everyone else just made a mess out of it. 616 Peter Quill never needed daddy issues either.

This issue did confirm my theory as to why the Church didn’t brainwash Rich and instead went for Quasar when Peter broke away from J’Son’s brainwashing and J’Son said that the Church had no use for the faithless. Peter and Rich have no faith. Rocket even mentions that he’s hopeless so he might be immune to it.

A lot of people really didn’t pick up why Peter broke the brainwashing but it’s not that very well explained in the story so I don’t blame them. I guess you had to read Ewing’s story in the annual and make the connection but otherwise it isn’t obvious.Rocket, Groot and Moondragon also recruit kid Magus and the most interesting thing about this issue (I don’t expect the writer to do that much with him TBH). I also really want him to meet up with Adam Warlock.

Other than that the Letters pages had some interesting info from the editor like 616 Moondragon being alive (Duggan said she was dead but that was a continuity error) and she might meet regular Moondragon.

There might be plans for Mantis? I hope so.

Also Nova corps confirmed for dead if there was any doubt any of them survived. I guess only Rich and Sam are left for the foreseeable future.

Rosenberg mentioned Rich might even meet with other Novas in Scourge but he could just be hinting at Rich meeting with Sam or something.

All in all still not impressed with this issue but it didn’t bore me as bad as the others. Overall as a story this isn’t that great.

EDIT: I’ll give this issue one huge positive thing though. I like the art and I like the fact that Peter Quill looks tired, older, and more of a mess in this run than in other runs were he’s usually this muscled handsome guy or when they were making him into a pretty boy (which I really disliked because Peter shouldn’t be a pretty boy, he’s should be attractive and somewhere between being ruggedly handsome way and unconventionally attractive? But not pretty). I liked how he looks in this issue.

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joeybelle · 6 years

Text

Oh, how the tables have turned - Epilogue

Clyde Logan x Reader

Inspired by @clyde-prompts: “Some guys are rude and use ableist slurs against Clyde. The reader is with them, and although she feels bad about what’s happening, is too scared to say anything in front of her “friends”. She comes back to the bar a couple nights later to try and show him she’s not a bad person. They get to know each other and fall in love”. Doesn’t fully follow the prompt.

Warnings: Language, first person POV, fluff.

Word count: ~4500

Rating: Mature

Setting: Pre-heist

A.N: So this is the end. I will be keeping the universe open for future one shots regarding their lives, but the main story ends now. Thank you all very much for coming with me this far, for reading and taking the time to like and comment. If you stumble over this fic anytime in the future, even 50 years from now, feel free to leave me a comment, I will always read them even if I will be too old (or too dead) to reply to them all. Love you all, and thank you for reading.

A ton of love and hugs for my beta, @llexeh, the only person in the world that can be more excited for my fics than I am, and the most supportive person on the planet.

Tags: @lonelyravenclaw @kyloren-supreme-ben @onmyknees4steve @elsablackswift @helloimindelaware @mwcritics @makingtimemine @littlekylo

The phone vibrated in my pocket as I tried to not trip on the dangling power cord. ‘I’m online,’ said my mother’s text. I dropped the laptop on the kitchen table and texted her back, telling her to wait a couple of minutes.

Clyde was studying me from the other side of the kitchen, wide eyed, cautiously munching on his bacon as I cursed and tried to untangle the cables. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve gotta skype my mom,” I said, disappearing under the table and trying to force the power cord into a socket. “I didn’t talk to her much since I’ve moved and she’s really eager to tell me about her trip to Europe.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, why? Ow, fuck!” I tried scrambling out and hit my head in the process. “Why do you wanna leave?” I asked, vigorously massaging the top of my head.

“So your mother doesn’t find out I’m here?”

I gave him the side-eye as I took a seat opposite him. It had already been a few weeks since the night with the storm and he had been spending so much time at my house that I was tempted to just tell him to move in. But I knew it might be a little early for a big move like that, especially since he seemed to be a creature of habit, so I just let him organically move all of his stuff to my place. I already had half a wardrobe full of his clothes, since he occasionally dropped by his place to grab some clean ones, and then never bothered to take them back after I washed them. But he was still using the spare toothbrush, and my shampoo to wash his hair; somehow I had the feeling he’d still do that even if he officially moved in.

So mornings like this were pretty common. He’d usually come home after midnight, take a shower and then crawl into bed next to me. I’d wake up to greet him, and we’d fall asleep in each other’s arms. If I went to work the next day, he’d wake up to have breakfast with me and then go back to sleep after I left, but since today was the first day of holiday and I had nowhere else to be, I let him sleep in.

It was a beautiful, rainy morning, droplets rhythmically hitting my windows as I made breakfast (brunch?). I had time to do some chores and drink my coffee before he emerged from the bedroom, looking like a cute and ruffled sasquatch. Mom had called in the meantime and knowing that I’d be home all day she wanted me to call her over Skype, so here I was, side-eyeing Clyde who was chewing on his bacon, as I waited for the laptop to turn on.

“Why do you think I wouldn’t want my mom to know you’re here?” Sometimes his way of thinking baffled me.

“So you don’t have to explain to her… about me. About us.”

I knew this all came from a place of deep insecurity, but sometimes I just didn’t get it how he came to certain conclusions, that were completely ridiculous in my opinion.

“I need exactly two words to explain the situation to her: ‘we’re’ and ‘dating’,” I said, getting up to refill my coffee cup, stealing a kiss on my way to the coffee maker. Bacon kisses were my favourite thing in the morning. “Do you want some more?” I asked, taking the coffee pot with me.

“Yes, please,” he said, pushing his cup forward. He lifted my top a little as I was filling his cup, placing a chain of greasy kisses on my stomach.

“That tickles,” I laughed and he somehow took that as a challenge, grabbed my butt to hold me in place and started blowing raspberries on my stomach, making me almost howl with laughter.

“Stooop,” I whined once I managed to escape his grip. “Look what you made me do,” I said, pointing at the coffee I had spilled on the table in the midst on my laughing fit. I tutted and climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips. He pulled me close to his chest as he kissed me hard, running his hand under my top, caressing the small of my back. He’d squeeze my butt to make me push up against him, grinding my crotch against the rough fabric of his jeans.

It took me a moment to realize that the sound coming from my laptop was in fact the Skype jingle, letting me know that my mom had already gotten bored of waiting for me to call and had taken charge of the situation.

“Shit, mom!” I stumbled out of Clyde’s embrace, but didn’t return to my seat until after I had kissed a few more of the beauty marks peppered across his face. Eventually I sat on my chair and answered the call, trying to fix my top in the time it took Skype to connect.

“Sorry, mom,” I said, after the mandatory ‘hello, can you hear me?’ and ‘I can’t see you turn on the camera’ greetings that came with using Skype. “I got a bit distracted.”

“Did you burn down the house yet?” she asked, crossing her arms, visibly annoyed that I’d let her wait. She had important things to do. She was a retired person, after all.

“I appreciate your trust, but no. Not yet,” I said, trying to think of ways to introduce Clyde to her. I didn’t want to just blurt it out of the blue, especially since I knew she was eager to tell me all about her trip, so I figured I would get that out of the way first. “How was your trip?”

“The trip was great! You should come with us the next time, you would have so much fun.”

“Next time?” It was a good thing that I had brought the coffee pot with me, because I knew I’d need a whole lot of coffee to survive mom’s retelling of the trip. I loved my mom, but she had a way of making any story ten times longer than it would be necessary. So I braced myself, kept the coffee pot close to me and nodded once in a while as she recounted everything in microscopic detail.

Clyde was silently laughing at me from the other side of the table every time my mom said something outrageous and I rolled my eyes so hard I was afraid they’d do a 360. Occasionally he’d hand me a piece of bacon, careful to stay hidden from my laptop’s camera. I loved that we could have moments like this when we didn’t have to use words to understand each other. He was usually a pretty reserved person, preferring to listen instead of speaking, so he was very good at noticing things. After a while I found out that he wasn’t that hard to read either, most of the time he was unable to completely hide his emotions no matter how much he tried.

The roaring of thunder made me jump in my chair and stopped my mom’s narration. “What was that?” she asked, looking a little worried.

“Just the thunder,” I said, taking a few deep breaths to calm my heartbeat. “It’s been raining since last night.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask how you've gone through that storm, I’ve heard it was pretty bad in some areas.”

“Yeah, but not here. There was some flooding in the next town, but luckily nothing serious happened here. Just some broken trees and power lines.”

“Oh, that’s good. I was really worried about that leaky roof. Did you manage to fix it before the storm?”

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you about that?” I was certain I’d at least texted her about it, but I might have remembered wrong. My memory wasn’t that great at my old age.

“Did you hire someone to do it? Did it cost you a lot?”

“Nope. The Logan brothers fixed it for me. Almost for free.” I glimpsed over the monitor and I saw that Clyde had stopped chewing and I could almost hear him swallow. “It only costed me a mountain of muffins.”

“Oh, the Logans. Are they still living there?”

Clyde had straightened his back, pressing himself into the wall like he was trying to melt into it at some point. I had a feeling he didn’t like where this was going.

“Mhm,” I replied, keeping my eyes on him trying to tell him mentally that everything was going to be alright. I hoped.

“Those were a pair of lovable airheads,” my mom laughed. “Did you know that the youngest had a crush on you?”

“Yeah, I just found out.” Clyde seemed to slowly, but steadily, lose all the colour in his face. “Jimmy told me.”

“Oh, poor kid. What was his name? Was it Clyde by chance?” I nodded and my mom laughed again. “He was so in love with you, but all you could think of was his brother.”

Okay, so I was starting to not enjoy this either. I could feel my cheeks start burning up, as if the colour that had drained from Clyde was now creeping up my cheeks. I knew my parents were very aware of my crush on Jimmy, I had been teased for years, and I really didn’t want that brought back.

“Yeah, I’m guilty as charged. Anyway…” I tried shifting the conversation to something else, before she said something really embarrassing. I wished I had told her up front about me and Clyde, so he couldn’t hide in his corner, but I just couldn’t find a way to wiggle that into the conversation. I figured that after she’d finished talking about the trip I’d have time to break the news to her. And now it was too late.

“Did you know,” she continued, and I was actually considering ‘accidentally’ breaking the connection, “he tried to ask you out to prom?”

“Really?” Well this was something I didn’t know, but Clyde seemed to remember, because I’d never seen someone go so fast from paper white to radioactive red. “I did not know that.”

“Yeah, he came to our door all dressed up in a suit and tie. He even had this tiny bouquet of garden flowers.”

Clyde wasn’t even looking at me at this point, probably wishing he was anywhere else but here. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him in a suit, with a bouquet of freshly picked flowers, trying to ask me out. I was certain he would have been just as awkward, if not more. I couldn’t imagine him as a teenager, though. Something about his imposing stature made it hard for me to picture him as a kid. I made a mental note to ask Mellie if she had any photos.

“Why didn’t I hear about this?” I asked, still looking at Clyde over the monitor, smiling from ear to ear as he still stared at a point on the floor. “You didn’t chase him away, did you?” A cold shiver ran down my spine at the thought that maybe my parents had scared him off.

“No, no, we didn’t,” mom assured me. “He chickened out before ringing the bell.”

“Oh, did he?” I asked, and Clyde looked at me for half a second with the most pitiful look in his eyes, and it took all my restraint to not get up and hug the poor guy.

“Yeah. I think he stood in front of our door for a good ten minutes before turning around and leaving. You know, he costed me 20 dollars. I actually had faith that he’d eventually gather the courage to knock on the door. Your father didn’t. And he won.” Good ol’ dad and his cynicism. “If you see him, tell him that he made me lose 20 dollars and he better pay me back.”

I tried. I really did try to do the right thing, but there was no way I could fight the little devil on my shoulder. I should have apologized in advance. I sighed.

“Well, why don’t you tell him yourself,” I said, turning the laptop around so that now Clyde was in front of the camera.

I honestly thought for a second he’d just get up and run away, or explode in a cloud of confetti, dissolve into thin air or anything really, so that he didn’t have to be here. He was looking at me with a startled expression, and I very felt sorry for putting him into that position, but as I said, sometimes the devil was too hard to resist. However, it only took him a few moments to regain enough composure to be able to speak.

“Hello Mrs. M,” he greeted my mom in a small voice, still glancing nervously at me.

“Oh, hello Clyde. Didn’t know you were there,” she said. “It would have been helpful if my daughter would have let me know from the beginning.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. M,” he said, apologetically.

“Hey,” I said, coming around the table and moving the laptop so that my mom could see us both. “Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault,” I told him, and sat on his lap. He still felt incredibly stiff, so I took his hand in mine and squeezed it reassuringly. He placed the prosthetic one around my waist, but then hid it back under the table when he realized my mom could see it. “I would have, mom,” I said, making her shift focus back to me,—although by the way her eyes lingered, she had noticed his arm—“but I couldn’t interrupt the retelling of that appalling horse joke you were telling earlier.”

“Oh shut up,” my mom mumbled, clearly disappointed that I didn’t appreciate her humour, but then she looked at Clyde and I could see her expression soften as she smiled. “So, Clyde Logan, did you finally gather the courage to ask my daughter out?”

Clyde was still a little tongue tied, so I replied instead. “He didn’t really,” I said. “I asked him out.” And he rejected me at first, but I wasn’t going to tell her that, especially when I could feel him hiding his face in my hair. “Took a little persuasion, though. I think your signature recipe convinced him in the end.”

My mom burst into a hearty laugh. “That’s what sealed the deal with your father too. He proposed right after dinner.”

“Somehow, I actually expected an even less romantic gesture from dad,” I laughed and even Clyde snickered. He seemed to relax a bit, seeing that my mom didn’t have anything against him.

“Do you have big plans for today?” she asked, looking at her watch. I guessed she was a really busy pensioner.

“Actually, we do. I wanted to repaint my living room and Clyde offered to help. Big date painting walls,” I said, leaning into his chest.

My mom scoffed. “I guess you inherited the sentimental side from your father. He’d consider that an amazing date.”

“Come on, be proud of me. I’m actually using one of my free days to do adult stuff. I could have been sleeping, it’s the first day of holiday after all.”

My mom took a moment to consider my statement, and then she nodded, as she knew productivity wasn’t really my forte. “Very well. But please don’t overwork the kid.”

“Does he look overworked to you?” I said, pointing at Clyde’s nose over my shoulder.

“He does look a bit tired.”

I glanced over at Clyde, who seemed to have regained most of his composure. He did look a little tired though, but I knew he’d look substantially more alive once he finished breakfast and had enough coffee in his system.

“He works until late,” I explained. “He’s a bartender in town.”

“Did you take over your father’s business?” my mom asked him, her interest peaked once again.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, straightening his back. I guess he still found my mother scary, even after all these years. (Truth be told, she could be really scary if she wanted to.)

“That’s wonderful, I really loved that bar. So many great memories started with drinks at the Duck Tape,” she said, a little nostalgic.

“Well, Ma’am, you’re always welcome. We’re still serving the best beer in town.”

It really made me smile just how proud he was of his little business, and I could see why. Over the past few weeks I had become so fond of the bar and the people coming there, although the one I liked best was still the handsome bartender.

“Just make sure to not come back home drunk,” I warned her, “cause I’m locking the door and leaving both you and dad to sleep outside. And don’t make me pick up your tab either, I may have a discount now, but I’m not wasting it on you guys.”

“Have you seen a more ungrateful child, Clyde?” she asked shaking her head, and I could tell that Clyde was making an effort not to laugh. “Is this why I broke my back working my whole life to give her an education and a future, and she won’t even consider taking care of me when I’m shitfaced drunk,” she said, starting to laugh in the middle of the sentence. “Alright, I’ll leave you kids alone, it seems you’ve got quite a busy schedule today.”

“Okay mom,” I said, still laughing. “ll text you and send pictures of the finished project.”

“I have a feeling I’ll get a ‘how to get paint out of hair’ text soon.”

“Haha!”

“And take good care of my daughter, Clyde,” she said, with a very soft expression on her face. “She can be a bit of a handful at times, but she’s worth the hassle.”

“I’m really glad you’ve never written an online dating ad for me, mom, or I would have been Forever Alone.” I mumbled, just loud enough for Clyde to hear it, but not enough for mom to make out the words. Clyde was making a valiant effort to keep a straight face, but I could see the cracks in his composure. My mom, on the other hand, told me not to mumble.

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving you alone,” she said fiddling with the mouse. “I’m going to try to get those twenty bucks back from your dad, ten years too late, but better late than never I say…” And then the connection broke.

“I think she hung up on us,” I said, both Clyde and I letting out a long sigh of relief. “I’m sorry for putting you through this without prior warning,” I said, pulling him into a kiss, feeling a bit guilty for what I’d done. In the end it wasn’t that bad, but it might have still been unpleasant.

“It’s okay,” he said taking my legs and rotating me a little so that I was now cradled in his arms. “You just took the band aid approach with this.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, still kissing him, until my phone started to ring. “Yeah mom, you hung up on us,” I said into the phone. Let me put you on speaker.”

“Well, I don’t know what happened, I didn’t touch anything. It must have been the connection.”

“Probably,” I said, knowing there was no point in contradicting her. I was 100% sure she pressed the wrong button.

“Take care of yourselves, and hopefully we’ll see you soon. We were thinking about paying you a visit before the holiday ends, your dad’s been worried about you moving into the old house, although he’d never admit it.”

I smiled and rested my head on Clyde’s shoulder. Dad wasn’t really good with showing affection, so little things like this proved how much he actually cared. “We’ll be waiting for you, hopefully by then I’ll be able to furnish the guest room too.”

“Do you need money? Should we send you some?”

“I’m good,” I lied, since money was still a bit of a problem for me, but not wanting to abuse their kindness any longer. I was going to do some tutoring over the summer, so I hoped I could save some money to be able to furnish at least a part of the house.

“Let us know if you need anything.”

“Your love and support is enough,” I said. “Also, some of your strawberry jam. And assorted pickles. Actually I’ll make a list.” My mom laughed, but I knew the moment she’d hung up she’ll start putting together a huge package with my favourite things. She’d even bake me cookies, even though she knew I was perfectly capable of baking my own.

“Very well then. Don’t forget to send me pictures of the newly painted living room. And of your painted faces.”

“Will do. Bye mom.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. M,”

“It was really nice seeing you again, Clyde. I hope you’ll stick around, or my daughter will remain un...”

“Mom! Goodbye!”

“Goodbye love!” she laughed as she hung up.

I put the phone down and exhaled audibly. Clyde was laughing his ass off, still holding onto me as I felt I was turning into slime and just melting into a puddle on the floor.

“I deserve it,” I said, straightening myself and hiding my face in Clyde’s hair. “I can’t say anything because I deserve it.” Clyde was still laughing, but somehow that was reassuring. “She really likes you, you know?”

“Do you think so?” There was still a note of uncertainty in his voice, but right now he sounded more hopeful.

“Haven’t you seen her, she was glowing,” I said, kissing his neck. “Expect her to send a ton of preserves especially for you.”

“Will you make me pancakes with strawberry jam?”

“Of course. Actually, I could make pancakes now, do you want some?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I kissed him and got up, getting out all the needed ingredients. I started making the batter as Clyde was telling me funny stories from our childhood. The atmosphere in my kitchen was so warm and lovely ever since we’d started dating and even now, despite the rain outside, it felt so bright and cozy.

“Now I really wanna see you in a suit and tie, bringing me flowers,” I said, placing the plate of pancakes on the table, as well as different toppings.

“I think it’s better if you don’t,” he said, looking at the pancakes, and avoiding my gaze, but I could still see him blush. I guess he never expected that someone had seen him trying to ask me out. I was wondering how much Jimmy had teased him for it, or if Clyde had done it without anyone knowing. I wondered if he’d been sad when he went home that day, but I tried to shake the thought away. It had been a long time ago, things were different now.

“Why not?”

“They always looked ridiculous on me,” he said and I could feel the bitterness.

“I think you’d look amazing in a suit, you’d just need a decent tailor to make some small tweaks. No suit looks good right off the hanger.”

“You think so?” he said, looking at me with hopeful eyes.

“I’m certain. But you’ll also have to pick me a bouquet of flowers and finally ask me to prom.”

He laughed and blushed even more, looking away. “Well, we could go somewhere fancy if you’d like,” he finally said, digging into the pancakes.

“Only if you want to. We could dress up and binge watch Netflix on my couch for all I cared,” I said, wondering if I could shove a whole pancake down my throat. “I just wanna see you in a suit.”

“Well, I don’t have a suit,” he said, after a few minutes of eating in silence, “but I still have my uniform.”

I dropped my fork. Somehow the idea that he’d have a uniform never crossed my mind, although I knew he had been in the military and he’d been honorably discharged. Now the image of Clyde dressed in a uniform would never leave my mind.

“This is actually so much better,” I said, pressing my palms to my cheeks as I knew I was blushing, but not of embarrassment.

“Really?” He laughed in disbelief.

“Oh yeah. So much better,” I said, picking up my fork and furiously shoving half a pancake in my mouth, trying hard not to choke and die before I got to see Clyde Logan dressed in his military uniform.

It was past noon when we finally finished eating, drinking coffee and just being lost in each other’s eyes, and decided it was time to get to work. Clyde changed in a pair of old overalls that looked so cute on him. I just changed into some old clothes that I didn't like anymore, and Clyde insisted that I at least wear his trucker hat as a protection for my hair. I looked ridiculous, but he assured me I looked great, and by the lovingly way he looked at me, I believed him.

“So, Mister Logan, are you ready to start?” I asked, following him as be brought the needed utensils from his truck, prompting him to turn around and smack me over the face with a roller.

“I’m so sorry, Baby,” he said, dropping everything and taking my face into his hand, examining the damage.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t paying attention where I was walking and I was in your blind spot. A kiss will make it better though,” I said and he happily obliged, kissing my cheek multiple times, his facial hair tickling my skin. “Also, it’s the first you’ve called me Baby.”

“I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be, I love it when you say it.”

“My Baby,” he whispered in my ear, and I melted right then and there.

“Right, let’s get started,” I said, shaking my head to regain composure. “Before this turns into something else and we wrapped the whole floor in plastic for nothing.”

Clyde laughed, and opened a bucket of paint while I grabbed a roller and held it like a spear.

I never knew what coming back to my West Virginia hometown would bring, I actually felt pretty defeated when I came back. I’d felt like I had wasted all those years working my ass off for nothing and in the end I still failed. Returning was a sign I was giving up, that I wasn’t good enough to fulfill my dreams.

But in the end, maybe it wasn’t like that, or it didn’t have to be. Maybe it was just a new beginning, a new starting point. It was time to really think about what I wanted from this life, and cherish the good things and even if in the future I’d fail again, I had to remember that failing at something wasn’t the end, unless you completely gave up.

I ran my fingers through Clyde’s hair as he was mixing the paint.

“What?” he asked, turning his head to look up at me.

“Nothing,” I said, smiling broadly. “I’m just happy.”

Masterlist

Previous Part

#clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan fanfiction #clyde logan x oc #logan lucky

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aiimaginesbts · 6 years

Text

He Left (M)

2018 Birthday Story for Hoseok!

Hoseok x Reader (ft. Taehyung, Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon)

Genre: Japanese period AU, smut, angst & fluff

Word count: 12,362 words

A/N: Credit for the banner art goes to SiChen Wang. Check out their awesome art here! Many thanks to Ana @dangitthatsalongname and Alyssa @wonhoandonly for beta-ing for me!

**Japanese terms used are at the end of the story.**

Disclaimer/Copyright

"We have found a suitable husband for you.“

To anyone else, having their father utter these words will either bring them indescribable joy or unfathomable dread, but I don’t find myself feeling any emotions. Nor can I search for any words other than, "I see. Thank you for letting me know, Father.”

Pretending to be unaware of the concerned stares of my parents, I excuse myself to return to my room. On my table sits a book that is, in my opinion, far more interesting than the news that I will soon be wed. Something is definitely wrong with me. Or so everyone else thinks.

“Well, I for one would be excited to be married to the son of the Jung family,” my maid gushes to me the minute we’re safely ensconced in the privacy of my room.

“You marry him then,” I say absentmindedly as I take a seat and reach for my book. It’s more of a good-natured teasing more than anything, but I’m surprised to hear her girlish giggle at the mere thought from across the room. She’s clearly giddy over whatever it is she’s heard about the Jung’s only son. The urge to roll my eyes and laugh at her antics is hard to resist, and I don’t even bother to stop myself.

“All right, what is it about this man that has you so excited?” I ask, looking up to give her my full attention, although my hand is laid upon the open page, marking the place where I’ve stopped reading. As a maid, she is more susceptible and privy to gossips among the lower classes and also about the more noble families. It’s pretty obvious that she knows something juicy about my future husband; something that she’s eager to share with me, and I don’t mind indulging her. There’s not much else in the way of entertainment for me after all.

“Well.” Satisfied that she has piqued my interest, she slides closer to me on the opposite side of my reading table. Her voice drops to a low whisper, as if she’s divulging a secret that is crucial to the country’s safety. “Rumour has it that he has single-handedly brought the Jung family to the emperor’s attention. Granted, the Jungs have always been known as samurai but they weren’t this well-known before.” She grins proudly, like she’d been the one to bring them to their state of prosperity now. “He’s serving Lord Seokjin under his commander-in-chief, Kim Namjoon. And you know that Lord Namjoon doesn’t choose just anyone to command his men.”

The guy has a shining reputation, that’s for sure. I must say that I’m pleasantly surprised, although it doesn’t exactly make him any more appealing as a life partner. Still, it sounds like he is a busy man, so that should keep me out of his hair after we’re married. That’s a relief especially if he’s annoying; or worse, abusive. I’ve considered myself to have had a charming, if too quiet and consistent life up to now, and I’m glad that it seems like that won’t change much after I marry.

However, it doesn’t seem like my attendant is finished. “I’ve heard that he’s not just a talented commander, but he’s a gifted warrior as well. Men say that when he fights, it’s not violence, but an art.” I have to stop myself from snorting at that. The mental imagery that forms in my head when I think of battles are; burly, muscular men roughly attacking their opponents in a savage fight to emerge victorious. War tactics? Brilliantly carried out, well-thought of strategies I can consider a form of art. But the actual execution; violent exchanges between oafish warriors? That can hardly be called graceful. “Most importantly,” my maid continues, blissfully unaware of my thoughts, “he’s supposed to be very good-looking!”

“Hmm,” I hum after I’ve waited long enough to make sure that she’s finished spilling the beans on my husband-to-be. “He sounds like a good catch.”

Her nods at my simple conclusion are so eager that I wonder if she doesn’t get a headache from the rapid movements. “Probably one of the best! You should be excited.”

Unsure of how to respond, I try flashing her a wide smile. Happy that I’ve apparently appreciated the match that my parents have arranged for me, she gets up to tend to her duties. As soon as she slides the door closed and her footsteps fade, I heave a sigh and return to my book. Really, is a strong, handsome man something to get so thrilled about? It doesn’t really make much of a difference to me. I don’t even know the man.

As expected, the shrine is packed with people visiting for the new year. Rarely do I see this many people gathering in one place on any other day, and I take the opportunity to look around at the surroundings. The feast of colours that my eyes are served with is plentiful as everyone don their best clothes on to mark the occasion. Smiles are exchanged with one or two familiar faces that I recognise, but I remain at my spot in line near the gate of the shrine. Although the line suddenly moves substantially, I resist a sigh at the long wait that is still in front of me. It is then that I shift my sight a little to the right and I see it.

A pair of eyes that catches mine. The sharp yet warm orbs are already locked on me when mine cross paths with them. Widening my view, I see that they belong to a young man standing quite a few ways away from me. He seems to command a lot of attention, having a group of people of mostly men surrounding him, trying to engage him in conversation even whilst he has his sights set on me. His emerald kimono is a pleasant contrast to the mop of dark red hair atop his head, making him stand out among the crowd. Across the distance that separates him from me, the brilliance of his eyes that hasn’t failed to release me keeps me in place, unknowingly staring back at him openly. Neither does he bother to look away although it’s clear that he has been caught watching me. No one else seems to have noticed the intense, soundless exchange between us. Later I may reason with myself that he’s the one who started gazing at me first, but at the moment I am just as mesmerised with him as he is fixated on me. Through his moving lips and head movements, I can tell that he’s still keeping up with the discussion with the men who are, mostly, bigger than he is, yet there is no doubt in my mind that he’s watching me. I have no idea why. There is no doubt that such unwavering observation is odd. Still, instead of being repulsed by the attention, I’m intrigued by him.

So much that the gentle pat on my shoulder makes me jump and yelp in surprise. “What are you spacing around for? The line is moving.” Whipping my head around, I come face-to-face with my mother’s brusque words accompanied by her irritated expression, and notice the growing gap between us and the people in line before us. Duly chastised, I mutter an apology and scramble to close the distance. However, once I come to another standstill, my gaze immediately flies to search for the man again. He’s still looking at me unabashedly, a smirk on his face. Is he laughing at me? Blood rushes to my cheeks straightaway and finally I look forward, refusing to meet his stare again. What’s the point of gawking, anyway? I can hardly leave the company of my parents to go up and talk to him. Plus, that is simply not something that a woman should do. So I content myself to getting out of his sight and end the visit with as much dignity as I can.

“Can I go?”

The next day has me asking my parents if I can go with my maid to enjoy the new year festivities. With our first shrine visit of the year done, I’m eager to stave off boredom of being cooped up at home. People are still very much celebrating and it’s rare for the town to be as bustling and interesting as it is now compared to any other time of the year. With a smile, my mother shrugs and says, “I don’t see why not, as long as your father approves.”

The two of us swivel our heads towards the head of the house, who is engrossed by a letter that I can only assume was written by someone important. “It will be nice to get some fresh air and look around,” I direct the persuasive force towards him, parroting the words of my attendant when she was persuading me to join her just a few minutes ago.

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself,” he permits gruffly, never taking his eyes off the words written in careful brush strokes over the parchment. “Just be sure to keep to the main street!”

“I will, thank you,” I promise and make haste to excuse myself, joining my excited maid waiting anxiously outside the room.

“Did they say yes?” She tilts up her head eagerly to look at me, as if she hasn’t been trying to eavesdrop with her ear to the door. Inwardly laughing at her enthusiasm, I grin and nod.

“Of course they did. We practically go every year,” I answer her, leading the way back to my room. With her help, I tie my light pink obi sash around the green kimono that I’ve put on. Even though the soft pink flowers that adorn my clothes lend me a more feminine air, the colour reminds me of the man that I saw at the shrine yesterday, and I can’t help the lightness that bubbles over me. Today feels like a good day.

The weather seems to be echoing my sentiments, the rare sun shining over the cold earth with a light breeze giving me the urge to fly if only I could. Alas, without wings, I am unable to do so, thus I wrench my gaze away from the cloudless, azure sky to the myriad of colours down on earth where I belong. Unlike the peaceful heavens above, painted by shades of blues and whites, the spread before me is dotted with various hues, both of festive clothing and behaviour. The street is lined with stalls on both sides, each one displaying different wares. I can see a man in a heated argument over a knife wrapped in an ornate sheath with the seller who doesn’t seem to be budging, next to them, some children excitedly ordering… Was that ten? Of something to the flustered shopkeeper, who obviously isn’t sure whether they can pay for it or not. Opposite them is a beautiful woman who is blatantly flirting with the furiously blushing vendor, obviously hoping for a slash in the price of whatever it is that has struck her fancy. There are so many people, and I can’t help but wonder if my future husband is among the crowd.

“What are you waiting for?” My companion urges me on, eager to explore the festival. “Let’s go!”

With an amused laughter at her impatience, I let her lead me into the fray. It isn’t long before her attention is stolen by something; an array of unusually-coloured threads that is claimed to have been produced by a novel technique. Unfortunately the smell of peaches up ahead is more tantalising to me than sewing material, so we part ways, agreeing to find each other before heading home in about an hour.

My nose proves to be on the mark, and just a few minutes later I’m walking along the street, munching on the sweet fruit, savouring the slight tartness underneath the juicy flesh. Belatedly I realise the reason all the food stalls have been calling to me; I’d forgotten to have my meal before heading out earlier. Thankful that my purse is not as empty as my stomach, I decide to indulge my sweet tooth and head towards a man showing off an impressive collection of sweets. They look even more appetising up close. I can see the tiny details in the finishing of each treat, the meticulous care given not to be outshone by the appealing colours of the confectionery.

I’m hardly the only person that the high quality products have attracted. The seller has his hands full with customers, but I don’t mind. It gives me the time to admire every sweet and decide which one I’d like to purchase. However, a bright green dessert piques my interest, so when the man turns to beam at me, I take the opportunity to timidly ask him what it is before I can change my mind. His reply is friendly and informative, making me feel welcome, a great strategy to get his customers to loosen their coin bags.

“I’ve never tried it before. Does edamame really work as a sweet?”

Instead of the vendor, another voice, just as pleasant and ten times more enthusiastic, chimes in. “The best way to find out is to try it!”

I turn and look up to see the person that has been on my mind since the first time I’ve seen him the day before. It’s the beaming man from the shrine! At this distance, I can see that his eyes, which had gazed into mine so intently yesterday are brown, melting rather than just warm, several shades darker than his hair. My heart goes pitter-patter at the closeness of his body to mine, but I’m not given time to respond, as he orders two of the sweets. When he reaches around me to pay for his purchase and retrieve the goods, I’m rendered immobile for a reason unknown to myself. It isn’t simply because he’s between me and the stall, pinning me against him. I don’t think I’d be able to move even if I can. However, it seems that I’m still breathing, as I catch a whiff of his scent; an intoxicating, earthy smell that is both refreshing and manly at the same time.

“Here.” He offers me one of the green treat that I was admiring, but I refuse to take it. I’m touched by the gesture, but it doesn’t seem proper to let an unknown person buy me anything.

“I can’t eat them both, so if you won’t take it, I’ll be forced to throw it away. Won’t that be a waste?” He pops the other into his mouth, slowly chewing as he slowly nods his head, as if making a careful assessment of the sweet. I don’t usually let my guard down around strangers but for some reason, I feel a giggle building up inside me. “It’s just as good as it looks. You’re really missing out if you don’t try it.”

How can I say no to him? I’m not sure why, but I really can’t, despite any logical reason that I can come up with. Besides, it’s obviously not poisoned, as he’d just bought it right in front of my eyes and ate one. So I hesitantly reach out for the other one, fingertips tingling where they touch his palm as I retrieve his gift. Tilting my head down slightly, I bite into it so he can’t see my reaction. Light sweetness fills my mouth, and I fight to resist a happy moan at the taste. Even then it’s easy for him to detect my satisfaction.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I agree quietly, facing him again. “Thank you very much, um—”

“Hoseok,” he introduces himself. After reciprocating with my name, he asks me if I’m looking for anything in particular. Truthfully, the one who probably has a goal in mind is my companion whom I’ve left behind earlier, while I’m only out to entertain myself. So I tell him, “no. I’m just looking around.”

The smile that greets my answer is almost blinding. “Why don’t we do some exploring together then?” Before I can hesitate or refuse outright, he adds, “it’s definitely more fun to check out this sort of thing with someone rather than by your lonesome, isn’t it?”

There’s no arguing with that statement, so I shyly nod and fall into step next to him. Although I don’t doubt him in the slightest, it isn’t long before he proves himself right beyond my expectations. The yearly festival that I normally find mildly interesting and entertaining before is now infinitely more enjoyable next to Hoseok. It isn’t that he’s doing or saying anything special. Yet the enthusiasm and energy that he puts into everything; the wares on sale, his chatter with both sellers and customers alike, even something as simple as his lighthearted steps are infectious. It’s like I’m looking at everything through a whole new light, a completely different view, and I’m relishing every moment.

So much that only when I see my maid a scant hundred meters away do I remember that I didn’t come here alone. That, and the fact that I am a betrothed woman who is thoroughly enjoying herself in the company of a man I hardly know. Panic and guilt takes over, and I hurriedly inform Hoseok that I have to take my leave, managing to apologise for being so abrupt before rushing towards her, hoping that she hasn’t seen me with him.

“There you are! I thought you went back home without me. I was just about to give up on you,” she breathes a sigh of relief when I approach her.

“I promised to meet up with you, didn’t I?” My reply isn’t as indignant as it would have been otherwise, since I am completely aware that I’d forgotten about the agreement not long after meeting Hoseok. As we start to walk away, I turn back, my eyes roving through the crowd, but he has already been swallowed by the sheer number of people going about. Even though I tell myself that it’s for the best, I can’t honestly ignore the way that my heart sinks to the ground.

“Did you eat something bad earlier?”

“Hmm?” Her question rouses me from my thoughts, where I am still hopelessly lost in even after hours of leaving the company of Hoseok. There’s just something about him that makes him stick in my memory like the most stubborn glue, and does untold things to my heart that hasn’t stopped beating erratically since the moment I laid eyes on him. It’s bewitching, thrilling, enlightening and frustrating all at the same time. I can’t imagine ever feeling this way about someone, yet I can’t fully describe my emotions when it comes to him. A connection that evokes feelings that I’ve never felt before, ones that I never want to stop experiencing, but I can’t indulge in. More than once I’ve wondered if the man I will marry can make me feel the same way, but I know that no one can ever achieve what Hoseok has done to my heart.

However, my maid’s concern doesn’t dissipate. Even after I tell her that there’s nothing wrong, her scrutiny quickly puts more pressure on my already muddled mind. It’s not long before I mumble something about having a headache and needing some fresh air just to get away from her. Fortunately, the threads that she bought earlier are keeping her occupied, so I leave her to match the strands to the fabrics that she already has on hand and walk out into the garden. The night air is refreshing and I greedily inhale deep breaths of it, trying to calm myself down.

It’s then that a rustle in the bushes not far from the wall of the house puts any thought of regaining my composure out of my mind. I squint warily to make out anything unusual in the darkness, ready to sound the alarm the moment I see anything or anyone dangerous. At first I can’t distinguish between the shadows and the shrubbery, but just as my eyes adjust, I see a figure emerging, moving towards me. Before I can scream bloody murder, however, a pleasant, familiar voice that tingles in my ears accompanied by the muted light from inside the house falling on him make my heart drum rapidly, but now for an entirely different reason.

“Hoseok! What are you doing here?” My shock added to my panicked state makes it easy for me to inject a high-pitched quality to my whispered words. Hurriedly looking behind me to make sure that no one is around to witness his presence and our exchange, I rush towards him. A thousand questions whirl around inside my head, yet I can’t deny the delirious exhilaration that I’m getting just from seeing him again, despite the perilous circumstances that he has put both of us in.

“I came to see you.” He sounds just as out of breath as I feel, but more out of excitement than alarm. Reaching out, he takes my hands in his. A simple gesture that has my pulse racing. “You left so suddenly earlier, I was worried that you got into a spot of trouble and didn’t manage to get home safely.”

His concern over my safety is disarming, but it doesn’t tell me how he found me. “How did you know that this is my house?”

Now it’s his turn to look surprised. “Don’t you know who I am?”

What does that have to do with anything? I think to myself, a little irritable over having my question answered by another one. “You’re Hoseok. Well, at least that’s who I think you are, unless you lied to me earlier,” I answer, now feeling a little uncertain.

There is pure delight in his chuckle at my reply, and it makes it hard for me to remain annoyed at him. “Of course I was telling you the truth. But I guess you don’t know my full name?”

Again, I don’t know how this has a connection to how he found me, but I decide to humour him and nod. “I’m Jung Hoseok,” he reintroduces himself, this time telling me his full name then looking at me expectantly.

Jung Hoseok, I repeat the name in my head. Jung— I gape up at him with wide eyes as his last name triggers a switch in my head. “You’re my—”

“Husband to be,” he finishes for me, confirming the fact. Happiness and relief wash over me at the revelation. I can’t believe my luck! After agonising over these feelings I’m developing for Hoseok, it turns out that he is exactly the man I’m allowed to harbour emotions for. Glee dissipates just the tiniest bit for me to calm myself enough to ask, “did you know who I am from the beginning?”

“I wasn’t completely sure at first, but I had a pretty good idea,” he smirks confidently, proud of his deduction as he explains to me. “I know your father, and when I saw you with him at the shrine, I could guess who you are. So when I caught sight of you earlier at the festival, I had to come up to ask you for your name. Well, that and…”

Hoseok’s sudden hesitation makes me all the more curious about what is going on in his mind. “And what?” I prompt.

“I wanted to get to know you better and see if we suit,” he continues in a softer tone, suddenly bashful.

That’s a valid reason. Even if I wasn’t interested in anything about my future husband before, now that I’ve actually met him, I find myself grateful to him for giving me the opportunity to get to know him before the ceremony. “So… Do we?” Anxiously I ask, my voice dropping to match his, hoping for one answer, and one answer only.

The grip of his hands over mine tightens as he lowers his head down to press his forehead against mine. I can’t help but become immersed in the limpid pools of his eyes, a molten lava reflecting the light past us. Even before he utters the words I want to hear, the way he beams at me tells me everything I need to know. “I think we do.”

At that moment, everything else ceases to matter. The uncertainty and confusion over my own feelings. My marriage that has been arranged by my parents. Hoseok’s presence in the grounds of my home, and the consequences if we are discovered. All that exists is his heat, his smile, his existence, and I can’t help the corners of my lips from curling upwards, thanks to him.

“What do you think?”

I’d have thought that the answer is obvious, but before I can give him an answer, I hear my name being called from inside the house. After glimpsing back at the direction the voice is coming from, I turn back to him in dismay. I wish we can spend more time together, but we are lucky to have had as much as we did. “You have to go. There will be no end of trouble if you’re found.”

He is in complete agreement with my thoughts. With a reassuring smile, he murmurs goodnight, lets me go to climb over the wall and disappears from sight. The night air is cool on my now exposed hands, making me miss the heat that emanated from his hands. After taking a few minutes and several deep breaths to clear my head, I make up my mind and return to my room.

“I thought you decided to sleep outside tonight,” my attendant teases me as I slide the door shut. “It was so tempting to stop calling for you and just abandon you to the night.”

I shoot her a dry look that is half exasperation, half amusement. Since I’m bursting to tell her about Hoseok, I decide to let her comment slide. “I met him,” I tell her without much preamble.

“Who?” She asks confusedly, as to be expected from the lack of context.

“Hoseok,” I answer, then add for clarification, “Jung Hoseok.”

Quick to put two and two together, she exclaims, “Your husband?!”

“Future husband,” I correct her, but hearing him being referred to as such makes me want to giggle like a little girl. Never one to shy away from gossip, she presses me for every single detail she can wring out of me. Details that I’m eager to share with her now that I’m not worried about harbouring inappropriate feelings for a man who is not my betrothed. It is necessary, after all, a given for me to come clean considering the favour that I’d like to ask of her.

A favour that she’s only too happy to oblige. It isn’t very common for someone like Hoseok and I to be able to lay eyes on each other before marriage, much less meet and spend time together, but we’re lucky to be able to manage to do so several times afterwards with her help. Sometimes she keeps watch while he sneaks into my home, others are opportunities created when I can find an excuse to go outside. It’s nowhere as often as either of us would have liked to, but it’s the most we can hope for, especially with his demanding work, and I cherish each and every moment I’m able to spend with him.

Little by little, without me noticing, just Hoseok’s entrance into my world has given my life a whole new meaning. I have something to look forward to, a motivation to improve myself, a constant variable that has dug a wrench between the cogs of my every day routine. Even as I get to know him better, I never tire of his endless energy, the bubbly laugh that is the perfect pairing to his cheerful outlook on life, every little habit and behavioural ticks, both good and bad, slowly but surely growing on me. My concern for his well being starts to manifest the first time he has to leave the town to settle a skirmish at the border. It isn’t the last time he has to leave to fulfill his duties, but my hope that he returns safely remains the same every time. Gradually, he changes me, subtle enough that no one but my maid notices, one day pointing out that since I met him, I’m not simply content with my life. I am now happy. With each passing day, I find myself falling more and more for him, becoming more and more convinced that he is the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I’m thankful that my wish is one that will soon be fulfilled. Or so I thought.

Three weeks. It is a mere three weeks before I’m meant to be married to Hoseok when we receive the news; due to the upcoming war, the ceremony will have to be postponed. The only person who knows about our blossoming relationship, and has seen me fret over his absence over settling a simple dispute understands full well my thoughts about him leaving for a full on war. There isn’t much that she can say to console me, however.

“I understand that he has to go, and I don’t plan to stop him,” I tell her in an almost completely detached manner. “It’s his duty to his lord. His way of fighting for his beliefs, to protect the people he loves. I won’t take that away from him. I just wish…” I don’t know what I’d wish for, even if I can make one. That there isn’t a war looming over the horizon? That Hoseok isn’t a samurai? That I haven’t fallen hopelessly in love with him? That we’re already married so at least he goes off to battle knowing that I am already his? Impossible. All impossible. All but one.

There is no doubt what I want. If Hoseok feels the way I do, he would want the same thing. However, I’m sure no one else will approve. Thus I’m careful in making sure that my exit from the house isn’t detected by anyone. It’s nerve-wracking, and I let out a breath I don’t know I’m holding when I manage to get out without anyone noticing. Once I’ve gotten to the streets, no one looks at me twice, and I think that the hardest part is over. Until I reach the castle.

I should have known that I would be stopped right at the gate. It is rare, probably unheard of, for a woman to march up to the castle to see the daimyo of the land, a famous warlord, after all. Bewilderment is clear on the guards’ faces as they inquire me about my presence here. I introduce myself, stressing on the family I come from, as I know that they would recognise the name. However, when they ask me the reason I’ve come, I falter. Matters regarding marriages fall onto the hands of the head of the household, and is not something that I should meddle with. There is no doubt that I will be refused if I’m forthcoming about it with them.

“I’d like to see Lord Seokjin regarding a private matter,” I try to say as authoritatively as I can, drawing myself up to my full height, although it isn’t all that impressive as the two guards still tower intimidatingly over me. They look at each other, doubt clearly painted on their faces.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but we can’t grant just anyone an audience with Lord Seokjin like this,” one of them informs me apologetically. The rejection is not unexpected, but my heart still drops to my stomach. I can’t simply accept this and go home meekly.

“Please, it’s very important,” I try to make my case even as I step forward, but they swiftly block my path. To force my way through would be foolish to the extreme, as they will have no trouble catching me even if I can miraculously push them aside, but I don’t know what else to do. Smart enough to realise that I am not someone that can be carelessly dealt with, they’re hesitant to use force, but just by forming an impenetrable wall in front of me is enough to keep me from advancing. It’s beyond frustrating, and our argument is starting to turn into something of a commotion on that particularly quiet day, when a tall man strolls leisurely past. His gait, much like his clothes, gives off a laid-back appearance, yet the easy expression as he looks on at the embarrassing spectacle and the fabric of his kimono tells me that he is a person of importance.

My suspicions are proven true when the two men obstructing me bow to him respectfully. He acknowledges them with a bored nod, before turning to me with more interest. “What is going on here?”

I’m unsure who the man is addressing, but as the guards fall over themselves in their eagerness to answer him, I let them do the talking. Unfortunately, just hearing my family name isn’t enough to impress him. “Hmm,” his hummed response is apathetic, as is his reaction; after giving me a simple dip of his head in acknowledgement he then turns away to head into the castle.

Now clutching at straws, I desperately call out after him, “Wait! I’m Hoseok’s betrothed!”

That certainly grabs his attention. He swivels to face me, a smidgen of fascination apparent on his features that is still a little too drowsy-looking given the height of the sun in the sky. “As in Jung Hoseok, one of Jin’s commanders?”

Jin? I can only assume that the young man is referring to Lord Kim Seokjin, as that is whom Hoseok serves. Either way, my prospects are looking brighter now, so I answer in the affirmative. Satisfied, he motions for the guards to let me through, and beckons for me with a lazy hand. “Follow me.”

Taking rapid steps forward, I do as I am bid. Although I wouldn’t exactly call him hostile before, he is infinitely more friendly now. His wide lips are stretched into a smile that appears almost devilish from my perspective, but he makes sure to keep his pace slow enough so I can keep up with him. Which is no easy feat. This is my first time in the castle, and I can’t decide what to gawk at; the interior of the enormous building or the enigmatic man walking next to me. From the way his orders were instantly obeyed earlier, it’s clear that he is someone in the position of power, but just how much power is still unknown to me. There is also the creeping nervousness inside me at being led to one of the most important people in the country. Perhaps I should have had a speech prepared, because at this rate I may actually get tongue-tied once I get to meet him.

“So I’m assuming that you coming here has something to do with Hoseok?” The man probes languidly. Even his deep voice instills a relaxing sensation, soothing my nerves as I nod. Although I brace myself for more questions, it seems that he has sunk into his thoughts, and no more is forthcoming. Thankfully, the walk is relatively short, and he slides open a door to wave me inside before I can start to feel too awkward in the silence that ensues.

The large room is not only filled with people, but with papers and writing utensils as well. A serious air hangs about the space, broken when a mildly irritated voice says, “there you are, Taehyung. Where have you been? Yoongi got here ages ago.” The man who brought me in, Taehyung, only chuckles at the scolding of the person at the center of the gathering.

“I have some beautiful goddesses I needed to call upon,” he shrugs and makes his way to plop next to the man he’s addressing, revealing my presence to the room as I stay put not far from the entrance. The frowning man sighs loudly upon seeing me, turning to rebuke Taehyung again. “Not that I really care about who you’re seeing, but bringing one of your girls to a war council isn’t very amusing.”

Protest threatens to fly from my mouth at being referred to as one of Taehyung’s supposedly many girls, whoever they are, but he beats me to the chase. “As much as I’d love to be acquainted with such a determined, pretty lass, alas, I don’t know her. Hoseok may be able to help you out though.”

Taehyung’s comment shifts the attention of the other three men towards the person who has caught my eye the second I walked in. However, Hoseok doesn’t react, too preoccupied with gaping at me. It takes the man beside Taehyung to call his name again before he snaps out of his trance to answer. “Ah, yes, my lord. This is my bride-to-be.”

“I see.” The person Hoseok addresses as a lord now fixes his gaze upon me. This must be Kim Seokjin, one of the most powerful warlords, and the one who owns this land, as well as many others throughout the country. My saviour has to be Kim Taehyung, another formidable warlord and Seokjin’s ally. For such an influential person, Seokjin doesn’t appear to be all that intimidating. Especially when he’s smiling so kindly at me, the reception a complete opposite to the way he received Taehyung. I feel myself relax slightly under his gaze. He is extremely handsome, and I’m thankful that my heart already belongs to Hoseok because otherwise he may have the power to break it. I’m sure that a powerful man blessed with such gorgeous appearance is well equipped to capture the hearts of countless women, and I’d rather not be one of them. Hoseok is already popular enough for me to be worried over the amount of women throwing themselves at him. “What brings you here? It must be important for you to have come this far, so let’s hear it.”

He is being more accommodating that I could have ever dreamed, and the ease with which my very rough plan is proceeding is causing me to stumble over my words. I didn’t expect this to work out so well. Not that I’m complaining. “Right. Well. Hoseok and I are supposed to be married in three weeks, but with the war so close, it had to be postponed. Not that I’m resentful!” It’s hard to come up with the right words to convey my dilemma without potentially offending these people who are able to kill me — or worse, Hoseok — without having to answer to anyone. However, my anxiety amuses Seokjin, who offers me a gentle smile.

“I understand. War inconveniences everyone, so I plan to do my best to resolve it using as little time and resources as possible,” he assures me. “Hoseok will help me fight for the sake of a better future, I promise you.”

Of course I’m worried about the war, even if it isn’t my main concern at the moment. Seokjin’s assurances make me feel worlds better about having to let Hoseok go. Still, it doesn’t deter me from my mission. “Thank you for putting me at ease, my lord. However, the reason I’m here is to make a request. And it isn’t to ask you to let Hoseok stay behind. I fully comprehend the need for him to go.”

“Oh?” Seokjin’s delectable mouth forms an ‘o’ of surprise when I confirm that I’m not here to ask him what he’d expected of me. “Well then, state your request, and if it is within my power to grant it, I will gladly do so.”

Taking a deep breath, I announce to the room, “instead of postponing it, I’m hoping that you will permit us to marry before he goes.”

The thoughts that go on in Seokjin’s mind are plain to see as his expression changes from surprise, to a frown as he considers the consequences of my plea, then amusement as he assesses the woman in front of him. With a squeaky laugh that surprises me because I couldn’t have imagined such a childish sound to have come out of a refined man such as himself, he glances to Hoseok and says, “that’s quite a woman you have there, Hoseok.”

My husband-to-be, seemingly just as shocked as the other men in the room with the exception of Seokjin and Taehyung, the second of whom is only looking on with detached fascination, can only nod in agreement with his lord’s conclusion. Beside Taehyung, a disgruntled man narrows his eyes and grumbles, “how foolish. Do your parents even know you’re here? It’s dangerous for a woman like you to come here all the way on your own.”

“Now, Yoongi, don’t be so harsh on the girl,” Seokjin admonishes him quietly before addressing me again in a louder, though still even and calm voice, “Are you aware what you’re asking? Are you sure this is what you want?”

There is no doubt, and I told him as much. “This is what I want.”

“Then I don’t see any reason I shouldn’t comply with your request,” he readily agrees, but then turns to Hoseok, almost like an afterthought. “Are you agreeable to it, Hoseok?”

The shock on Hoseok’s face has now worn off to give way to a scowl. “I can’t say that I agree, my lord.”

I can’t believe my ears. Completely sure that he’d be happy with the arrangements I’ve thought out in my head, his disagreement comes as an unpleasant shock, like a bucket of ice water has been dumped on my head on a particularly cold winter day. However, I’m alone in my astonishment. Everyone else looks unaffected. Understanding, even. After shooting me a faintly concerned look, Seokjin asks Hoseok, in a lightly teasing tone, “could it be that you don’t want to marry her? Are you displeased with your parents’ choice?”

“No, that’s not it at all!” Hoseok disputes his claim indignantly. “I love her, but—“

“Well! That settles it, then,” Seokjin says gleefully, effectively cutting him off. Added to the realisation that he has confessed his feelings for me to the group of warlords, Hoseok is unable to utter another word, giving in to the blood rushing to his cheeks. I’m faring no better. Although still hurt that he opposed to the idea of marrying before going off to war, this is the first time he has said that he loves me. It really helps take away the sting of the earlier rejection, especially since it seems that Seokjin is going to approve of my request anyway and Hoseok isn’t putting up further objections.

Still, even with the outcome of my visit to the castle determined, an awkward silence follows the conclusion. Not belonging in this place, I start to feel uncomfortable, but I’m unsure if I can take my leave without being dismissed. Yoongi remarks sourly, “Taehyung and I didn’t come all this way to waste our time on frivolities. Get her to leave so we can continue our discussion.”

Although Yoongi’s words may have come off as a little hostile, I’m inwardly relieved that he voiced it. This time the man on the farthest right, who has remained quiet throughout the whole exchange, speaks. “Hoseok, see that she arrives safely home.” Hoseok gets to his feet without protest, asking the man, whom he calls Namjoon, to cover his part in the discussion as they have talked about beforehand.

I’m about to open my mouth to say that I can return just fine on my own, but a meaningful look from Seokjin makes me shut it again. With a low murmur of gratitude and an apology for interrupting such an important meeting, I let Hoseok lead me out. We remain in tense silence until the castle is a distance away from us. Only then he rounds on me, demanding to know why I asked for such a thing.

“The question is, why don’t you agree?” I counter, unable to keep the pain out of my voice. “I thought you feel as strongly about me as I do for you, but I guess I was wrong.”

My trembling lips, shaking from keeping the tears at bay, softens him. He places his hands on my shoulders, whirling me to face him. The words that he utters are heartfelt and sincere. “I wish the first time I said it was for your ears only, but I wasn’t lying back there. I love you. Of course I want to marry you. But not now. Not when there is no guarantee that I’ll make it back. This is not going to be just any battle. It’s a big, long war. I don’t know when I’ll return. If I do return.”

I’m starting to get a clearer idea of the reason behind his disagreement, but it doesn’t mean that I concur with his opinion. However, before I can refute him, he continues, “What if I die? I don’t want you to cry for me. I don’t want you to become a widow. Even if I can’t see it, I can’t stand the thought of you being sad. No matter what the cause. What if I return a maimed man? I want you to have the option of backing out of the marriage. A chance to change your mind. You should have a husband who is there, who is whole, who can make you happy.”

“And you don’t think you can make me happy?!” The amount of thought he has put in for my sake is touching, but it infuriates me how little value he gives himself. Furious, I hit his solid chest with my fists, although the meager force that I can muster is nothing to him, and he doesn’t budge. “I don’t know why you think I’m so eager to marry you, but it’s not because you’re a renowned samurai, or because you’re from a good family, or because you’re handsome. It isn’t anything like that at all. Hoseok, I love you. Of course I want you to come back safely, because I think I might need you more than my life, but even if you don’t, just being your wife, even if it’s for a short time, a second of that happiness with you is more valuable than a lifetime of never being yours. No one can make me as happy as you do.”

This is the second time of the day I’ve managed to surprise him, but with his recovery from the shock comes a beatific grin. Still he asks, “and what if I come back missing a limb? Or with a huge scar on my face?”

It’s hard for me to remain serious when his joy is so infectious, but I answer him as honestly as I can. “I’ll think that my husband is really great to have survived such a bloody war and return, looking all dashing with his battle scars.”

Hoseok’s bark of laughter at my response is full of unfiltered delight. “You’re really amazing. Now I don’t feel so stupid for falling in love with you so quickly.” Finally coming to an agreement, he takes my hand in his to walk me the rest of the way home. We part with him making me a promise to settle the matter between our families, and a sweeter one of making me as happy as he can in the limited amount of time we’ll have.

Unsurprisingly, I get a sound scolding from my parents when they learn of what I did, but ultimately I succeed in making the marriage happen before Hoseok is set to leave. Still, with three weeks’ worth of preparation having to be cramped into the one week that he has, the wedding can only be held the day before he goes. Even with only one night to spend with him, I don’t regret my decision. This is still what I want. Time passes with frightening speed, each second bringing me anticipating delight and fearful dread at the same time.

The trousseau that has been carefully put together for me since the day of my engagement is brought to Hoseok’s home on the joyful day. It pains me to have to leave my family, but my maid has been allowed to accompany me to my new home, so I take comfort in at least one familiar face. The wedding ceremony commences with family members in attendance. Even through my white silk headdress, it’s hard to keep my gaze down and away from my groom, who is looking stunning and dignified in his haori, the dark coat as well-made as the rest of his ceremonial clothing. The ritual drinking of sake is followed by my changing into the kosode robe presented by Hoseok.

Stiff and formal though the ceremony may have been, every single part of it feels like a dream. A wondrous ritual that binds me to Hoseok for life. No matter how long or short it may be. The war looms ever closer like a dark cloud over our first night together, but I try not to let it consume us, even if it means having to face the awkward silence as we sit next to each other on the futon, just the two of us, now officially man and wife.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” he murmurs quietly, as if finding himself next to me in his room something impossible to imagine. I can’t help giggling a little at that. How is it that he manages to make me feel comfortable even when I’m this nervous? Hoseok is truly a wonder.

“I can’t believe it either,” I echo his sentiments.

Since we’ve been left alone together, I’ve been having trouble meeting his eyes. Which is stupid of me, I know, since he’s going to ride off in the morning, and I have no place to be senselessly bashful now. However, I can’t hear anything except my own heartbeat drumming loudly in my ears. A deafening sound that finally comes to a halt when Hoseok lays his hand on top of mine.

Reflexively, I glance down to the spot where we’re connected, but he crooks a finger under my chin to tilt my head up. His dark gaze is intense, different from any other time before for a reason that escapes me. All I know is that just with one look, he’s threatening to melt me into a puddle of mush. “Hoseok,” I say his name in a whisper, afraid to break the spell he has cast between us.

His answer isn’t vocal. Moving to cup the side of my jaw in his large hand, he draws me closer to him, bending down to bring his lips to mine. The warmth that I’ve always felt him giving off radiates from his kiss as well, but this time it’s not the familiar comforting sensation that makes me feel safe. The heat pressing on me now is enticing, intimidating, fascinating me, raising fears of the unknown and excitement of exploring it with him. My breath catches, but he only tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, and I don’t protest. When the tip of his wet tongue slides across my lips, I gasp at the tingling sensation it causes, opening my mouth and inviting him inside to show me even better pleasures. Having him explore the inside of my mouth makes me moan and reach up to hold onto him. He responds by moving the hand on my cheek to cradle the back of my head and pressing his other on the small of my back, pulling me flush against him.

Being practically in his lap like this, I can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against me at the edge of my hazy conscience. The realisation is making my body respond in a most delicious way. I want him. In ways that I haven’t thought of before. In ways that makes me unable to let him go. He lowers me down, but I bring him with me, refusing to loosen my hold on him. I can feel his hands traveling down my body, hear the rustle of fabric as he deftly unties the knots holding my clothes together. When we finally break the kiss, we’re both panting, and I’m laid bare before him, trying not to squirm under his predatory gaze.

Without thinking, I rub my legs together, trying to ease the longing I feel in the dampening junction, but Hoseok stops me by wedging his knee between them. I want to tell him off for it but my words are lost to my gasps and moans as his mouth blaze a trail from my neck, following my collarbone down to my breasts. Sucking and nipping on the tender flesh, he reduces me to a pliant mess underneath him, making me want him more and more. When he closes his mouth on one of my nipples, his tongue lapping and swirling around the sensitive tip, he sends jolts all over my body.

I’m powerless to do anything but pant and cry out for him, when he’s lightly pinching my other nipple with his fingers, rolling it around his digits while his other hand reaches down between my legs. It doesn’t take much prowling and teasing against my folds for me to hear the wet sounds that his wicked fingers is drawing from my pussy. Hoseok is stoking my arousal with ease and he’s threatening to shove me off the edge when he leaves my chest to shift his focus lower down my body.

When I feel his tongue licking a strip up my slit, I know that I’m not likely to survive the night. The combination of his mouth and fingers is lethal. It’s driving me crazy, but I can’t seem to summon the strength to tell him to stop. No, judging by the way I’m tugging at his hair and shoving my hips into his face, I’m actually showing him I want more. I want him to continue slamming his fingers inside me. I want him to suck on my clit. I want him to pull me up to a high then push me off the cliff, listening to me scream his name as I come undone. I can feel rather than see his smirk against me as he laps up my overflowing juices, but I don’t care. As for this night, I am his, completely Hoseok’s, and he can do whatever he wants with me. If I’m blessed with more nights after this, I’m more than willing to be subject to this sweet torture again.

“You’re drenched,” he growls as he pulls his robes apart. Even in my hazy post-orgasmic state, I can’t help but admire his body. Rather than menacing bulk, Hoseok is lithe, all supple muscle, his beautiful figure formed over years of hard training. I can see now why his fighting style is considered an art. Any way that he moves can’t be anything but graceful and dignified. My pulse races again at the sight, at the thought of what the rest of the night has in store for me, at the fact that this gorgeous man is actually my husband. It only makes the need inside me, so recently sated, stir with desire again. “So ready for me,” he says smugly. A part of me is a little embarrassed, but I’d much rather let him know how easily he makes me hot, how much I want him than shy away. So I nod my head with a shy smile that is contrasting with the lifting of my arms out to call him to me.

Hoseok is nothing but obliging, leaning down to let me wrap my arms around him, catching my lips with his as he covers my body with own. My squeak of surprise when the tip of his cock presses against my entrance is swallowed into his mouth, and he only increases the pressure against my slick pussy, a wordless request for access. With my mouth fully occupied, I give him my ‘yes’ by circling my legs around his waist, pushing the very end of his cock inside me. Just that is enough to make him groan against my lips. Wanting to hear the sound again more than I need to breathe, I press the heels of my feet even harder on his back.

Slowly but surely he sinks deeper and deeper inside me. The burn of my walls stretching to make way for his girth is a little painful, but the pleasure makes up for it in spades. It seems to go on forever, and I wish that it would, but eventually he stops to ask, “Are you all right?”

“It depends on what you consider all right,” I say breathlessly. “If you mean being unaffected by feeling so full that I might burst and go completely crazy, then no, I’m not. But if all right means feeling so unbelievably good and wanting more, then yes, I’ve never been better.”

Each lilt of his blissful chuckle is another flower blooming in the garden he is cultivating in my heart. I can’t laugh though, not when he starts moving. Slowly at first, then building in pace and intensity. It’s reassuring to know that he is nowhere as composed as I thought he was, if the speed at which he changes gears from deliberate to frantically pounding me into the bedding is any indication. In fact, only the potent lust in his eyes can hope to match the movement of his hips, the look that he’s piercing me with threatening to make me combust right then and there. Holding on to his muscular upper arms just isn’t enough to keep me from sliding up the futon with every thrust, just as it isn’t anywhere near enough for me to stave off my impending orgasm.

“Hoseok,” I whimper brokenly, unable to stop my legs from shaking even as they’re wrapped tightly around him. Stuck between knowing that the pleasure is too much to bear and not wanting it to end, without thinking, I act on instinct and bite down on his shoulder. I have no idea if his strained snarl of my name is due to my teeth sinking into his flesh or the tightening of my walls around him as I shatter underneath him, but it’s enough to get him push his last few powerful thrusts before exploding inside me.

The way he collapses on top of me yet still holds himself up just enough so he doesn’t crush me under his weight makes him all the more endearing to me. Maybe it’s the post-coital bliss, but my entire being is full of love for Hoseok. Although can it be called that when I’m still quivering from his love-making?

“You’re trembling,” he points out the obvious, and a furious blush creeps up my cheeks at how plain his effect on me is.

“You don’t have to tell me that!” I tell him off with a light smack to his chest. The wet slapping sound that my palm makes upon impact with the sweaty surface just reminds me of how fiercely he was pumping into me a moment ago.

There he goes, letting out a laugh that tugs on my heartstrings again. “You’re really cute.”

“I’m embarrassed enough without you saying that,” I mumble, secretly happy with his words.

But he isn’t done yet. “You’re beautiful.”

“Stop it,” I say, but there’s no hiding my smile now.

“What can I say then? You’re stopping me from saying everything I’m feeling right now,” he teases, drawing a giggle out of me. His compliments make me lighthearted and bashful at the same time, so the only response I can come up with is a radiant smile and a shrug as I reach up to run my fingers in his soft hair lovingly. “Well, there’s only one thing left for me to tell you, anyway.”

“What is it?” I can’t help asking, my interest piqued.

He grins down at me, mischievous and gentle at the same time. “I love you.”

My laughter at that is probably one of my happiest yet. “I don’t mind hearing that.” To show just how content I am with that particular confession, my fingers tighten in his hair, careful not to hurt him, but with enough force to pull him down so I can kiss him again.

I don’t know how much time has passed before we have to surface for air again, but it’s enough to leave my lips tingling, deliciously swollen. The satiated amber of Hoseok’s eyes have been reignited to molten lava again, burning into mine as he asks, “can we do it again?”

“Fine, but it’s my turn this time.” Filled with determination, I press my palms against his hard chest, pushing him off of me so we can switch positions. The ease of which I succeed in doing so is probably thanks to him not expecting the move. However he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds it hilarious, until I get my hand wrapped around his half-erect dick, turning his chortle into a needy groan. His reaction bolsters my confidence, helping me shed my inhibitions to crawl down, following a path of kisses and licks along his chest, his toned stomach, to his erection.

A glimpse up at his face shows me one full of anticipation and desire. I want to make him feel as good as he made me feel. So, without hesitation, I go down on him like he did for me earlier. His sharp intake of breath when I twirl my tongue over the head before plunging towards his stomach tells me that I’m going in the right direction. Finding it impossible to swallow his whole length, I grip the base with my right hand to make up for what my mouth can’t take. His taste, his smell, the noises that he’s making is more intoxicating than any alcohol. He’s getting me riled up again without even touching me. I’d complain about the unfairness of it all had my mouth been free to talk.

As though he can sense my needs, he sits up then drags my body sideways so he can utilise his fingers to torment me. I keep sucking on him tenaciously without pausing, not wanting to be outdone, but it’s hard to keep my head bobbing up and down his shaft when he inserts two fingers inside me. My moan of his name reverberates around his cock, making him groan but not enough to stop him from fingering my pussy. This time he knows he isn’t going to win the race to the finish line, as he pulls me off of him just as the tightening sensation in my belly is about to begin.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters under his breath before he can lose it in the kiss he pulls me into. Somehow he manages to let me go long enough to inquire, “did it feel good?”

“It still does,” I moan passionately, wanting nothing more than to let him know how much I’d loved it. “So you don’t need to hold yourself back. You make me feel incredible, Hoseok.”

“As long as you let yourself go completely,” he promises. Keeping me steady by gripping my sides, he lowers me down onto his lap. Onto his engorged member. Pushing any coherent thought out of my head. Bringing me to new heights as he helps me impale myself on him again and again, amplifying the pleasure even more when he dips his head to my bouncing breasts, nibbling and sucking harder than before. One after another he leaves his marks on me, like red welting flowers all over my chest.

Heeding his command, I let myself go fully. The unreserved me leaves marks on my own by raking my nails along his chest, making him hiss with ravenous passion. “I need more,” he declares darkly, not letting me have a word in edgewise as he hauls me off of him, putting me on all fours facing away from him without much effort. Not even giving me the chance to complain about the indignity of the position, he plunges into me from the back. Just like that, any protest on the tip of my tongue is overridden by the whines that only increase in volume and frequency as he rams himself into me, harder and faster than before.

Every vicious thrust forces a grunt from my lips now, but I’m helpless against the assault beyond digging my fists into the bedding and moving my hips to meet his. Loud slaps echo throughout the room, so loud that they may even rival the moans that the two of us are making. His movements are ferocious, almost brutal, each one hitting deep inside me. My arms give out from the sheer force of him pounding into me, and he follows me down, running his tongue up my spine then settling on the side of my face to suck and bite on my earlobe as I whimper and beg him not to stop, that he has once again brought me to the edge.

He knows it too, the taut sensation inside my lower stomach reflecting on my tightening pussy on his cock, giving more friction to his thrusts yet making them all the more pleasurable. The sensation is a catalyst to his orgasm as well, I can tell by his bruising grip on my waist as I burst into a million pieces underneath him. Calling for me, the last few times he pounds into me are mind-blowing, causing me to scream his name while he releases inside me again.

His hunger for me cannot be satisfied, it seems. Not for long. I’m not sure if he even has a limit. I don’t know how long I succumb to sleep after that, but the next time I open my eyes, the night outside is still inky black. My bleary eyes need some time to adjust in the dim light, and when they come to focus, I see that Hoseok is still awake, watching me with a contented smile as he brushes my hair with his fingers tenderly.

“You should sleep,” I reprimand him groggily. It’s fine for me to be sleep deprived, but not for him. However, he’s stubborn, set on drinking in as much of me as he can tonight.

“We only have this one night together to last us for a while. I want to make it count,” he says with a kiss, then tells me to go back to sleep. But how can I, when I know I’m going to miss him just as much as he’ll miss me? More importantly, how can I return to slumber after he’d kissed me like that?

In the end we only got to sleep a scant few hours that night. Not that I can bring myself to mind it very much. Not when my pussy is still throbbing, my legs can’t stop shaking, I can hardly walk and my body has served as his canvas to leave his beautiful red and purple bruises. “Are you sure you’ll be fine with so little sleep?” I ask him worriedly as he prepares his horse, already clad in battle armour. To be honest, he doesn’t look tired at all. He actually looks peppy and really gallant dressed like this.

“Without a doubt. If I get drowsy I can always sneak in a nap on my horse.” As much as I’m concerned about the safety in doing so, I know it’s the least of my worries. There’s no help for it now anyway, so I only nod, a torrent of tears threatening to break from the confines at him leaving. Trust Hoseok to notice it right away, coming over to draw me into his embrace and press his forehead against mine, much like he did that night he first sneaked into my parents’ house. It feels so long ago, like the memories of a dream that is escaping from grasp. “Do you regret marrying me now?”

The question is soft and sprinkled with a touch of fear. One that I’m always happy to shoot into the mud. “No, I don’t. And I never will,” I say with conviction, keeping my gaze up and locked on his. “In one day, you’ve made me happier than I’ve felt my whole life. This one day will keep me strong no matter what happens.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.” He seems more assured now, and it sets my mind at ease. This is something that we can’t run away from. However, his happiness, next to my own, is all that matters to me. “I promise to do whatever it takes to return to you, so you will never have to shed another tear.” His thumbs wipe away the tears I haven’t even noticed are spilling down my cheeks. “I was always ready to die serving my lord and the people I’ve set out to protect. But now I have a stronger reason to fight with everything I have. If I die, I will die to keep you safe, because your purpose is to live. I don’t want just that though. I want to come back to you, so I can protect you, right by your side.” I nod, not trusting my voice. But I trust Hoseok with all my heart. He will come back. I know he will.

It is with this unwavering belief that I keep myself strong in the long days and weeks that follows. Not a day passes that I fail to think about him. Life without Hoseok is as barren as the wintry trees, but I refuse to cry. I know he doesn’t want me to wallow in sorrow, so I continue living as he wants, settling in my life in my new home, where I’m treated well by my new family. The short time that Hoseok and I have been blessed with is my comfort. Countless times I have to come to terms with the fact that it may have to be enough to carry my life through.

Still I wait for him, my faith for him never faltering. The scratches, red and purple marks he left all over my body slowly fade and disappear, but he still hasn’t returned. Harsh winds have mellowed out into pleasant breezes, softly coloured buds have started flowering when news that we have won the long war reaches the town. Not long after, the people are given more reason to rejoice as Seokjin and the first of the soldiers arrive, slowly trickling into the town in glory to return to their homes. My patience is wearing thin as I wait impatiently for my husband, but each day passes with no news of him, only more disappointment and fear. Even his mother, who has been my company as I await his return, now sits in the comfort of the house, the weather still too cold for a woman her age to stand for too long. Alone, I stand at the gate as expectantly as ever, refusing to believe that Hoseok has done as horrid a thing as perish after he’d promised me to do whatever it takes to return to me.

So I watch in silence as a straggle of soldiers walk past, some with the help of other men. This group have suffered heavier damage compared to the ones that have returned earlier. It’s probably the reason why they’ve taken this long to make their way back. The thought of a seriously injured Hoseok makes me heavy with dread, but I steel myself for the possibility, knowing that this is probably the last group to arrive, and no more will be coming. Then I see it.

Hoseok’s magnificent stallion, galloping towards me at top speed. He is a striking vision, riding furiously amongst the light pink flower petals falling gently onto the ground. Elated laughter spills unbidden from my lips as I step aside to avoid being trampled. He pulls his horse to an abrupt stop, shaking dust into the air, but neither of us care. Jumping off, he grabs me and lifts me up, making me squeal giddily, then sets me down to press his lips to mine. The force behind them conveys the extent of his love for me, how much he has missed me while he was gone, how glad he is to see me, and I respond in kind. He explains that he remained with the injured soldiers to ensure their safety on their way back. The group moved more slowly than the rest owing to the injuries, which is why he arrived late. I can accept his reason, but I’m not satisfied until I look over him myself, and after several attempts to convince me that he is unharmed, he gives in to my inspection.

True to his word, other than a few scratches, he is perfectly fine. It’s more than I can ever hope for, and I start to weep openly as the reality of his return sinks in.

“I came back so you wouldn’t cry, you know,” he chides gently, but I can see that his eyes are also damp through my blurry vision.

“I’m crying because I’m ecstatic that you’ve come back alive,” I argue through my sobs. “I’ve always believed that you will, but I can’t stop myself.”

My confession makes him sigh in relief and happiness, and he hugs me tightly, showering me with kisses. Long and lonely nights without Hoseok may come again, bringing a chill worse than winter, but it’s all worth it when I can look forward to being enveloped in his warmth again.

Did you enjoy this story? If yes, check out the accompanying birthday stories!

[1] He Left (Hoseok) [2] He Stole (Yoongi) [3] He Lied (Jungkook) [4] He Shot (Namjoon) [5] He Fell (Jimin) [6] He Loved (Seokjin) [7] He Decided (Taehyung)

Japanese terms:

Kimono: Traditional Japanese clothing Obi: Sash for Japanese clothing Daimyo: Japanese feudal lord Haori: Traditional Japanese jacket Sake: Japanese rice wine Kosode: Japanese robe Futon: Japanese traditional bedding

#bts smut #hoseok smut #armiesnet #networkbangtan #btssunshinenet #bts writing squad #hyunglinenetwork #noonanet #bangtanbookclub #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #2018 bts birthday stories

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