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bitterie-sweetie · 2 months

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Fake it til you make it

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader Genre: fluff, fake dating WC: 6.5k Warnings: alcohol A/N: yes it's about vday buuut it's actually for @syuperseventeen's bdayyy!!! surprise surprise! happy birthday nat, i hope this year is even better and filled with many things to look forward to <3

Your Valentine’s date with Jeonghan is coming up and yet the only thing on your mind is how to break up with him. Of course breaking up with someone is difficult, but you’d argue that what’s more difficult is breaking up with someone you never even dated.

Jeonghan is a prankster.

Growing up, you’d often be on the receiving end of his pranks at school. Third grade “initiation” had you drenched in water after he told you to pin a cup against the wall with a straw, and in ninth grade you had tears streaming down your face after eating an entire scoop of wasabi—not the matcha ice cream he said it was. Then there was the time he did something to make your first crush hate you, which, in hindsight, was a good thing because the guy turned out to be a total asshole.

It wasn’t Jeonghan’s fault entirely when you were too willing to fall for his pranks because being the target of a prank meant having his attention, and that’s something that you wanted. Jeonghan had a way of making everyone feel special, and his attention was a limelight that you never wanted to step out of.

Honestly, you might’ve kept up with it if he kept going. But then that fateful day came and it was like you were suddenly on his side, working with him instead of being the victim to his antics, and you’d say that that’s what has kept the two of you together after all these years.

Well, at least until now.

“Hey,” you greet in a rush, looking around the table at everyone and seeing that you’re truly the last one to arrive. Usually, you’d give that place to Lee Chan; he’s the most popular of your friend group and almost always has a prior appointment to your meetups. “Sorry I’m late. My train was delayed and—oh, did you already order for me?”

Jeonghan slides a sealed bubble tea across the table and sets it in front of your seat—the one empty chair right beside him, no less. When you glance at him questioningly he shrugs and tilts his head towards the crowd at the front. “The line was too long so I ordered yours with mine. Hope you’re feeling like your usual today.”

Indeed, the sticker on the cup shows that it’s your go-to order. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you. Thanks, babe.”

Today’s meet up with your friend group is the first of the year and it’s also the first time you’re seeing everyone since Chan’s wedding… including Jeonghan. You would’ve spent Christmas and New Year’s with him had he not cancelled on you, and now that bit of distance has manifested into a larger uncertainty for you over the past while. Even now, the ‘babe’ seemed to come out awkwardly, sticking to your throat.

“Wow, you guys are actually disgusting. I hope you know that.” Seungkwan makes a face at you, and beside him, Soonyoung nods a few times in agreement.

You plaster on a smile. “It’s okay to just say you’re jealous.”

The only response you get is an eye-roll from Soonyoung, and then everyone moves on, thankfully. Mingyu asks you what you’ve been up to so you talk about your recent promotion at work and some new habits you’ve started in the new year, and when you sense that the conversation is starting to approach the territory of your future with Jeonghan, you gently steer it towards Chan. After all, he’s the one that got married just a few months ago, and you know he would never miss the chance to talk about his amazing honeymoon and how great this new chapter of his life is going.

There is truly nothing like adult friendships and its quarterly updates.

Once there’s a bit of a lull in the conversation, Jeonghan turns to you. “What are you doing this week?”

“Oh, this week?” Your heart speeds up tenfold at the uncertainty of what might come next. “Hmm well, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, exactly.” He nods and much to your relief, there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. “So I’ll see you for our date then?”

“Of course, babe.”

“Can’t you guys do this somewhere else?” Soonyoung says as he stares daggers in your direction. You totally understand and sympathize with that though; today you’re turning up the sweetness more than usual to compensate for the distance you actually feel, unfortunately at the expense of your friends.

Jeonghan completely ignores Soonyoung’s complaint and doesn’t even look his way. “That’s good,” he says, leaning back in his seat and almost looking relieved at your answer. “I was afraid my darling might not have time for me anymore.”

“What? No way. Did you have anything in mind for our date?”

“Hmm, yes but it’s a surprise. I’ll text you the details later.”

“Well, uh, I have to run,” Chan says, slowly getting up from his seat. The rest of you hardly bat an eye, having gotten too used to his busy schedule. “It was nice seeing everyone. You guys should come over for my housewarming once everything is set up.”

Mingyu stands up too. “Oh, I actually have to go too; got a dinner with Wonwoo later.”

…On second thought, perhaps you overcompensated a bit too much with the cringe. Soonyoung and Seungkwan leave soon after getting a call from their roommate, Seokmin, and then it’s just you and Jeonghan at the table. Still seated side by side, your arm occasionally brushing against his.

“How have you really been?” he asks in a low voice.

“Decent, I guess, despite the winter blues and all. It’s pretty much what I said earlier.” You shrug when he remains silent. “Why do you ask? Do I look depressed or something?”

“No,” he shakes his head with a laugh, “not depressed, exactly, but I wanted to see if you’re as sad as I am about not seeing each other in so long.” Then he leans in a bit closer, as if to whisper a secret. “I missed you, darling.”

It’s times like this when you feel like he’s toeing the line. There’s a small smile lingering on his lips and a softer look in his eyes, not at all like the overdone sweetness to the point of sarcasm from before, but you can never tell if he really means what he says or if this is just part of the act.

Regardless, it makes your face feel hot and it makes you unable to look directly at him.

“Oh… yeah,” you say, trying to make a quick recovery. “It’s too bad we missed out on the holidays but at least we get Valentine’s Day.”

“Yup, that’s exactly why I have something special in mind for that day. I want to make it up to you, darling.”

You give him a smile and then go to take a sip of your drink, and that’s pretty much the end of the conversation. Despite saying he misses you, it’s interesting how he doesn’t explain why he bailed on the holidays in the first place, and you don’t know whether you should ask about it at this point.

Or if you should even be curious about such a thing.

Jeonghan pulls you out of your thoughts with a brush of his hand on yours. “It’s getting dark. Let’s head out?”

You agree and then let him hold your hand, lace his fingers with yours, and then lead you out of the shop. He doesn’t let go until you cross the parking lot and get to his car. It’s strange, you think. You can’t seem to recall the last time the two of you held hands so naturally like this especially when there’s no one else around.

In fact, when the two of you are alone, the sickening sweetness is always toned down but not completely dropped. Now, Jeonghan’s smiles are softer around the edges like they’re less exaggerated, less of a performance, and when he calls you darling, his voice is quieter and isn’t at all coated in the sticky honey you’re used to. When he hugs you goodbye at your door, it’s a loose hug and almost has a degree of uncertainty.

Jeonghan steps back but lingers just for a second. “I’ll see you in a few days for our date, darling.”

“Of course,” you put on a smile, “I can’t wait, babe.”

He waits until you get into your building before giving a little wave and then heading on his way.

After you close the door behind you and collapse onto your bed, you heave a sigh and finally let the smile slip from your lips. So there would be a Valentine’s date this year after all; the anticipation makes your heart speed up the slightest but at the same time makes you all the more anxious. You thought that he really would end things today, and if not, that you should be the one to do so. But seeing him after so long, feeling the way the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin, basking in the brightness of his smiles, you simply couldn’t utter those words.

Perhaps Valentine’s Day wouldn’t be the right time to do it either, or maybe your date won’t end up happening for whatever reason. You know that this is something you have to do, but the question is how exactly would you go about doing it? Because there is one major problem.

You’re not dating Jeonghan at all.

One moment in high school is what started this whole thing.

It was eleventh grade drama class—which Jeonghan thought would be fun to take as an elective—that resulted in the two of you being cast in the school play. Although neither of you landed a role that was remotely close to important, Jeonghan decided to have fun with it and improvise during your one minute of screen time and that somehow turned your insignificant cameos into a beautiful romance that had the audience rooting for you.

And that very moment somehow managed to embed itself so deeply in your relationship with Jeonghan that it became a long running joke to this day.

Today you’re sitting across from Soonyoung and Seungkwan again, with Mingyu beside you this time. Almost an exact replica of last week’s meetup, but Chan already has plans and Jeonghan is very obviously missing—something Soonyoung points out immediately.

“Wow, no Jeonghan today?” he says loudly even before the hostess is out of earshot. The people at the two tables nearby glance in your direction and you start to regret coming here at all. “We really won this one. Y/N, we should do this more often.”

You definitely should not. “Um, yeah. Totally.”

Last week’s meeting with your friends is what gave you the idea to consult with them about your situation. You first suggested the idea to Mingyu, and then used the prospect of free food to get Soonyoung and Seungkwan to come out, and naturally, Chan is busy so it ends up being the four of you at brunch. Which is better on your wallet, you think. You get the feeling that this quarterly meetup can totally happen more often if you were to make this offer every time.

As for what you’re about to ask… well, truthfully, you still don’t know if you should even do it. You’ve gone so many years without saying a word that it’d simply be odd to ask now, plus you would run the risk of making everything weird. But if you don’t do it, you would only end up making it weird anyway because how much longer can you go on pretending?

Besides, it’s not only you and Jeonghan who are prolonging this inside joke for way longer than it should’ve lasted. All of your friends should be in on it if they treat the two of you like a couple too.

The waiter comes by to take your orders, and you try not to wince at the entire list that comes out of Soonyoung and Seungkwan’s mouths. Mingyu gets the least, seemingly knowing that something is up if the worried glances he throws your way is anything to go by.

Once the waiter leaves, that’s when the small talk stops and all eyes turn to you.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Soonyoung asks with a goofy grin. “Since Jeonghan’s not here, does that mean you need help with Valentine’s Day plans or something?”

Beside him, Seungkwan has the complete opposite expression as he eyes you warily between sips of his americano.

You take a huge swig of water like it’s liquid courage, and then go for it. “This is going to sound weird…” you start, trying not to notice the way Seungkwan tenses up as if bracing for your words, “but I wanted to ask you guys what my relationship with Jeonghan is.”

Silence. Complete, dead silence.

Soonyoung freezes like he’s in a photograph while Seungkwan’s hand holding his americano hangs in mid air as a drop of the drink dribbles down the side of his lip.

“Sorry, what?” It’s Soonyoung who recovers first. “I think I heard that wrong.”

You shake your head. “Just tell me.”

“You’re asking us what your relationship with your own boyfriend is?”

“Boyfriend—exactly!” You have to hold back all the thoughts you have on the topic. “Yeah, that’s what I mean. So you think he’s my boyfriend? That we’re dating?”

Soonyoung frowns but it’s Seungkwan who answers, exasperated. “Y/N, what are you trying to say here? Are you trying to say you guys broke up? Or do you think we don’t know you well enough and this is a test? Can you say whatever it is directly—”

“Jeonghan and I aren’t together.”

There, you said it. Your biggest secret is out.

It should make you relieved to finally let out the secret you’ve been harbouring for years or it should at least alleviate some of the weight on your chest, but it doesn’t. The silence in the wake of your confession only closes in on you and makes it all the more suffocating.

“Any—anymore?”

“No. We were never together.”

The bit of silence from earlier repeats itself. Maybe you should become a speaker or presenter with your ability to draw such reactions from a crowd.

Seungkwan noisily sets down his drink and then leans forward with a frown. He’s still in denial, that much is obvious, and he narrows his eyes as he asks, “Is this a joke? A hidden camera? Are you trying to prank us like Jeonghan—”

“No, I’m completely serious. It’s really not what it seems, and this is why I’m asking you guys what you see us as because at this point I don’t even know the answer myself.”

With a deep breath, you tell them the truth about this entire thing.

You tell them about the high school play and your impromptu acting, and how that led for the two of you to become the famous couple at school afterwards. Sure, it might’ve been a good thing because that meant your acting was believable. But to two people who were interested in just about anything except love at that age, it was annoying and gross.

After the show when the shippers wouldn’t stop, the two of you decided to do what you do best—pull a prank. You spent that Valentine’s Day together as a joke and acted extra disgusting to mock couples while making fun of how stupid people were to believe whatever you showed them. In twelfth grade, the two of you did the same for Valentine’s Day and then even went to prom together as a joke.

In recent years, however, the annual joke of a Valentine’s Day date has turned into his Christmas and your Lunar New Year, his cousin’s graduation, your coworker’s housewarming, and Lee Chan’s wedding. It’s made you on a texting basis with his sister and it’s made him familiar with all your favourite food spots and go-to orders. It’s turned him into someone who’s simultaneously as distant as an acquaintance yet closer than a best friend.

And so, here you are, living an entire lie because you and Jeonghan had the whole world fooled.

“That’s insane,” Soonyoung says when you finally finish the story, unable to look your way and instead, stares into his drink with how mind blown he is.

Seungkwan, on the other hand, remains a bit skeptical. “Okay, but then what was with all that PDA?All the kissing? Is this some sort of situationship?”

“Oh, um.” Immediately you can feel your cheeks heating up. You didn’t think this far at all but now it seems like the entire truth will have to come out. “All of it was fake. We’ve… never actually kissed.”

That drama class has taught you more than you needed to know about manipulating angles and the audience’s perception, and Jeonghan is very good at it. Your fake kisses were often just a trick of the angle or occasionally using the thumb trick, and having seen the evidence captured in photos over the years, you know how convincing it can look.

Now, it’s embarrassing to admit for reasons you never would’ve imagined. Admitting to pulling a childish prank like this is one thing, but the realization that you and Jeonghan have faked it for so long without ever once making it real has you feeling almost dejected.

“I always knew Jeonghan was crazy but I didn’t know he’d be *this* crazy.” Soonyoung now has his head in his hands and is staring off into space. “This is the most insane story I’ve ever heard. I’m not sure if I should be happy for you or sad.”

You give a wry smile. “Yeah, well, I get why you would think we were together though. You met us in college and wouldn’t have known about what happened in the past so I guess there would never be a reason to question it.”

Beside you, Mingyu clears his throat and you turn to look at him. He’s been so quiet throughout your story that you were too busy focusing on the reactions of the other two, but looking at him now, his reaction is entirely different. Mingyu isn’t as surprised as he is concerned. “Actually, Y/N, a few years ago…” he says hesitantly, “there was a time when I asked him if you were actually dating.”

“You did? What did he say?”

“He didn’t deny it.”

“Well, we all know how he loves to be ambiguous and leave things a mystery.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “No—see, that’s what I thought too, but it was different that time. At first he didn’t deny it, but when I pushed a bit more, he said that you’re dating. In actual words and with the most serious look I’ve ever seen on his face.”

This is news to you. You always assumed that they were all in on the joke and would’ve never guessed that anyone actually asked Jeonghan, but the fact that he answered that way is all the more baffling.

“I don’t get it. Why would he tell you that?”

“Yeah, so,” Soonyoung says, “from then on we all thought that was fully confirmed, and he never said or implied otherwise.”

“Right…”

Mingyu nudges you gently. “Y/N, are you telling us about this now because you’re planning on stopping the act? Has it been bothering you? Or did something happen?”

“Is that why you wanted to tell us today?” Soonyoung lets out a dramatic gasp and leans all the back in his chair, hands over his mouth. “Don’t tell me—are you going to stop the act because you have a crush on someone?”

“What? No, definitely not. It’s not that, it’s—”

Here’s the next part of your big secret being revealed, something you weren’t entirely ready for but you tell yourself that this needs to happen.

It’s because of your feelings for Jeonghan. Your very real, very genuine feelings that have nothing to do with this prank.

Truthfully, you can’t pinpoint when you started feeling this way, much like you’re not sure how this joke was able to stick around for so long. It could be the most recent development—when your friend tried to convince you to hop on a dating app, all you could think about was how wrong it felt because you already had Jeonghan. Or maybe it was the Valentine’s Day just before college graduation when he leaned in so closely you thought he was going to kiss you, for real this time, and then only realizing much later that you were disappointed that it wasn’t real.

Or perhaps it started way back, to the time he asked you to prom—he said he didn’t have a date only for you to later find out he’d already rejected two promposals from other people. All for your fake relationship, supposedly.

And now, for you, what has started as a harmless prank has turned into something much more than that over the years.

Everyone looks like they're at a loss for words after that part, and even Soonyoung has lost his enthusiasm after hearing it. “Shit, that’s…” he starts. “Okay, yeah, I’m definitely sad for you.”

Seungkwan and Mingyu have similar sentiments but you wave them off, eager to lighten the mood again after such heavy topics. The food on the table has been long finished and you’re beginning to feel like you’re overstaying your welcome when there’s a crowd waiting at the front of the restaurant. “It’s fine, it’s whatever. I just wanted to get this off my chest today so that I can figure things out before I see him in a few days.”

A while later, you finish paying and then all head out together.

The conversation continues to replay itself in your head, and you realize there is one thing you’re curious about. You turn to Mingyu. “By the way—Mingyu, why *did* you ask Jeonghan if we were actually dating?”

Mingyu stops mid-stride and freezes like a deer in headlights, clearly not expecting your question at all. “I—um, I was asking for a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yeah, Chan.” He nods a few times in a row. “I thought Chan had a crush on you and I was trying to help him out.”

Strange, seeing as you’ve probably interacted with Chan the least among your friend group. He’s simply too booked and busy to hang out with you, and has been all throughout your college years together.

Oh, and he’s married.

“Like, before he met his wife?” you ask.

Soonyoung starts to cough furiously from where he is a few steps ahead while Mingyu’s cheeks redden the slightest bit.

You vaguely remember the first time the two of you did this, and how it wasn’t anything like how it’s going now.

Tonight is the night you’re supposed to go on your date with Jeonghan, and you’ve been buzzing with nerves since the night before. You have no idea what to expect for tonight since all he told you about it was to show up at his apartment, and that in itself was slightly concerning as you’ve never been to his home before nor has he been so secretive about any plans. Usually the two of you would be going to a casual place or would have the schedule shared ahead of time if it was a more formal event that needed preparation.

Jeonghan buzzes you in when you arrive and before you can say you’ll wait for him in the lobby, he tells you to go up to his unit. Again, a bit strange. You do as he asks though, and then even go to knock on the door when there’s no sign of him coming out.

When he opens the door and steps aside, that’s when everything clicks—you’re not here so that he can get his car and take you to your date location. This *is* the date location.

Beyond the doorway, you can see that his apartment is completely decorated. Rose petals line the sides of the hall and lead to the dining table, covered in a deep red tablecloth and perfectly set for your meal. Beside it, a large bouquet of roses rests at the center of the sideboard surrounded by a row of flickering candles which light up the space.

Even without knowing what his home normally looks like, it’s obvious that all this would’ve taken a lot of effort to set up.

“Jeonghan, why did you prepare all this?”

He gives you a dazzling smile. “Because my darling deserves the best, of course. I told you I was going to make it up to you for cancelling Christmas.”

“Babe, that’s too sweet of you. You really didn’t have to.” You try to return his smile but it doesn’t come easy when this whole situation is overwhelming. Then you let him take your coat and then guide you to the dining table where everything is set up.

Only when you’re seated do you realize that his response doesn’t answer your question at all.

The scent of the roses fill the room and looking at them gives you a pang in your heart. This is what the two of you used to make fun of—these big, romantic gestures, and the couples that willingly eat them up. Now it’s as if the tables have turned and you don’t know what to think.

If this were in public, in front of your friends or other people, you would’ve said that it was another funny gesture that Jeonghan put up for the sake of making them cringe. Because the two of you were the perfect joking, prankster couple, right?

Now that it’s just you and him here, it confuses you as to why he’s going to such lengths for a joke when it’s something that no one else would see, when there’s no audience to watch his performance.

You watch as Jeonghan busies himself in the kitchen, serving the food that he’s prepared and pouring the wine into glasses while glancing your way every once in a while. He looks pleased, you note, and he should be if he got his space to look this beautiful. But you can sense that there’s something else too, almost like a nervousness that sits on his shoulder every time he breezes past you and makes eye contact for the briefest second.

After everything is ready, he finally takes a seat across from you and the dinner begins.

Making small talk is easy at first; you comment on your surprise at this type of date, talk about how cold it’s been lately and how it sucks that your company is forcing you to go back into the office. You ask him how his holiday went and how his family has been, and mention how cute his sister’s new puppy is after seeing a post about it on her social media.

You know you’re just delaying the inevitable. Somehow you get the feeling he knows it too, judging by the way his answers are shorter than usual and how your conversation feels so superficial. So this time after there’s a lull in the conversation, you decide to go for it.

"Jeonghan, um…"

"Hmm?" He looks at you and waits for you to continue, but you don't. Or rather, you can't. "Ah, you're going to comment on how good this is, right?" he says instead, as if supplying you with a way out.

You're all too eager to grab onto it. "Wow, you read my mind." An enthusiastic nod, a slight look of surprise. "It's amazing. Did you make all this yourself?"

Jeonghan shakes his head and then follows up with a sheepish smile. "Partly. The rest is store bought."

Another nod, and then it just ends there again. Seated in this spot with the soft lighting of flickering candles cast against the wall and the heat of Jeonghan's gaze on you, the feeling of discomfort only grows. It's hard to remember what the two of you were like before, during the days when everything seemed so silly–when each move was a clearly defined act between two actors and the world was your stage. And most importantly, when each smile he showed you didn't send your stomach into somersaults or your mind into a loop of second guessing.

The air is so heavy and stifling that you grab your glass and down a large gulp of the wine. At least when you're drinking, you wouldn’t have to speak, whether that might be responding to him in a way that gives away all of your thoughts, or completely spilling them out yourself. Maybe the alcohol will also drown out some of your anxieties and–

"Hey, slow down." Jeonghan glances at you with worry. "We have all night."

You set the glass down, albeit a bit reluctantly. "Right, sorry. This wine is just so good."

Yet another lie, but what's one more at this point? The wine is much too sour and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You would've much preferred a soda or bubble tea, and drinking something fancy like this during such a fancy occasion makes you feel like you're pretending to be someone you're not.

Which is exactly what you're doing, isn't it? You've been living a lie this entire time.

You briefly wonder if Jeonghan feels the same way—the two of you have never properly spent time alone in complete privacy, and to have your first time be in such a formal atmosphere must feel strange. But if he's uncomfortable, he makes no sign of showing it. Or maybe he's always been the better actor of the two of you.

“You know, since you mentioned seasonal depression, I was thinking that for Christmas this year we should go somewhere. Somewhere warm and sunny to get away from the cold.”

“Oh, this year?” you repeat stupidly when you can’t quite believe what you’re hearing. Jeonghan wants to continue this thing? And here you were, thinking that he was about to end it at any moment for the past few months. “Um, yeah. That would be nice.”

“Or it could be a fall trip. Your parents have been wanting to go see the leaves change colour, right?”

There’s no hint of sarcasm on his face and no playful twinkle in his eye, and even though no one can read him very well, you know enough to tell that he’s being serious. You also know that what he’s saying makes no sense at all.

“Right, yeah. They’ve been wanting to do that.”

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply automatically, and then reach for another long gulp of your drink. “Yup, all good.”

Jeonghan frowns, a tiny crease appearing between his brows. “Are you sure? If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”

It’s strange, the way he looks at you. Jeonghan, who dances around questions and deflects easily with humour and only shows people what he wants them to see, now has worry filling his eyes as he waits for you to continue. As if he *knows*.

You doubt Soonyoung and Seungkwan would have spilled your secret so easily, but there’s a great possibility that the two of them would be unable to act normal around him after what they learned, and unintentionally hint at the truth. Then there’s the other possibility that Jeonghan knew way before any of this. Because maybe he—

No, you don’t want to think about that.

“It’s just that,” you say, having to force yourself to pause and slow down your thoughts before something terrible comes spewing out. A slow inhale, a shaky exhale. “Why are we here, Jeonghan?”

His frown deepens, but now it’s turned into confusion. “What do you mean?”

“What are we doing? This date has been nice, but I’m just very confused over why you put so much effort into this when there’s no one else around to see it. Weren’t we doing all of this as a joke? As a prank? Pretending to be a couple so that we can fool the world since that’s exactly what they wanted to see, but joke’s on them because we’re not?”

Jeonghan watches you silently with an unreadable look on his face. “Is that how you feel?”

“’Well, yes, because isn’t that the truth? And now, we’ve been doing so much together that it doesn’t feel like a joke anymore. How can it be when your mom is offering to give me homemade side dishes? Or—or when Chan’s wife was there, smiling at us on her wedding day like she wished we’d be just as happy as they are?” You pause to look at him and then proceed to look away. “How long are we going to continue lying to the world? Because I can’t stand the guilt.”

The last part of that may be true, but it’s not the full truth.

“Yeah, you’re right. We don’t have to keep doing this.”

“W—what?” You stare at him, dumbfounded.

Jeonghan sighs deeply and then meets your eyes, but then quickly looks away. “Yeah, we should’ve left this in high school. The joke has kind of gotten old, hasn’t it?”

You have no idea what he means by any of that, but it feels like you’re better off not knowing. The tension in the air is thick, and even when you imagined your fake breakup hundreds of times in your head, this is not something you could have predicted. It’s as you’re on a precipice, and one wrong move will delete all those years, all that time you spent with him.

And the worst part is that you don’t even want to break up.

“Jeonghan, look. I know all of this is supposed to be a joke, but why is it that it feels like you really do care?” One last deep breath before you make the jump. “And why is it that I *want* you to care?”

That has him stunned for a second, so much that the expression is obvious on his face in a way that almost never happens.

“Wait, what? I do care. No, I get that we started all this for fun back then, but that’s not how I feel about it now. Everything we’ve done is real—trust me, I wouldn’t have brought you to my family if that wasn’t the case. And I never thought I was lying to them. It’s exaggerated, yes, and much too dramatic, but I’m not a good enough actor where all that can be based on a complete lie.”

You braced yourself for the final blow, only to be completely confused over his words. “What are you saying?”

“Y/N, it’s always been real to me. All of it.”

“But—but I thought you wanted to stop all this when you cancelled our plans for Christmas. Why did you do that?”

Jeonghan opens his mouth a little but then closes it again. “Do you remember last year at Chan’s wedding when you caught the bouquet?”

You nod but don’t hide your confusion about where this is going.

“After you caught it, everyone was looking at you… and then at me. It was like they all expected us to be next, because well,” he shrugs, “everyone thought we were together. And that’s when I realized that this is more than simply feeling like it’s real. We were turning it into something real.”

“So you called off Christmas because you wanted to stop doing this? Because you hated how it was becoming real?”

“No,” Jeonghan shakes his head. “The opposite. I was afraid of how much I liked that it felt real. That day at the wedding, I—I wanted to kiss you for real, Y/N. Not have to fake it.”

“Oh…”

“If we did meet up for Christmas, I don’t know what might’ve happened. I thought it was safer to stay away for a bit and gather my thoughts.” He hesitates slightly and you can see the pained smile he has on. “But one day into the holidays and I was already regretting my decision.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Your mind is hardly listening anymore when it keeps on repeating Jeonghan’s words like a broken record, screaming to you that it’s real, that all of it is real. That you’re not the only one who’s been feeling this way, and that you won’t need to stage a fake breakup for your fake relationship.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“I’m just—are you sure all this is real? Jeonghan, are you being serious?”

He breaks into a tender smile. “Don’t you remember? I already answered you back then, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me if I’d be your darling, even if thousands of miles may separate us, even if—”

“—if the paths we walk may crumble,” you finish off. “Or something like that. I actually have no idea what we said back then.”

Those were the lines in the play that you did back in high school, the very lines that the two of you conjured out of thin air one day and the very moment that started this whole thing.

“Yeah, that,” he says softly.

“Hmm, so, babe,” you put on your usual mockingly sweet tone, repeating the line that you said on stage many years ago, “are you going to kiss me?”

Jeonghan holds back a smile like he can’t contain his happiness, and follows with his line without missing a beat. “If that’s what my darling wants.”

The smile only widens when he gets up from his seat and you go to meet him halfway, and it’s the last thing you see when he leans in closer and closer. Jeonghan gently slides his thumb between his lips and yours as he closes the distance, like how it was done the very first time, but this time you can feel it as he slowly moves it away.

Then you’re kissing him, actually kissing him for real for the first time. His lips are soft and warm, and the bit of hesitance between you seems to completely melt away as you wrap your arms around him and he pulls you closer. You let yourself drown in his scent, the warmth of his touch, and the loud pounding of your heart now that you no longer have to be paying attention to the reactions of the people around you. Nothing else matters anymore, all that matters is what you have now.

You spend the rest of the night catching up, whether that’d be stories over the years of shared memories, or creating new memories to make up for the lost time. He tells you he loves you and that the trip suggestions were very much real, and the two of you laugh over how you’ve become the exact couple you once mocked. It’s easy to understand them now though, you think as Jeonghan gives you a sleepy smile as you’re cuddled up on the couch.

“Oh yeah, I wanted to ask something,” you say, and he looks at you in alarm at your abruptness. “Why did you tell Mingyu that we were together?”

Jeonghan stays silent for a bit, narrowing his eyes as if having difficulty recalling what you’re talking about. Then he finally answers. “Oh that?” He chuckles. “That was because I didn’t want him to think he had a chance with you.”

#jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #jeonghan fic #my fic #if you asked me just last week if i was ever gonna post again #i might've said no HAHAHA #truly this came out of nowhere!! and yes it's so rushed OTL #not a brand new idea tho bc it's smth i've been thinking about over the years #kinda inspired by an iconic tumblr post!!#tbh the first jeonghan fic on this blog was gonna be #his story of the holiday party series (i wrote 6k in dec and gave up)#was gonna scrap it but i reread it this week and it's not bad??#so try again this year ig 🤡

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lol-im-done · 5 months

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First Lady of Panem

Pairing: Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: When your family arrived to the Capitol from District Ten to secure their place as one of the most prominent and wealthy families of Panem you could have never dreamed fate would lead you into the arms of Coriolanus Snow. Falling in love was easy, watching him become President and becoming First Lady of Panem at his side would test your limits. Panem's history would forever be changed by this union.

AO3 Link

Author's Note: TW & Tags will be updated as each chapter comes out, first chapter is just to set up the story & characters. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Sky Blue Eyes

Those bluebonnets how sweetly they grow

For all the wide prairies they're scattered like snow

They make all the meadows as blue as the skies

Reminding me of my darlings blue eyes

The cow-filled prairies shifted to mountains signaling the train's entrance into District Two as you hummed to the tune of an old song from before Panem’s creation. The sprawling grass sea of District Ten, of your home, disappeared in the distance as you made your way to the heart of Panem.

“Darling, are you listening to me?”

Lifting your head from the rattling window you turned to see your mother looking at you with soft concern.

“Sorry Mama, what were you asking?”

Her hand smoothed over your younger sister Mellona’s curls, making her nuzzle deeper into her side. “I was asking if you were hungry so I could order lunch.”

“That would be nice Mama. Thank you.”

“Alright, call for Agnes if you need anything she’s in the next car,” your mother stands, lays a snoozing Mellona down, before making her way to the dining car.

“Homesick already?” Victoriosa, the eldest, asks from the chaise never taking her eyes off the magazine in her hands.

“Is it that obvious?”

“We always knew we’d have to move to the Capitol.”

“Why now? I thought at least another year or two,” you asked, sinking into the plush leather seat. Victoriosa pauses, looks up at you and for an instant you can see your father’s intense expression staring back at you.

“Papa wants to finally establish himself as a prominent figure in the Capitol. He needs Capitol support if he is to fully absorb the rest of the ranches, you know that,” she states. “This is also our opportunity to reach our full potential, choose our own paths. Once you finish your career you can always return to Ten if you wish but that would be a waste,” she returns to flipping through her magazine.

“Silva, what do you think?” you turn to your only brother who is seated next to you.

He gives a short shrug. “I don’t mind it much as long as I can continue my research,” Silva sighs from behind his thick textbook.

Victoriosa tilts her lithe neck backwards, “Yawnnnnn.” A snort leaves your lips and you’re grateful your mother isn’t nearby to reprimand you for your ‘unladylike’ behavior.

“Biodiversity is the pinnacle of our success as cattle breeders!” Silva scowls.

“I thought you’d be missing a certain milkmaid Carpathia,” Victoriosa smirks and a wild blush spreads under Silva’s glasses.

“Oh like you’ll be missing your ranch hand Bronco,” Silva snaps back.

“There’s always summertime. Plenty of time to catch up,” Victoriosa grins like the cat who got the cream. The three of you burst into a fit of giggles right as Mellona groggily rouses from her nap.

“Are we there yet?”

Another burst of laughter fills the private train car.

It would only take a few more hours before you arrived at the Capitol train station, nightfall falling over the city. Unlike District Ten, not all the stars were visible, the Capitol’s bright lights polluting the sky. Peacekeepers were already stationed to help move all the luggage into the waiting line of cars. Driving through the streets towards your new home, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the statues in the squares and the towering buildings. Most of all you were excited to finally see your father, it had been almost a month since you had seen him last.

“Papa!”

All of you crashed into Alicio Lupus’ awaiting arms, his rumbling chuckle bouncing off the high marble ceilings of the penthouse. Refugio joins in on the hug with teary eyes, reaching up to press a kiss on her beloved husband’s cheek.

“Welcome home my darlings,” he squeezes you all tighter. Any fear you held disappeared in an instant, as long as you had your family by your side, all would be well.

The first few weeks in the Capitol had been a whirlwind- meeting other Capitol families for dinner, registration for coveted internships and school courses, and endless shopping trips to assure your home and wardrobes were up to Capitol standards. Refugio Lupus wanted only the best for her children, which included constantly coaching you all to leave behind the District Ten accent that made certain words in your vocabulary drawl.

After dinner one day you thought you had finally caught a moment of peace before a knock at your door startled you from your book. Agnes, your family's nanny, rolled in a rack of dresses with Victoriosa in tow. Victoriosa was already dressed in a sleek blood red dress with a mink shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“What’s all this?”

“We’ve been invited to a soirée to commemorate the end of the 13th Hunger Games. Papa thinks it’s a good chance to introduce us to others in the Capitol’s high society,” Victoriosa swept her arm towards the rack of glittering and ruffled dresses. Nerves made your stomach churn, mouth turning downwards into a frown as you remembered people’s faces this past week when it was revealed you had recently arrived from District Ten. Most look startled before looking at you like you were some exotic bird at the zoo.

“They’ll never accept us.”

A prideful look crossed her face, so similar to your father’s. No wonder your mother said they were cut from the same stone. “They will once we show them we are as refined as they are. As long as you lose that accent of yours you’ll blend in like a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” she grinned, canines glinting in the light of the chandelier. Rolling your eyes you step over to the rack, feeling the fabrics under your fingers. Stopping at a silver dress, the sequins twinkled like stars entrancing you. Agnes helped dress you before getting to work on sweeping your hair up into a fashionable updo. You waved away the highly pigmented makeup, not ready to delve into that side of Capitol fashion quite yet.

“Remember you’re a Lupus. We’re wolves among sheep,” Victoriosa pinches your cheek. The usual calluses that adorned her hands were gone, chemical treatments making them a long forgotten memory.

Wolves among sheep.

Victoriosa’s words replay through your head like a mantra as you step into the grand ballroom behind her and your father. Thankfully your sister was a gifted extrovert, introducing you to the friends she had already made. Soon you found yourself surrounded by members of the new Gamemaker class, a glass of posca in your hand. It took some time but slowly your shoulders loosened and your smile widened, confidence making you stand a bit taller.

Across the ballroom, Coriolanus Snow was repeating his own mantra to himself- Snow always lands on top. A reminder that showing up for another Capitol soirée wasn’t simply a waste of time but another way to show all these sycophants how high he had made it. Now heir to the Plinth fortune he was dressed impeccably. Tigris had helped style him, no more handmade shirts, and the final touch- Grandma’am’s rose pinned to his lapel. Like at most parties he was surrounded by his former classmates who were all desperate to remain in his inner circle- he was an esteemed Gamemaker after all. A glimmer in the distance caught his eye, distracting him from the meaningless chatter before him. He recognized the group as intern Gamemakers but not the young woman, fresh faced and glowing in the candlelight.

“Who is that?” Coriolanus feigned nonchalance as he tilted his head towards her.

Festus Creed followed his gaze, “Don’t you know?”

“How could he know? The Lupus Family only recently decided to establish here in the Capitol,” Pup Harrington said in between bites of hors d'oeuvres. The name rang a bell, stories and information from his various connections coming to mind.

“I believe that’s (Y/N) Lupus. I saw her the other day with her father, Alicio Lupus, at my mother’s bank” Livia Cardew said, inching closer to Coriolanus. “They practically own all the ranches in District Ten, Alicio Lupus’ brother is the Mayor of the District,” Livia whispered, lips coming close to his ear. Festus and Pup exchange an eye roll at her shamelessness and Coriolanus resisted the urge to shrug her off. Offending a Cardew would never bode well.

“She’s district, probably going back and forth from Ten to the Capitol like one of her family’s pigs,” Livia giggled, but it sounded like grating metal in Coriolanus’ ears.

“Don’t forget cows! Oh Panem, I dream about those steaks-,” Pup practically salivated.

“Imagine living all your life in that District, like poor Sejanus,” Festus tutted. Coriolanus immediately bristled at the mention of Sejanus, his icy blue eyes darkening like an impending storm. Festus must have realized his mistake because his eyes widened, apology on the tip of his tongue before Coriolanus cut him off.

“I should go make her acquaintance then,” he announces, ignoring Livia’s scowl. It was an opportune moment he thought as you now stood by the bar alone. Perhaps you would be desperate enough to try and get in his good graces, and offer to introduce him to your father. Coriolanus would be a fool not to recognize the Lupus family’s wealth and influence, they kept the Districts fed and the Capitol fat. Any potential relationship he could make was more support he could need when he would take a position in the Government.

As you took another swig of posca, you thought you had managed to escape more social interactions for the night until a voice made you jump.

“Hello, I’m Coriolanus Snow. Welcome to the Capitol.”

Turning around you looked up at the man’s captivating eyes, as blue as the sky back home. His pink lips curled slightly at the ends as if he was holding in a secret. Blonde hair pushed back in a neat fashion, accentuating his cheekbones. For a moment you were speechless. Remembering yourself, you gave him your name but you had a feeling he already knew it.

“Pleasure to meet you Coriolanus Snow.”

His stomach swooped. Coriolanus swore he heard a familiar lilt in your voice, but it was not as strong as Lucy Gray’s and those in District Twelve. No, yours was smoother and made your pronunciation of his name sound like it was dipped in warm honey.

“How are you finding the Capitol?”, he forces himself to ask, to ignore those dangerous thoughts.

“It's something...definitely not like back home,” you look around at the extravagant decor.

“Ah yes, District Ten. I’ve never made my way there but I’ve heard wonderful things,” the lie flows smoothly past his lips. “How grateful you must feel to finally be brought to us.”

Coriolanus would never miss a chance at making anyone District born feel inferior, all the posca he had been drinking making him loose lipped tonight. Indignation made your hands tingle, but you took a deep breath and clenched the glass tighter in your hands to ground you.

“I’m surprised you weren’t assigned there as a Peacekeeper. I suppose wherever the songbird called from you followed,” you replied, taking a demure sip from your glass, relishing in the way his jaw tensed. You knew who he was, his story with Lucy Gray Baird. Victoriosa had heard it all from a friend and had no qualms in passing the gossip down to you. If he was going to throw thinly veiled insults you’d have to show him you wouldn’t take them lying down.

“There’s that famous Lupus bite I’ve heard about,” he grins, taking a step closer to you. The scent of roses fills your nose, the sudden proximity to him making a blush rise up your neck. His hand reached out, moving to push a piece of hair behind your ear but the moment was broken when Victoriosa called out for you, pointing to your father who was making his way out the doors.

“If you’ll excuse me it’s time for me to get home. I’m sure our paths will cross again,” you murmured softly, dipping your head in farewell. Coriolanus stepped back with a slight bow, eyes never straying from your figure as you sauntered away. Oh yes, like two stars crossing in the night sky, you would meet again. Coriolanus would make sure of it.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas

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bobbile-blog · 24 days

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Okay so I've finally gotten to Jessicalter's Oprec and now feel qualified to talk about Come Catastrophes or Wakes of Vultures. holy shit. This went straight into my list of top Arknights events. Fantastic event, spoilers will be under the cut so I HIGHLY RECOMMEND reading the event first. It's really good and worth your while.

Anyway, what follows is a scattered mess of thoughts about this event and things that stuck out to me.

First off, plot stuff! I'll probably cover this when I do my next plotline recap post, but what I took away from the end is that Clip Cliff seems to want to make Blacksteel independent, or at least more self-determining than it is now. He seems to be gathering resources and assets like mobile city plates and investing in long-term infrastructure like merc training, so he definitely has a long game he's pushing for. I don't think we know enough go speculate about his goals, but we'll definitely be coming back here again. After all, Tila has an infection monitor in her art, which probably means she's going to be playable at some point in the future.

Next, having looked into this a little on my own, I was interested in some of the previous places Raythean has shown up. Specifically, the ones that stood out were the drones in the Kazimierz Major and arming Silverash's forces in Kjerag, which might be referring to the Tschäggättä. It's not just notable for their apparent level of technology, but also as a faint connecting thread between three separate capitalism plotlines. I don't know if that's going to be meaningful in the future, but I found it interesting enough that I thought I'd bring it up.

Now on to more narrative things. While I love Liskarm and Franka, I do think it was the right choice to give them less screen time in this event. They're both (for the most part) fully-realized characters who understand their own motivations and morals. This is above all else an event about Jessica learning to stand on her own as an adult, so it makes sense that they're more here to support her than they are to play their own roles in the story.

Speaking of said roles, I liked the event's commentary on cops. It pointed out an interesting distinction that I wouldn't really have ever thought of, that between mercenaries and cops. To start: cops exist to protect property, not people. The police exist to protect things and do not have an obligation to err on the side of people over things, and in fact are supposed to do the opposite. This event understands that, and that role os the core of how the bank treats the Blacksteel mercs. CV, however, raises an interesting point that mercenaries are bound by the letter of a contract and not the larger obligation to property cops are, so they can actually raise moral objections and point to their contracts, sort of a Lawful Evil/Lawful Neutral to cops' Neutral Evil. The independence of their position with respect to cops allows for more of an independent morality than you'd get in a cop story and I like that, I think it's a really smart direction to take your writing in.

On a (mostly) separate note, holy shit Arknights is really good at writing cowboy stories. Between this and chapter 9 (and I would argue An Obscure Wanderer), Arknights has repeatedly made it clear that they Do Not Fuck Around with their cowboy stories and I'm surprised I haven't heard more people talking about it. It kinda has everything:

- It takes place in a rural, working-class setting undergoing a larger imminent societal shift that can inform the larger narrative, and deals with a semi-mythologized past that is rapidly disappearing.

- It has a protagonist and an antagonist that serve as foils, both very heavily affected and defined by the (same) violence in their past that they've both had different reactions to. Our protagonist has come to terms with the violence as a tool to maintain order, while our antagonist has used it for personal gain and in some ways lost control of it.

- It's a story about community, and heavily emphasizes local and personal community over larger artificial corporate "community". That's my reading of the recurring motif of the cold btw, warmth represents the close, personal community Davistown used to have and the cold that now pervades it comes from how the bank has systematically dismantled that community.

- And, I'd argue most importantly, it understands the narrative power of a bullet. The Showdown at the end of a cowboy story is powerful because we've spent the entire runtime of our story with these characters, and they are now facing each other down with the intent to end one of their collective two stories. The entire weight of the narrative so far comes to rest on a single moment of tension. It's really hard to gather up the kind of narrative momentum you need to make that hit like it does in CV. For example, it requires a really light hand with actual action in the story, so that it really does feel like it's an even standoff between our protagonist and antagonist. On the other hand, though, you do actually have to establish the relative skill of both parties and actually sell the danger of the moment to the audience. It's really hard to toe the line between tension and actual action in a way that makes for a satisfying resolution, and CV does it extremely well.

Honestly, Arknights just seems really good at getting the vibes of American media right. This is something I noticed in DV and Lonetrail too, and I haven't really been able to put my finger on what it is about them, but the vibes are just really on-point. I want to write more about this at a later point once I actually figure out what it is that I'm feeling, but maybe it's the setting, maybe it's the cast, maybe it's the plot points, maybe it's something in between — it just seems to understand the spirit of period cowboy stories in a way that I can't describe. Good shit.

Finally, I wanna end this with where Jessica is now. The events of CV take place In between the events of Loneterail and Ideal City, so the current "now" of the story is a few months ahead. Jessica left for the frontier along with Woody, Helena, and Miles. They live together in a small new settlement, building the place from the ground up with Woody and Jessica acting as town sherrifs. At the point we're at now, rhe town is fairly well-established and Woody has temporarily left on other business, leaving Jessica the sole sherrif of their new settlement. However, she's risen to her new station, and is growing into a stronger person than she ever was before.

#arknights #come catastrophes or wakes of vultures #jessica the liberated #Arknights thoughts

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halcified · 3 months

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teru & socialization

i've posted about this before but something ive been thinking about a LOT is mp100's themes of loneliness (and eventual connections). i think this is an aspect of teru's character (in particular) that gets left out because it's not as explicit but i've been wanting to do a deep dive on it for a while and i finally sat down to do it. just a warning, this post is gonna be LONG.

these two panels are from chapter 16 of the manga (which i'm using for my evidence because i. dont want to scrub through the anime LOL). initial sentiment: teru uses his powers to cheat having friends/a good social life and wouldn't have that if he tried earnestly. this is a fair interpretation of the scene. with what we know, at this point of time (as in within the teru-mob fight) teru would not be able to connect with other people earnestly, due to his mindset. which i think is a fair interpretation, HOWEVER:

(from chapter 17 ^^) the first panel shows teru's expression to be strained and the second is visibly unhappy. this puts the first set of panels into a different context, that maybe underneath all of this, teru doesn't WANT any of this life that he's built. keep in mind that i'm analyzing this with teru's possible autistic tendencies in mind & you dont have to believe he's autistic, im not your dad, but i do find this a pretty meaningful indication of masking if he were

(note: yes, the strain can definitely be read as comp-het, and i would agree but that's not relevant so go read this post on that instead)

even if the rest of these panels show teru content with his life, i think these expressions are pretty vital to how we read his life especially because we know so little of it. think about it, if you were a kid desperate for affection because you couldn't get it anywhere else, especially not in a way that would come off as "mature" or "unaffected", wouldn't you also look for validation in your popularity? even if it aligned you with people who you consider fundamentally different to you? my point here is that teru can't not stand out-- it's in his nature-- and we are shown how he tries to blend in & receive attention in the only way possible to him; which is to say that he molds himself into something that is palatable, likeable, and superior to other people. if he's nothing, like mob, he has spent his entire life covering up for it. if he fails socially, like mob, he has to be good at everything (even if he cheats to do so) so that everyone else can look past it.

(side note for my teru angst enjoyers: this is a panel of his mom. the mom who he hasn't seen in years. doesn't it make sense that, if he hasn't heard his mom say he's proud of him for literal years, that he would overachieve in response? not related to the autism thing i just have the teru bug. also don't be misogynistic in my notes both his parents suck we just get a singular mention of his mom)

so if teru couldn't meaningfully have friends before mob, that could very easily be because of his past mindset, right?

...except, we don't.. really... see him make other friends afterwards.

but, the awakening lab, right?

(ok i lied to you sorry there is one anime screenshot and thats because it stood out to me while i rewatched it earlier this month. sorry.) id like to bring attention to this screenshot during the cultural festival because the awakening lab can definitely be seen as a direct contradiction of this and i'd like to point out a couple things:

1) in this scene the shiratori brothers are in another room 2) them and the other three are friends with ritsu (or at least close enough acquaintances to want to see him).

considering this is one of the only times they appear together for Fun i am more inclined to believe this is an encounter where they went together because they all would've gone separately anyway. this isn't to discount the possible bond that these characters might have, but thats the thing. we... aren't really shown that they're friends and enjoy spending time together outside of this screenshot, where two out of six of the members are not even present. not to mention that teru is still placing himself in a role separate from his peers. despite stripping the superiority away, teru is still the awakening lab's mentor, not friend. teru still views himself as fundamentally different in a context where his psychic powers don't make him that way.

...except with mob. i bring this placement of power up because where he is the awakening lab's mentor, teru declares mob to be his rival, or, in other words, teru is just like him. he is accepting that mob and him are the same. (and if we view mob from an autistic lens... so on and so forth)

as if to hammer in that point even further-- in the summer vacation omake, teru explicitly states that "summer break is just a super long, super boring stretch of alone time." i'm not sure of the timeline here, but guessing from the hair, we're at least post season 1. which gives us explicit confirmation here that teru is spending the break alone despite his relationship to the awakening lab. his connection to mob is a lifeline here because mob is one of the only people who can intuitively understand teru's isolation without judgment

(also, on that point of teru's autistic tendencies: teru does and says a LOT of things that would raise other peoples eyebrows and doesn't seem to notice.

here we get teru actively admitting to his home life, right in front of reigen, WHO COULD CALL CHILD SERVICES ON HIM? this genuinely made me rethink this character entirely. teru's filter is... minimal. he isn't constantly volunteering information and generally minds his own business, but if you ask? Well.

teru is a social person, but to say he is proficient in understanding social situations seems... wrong. teru views his loneliness as boring because, despite being fairly open, does not actually allow himself to think about his own feelings and how they affect him. this loneliness is boring because he doesn't have enough of a reference to realize its not

if we are taking pre-mob teru to be a version of himself who is masking, or at the very least someone who is faking a lot of stuff in a less autistic sense, the fight with mob changes teru to the point where he no longer hides himself. in the same way that mob was able to shake teru's fragile superiority complex i think the change in appearance marks the end of the self teru had built up. from this point on we see him become a lot more... Him. his appearance and his fashion choices are, presumably, completely normal to him and we get no indication that he believes otherwise despite the reactions it gets-- which is... well, i wouldn't be writing this post if i thought it was one of his most neurotypical traits.

in fact, he seems... pretty oblivious to what other people think of him. which is an interesting distinction to make considering the intelligence we Know he possesses (which is not to say that you are unintelligent if you don't pick up on social cues, just that its common for media to depict it that way.) these traits are made pointedly, even if unintentionally, separate, ESPECIALLY when you note the amount of characters who Do ruminate on or stare at teru's appearance.

some examples. i don't even think this is all of it-- case in point.)

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #mp100 meta #mp100 analysis #teruki hanazawa #fun fact this post was originally going to be about terus autistic traits and then i got scared sorry #mostly bc i was pointing out stuff that made me go Hes just like me Frrrr...#and i dont actually know if thats a good metric bc im only like 90% sure im autistic #tho i think writing 1000+ words on a characters potential autism is. um. its. well.#text #ok ive gone back and forth on posting this a billion times bc ive looked at it too much JUST READ THEPOST

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readingcoco · 16 days

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Painted Red 🖤

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)

Words: 5487

Ao3 Link

Summary: Arthur revisits Rhodes Parlour House, hoping to get information about the Braithwaite gold from working girl Ettie. He leaves with more questions than answers and a gift he wasn't expecting.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honour Arthur Morgan, angst, emotional smut.

Chapter Two - The Whore

[Chapter 1]

Arthur.

The air in Lemoyne is cloying. Sticky and thick like Molasses. He hates it here, hates waking up wet with sweat, bitten to an inch of his life by the mosquitos that swarm the lake behind his tent. He’s never been this far south and would gladly leave soon as convenient, except for Dutch’s insistence that gold lies somewhere between the warring Gray and Braithwaite families. He’s less convinced but far from him to try to question Dutch once his mind is set on something.

A high-pitched buzz by his left ear is met with the thwack of his open palm. Gotcha.

Something else is gnawing away at him, too, besides the mosquitos. A stirring in him, he thought, all but laid to rest after Mary, after— the kind that makes itself known only when he’s here, lying alone in his tent, staring up at the ceiling.

Want.

Fuck. He wants her so bad. Ettie, that working girl, up in Rhodes. With her daring eyes and smart mouth — her hands on him, days ago, in the parlour house. Bold as anything. God, if the very thought of her didn’t make a beeline straight down to his cock. He don't like it, don’t like it at all — what she does to him, how she makes him feel. Unarmed. Weak even. But also lighter.

He is appalled to admit he’s considered taking himself in hand more than once now to the thought of her breasts, her smile, the way she looked at him, full of doe-eyed devilment. He’s like some hapless kid. Should be ashamed.

He’s not been with a whore since his 20s. There was that one Dutch paid for when he turned 17, a string of them after Mary ended things the first time around. Abigail? Once. The last time he lay with a woman was when he and Mary briefly came back together before she married. What was that 94… 95? Would he even remember what to do? Would he be able to last? As a whore she ought not to care, especially if he’s paying for the privilege. But he wants to please her. Wants to fill her smart mouth with sounds of pleasure. Watch those daring, teasing eyes roll back in her head as she comes undone for him.

He’s stroking himself now. Her imagined sighs. His name on her lips—

Arthurrr—

“—ARTHUR!”

Dutch shouts him from outside his tent. Inescapable like the soupy Lemoyne air. Goddamnit, he hates it here.

“Best I can stoop to is twenty.”

Arthur nods, weighing the expensive-looking silver bracelet loosely in his palm before handing it over. Hosea was better at knowing the worth of fine things, but the fence was on his way back to camp, and it didn’t make sense to make two trips. Still, twenty dollars wasn’t bad for an afternoon playing errand boy to two star-crossed lovers. Not quite the gold Dutch was hoping for, but something at least.

“Deputy.” The man flashes him a knowing wink, touching the brim of his hat. He winces before stiffly nodding back—damn badge.

He won’t feel too bad about it; the Braithwaite girl, Penelope, had seemed more than content with just the letter, and neither family looked short on finary, as ill-gotten as it was. No, no harm done.

The sun is at its hottest, leaving him half-blind as it beams punishingly up from the road ahead. Sweat pours from his brow, and he can barely see where he’s going when he finds himself steering Branwen right up the hill towards Rhodes rather than carrying on straight in the direction of camp.

Only the stench of the butcher’s meat left out too long in the midday heat is enough to break him from his trance and acknowledge where he is. As though Branwen had been steering herself, with him merely passenger.

Too late to turn around now, he concedes. Might as well carry on heading where he’s heading.

He takes a long glug from his waterskin before dismounting. Hitching Branwen to the shadiest post of the parlour and making sure she has her fill from the water trough provided—a few extra sugar cubes for good measure.

“Won’t be long, girl.”

The heat was just as hard on the horses.

He assures himself he’s here for reconnaissance— nothing more. If anyone’s likely to have information on the Grays and Braithwaites, it’s her. Probably had enough of them to pick something up the gang could find useful, what with her knack for seeing the stuff folk didn’t want seen.

The twenty dollars burns a hole in his pocket.

Ettie had seemed willing the last time, hadn’t she? Not put off or disgusted by him that he could make out. Maybe the badge had its uses, after all.

Hell, maybe if he slept with her, got it out of his system, he could get on with the job at hand and stop all this silly early morning pining.

The parlour house is sleepy as he enters, too late for the lunchtime trade, too early for the field workers to have downed tools and made their way into town. His eyes skirt sheepishly across the bar.

He’d found himself coming here quite a bit since the gang moved south, not just to avoid Pearson’s cooking but because it was one of the few places that offered solace from the outside sun, the thick leafy green curtains keeping out the worst of the rays. I was nicer than most places he tended to frequent, the white-clothed tables suggesting a level of expected cleanliness from its clientele. And though he’d made sure to kick the mud from his boots before entering, he now chose to stand on the hardwood rather than risk marking the floral rugs that lined the rest of the room.

He can’t see her. Not even sure she's started working yet. And though a couple of girls at the bar make him double-take, none of them are Ettie.

He’s just about ready to skulk out, feeling old and feckless, when he hears her. Laughter carrying brightly from behind him, awakening the entire place from its slumber. He’d forgotten how alive she was. The rough sketch he’d drawn of her the night he’d got back to camp had barely captured her likeness, let alone her charm.

She is sat in one of the wooden booths, perched on the lap of a stout-looking man, happy and light, head thrown back, though he’s certain the man at her seat did little to merit such pleasant sounds.

He stalls for a moment, watching her work and is reminded of Hosea’s ability to tell a person exactly what they want to hear in order to rob them blind — except he isn’t sure who would be robbing who in the current circumstance.

The stout man’s hand paws lecherously at Ettie’s waist, bouncing her on his knee as he ogles up at her. Surely, no amount could be worth the touch of a man like that. Is that how he had looked, too? Leering and pathetic? Sucked in by talk of sketching and paints. She had read him like a book, and he’d allowed it — a fool to think her interest was in anything other than the dollars in his pocket.

Well, if money is all it will take to get her pretty face out of his waking thoughts, so be it.

“Miss White?”

Ettie shifts to face him mid-conversation and grins impishly as though expecting his arrival.

“Hello, stranger.”

But as he opens his mouth to respond, the words of solicitation stick in his throat, and he realises how unpracticed he is at this whole buisness. The man beneath her glares back, warning him off what’s his. Arthur swallows dryly, raising an arm to rest awkwardly on the booth’s divider, the other hooking into the buckle of his belt.

“I believe— Last time I was here you—”

Ettie raises an eyebrow, choosing to watch him flounder rather than step to his salvation.

So she’s toying with him. He sees how it is. Hadn’t acted quick enough the first time around and had her plucked from his side by the drunkard Leigh Gray. Now if he wants her, she’s expecting him to do the same to the dolt under her. He grits his jaw. The glint of his badge catches his eye, and he tries a different tack.

“I’ve heard word there’ve been dangerous men spotted in the area.”

Ettie scans the empty bar and looks back at him plainly.

“Everything seems fine from where I’m sittin’, Deputy.” She puts a playful hand on the stout man’s knee. “Wouldn’t you say so Ernest?” The man nods, wrapping his arm ever tighter around Ettie’s waist.

“Would you just—I’d like it if—” He can feel his cheeks starting to burn as he avoids meeting her eye and instead looks over his shoulder towards the central staircase. He speaks low, “Last time I was in, you asked to show me your work— but we was interrupted.”

A twinkle of recognition from Ettie. “Oh? You still interested?”

“Yes.” He sniffs. It’s out there now. Can’t take it back.

She silently weighs up some mental calculation before placing a palm on Ernest’s chest. “I’m sorry, Darlin’. Would you mind terribly if you bought me a drink some other time? The Deputy and I have a prior arrangement.”

He almost sympathises as he watches the man’s face shift from confusion to disappointment, but before it has a chance to twist into anger, Ettie kisses Ernest squarely on the mouth. “Wait right here. I’ve got someone who’ll know how to make it up to you.” She leaves with a wink and no room for protest, springing up and scurrying across to the bar.

Arthur regards Ernest with an awkward salute, unsure what to say given the circumstances. At least when he robbed men at gunpoint, there was no pretence of polite conversation.

It’s Ernest who is first to break their silence, “She’s a wily one, Deputy. Not as perky as some of the younger girls, but makes up for it with experience.” He slaps Arthur’s arm in a fashion far too familiar. It makes his skin crawl. “Clean, too.”

“They’ll be cleanin' you off this floor if you speak about the Lady like that again. We understood?” He’d done his best not to raise his voice, Dutch’s instructions of keeping a low profile never far from his mind, but the man is still white as a sheet as Ettie arrives back at the booth. With her is a lofty-looking girl with ashy blonde hair, who regards Arthur with an amused up and down as she passes. She doesn’t bother to say hello, instead making a beeline straight to Ernest’s side.

“A birdy told me you were in need of company since yours is being so rudely snatched away,” she says pointedly.

Although Ettie rolls her eyes, it’s obvious she’s in on the bit.

“Ernest, Ida’s going to take good care of you while I take the Deputy upstairs. Don’t have too much fun without me now.”

The walk up to Ettie’s room is long enough for the dread to start to kick in. He can feel his heart pumping in his throat and remembers why he stopped all this nonsense years ago, but then the warmth of her touch meets the small of his back, and she smiles at him gently from under her lashes.

“I’ve been wantin' to get you away from prying eyes,” she says quietly, for his ears alone. “Here’s my room, first on the left.”

As the door closes behind them, he can finally allow his shoulders to relax as he is greeted by the smell of lavender and something sweet he can’t quite place—chamomile, maybe? Her room is small, with sunny yellow walls and surfaces laden with bric-à-brac, the type which collects only once a space has been lived in for some time. Things that would be prone to getting lost or damaged travelling from pillar to post as he did, things he wanted to pick over and admire.

A painting hung to his right catches his eye: a handsome-looking dark bay drinking from what looks like Flat Iron Lake. He moves towards it to inspect it up close.

“You wanna leave your gun by the door, Deputy?” Ettie says softly.

He looks down. Of course. And undoes his gun belt, wrapping it around itself before setting it on the side, along with his hat. He stands before her, disarmed, not quite sure what to make of the curious way she watches him or where to rest his twitching fingers without the cool metal of his buckle to anchor to. He folds his arms.

“That’s Burdock, my baby. I take him out ridin’ whenever I can.” Ettie says, gesturing to the painting that caught his attention.

“You painted this?”

She grins, sticking up her nose with pride. “I did!” Her lack of reticence surprising.

“S’good.”

He’d never been much of a smooth talker when it came to women. Even when first courting Mary it had taken months to build up to asking her for a kiss. But this wasn’t courting, and he’d do best to remember that.

“As flattered as I am, I know you didn’t come up here just to look at my art.”

“Can a man not appreciate a paintin’?”

“They can,” she says, slinking up to him and running a trail of fire across his chest. Pressing herself flush against him. Her hair smells like rose water — not mud, or sweat, or blood. And it disturbs him to think that the last time he felt the heat from another’s body so close, his hands were wrapped around their neck. The tip of her nose aligns with his collarbone, and he could rest his chin on her crown if he felt bold. “But it would be an awful expensive trip just to look at a picture.”

She steps back slowly to look at him, her absence leaving him cold. For a moment he fears she’s sensed the danger he’s sure he radiates — realising a beat too late, the expected next step of their dance.

“How much do I owe you?” he says, flusteredly reaching into his satchel.

“Five dollars. Anything ‘French’ is an additional two — Though considering I’m due payment from our little sweepstakes, I’d be happy to waive the fee for that on this occasion.”

He’d almost forgotten about the bet placed on his head and wondered how often the women discussed what went on behind closed doors, how he would fair in comparison. He cringes at the thought and tries to push it to the back of his mind.

“I ain’t expectin’ special treatment, don’t worry.”

He hands over five dollars, and with the money on the dresser, Ettie retakes her position. The plainness of the transaction and the affection it now entitled him to feeling implausible.

“Relax a little,” her voice comes out like a breath, encouraging him to breathe deeply in time with her. “It’s okay. We’re gonna have fun.” She guides him over to the bed before stepping back to remove her shirtwaist and skirt, each button revealing new skin he now had permission to touch.

As he stands there watching, something about the ungraceful practicality of her undressing fascinates him, how in contrast it felt to the choreographed movements of the rest of her performance. He wonders if this is her more natural state, all furrowed brows and uncoordinated limbs, and if so, what it took for her to keep up appearances.

When down to her corset and underthings, Ettie faces the mirror to unpin the hair fixed neatly atop her head. He is silent as it falls like water, spilling over the ridge of her shoulders and pooling loosely at the base of her spine.

“Your turn now.” She says, and he hardly has time to react before her nimble fingers are working open the buttons of his shirt.

From this angle, he can see how the sun has caught the high points of her face, leaving behind a sprinkle of freckles lightly masked by powder. The slope of her neck is decorated by loose curls and a small silver locket that bobs up and down above her— He dares not gaze lower. Only as she begins to work at his fly does his sluggish brain arrive at the moment in hand.

“You ain’t taking this off?” His voice comes out hoarser than he expects, and for the first time, Ettie looks a little startled, stepping back to look at him hesitantly. He hadn’t meant to scare her.

“I wasn’t planning on. My draws are split, and this unties. Look—” She pulls the ribbon at her shoulder. And he hates that it’s Ernest’s words that colour his view as the loosened cotton strap of her chemise falls away to expose a pretty breast, pushed up by the boning of her corset. Was the man blind? “It’s a little cumbersome to get on and off.” He aches to see her fully, to touch the skin still hidden from view, but he won’t push.

Her hand dips back into his open fly, sliding between a gap in his union suit. He lets out a wince to feel the pads of her fingers making contact with the base of his dick. “That feel good?” she goads. His whole body gone rigid. Barely able to summon words. Nodding sharply in response, as she begins to ease him out.

The pace in which she palms him feels foreign compared to his hand's efficient strokes, but she is responsive to each breath, learning him with every shudder and tense of his jaw. His eyes flutter closed, and for a moment, he allows himself to get lost in the sensation of her experienced hands. Rare he is permitted such selfish pleasure. Rare anyone did anything for him without expectation of its return tenfold. And yet— The lopsidedness of the arrangement suddenly feels too much to bear. He needs to touch her, needs to make her feel as good as she’s making him.

As her speed quickens, he moves a cautious hand to her breast, cradling her delicately before lightly skimming his thumb across her nipple. Testing. Her rhythm falters slightly, and he is rewarded with a small whimper that escapes half-bitten through her lips. That’s it. He circles the pebbled skin, harder this time, and delights to feel her swell under his touch. Confidence growing, he dips his head lower to taste her. She moans again, but this time unrestrained, head lolling back as he sucks.

“Arthurrr—”

Her strokes hasten, and he needs to hear her keen for him again. Needs to touch her. He reaches down between them, between her legs, trying to find the source of her heat amongst rumpled cotton, but then she is pulling away. Stepping back. Straightening up.

“Hey, this is about you. Don’t worry about me, okay.” She says.

“But—”

“Shhhh, trust me,” Ettie whispers calmly and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. He worries that he has done something wrong, hurt her in some way he didn’t intend, too forceful, too coarse. But like she can read his mind—

“Stay put, I ain’t goin' nowhere.”

She’s good at that, he thinks, toeing the line between gentle and firm. Never going as far to bruise a man’s ego but not coming across as a pushover either. Had she always been that way, or had she learnt how to soothe a man, just as he’d learnt how to intimidate them? Through necessity. What was her natural temperament? What was his?

Ettie walks over to the dresser and grabs a small glass jar, scooping out a little of the contents before returning to the bed.

“You wanna get a little more comfortable?” She says, eyeing his half-open union suit and the jeans around his ankles with amusement. What a sight he must look. But if she was going to remain in her underthings, shouldn’t he? It didn’t seem proper to be exposed when she was not. He kicks off his jeans but leaves his Union suit open, but on.

“What’s that?” He nods to the creamy concoction cupped in her hand.

“Just a little somethin’ for my comfort.” That playful look again. “You are quite… sizable. I wanna make sure I’m ready for you.”

His cheeks darken, her lack of arousal confirming his worst fears.

“Maybe if you let me touch you, you might enjoy it more.”

Her sigh is affectionate. “Who said I wasn’t enjoying myself? Anyone ever told you you worry too much?”

They face each other at the precipice of the bed. His toes curling whilst she slicks up his length with the salve in what feels like one continuous gliding motion, till he is rock hard and panting before her. She shifts herself to bend over the bed, guiding him behind her with a hand on his hip. She arches her back to rest with her forearms on the mattress.

“You ready to show me what you can do, Deputy?”

“Arthur. Please.” He manages to huff out, unable to look away from the way she is presented so brazenly for him.

Ettie gives him a wry grin over her shoulder. “Arthur, I want you to show me what you’ve been dreamin’ on since we first met.” And he wants to show her, too.

Swallowing thickly, he carves a hand between the slit of her draws, spreading them open to finally expose the supple flesh of her backside. The sight alone has his dick twitching in anticipation, helpless to prevent the full handful of her ass he takes in his grasp.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” He croaks.

“Might have heard it mentioned.”

He runs a shaky hand through his hair, steadying his breath, before aligning himself with her entrance. He is mindful not to push into her too quickly, and though the salve helps some, he hears her breath hitch in her chest as she takes him, inch by inch.

“Too much?” He asks, trying to mask his trepidation, but he is answered by an enthusiastic grind of her hips, which sheaths him fully inside. He stops breathing for a moment, caught by the clutch of her cunt. Senses all but lost to the sensation of her heat. His lids grow heavy, but the sight of his cock buried to the hilt has him straining to keep them open. Hypnotised by the way she encases him.

He gently rocks himself backwards and then forward, shallow at first and then deeper, slowly increasing his pace with each slap of their hips.

“Ettie-”

“That feel good, Arthur?” So good. So good. And he wishes he could look into those teasing eyes as she spears herself back onto him. At first, matching his tempo and then provoking him to speed up, take her faster, harder.

He won’t last much longer at this rate. And tries to bat away the sinking feeling that that might be something she wants. For this to be over quickly. She’s making all the right noises, but then again, he walked into this room with a badge on his chest, so honesty was hardly something he felt entitled to.

He wants her closer, craving the reassurance only her face could bring. He arches down over her, carefully hooking an arm around her chest, drawing her up into him, until she kneels upright on the bed with him holding her weight from behind, bodies remaining locked.

“This ok?” He huffs.

“Mhmmm” She nods back hazily.

From this position, he can see her better, the rise and fall of her chest, the growing flush that has spread from her cheeks down her neck, the way her eyes shutter when he reaches for her breast, his other seeking out her heat from below. She hums a little then, a sound so pure it answers all suspicions about the authenticity of those proceeding it. God how he wants to watch her come around him, if only he can last long enough to get her there.

His fingers slip between her folds, spreading her open as he continues to fuck up into her, the slick of her cunt undeniably her own making now. Ettie’s back arches wildly as he begins to rub a tight ring around her clit, and she lets out a noise halfway between a shriek and a moan like she is surprised by the pleasure. But when he tries to continue, she is grasping his wrist, pulling it away from her core and bringing it up to her mouth to suck hard on his fingers. The debauched way she looks at him then almost sends him over the edge.

“Come for me, Arthur.”

God, his name sounds like honey on her lips.

“Just like that—”

Surely she’s not inferring what he thinks she is? But he is near losing himself in the thought alone.

“So close—” She coos, “Just let go, fill me—”

Fuck. Fuck—

He drags his erupting cock out of her just in time as he spills violently onto her ass and then the floor, staggering backwards, trying to catch his breath.

“Jesus! Jesus. I nearly— I’m sorry.” He babbles, feeling boorish and out of control.

“Hey there. I know. I said you could.” She says, turning around to run her fingers through his ruffled hair. He looks back at her, confused, still out of breath.

“Ain’t you worried about—” he stops, trying to find the correct phrasing but becoming aware of the fond, almost patronising look on Ettie’s face.

“I ain’t worried, no.” She smiles gently, “Wouldn’t be much good at my job if I didn’t take precautions.”

He nods sheepishly, though still not entirely at ease, before sitting back down at the edge of the bed, sighing deeply, struggling to enjoy the last twitches of his high.

When his breath returns to normal, he grabs his jeans from the foot of the bed, trying not to cringe at the mess he’s made of her and her floor.

“Don’t feel like you have to rush on account of me,” Ettie says, making her way to a small porcelain jug and basin in the corner of the room. She dampens a washcloth and wipes away all trace of his spend still marking her skin.

“Want me to clean you up?” She approaches him cautiously.

“I’m alright.” He says.

She raises a silent eyebrow.

“I mean, I can manage for myself.”

She nods and hands him over the rag. He’s not sure how to feel as he tidies himself up, but he's aware of her eyes on him, watching, trying to figure him out. Knowing he’s been read before she even opens her mouth.

“When did you last lay with a woman, Deputy?”

He pauses. That bluntness that throws his head through a loop. Dangerous. And he doesn’t know how to answer—what she’s wanting to hear— that it was likely five years since he’d been touched like that? That he’d touched someone else? Was she looking for an explanation for his rustiness or an apology?

“Was it obvious?” he asks, unable to fully meet her gaze.

“Well, you ain’t got a ring and—” She hesitates momentarily. “I shouldn’t say it,” The apples of her cheeks start to ripen uncontrollably until she breaks into laughter. “You fuck like you’ve somethin’ to prove.”

He might be inclined to take such a comment to heart if it wasn’t for the pleasure he took in seeing her so genuinely amused, and before he knows it, he’s chuckling too.

“I just didn’t want it to be awful for you.”

Ettie nudges him with her heel. “You paid me to make you feel good. So as long as you had fun, I did too.”

She lights a cigarette and offers him one from her case: silver, engraved with the initials A.B. in an ornate filigree. He accepts and allows her to light the smoke from the tip of her own. He still doesn’t quite know how to make conversation but is relieved to have something to occupy his hands.

“Still wanna see my paints?” She asks after a few moments quiet.

“That’s why I’m up here, ain’t it?” He says wryly. She scoffs before darting across the room, opening draws, rooting through cupboards, pulling things out left and right—a tornado, leaving a trail of smoke in her wake.

When she returns, her arms are laden with supplies, and she settles down next to him cross-legged on the bed, spreading out her wares between them. She opens a battered-looking sketchbook and smooths out the page.

“See,” she says, stroking the paper and encouraging him to do the same. “Just like the paper in your journal—Oh, wait a second.”

She stands abruptly before dashing off again, this time to the water jug. Her back turned, Arthur flicks through the pages and is rapt by a flurry of faces looking back at him. A few he recognises as girls from the parlour, but there are others too: an elderly woman in a bright feathered hat, a rakish-looking man in spectacles, a little girl with pigtails holding a ragdoll, each of them living and breathing on the page like she had rendered their very souls.

“You snoopin’?” Ettie tuts in mock disapproval, though she doesn’t seem bothered by the intrusion. “And after all the grief you gave me for looking at your art.”

Art.

Arthur had never thought about his sketches in that way before. Sure, he sometimes felt pride if he managed to capture something or someone’s likeness in a way that felt true, but he’d never had any training to consider what he did art. Not like the pretty pictures spread out in front of him now. These felt so full of life he swore he wouldn’t be surprised to see one of them moving.

“These are good,” he says as she settles beside him, her thigh resting lightly against his.

She rolls her eyes, then nudges his arm. “Get your journal out— Don’t worry, I don’t wanna look at any of the drawings— Well, I do, but I’m not going to force you. Just want to show you something.”

He relents and gets his journal from his satchel, handing it over suspiciously, realising only after it’s in her hands how reckless he’s being, and for what? He hadn’t asked her about the blood feud between Grays and Braithwaits, nothing about the gold. The only information gleaned was that his dick still worked, and even that had only served him.

Keeping to her word, Ettie opens the book to an untouched page and submerges her paintbrush into the jug, tapping off the excess water and swirling the tip into a square of dried paint. Her hand hovers over the blank page before gliding the brush across the paper in a flourish of crimson, blooming as it settled, like petals opening at dawn.

“Here, you try.”

She dips the brush back into the jug to clean it off before holding it out towards Arthur. Following her direction, he scrubs the brush into a dark green pan and brings his hand to the paper. His line comes out fainter than hers and less fluid, the brush strokes looking scratchy as he reaches the edge of the page.

“Not enough paint. Got to get it saturated.” She smiles. “But look,” she flicks over the page, “it hasn’t gone through.” She starts to explain about wetting the paper before applying the paint, working in layers, letting stuff dry, getting more and more animated, that he starts to laugh.

“You have to start adding colour to your work. I could—” She stops. “You planin’ on seein’ me again?” The question is abrupt, as though she realises she is getting ahead of herself and needs to square off the basics first.

He hadn’t considered that this would be more than a one-time occurrence but he’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge the sense of relief that had spread throughout his body and mind in the past half hour. More settled than he’d been in months, maybe even years. Perhaps next time he could get some information out of her. Perhaps next time he could prove himself a less selfish lover.

“I’d like to if you’ll have me.”

“Marvellous! Here—” She thrusts a small wooden box into his hands.

“What’s—?”

***

“A watercolour set for travelling. Not amazing quality but perfect for a beginner or someone on the move.” She gives him a wry smile “You can borrow it and show me how you get on next time you see me.”

She’s a whirlwind, and even as he’s riding Branwen back into camp he still feels bowled over. Not sure how he’s agreed to as much as he has, or if he’s being played, or if he cares to stop it.

Tag list: @redwritr, @twola, @ultraporcelainpig, @cassietrn & @milesology

If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list, just let me know! x

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x oc #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #painted red

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acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies · 3 months

Text

Lilies

part I | part II | part III | part IV

Helion x reader, rhysand x sister!reader

Warnings: fluff, making out, honeymoon bliss, suggestive

Summary: In which you and Helion are happy.

a/n most definitely another filler chapter but the one with drama will be out tmrrw and my schools starting in like four days so the drafts will come out slower

Helion was the best mate anyone could ever ask for. He could cook, he understood my emotions, gave me space, could give amazing cuddles and kisses, he was great in bed but most of all he cared.

In a sense no one had ever done before. When I wanted him home, he was home. When I visited him during a meeting he made me sit in his lap and glared at anyone who decided to mention it.

We had been mated for at least 6 months by now. And it was absolute bliss. Every single day he would wake me up with his head between my legs, every single night he would worship me like a queen. His kisses made my knees weak and my head dizzy.

Sighing at the thought of him kissing me, I continue trying my best at a dish that Rhysand used to cook for me as a child.

Just as I’m about ditch the recipe and head to his office, a strong pair of arms wrap around me.

Melting into his touch, I lean back. He kisses my neck and bites at my soft spot making me moan softly.

“Hey baby,” turning around my hands run through his beautiful hair. His lips find mine almost instantly. My back presses against the counter and I arch into his touch. Pulling him closer my fingers stray to the hem of his shirt.

“As much as I would love to continue this, I have to tell you something,” he pulls away. My kind is still reeling from his intense kisses. Nodding, I ask him to keep going.

“The Night Court wants to negotiate some stuff with us,” he told me.

Raising an eyebrow I beckon him to continue. “I want you to come with me, your first appearance outside of Day Court as High Lady, and I know what you’re going to say, that you’re not ready or you’re not sure, but I know that you’re ready, I also know how much you miss your brother and your nephew,”

He was right, I mean when was Helion ever wrong?

“I suppose Nyx should meet his uncle,” I sigh dramatically.

“Can you help me make this dish, Rhysand used to make it for me,” I ask him.

“Rhysand can cook?” he gapes at me in shock. “You can cook too sweetheart,” I lay a soft kiss on his adam’s apple and start gathering the ingredients.

“I know what you’re trying to make, you relax I’ll make it for you,” Helion says pressing kisses against my shoulder.

He’s elbow deep in flour, looking like an absolute vision. His golden eyes glint in the sun, his tan skin more prominent as the sun started setting.

We had decided to get this house because of its position and how the sun was almost always reflecting some room.

In the mornings it was our bedroom, during the day it was the seating area outside and during the evening it always seeped into the kitchen.

Not that I was complaining, it made the Day High Lord in front of me look softer and almost vulnerable.

“You’re staring, my love” Helion chuckles, his voice oozing smugness. “Is it so wrong for a female to enjoy the view her mate is providing?” I question, teasing.

“No I suppose not, you know I have to put this in the oven for awhile and we have some spare time,” he cheekily suggests.

“What shall we do?” I say feigning innocence. He circles around to the side of the counter where I’m sitting and gently holds my chin, “You’re so innocent right now but wait until I have you begging and writhing underneath me,”

I gulp, his words go straight to my core.

“What are you waiting for then?”

a/n AZRIEL U WISH THIS WAS U anyway don’t think they have ovens in acotar and i js watched the pjo finale and the way luke said annabeth broke me but like my husband looked rlly fine.

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jupitercomet · 11 months

Text

Introductions: Take Two

summary - Living in a new apartment, you run into your neighbor all the time. You run into him in the hallway, on the elevator, at your best friend's bachelorette party where he's dressed as a sexy firefighter. After seeing him in nothing but a pair spandex briefs and suspenders, you know have to move. Or sleep with him. One of the two.

warnings - stripper au, tangled dynamic, language, no use of y/n, brief mentions of strained family relationships, Bradley is 6'7" because I said so, chapter specific

this blog is 18+, minors please do not interact

word count - 3.2k

so seductive masterlist

“Need help with that?”

You freeze, causing the bottle of Clorox wipes you bought to topple out of one of your grocery bags. It bounces on the floor, narrowly avoiding your foot, as perhaps the last voice you wanted to hear registers in your ears.

To save yourself the trip, you decided to bring up all four bags of your groceries at once because that made more sense to you than going up and down and up and down the elevator. Instead you somewhat cut off the circulation in your arms with bag straps and resorted to shuffling very carefully back to your apartment.

But you should have known that physical discomfort wouldn’t be enough. No, the universe was out to get you and so, of course, you also had to run into your neighbor while you were hobbling through the front door of your apartment building with four bags of groceries.

Your bottle of Clorox wipes rolls too far away from you to pick up without also dumping out the rest of your groceries, not that you were even really thinking about that. You’re too busy thinking about how this is the first time you’ve heard your neighbor since he was moaning through your walls. Honestly, he probably knows that you heard him. He probably figured out that you were basically touching yourself to him and thinks you're a weirdo pervert with a weirdo pervert cat and is just using this as an excuse to confront you.

“I can—”

So caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized he’s gotten closer to you—almost a foot away from you now and only getting closer. You take one panicked look at your neighbor and then bolt to the opening elevator. Narrowly dodging the person walking out, you mash on the “close door” button frantically and leave Guy Next Door standing frozen and surprised in the lobby. That’s the last you see of him, arm outstretched to take one of your bags, as the elevator doors close and then you’re letting out a loud groan.

Well, if he didn’t think you were a weirdo before, he certainly does now.

And it seems that you’ve embarrassed yourself so much that even the universe doesn’t find it fair to punish you anymore as it causes no other problems for you as you make it inside of your apartment. Pascal comes to greet you by the door when you roll all the bags off your arms, brushing his head against your legs with a soft purr. Placing your grocery bags on the kitchen counter, you lean down to scratch his ears.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me today. Because there is no way I am leaving this apartment,” you tell him and Pascal only meows in response.

It’s an ingenious plan, really. You can’t have any more embarrassing encounters with your neighbor—whose name you still haven’t learned—if you never run into him again. And you just got groceries! So you’d be set for at least a week, possibly more if you conserve everything well enough. Maybe you could find a reality dating show to binge.

Your plan lasts a total of five minutes. Five minutes of you genuinely convincing yourself that nothing else is going to go wrong for you today as you start packing away your groceries. And then there’s a knock on your door.

“I think you dropped this.” Guy Next Door’s standing right outside the threshold of your door, holding up your forgotten bottle of Clorox wipes with a sheepish smile.

You can’t help but wonder if he’s doing this on purpose. Maybe he likes embarrassing you, like it’s some game for him or something. He certainly seems to like knocking on your door.

Taking the bottle of Clorox wipes from him cautiously, you swallow. “Thanks.”

“I figured you might want them.” Guy Next Door nods, shoving his hands in his jean pockets now that they’re free. “Meant to give them to you in the lobby but you, uh…” he grimaces awkwardly, “ran away.”

Clorox wipes are not worth this, you should have never opened the door.

“Sorry, I— I bought ice cream and I didn’t want it to melt,” you lie, shoving your knee through the crack of your door because you can feel Pascal’s tail swishing along your legs and, really, the last thing you need is him bolting out and further ruining your neighbor’s perception of you.

“No worries.” Guy Next Door seems to buy it, his shoulders dropping a bit in relaxation and you start to feel bad that you might have actually hurt his feelings. “I’m glad I caught you though. I wanted to say thank you for the brownies.”

You can’t help but light up at that. “Oh, did you like them?”

“Loved ‘em,” Guy Next Door grins. “I’ve been meaning to give you your container back actually.” You see him glance at his own door briefly, biting his lip in thought. “Actually, I could grab it now. Would you like to—”

Suddenly the elevator dings and the metal doors open to reveal five large men, all chatting loudly and holding an assortment of pizza boxes and packs of beer. They don’t seem to notice you—Bradley’s large frame must be blocking you from them. You watch his eyes widen as he takes them in and your own travel over to them.

Already stepping out of the elevator is a blond. There’s a lazy grin on his face and you’re sure he’s the type of guy that Callie would say “makes girls melt like honey”. His tanned bicep bulges under the weight of four packs of beer and he rolls a toothpick between his teeth as he takes in the floor of your apartment building.

“What the fuck happened to waiting for us in the lobby, Rooster?” His eyes land on Guy Next Door, whose spine straightens at his words.

“Yeah,” another pipes up and you can’t quite see him over the large stack of pizzas he’s holding. “Mrs. Laker had to buzz us in, dude.”

Guy Next Door almost seems to blush, scratching at his neck with a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, I... had to return something.”

It occurs to you suddenly that Guy Next Door must have left his friends stranded outside the lobby because he was bringing up the Clorox wipes you’d failed to grab when you were running away from him. At this point, you don’t know if you could be more embarrassed if you tried and you certainly didn’t want to test your luck now that Guy Next Door’s friends are standing right in front of you.

Guy Next Door turns back to you, his mouth opening to speak, but you wave him off quickly, subtly trying to nudge Pascal away from the door with your foot. “I’ll get my container later,” you assure him, shooting a polite smile over his shoulder to his friends. “Enjoy your pizza!”

With that, you shut your door quickly, leaning against it as you squeeze your eyes closed in embarrassment. That could have gone worse. Well, it could have gone better too, but at least your neighbor was wearing clothes this time.

You move to push off your door, still set on your quiet afternoon in that involves you, Pascal, however much wine it takes to forget this day ever happened, and whatever season of The Bachelor you end up landing on. Just as your back lifts off the wood, you hear a loud whisper travel from the hall.

“Was that the girl you were telling us about?”

“Shut up.”

You bite back a heavy sigh. Great. You knew Guy Next Door thought you were a freak. You walk away from your front door with dejection heavy in your chest when a sudden thought halts you in your steps.

Did the blond one call him Rooster?

The next day you decide to push Guy Next Door and everything about him out of your mind. Today is important! And you will not let him and his perfect muscles and beautiful, brown eyes and rough, husky voice that makes you want to lock him in a bedroom and never come out distract you. Not today.

Giving Pascal a pet goodbye, along with his morning kibble, you set out to start your day. You can do this. This was a good idea. This was not a mistake. You keep repeating the words over and over, hoping you’ll find the confidence to actually believe them somewhere along your walk to work.

Work. You were going to work.

If someone had asked you a year ago if you genuinely believed you would ever live your lifelong dream of opening a flower shop, you probably would have smiled at them politely and told them that no, you did not. And now here you are, a year later, doing just that.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve been obsessed with flowers. Your mom cornered off a small part of her garden that was just for you to plant whatever you’d like and all your childhood summers were spent reading about flowers, and planting flowers, and watching them bloom in your small corner of the garden.

It was clear to everyone that you loved flowers more than anything and, for the most part, they entertained your obsession. But your father had made it clear that that was hardly a career path and could only be a hobby at most. You tried your best to respect his wishes, but truthfully nothing gave you as much joy as growing and arranging flowers did and, to this day, you still feel like you stumbled through college just to learn that you wouldn’t be happy doing anything else.

You thought your dad would give you a chance—seeing how you tried so hard to make him happy. Instead, you got an ultimatum. If you decided to go through with opening a flower shop, you would be doing it by yourself. You can do this. This was a good idea. This was not a mistake.

So you packed up your life, and you and Pascal moved to a cheaper part of the city, and now all you can do is hope that you made the right decision.

Anxiety gnaws at your stomach your whole walk to the flower shop, your hands clenching and unclenching until you finally unlock the old door. You can do this. This was a good idea. This was not a mistake.

Even you can admit that the store is quite small—it was all you could afford—but you think that you can make it work. Sure, it needs a little TLC… but what doesn’t? That’s what you were planning to do today actually, brighten everything up before your first order of flowers comes in. Letting out a breath, you resolve your confidence, marching to the back room to pull out a broom.

You find it easier and easier to stop panicking as you clean. Now that the lights are on and there’s not as much dust everywhere, the place actually looks quite nice. You’re sure it’ll look even nicer once you mop. A smile breaks out on your face. This could work!

You finish dumping your dustpan in the trash, wiping back your fly aways as you survey the room with hands on your hips. Light streams in through the windows, giving the small room a sort of glow that would probably make it look magical if it were covered in flowers. Grabbing the duster, you move to dust some of the hanging shelves, starting with one close to the window.

“Oh, hello.” You blink in surprise, pausing your motions when you notice a bird perched on the window sill. It’s a pretty dark blue in color and quite stout, like it’s been fed one too many times at the park. You assume that it’ll fly away when it sees you, but instead it looks you dead in the eye and stays put. “I was hoping to open that window, buddy. Do you think you could move?”

The bird does not move and so you set down your duster, pursing your lips in thought. You take a step forward, knocking on the glass gently—you don’t want to frighten the bird, you just want it to leave. The bird lifts one of its feet. And promptly puts it back down.

Your second attempt with the knocking gets a ruffle of its feathers and you didn’t think that birds could even look bored, but this one is definitely looking at you bordley. You stop your knocking with a huff.

“You are very rude, you know that?” If the bird does know that, it certainly doesn’t care, and you’re not even gifted a feather ruffle this time. “Come on, please?” You try a different approach. “I promise I’ll put a bird feeder up or something. I just don’t want the window to open and then you accidentally come inside, wouldn’t that be scary?” You reason.

The bird does not take either bait.

You narrow your eyes. “You know what? You better leave or… Or I’ll poke you!” You pick up your feather duster, waving it in the air so the bird can see that you mean business.

“Um, hi?”

You whirl around with a shriek, dropping your feather duster in fright, only to meet the sheepish eyes of Guy Next Door.

“Uh, we’re closed!” You blurt, mouth working before your brain as you panic.

“No, yeah, sorry I know. I just— I thought I recognized you. Sorry, I should have knocked or something.” Guy Next Door looks down guiltily, scratching the back of his neck.

“No. No, you’re fine,” you let out a breath, your heart rate finally regulating. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone so you scared me.”

You’re not sure what you said that’s so funny, but suddenly Guy Next Door is biting back a grin as he nudges his head behind you. “Yeah, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You nearly break your neck to look behind you, suddenly remembering the bird you’ve been arguing with for the past five minutes. You look back at Guy Next Door with a horrified expression. He just saw all of that.

“Oh no, that wasn’t—” You try to explain hastily. “I was just trying to clean and I wanted to open the window, but then I saw the bird and I tried tapping on the glass, but that didn’t do anything so— But I wasn’t— I’m not crazy. I don’t talk to birds!”

You’re practically panting when you finish, fumbling through your words while Guy Next Door only seems to grow more amused. He throws his hands up in mock surrender when you finish.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it. All the best Disney princesses do,” he teases.

For whatever reason, out of all the embarrassing things you’ve done in front of this man, this one seems to be the one to break the camel’s back. Looking down so he doesn’t see the tears of embarrassment welling in your eyes, you swallow, your voice pitiful. “I know you think I’m a freak, but I promise I’m not.”

“Hey, wait a sec,” Guy Next Door’s voice drops to a gentle level and he takes a few steps closer to you so that he’s able to reach out to you comfortingly. “I don’t think you’re a freak. Why do you think that?”

“My cat saw you naked,” you sniffle.

Guy Next Door laughs, rubbing large hands up and down your biceps. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“I literally ran away from you,” you continue. “And you just watched me argue with a bird.”

Guy Next Door seems to think for a moment. “Yeah, well, I left my friends locked out just so I could talk to you again and this,” he gestures to the room around you, “might be considered breaking and entering, which I also did just to talk to you.” Guy Next Door ducks down to catch your eye so that he can give you a comforting smile. “So if you’re a freak, then I’m definitely a freak.”

You wipe your eyes, looking up at him hesitantly. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Still do, actually.” Guy Next Door grins before sticking his hand out. “I’m Bradley.”

You meet his handshake, telling him your name as you do so. Bradley’s hand makes yours look tiny and all too soon he releases his grip on you, but he still keeps his proximity close. His cologne clouds your senses, but it’s not overpowering, cradling you in a spicy vanilla and honeyed musk. You blink a couple times to ground yourself again as Bradley looks around your empty shop.

“So what are you opening up here?” He asks, looking genuinely curious as he brings his eyes back to you.

You bite your lip, deflating a bit. This is the part where he calls you childish and also an idiot. “A, um, a flower shop.”

To your surprise, Bradley’s smile only widens. “Very cool.” He looks around again, as if now to imagine the place filled with flowers. “But I will say, talking to animals and being surrounded by flowers is sounding more and more Disney princess.”

“You seem to know a lot about Disney princesses,” you counter, placing your hands on your hips.

Bradley just shrugs with a teasing smile. “I have a niece.”

A blanket of quiet falls over the two of you, but it’s not quite as awkward as these beats of silence have been in the past. Maybe it’s because you’re not spending this silence worrying about what Bradley thinks of you—no more wondering if he thinks you're a weirdo pervert with a weirdo pervert cat! And, finally, you think it’s actually possible for you and your neighbor to be friends.

Bradley clears his throat suddenly, looking almost nervous. “Would you like to come over sometime?”

“Me?” You quickly cover your mouth to try to hide your surprise. “I mean, yeah, I— I’d like that.”

“Me too” Bradley smiles, shoving his hands in his pockets as his gaze travels over your facial features.

You tuck a fly away behind your ear hesitantly. “I can— I can give you my number if you want?”

It’s almost comical how quickly Bradley reaches for his phone, nodding hastily as he moves to unlock it. You type your number in before handing the phone back to him and you notice Bradley quickly type something else before pocketing it.

Something behind you catches his eye when he looks up and he smiles, gesturing to it with his head. “I think your bird friend left.”

You turn around only to confirm that the bird has finally flown away. You realize now that you’re significantly less mad at it as you were just a few minutes ago. It is the reason that you and Bradley actually had an actual conversation, so maybe it wasn’t all bad. You make a mental note to put up a bird feeder soon.

“Well, I guess that’s my sign to get back to cleaning.” You reach down to grab your discarded feather duster.

“Must be,” Bradley agrees.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment.

“I’ll… I’ll see you soon then?” It comes out as more of a question as you look up at Bradley nervously.

“Can’t wait,” Bradley grins, before finally pivoting on his feet. His grin quickly morphs into a smirk and he wets his lips as his eyes flick up and down your body. “I’ll see ya around, princess.”

I don’t have a taglist but feel free to follow my library @jupitercometgold if you want to be notified when I post

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw au #rooster imagine #rooster imagines #rooster x reader #rooster fluff #rooster au #top gun maverick imagines #x reader #so seductive #buggy’s got a pen

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politemenacephd · 4 months

Text

Arachnophilia (Part One)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

You're a new recruit to the spider society, and you've just been sent on your first mission on one condition: Do not contact Miguel's variant in this universe. When your mission goes wrong you break that rule very quickly, desperate for help, only to find that Miguel's variant here is not what you expected. He's stoic but kind, awkward but sincere, and he's also an enormous human-spider hybrid: A drider, both human and arachnid. You decide to continue seeing Miguel in secret, with the rest of the society unaware. You really want to stay friends after all. That is, until Miguel suddenly goes into a rut. Word count: 2457 Notes: fun little thing i cooked up while ill and after being inspired by a mutuals work. chap 1 + 2 set up and characters meeting, chap 3 and onward is the smut, enjoy x

‘Hey! You got a mission!’

You glanced up from your desk and peeped around your holographic screen, curiously perusing for whoever had called. A mission? Who was it this time?

You spotted Jess making her way down the opposite hall to you, her eyes scanning the other desks. Ah, of course, you knew her voice anywhere. So this was an elite mission. With your curiosity now fully peeked you slyly leaned your chair even further out into the corridor, eyes peeled to try and see who she went towards.

One of the new Peters, perhaps? They were always clambering for a mission. Or perhaps the new Gwen? She certainly thought she deserved a solo mission, and she wasn’t even wrong.

You became so enraptured with your own office snooping that you entirely missed Jess as she walked up behind you.

‘You okay there?’

You jumped in your chair and nearly fell to the floor, only barely catching yourself on the rim of your desk. ‘AH- Oh, hi! Yes! Yes, all good. All- fine. What is up, boss?’

Jess flatly squared her hands on her hips. ‘I was literally calling you with exactly what is up’ she noted drolly. ‘You got a mission.’

You felt your shoulders tense as your stomach dropped. Your fear must have been clear because Jess immediately raised a brow.

You were getting sent out? Finally? You?

You swallowed down the growing lump in your throat. It was a justified fear, at least in your mind, as if this was true this would be your first big mission for the Spider Society. No more fighting minor crime in your own home city, now you were patrolling the multiverse.

‘Well?’

You jumped a second time as Jess interrupted your thoughts. It was very clear that you were wasting her time.

‘Oh! Ah, shit- yes, sorry.’ In a hurry you pushed your chair back and hopped to your feet, struggling to look as professional as you could. Jess’s face hardly moved. She seemed to be eyeing you up, making tiny little conclusions in her mind that you couldn’t see.

Luckily that didn’t last. Her face quickly changed back to that casual smile, and with a wave of her hand she beckoned you to follow. ‘My god you’re tightly wound. They were right. Come on!’

You quickly powered down the PC you’d been doing busywork on and rushed to follow her.

‘I thought Miguel was the only Spider who didn’t have senses. I've never seen another spider surprised like that’ Jess noted over her shoulder as you followed. You opened your mouth to reply but were cut off as you both exited the research block, with the sliding doors revealing a bright and blinding midday sun beaming down through the glass walls above. You shielded your eyes and hurried to catch up.

‘I do have senses, sorry, just- I’m still getting used to being here. I thought I lost it, actually, funny story, but uh- no, see I don’t know if you ever got told this, but apparently, I heard from one of the older Peter’s there’s this unofficial but pretty established thing called sense fatigue.’

‘Ahuh.’ Jess was obviously just trying to get to Miguel’s office as quickly as possible at this point, but you didn’t notice. You continued rambling.

‘It’s like whisker fatigue on cats, did you know cats got that? So spiders, we’re so used to being the only ones with senses, that when you first join the society it kinda exhausts your senses being around SO many other people that it stops working as well. I think that’s what’s happening to me. Did that ever happen to you?’

‘Nope.’

Jess’s curt response didn’t dampen your spirits. You eagerly jogged along the final main beam towards the go-home machine, jumping and dodging the other spiders as they went by.

‘Huh! Well that’s why you’re an elite, probably, right? Along with other reasons, I’m sure.’

‘Many other reasons’ Jess said.

‘But uh- I’m sure it’s fine. It’s better at home so, won’t affect me on the mission.’

‘Let’s hope not.’

With that being the final word Jess led you down the corridor towards Miguel’s office. It was darker there than the rest of the HQ, down in these tight-knit spaces covered in half-made junk and unfinished tech. You had to jump over multiple loose wires and metal plates to get to the door.

‘Miguel! I got who you asked for!’

You scurried up to Jess’s back as you both entered into Miguel’s domain. It was enormous in scope, dark and shadowed with jagged metal spires reaching so far up that you couldn’t see where they ended. In the centre of the room was that signature floating desk, and on that signature floating desk was the man himself.

Miguel O’Hara, slouched over his desk with his hackles raised and his neck bent.

‘Miguel! I brought ‘em over.’

Jess’s call caused him to pause. He was midway through typing something.

‘The new one?’

His voice was smooth, gruff and cold. It sent a shiver down your spine.

‘Yep. The new one.’

With a grunt Miguel finished typing and turned to face you. You jumped as he dropped down from his desk to the floor.

God he was pretty. You felt your heart thud a little harder as he stared down at you, hands carefully placed on his hips to highlight his shoulders.

No, not pretty. He was beautiful. You struggled to stand up a little taller.

‘Hi! Hello, ah- sir, you wanted me for a mission?’

Miguel looked you up and down like he could see through to your very soul. It was very strangely violating to be stared at by those cold red eyes. After giving you the up and down he turned and manifested a new screen at his back.

‘You’re going to E-298. There’s a vulture anomaly.’

‘Ah! Alright. Sounds, do-able. Who am I with?’

‘No one.’

You blanked. Your mouth moved but no words came out. ‘No- no one? Sir?’

Miguel grunted. ‘Somethings up. Almost everyone right now is busy, there’s anomalies everywhere, which is why I’m sending you to clear this up.’

‘Uh- I mean, Jess, is—’

‘Jess is coming with me to deal with an anomaly hole in E-345’ Miguel barked, quickly cutting you off. You pursed your lips on any further complaints.

‘Just subdue and cage the bad guy, then send him back here. Lyla will deal with any larger anomalies. Can you handle that?’

You shuffled your feet to hide how hot you felt. You shouldn’t be indulging this, but your body was reacting quite strangely to being ordered around by the larger man.

‘Ah- yes, sir’ you replied. Miguel nodded his approval, and you ate it up.

‘Good. I’ll need you to head out immediately.’

When Miguel failed to say anything else you assumed that it was time to go, and quickly turned to leave. Short and brief, you thought, what more could you expect though? He was a busy man after all.

But then Miguel spoke again.

‘Wait!’

You paused and turned to see Miguel holding up a single claw. His eyes were narrowed, his brows knotted in a way that was unusually intense even for him. You hated the way you cowered under his shadow.

‘I- I don’t usually bring this up, but, you’re… new, so I want to warn you’ he said, his voice going low. You noticed his nose flaring as he came closer, almost like he was breathing something in. You stood rigid beneath his enormous body. ‘This universe you’re going to, is- home to one of my variants.’

Your eyes widened a little, your mouth forming a soft ‘oh’. ‘Ah! Okay! Is, will you- or, he, I guess- will he be helping—’

‘Stay away from him’ Miguel barked. ‘My variations are not to be trusted. Understood?’

You slowly closed your mouth, giving a short nod.

‘Yes, sir. Of course.’ You pursed your lips as Miguel returned the nod. He slunk back to his office without a second word, and you followed Jess out of the office.

….

Later that day

...

‘God- damn it!’

You stumbled across the street floor, hand clutched to your side. You were hiding in a back alley of a smoking building, your body covered in dust and debris. The muted, muffled screams of a frustrated vulture filled the otherwise empty street.

With a grunt you pressed your back to the wall of the opposing building. It was dark here and the bricks were wet against your suit. You forcefully and awkwardly pulled your mask aside to breath.

Your fight with the vulture hadn’t gone as planned. You’d started out well enough, but that’d just made you cocky. In an attempt to do your best you’d overstretched your web mechanism to the point of jamming it, and you’d soon been overpowered by your feathery opponent.

A few tosses into the wall had bruised at least one rib, and your muscles were straining to even stand.

‘I need… back up…’

It hurt to admit, but you had no other choice. You raised your portal watch and began scanning for anyone you could call for help.

You scrolled, and scanned, and scrolled and scanned until your finger hurt from scrolling. Your movements grew more frantic as your gut began to sink. No, no, no. You could feel your panic rising. Every spider you brought up had an X beside them, meaning they were out of reach for contact.

‘Shit- Shit! Everyone?! It’s really everyone?!’

X after X after X. there was no one who could help you now.

With a soft whine you sank back against the wall, gripping its sides for stability. This was bad, this was REALLY bad. Really, REALLY bad.

You gently cracked your knuckle against the damp bricks at your back. Idiot, you thought. Why had Miguel thought you were worthy to be in this society? Why had you taken the position at all?

In that moment, you felt very much alone.

But, wait. You weren’t the only spider in this universe, right?

Your eyes trailed down to your watch where it’d fallen on Miguel. His symbol for availability was red like the others, but it reminded you of what he’d said. He had a variant here.

Miguel said his variants weren’t to be trusted, but, why? It was strange for him to be so cagey with information like that. Miguel was famously too honest, too blunt, often to his detriment. He only left stuff out if it was inconvenient.

So, what was the issue? Your mind had, at first, gone to the worst possibilities. That he was a mad scientist, or a venom variation, or was so messed up by the DNA splicing that he was incapable of reason.

That didn’t have to be the case though, did it? Perhaps it was something else.

You unceremoniously scrambled to check your things. You had your weapons. You had your watch. Surely if he was dangerous you could just escape, and you could apologize to Miguel later for not listening to him.

Besides, what choice did you have? Either you failed to get the vulture and went back in disgrace, or it turned out Miguel’s variant is a bad guy and you go home in disgrace again. The only good option was the reveal that Miguel’s variant was just, weird, or made him feel inadequate, or wanted $10 for helping out. Thing’s that Miguel could conceivably view as making him unworthy to be a spider society member.

With that desperate cope you made up your mind. You drew your watch to your lips and whispered.

‘Lyla? Hey, Lyla?’

‘What’s up, newbie.’

The snazzy little AI appeared on your wrist, eagerly pacing back and forth as she waited for orders. You swallowed hard; it was now or never.

‘Ah- you, can trace people in this universe, right?’

‘Yep.’

‘You could, theoretically, trace any spiders here?’

‘Yeeeppp.’

‘Could… could you uh, please, trace the Miguel O’Hara in this universe, for me?’

At that Lyla paused. She spun on her heel with dramatic flair, her glasses falling down her nose without her even touching them. She looked surprised.

‘Wow! Didn’t take you for a risky little sneak.’

‘I’m not! I’m just- I need some help and everyone else is busy.’

‘Ahuh. Whatever you say, I don’t care. Honestly I’m just excited someone asked me. I’ve wanted to see his freaky variants for years, but he won’t ever let me look it up. Since you asked though, I got immunity.’

You tried not to think too much about the implications of what she’d said. You lay back and waited for Lyla to complete her scan, all while very aware of the vulture’s continued destruction going on in the building beside you. For now he was contained in there, as you’d put up a light shield, but that wouldn’t last forever.

Please let this work, you pleaded internally. Please.

‘Aha! Got ‘im.’

You let out a sigh of relief as Lyla re-appeared. ‘Great! Where is he?’

‘He’s close’ Lyla cooed, waving a fake document in front of you that was too small to read. You gestured with your hand for her to hurry up.

‘Yes! Okay! Where?’

‘The pine forest park just beyond the city line, to the north. Looks like he’s pretty deep in there.’

You felt your enthusiasm die just a little. He was in a forest? Why? You felt a little pang of anxiety in your gut about this whole thing, but you quickly shut it down as the vulture’s rampage grew louder. No, it was probably fine. Maybe he just had a hidden base in the woods, that was normal, right?

Besides, you didn’t have time to spare. Either he helped or didn’t, and if he didn’t want to help you needed to know that sooner than later.

‘Okay. Thanks Lyla, I owe you.’

‘Everyone does.’

Lyla zipped out of existence as you swung yourself back into the open air, flinging your body way above the city skyline. Up here, with the clear sky and wide-open city scape, you immediately spotted what Lyla had been talking about: an enormous pine forest way off in the distance, hugging the cities edge like a sleeping bear. It looked thick, untamed, and its edges were dark beneath the clouds of an oncoming storm.

You swung your way through the streets and watched the trees grow closer.

‘Alright’ you whispered, your body soaring through the sky. ‘Let’s meet the new Mr O’Hara.' Link to part two!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #smut fanfiction #drider #read on ao3 #smut with plot #smut

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illiterateaffairs · 10 months

Text

DISTRACTIONS VIII | OPEN WOUND

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 7,743

summary: you and jamie have officially taken your relationship to the next level. but jamie still feels like he isn’t good enough for you.

A/N: once again, thank you all for all of the patience as you waited for this long-delayed chapter, as well as everyone who reached out while i was under the weather. i love and apperciate all of you! this was a hard chapter to write, even now that i’m feeling better, so i hope it was worth the wait. icymi, thinking this is chapter 8 of 12 formal parts so we’re almost at the end, but i anticipate writing more drabbles set in this universe!💗

distractions masterlist | previous chapter

It wasn’t unusual that Jamie woke up before you, however it was usually when he had to meet up with Roy for training. This morning, though, once he opened his eyes and saw you sleeping peacefully beside him, there was no falling back asleep. He’d had the forethought to text Roy at some point last night to tell him he wouldn’t be able to make it to practice, knowing there was no chance he was leaving this bed without you.

Yesterday has been a rollercoaster for Jamie. After a few days of impending dread that you were going to end things with him after feeling you pulling away, you’d called and invited him over. The sound of your voice made his stomach flip and he’d had a shred of hope for the first time in weeks that maybe these feelings he’d developed for you weren’t one sided. Once deciding to go to your place after meeting with the team to fix up Sam’s restaurant, he was feeling confident enough to confess to you no matter what. He couldn’t let this go on any longer without you knowing what you meant to him.

The nerves crept in when the boys and he were finishing up dinner, and he’d texted you to let you know he’d be over soon.

“I can’t wait to see you,” he’d boldly texted only to regret doing so when he received no reply from you.

You’d probably fallen asleep on the couch watching one of your shows, he’d told himself. He texted you one more time before he started driving to let you know he was on his way. By the time he reached your flat, there was still no word from you. It wasn’t like you to not respond, even over the past few weeks when things were rocky, you still never fully ignored him. You had to be asleep.

He debated how loud he should knock, simultaneously not wanting to disturb you if you were in fact passed out on the couch, but also just wanting to at least be reassured you were alright. He ended up knocking at a normal volume, and was pleasantly surprised to hear your footsteps approach only moments later. A small smile instantly formed when he saw you, until he noticed that you looked like you’d been crying. He quickly moved to comfort you and his mind began racing with thoughts of what could have possibly made you so upset, and no matter what it was, he’d do anything to prevent it from happening again.

You didn’t get the chance to explain when another person popped the bubble you two seemed to form whenever you were together. Upon processing that another man was in your home, his chest began to feel like a piano had dropped onto it. Who the fuck was this? He thankfully had enough sense to analyze the situation and see that whoever this was, was clearly upsetting you so he couldn’t let his thoughts get too carried away. But that didn’t stop him from feeling defensive. Jealous. Protective.

As soon as the name Mason was uttered from the prick’s mouth, Jamie had to hold back from decking the guy across the face, for everything he did to you months ago, and for having the nerve to show up here and cause you any more distress. Then he had the nerve to call you ‘babe’ like he had any right to even be in the same room as you, let alone call you a term of endearment without any sense of affection behind it, only possessiveness. But he knew punching your ex wouldn’t make you feel any better.

Somewhere in the midst of his quiet rage, and focus on your well-being, the other man accused the two of you of being together, and Jamie quickly realized this meant you must have told him about the two of you in some capacity. At that moment, he wasn’t sure if you’d used him as an excuse to kick your ex out, or if it was true, but it didn’t matter. All he knew was this asshole needed to get as far away from you as possible. He almost threw all chivalry out the window when he watched Mason step closer to you, but luckily you moved away and maintained composure as you once again asked him to leave. Jamie immediately backed you up and all but pushed Mason out the door. As soon as he disappeared down the stairs, relief flooded Jamie’s chest and his heart pounded when you’d asked him to stay.

However, anxiety started creeping back up when he remembered what Mason had said.

“Don’t tell me he’s the one you moved on with?”

Had you moved on from Mason completely? And did you have feelings for him?

He’d hesitantly and quietly asked you just this, and you’d shyly admitted that you had indeed fallen for him, and Jamie could not remember a time when he’d been more happy. And despite his nerves, he never felt more proud to share that he had feelings for you, too. The rest of the night was a blur of kisses and tangled up limbs. He’d had great sex countless times before, specifically with you, but it was beyond incredible that night. You were incredible.

Now as sunlight crept into your room, he watched you sleep peacefully in awe. He could not fathom how he’d gotten so lucky to even know you, let alone call you his. He’d hoped you were his - not in a possessive sense - in a relationship sense. But between all the sex and lazy pillow talk in between, you two hadn’t exactly decided on any labels. He knew you were more than friends, and certainly more than just benefits, but he was a bit unsure of what that looked like from here on out.

He wasn’t aware of how much time passed as he watched you breath and traced nonsensical shapes across your hip, but before he knew it your eyes - your beautiful eyes - were fluttering open to meet his.

A warm smile takes over your face as you process your surroundings and Jamie can’t help but reciprocate.

After a few more quiet moments, you whisper, “Hi.”

“Hey,” Jamie whispers back. He doesn’t hesitate to close the very minimal gap between your two heads to kiss you, but your fingers press against his lips before he can.

“I have morning breath,” you whine quietly.

“That’s never stopped me before,” he tuts playfully and presses his lips against yours anyway. Despite your initial complaint, you hungrily reciprocate and Jamie practically smirks into the kiss

As much as you want to get carried away, you reluctantly pull away and lean your forehead against his. “I guess we never really talked about what happened last night.”

“We were a little busy.”

You huff out a laugh, but don’t meet his eye. After a few quiet seconds, you speak up again, “I’m sorry about Mason. He showed up out of nowhere.”

Jamie frowns, leaning away from you a bit, “You don’t need to apologize for him.”

“I know,” you nod, your fingers beginning to play with his absentmindedly between your two bodies, “I just feel bad that you even had to see him. I feel bad that I had to see him.”

“I don’t care about him,” he assures, his free hand combing through your hair comfortingly, “I just care that you’re alright.”

You nod, “I’m okay.”

After a beat, Jamie finds himself asking, “Was there any part of you that…considered taking him back?”

“No,” you answer immediately, clearing Jamie of any worries, “I think I want to believe his apology because I know I deserve one, but any feelings I had for him are completely gone. I have feelings for someone else. In case you missed that part.”

Jamie grins, “No, I remember that part very clearly. I think you said something like, ‘Jamie you are the nicest, sexiest, most talented footballer I’ve ever met and I can’t go another second without being with you’.”

You snort, “I don’t quite remember it like that. Was that before or after you told me I’m ‘the hottest, funniest, cutest person you’ve ever known and that I would make you the luckiest man in the world if I was your girlfriend’.”

Jamie laughs, “Not sure I said all that.”

You shrug, “Well, it’s all true, so can’t see why you wouldn’t’ve.”

Jamie’s amused smile turns into a shy one. “Even the part about you being my girlfriend? You really want to be that?”

You give him an unsure smile of your own, “I do if you want to. Be my boyfriend, I mean.”

“Oh, I definitely do,” he nods, leaning forward to press his face into the crook of your neck, “I’d be the luckiest man in the world, apparently.”

You laugh loudly, from his return of your joke but also from the vibration of his words against your throat. You settle down as his words turn into soft kisses that trail up to your jaw, to your cheek, and to your ear. As Jamie peppers more soft kisses across your face, nerves replace the butterflies in your stomach.

“Jamie?”

He plants one last kiss against your lips before peering down at you from above, “Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if we still kept our relationship quiet for a little bit?” you ask timidly. “I think I’d like to stay in this bubble we’ve had for a little longer, while this is still new, if that’s okay with you?”

Jamie’s quiet for a couple moments, and you worry that this is a deal breaker for him. However, he gives you a small smile a second later which instantly alleviates your nerves. He settles back beside you and pulls you into his chest.

“Of course,” he whispers into your hair, “I like having you all to myself. Although, I should probably tell you, Roy sort of knows.”

“Oh, yeah,” you chuckle, “I kind of knew that.”

“What?” Jamie’s eyes narrow, “How?”

“He mentioned it to me the other day. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t leading you on for nothing.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it was sweet, actually. Didn’t see that coming from Roy Kent.”

Jamie snorts.

“In that case, you should know that Rebecca knows.”

“I did know that.”

“And Sam.”

“Wait, what? Sam, too?”

You nod, peering up at him through your lashes, “I only told him yesterday when I was panicking over how much I like you.”

“Aw,” Jamie smirks, “Kinda nice to know the effect I have on you.”

You roll your eyes, “Well, he told me you’ve kinda been obsessed with me this whole time.”

Jamie’s smirk drops, “What did he say?”

“Just something about Richard talking about me, and you flipping out.”

Jamie’s eyes fall closed, “I did not flip out. I just respectfully let him know you wouldn’t be interested in him.”

“Says who?”

“Says who-?” Jamie’s eyes snap open and so does his jaw. He spends half a second in complete shock before seeing the playful smile on your face, “You’re mean.”

“I’m sorry!” you laugh into his chest, “But you’re cute when you’re jealous.” You look up at him and see him pouting. You give him another grin and begin kissing up his chest to his neck, “Don’t worry,” you whisper between kisses, “I am all yours.”

Jamie sighs as you continue pressing kisses to his neck before ultimately capturing his lips with yours once again. There are voices in his head trying to convince him this is all too good to be true; that he should be more worried about your need for secrecy but he ignores them. For now he allows himself to get completely lost in you. His girlfriend.

You and Jamie arrive at the club separately later that morning, Jamie having reluctantly left your home to go to his so he didn't show up in clothes from the night before. However, you somehow manage to show up within moments of each other.

As you walk into the parking lot, you find Sam exiting his car and eagerly approach him with a kind greeting. You can tell he wants to ask you whether or not you confessed your feelings to Jamie the night before, but before you can put him out of his misery, Jamie’s own car pulls into the lot. He gets out and while you both try not to make eye contact, you can’t help but feel a gravitational pull toward one another.

Jamie nods at you, “Morning, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Jamie.” Neither of you can keep the goofy smiles off your faces. You’re lucky Sam is the only one around - you’ll need to be better about keeping this on the down low.

“Hey, Jamie,” Sam calls out with a smirk of his own that only grows when Jamie’s eyes snap to his in surprise.

Jamie smothers his smitten smile for a more cordial one, “Hey, Sam. See you inside?”

Sam nods. Jamie gives you one last look and another tiny smile before walking away.

You can barely look Sam in the eye as he spins back around to face you with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t-”

“You did it!” he squeezes your shoulders and shakes you gently, “You told him you liked him!”

You can’t help but laugh as you shush him, “While it didn’t go exactly as I would have wanted, yes. I told him I liked him and he likes me and we’re…together.”

“Yes!” He engulfs you in a tight hug, “I’m so happy for you.”

You squeeze him back, “Well, can you be happy and quiet? We’re trying to be discreet for a little while longer.”

“Why?” Sam questions, pulling away from you, “I thought you’d be excited.”

“I’m, uh, buying time to try to figure out how to tell Keeley,” you explain to him, “I know that it's been a while since she and Jamie were together, but I don’t want to break girl code, you know?”

“Ah yes, the rules of female friendship are very sacred,” Sam nods sagely, “I guess we should get inside. I want to make sure I have time to tease Jamie before training - discreetly of course.”

You snort as the two of you head inside. You part ways with Sam after making him promise to be nice to Jamie, before you head towards Rebecca’s office.

You poke your head in her doorway and the older woman beams at you from her spot on the couch. She sets down her cup of tea and gestures eagerly for you to sit with her. As you sit beside her on the couch, you look around the room, trying to figure out how to tell her about your updated relationship status. However, Rebecca lets out a gasp, interrupting your brainstorm.

“Oh, my God, are you and Jamie are officially together?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head, “How the hell do you do that?”

“I’m psychic,” you tilt your head in interest and Rebecca rolls her eyes, “No, you just looked nervous and I saw Jamie when he came in a few minutes ago and he seemed like he was on cloud nine. Figured it had to do with you.”

You shake your head, “You’re still ridiculous.”

Rebecca shrugs with a grin, “What can I say?” She pokes your arm, “Why don’t you look as happy? This is a new development I assume, so you should be in the honeymoon phase.”

“We are. I am. I just…we’re still keeping it a secret,” you sigh, before quickly adding, “Except from you, Sam, and Roy.”

“Uh huh. And why exactly do you need to keep it a secret if you’re actually dating him now?”

“I’m procrastinating telling Ted,” you admit sheepishly.

Rebecca frowns, “Why? Ted adores Jamie.”

“I know. And Jamie loves Ted. That’s the problem. He looks up to him. I don’t want to make their dynamic weird by putting myself in the middle.”

Rebecca shakes her head, “Or it could make it all the better.”

You shrug, “I think I’d rather wait a little before I find out.”

“I support you whatever you decide, but I think you worry too much about other people,” Rebecca sighs, “But you’re happy, though? With Jamie?”

You bite your lip to keep from beaming, “Extremely.”

A slow smile creeps its way onto Rebecca’s face before the two of you start squealing.

Jamie finds it hard not to proclaim his feelings for you when Isaac asks him why he’s in such a good mood, but he manages to find something else to say. That something else being: “The fuck? I’m in a normal mood, thank you very much,” to which Isaac holds his hands up and backs off, muttering, “Okay, I take it back. Relax, bruv.”

Yeah, he wasn’t exactly thrilled you were still keeping your relationship a secret, even after graduating from just fuck buddies. But you were together and that was all that mattered. He was happy, and you were happy. At least he assumed - hoped - you were happy. You wouldn’t just enter another relationship that wasn’t making you happy. Unless you were just doing it to make him happy. But then why would you confess your feelings first?

God, Isaac was right; he did need to relax. He was just in his head. This was the first time he was in a real relationship with someone. Sure, he’d had relationships before, with Keeley and other girls, but this time he gave a shit. A lot of shits. So many shits it made his stomach hurt, he thought he needed to take a shit. But he felt like he was tricking you into dating someone who may or may not have been just as bad as your last boyfriend. You had no idea the prick he used to be. While he knew he wasn’t that guy anymore, and that the absolute last thing he’d do was hurt you, he was still terrified he’d accidentally end up doing that anyway. He worried a part of you thought that would happen, too. That’s why you weren't jumping at the chance to tell everyone. Again, he understood and believed what you said about not wanting to burst your personal little bubble yet, but his insecurities were louder than his common sense.

As he sorted through his locker, nearly giving into all of his toxic thoughts, Sam popped up behind him and almost gave him a heart attack.

“Jesus,” Jamie startled as Sam gripped his shoulders.

“I hear someone’s got a girlfriend,” Sam sing-songs softly. Jamie spins to face him and cautiously looks around the locker room, “Don’t worry your secret's safe with me. I just wanted to say that I’m happy for you, mate.”

Jamie feels his cheeks heat up and the side of his mouth quirks up, “Thanks, man.”

Sam smiles back, “And for her, too. I only found out she liked you yesterday, but I can tell how happy you make her. It's kind of adorable.” As Sam starts to step towards his own locker, he playfully adds, “Just don’t fuck it up.”

Jamie’s stomach flips. If Sam thought he made you happy, it had to be true. He also heard Sam’s other point loud and clear - he couldn’t fuck it up. He swore on his life he wouldn’t. And if that meant not telling anyone else for the time being, his lips were sealed.

Over the next few weeks, you and Jamie manage to keep your relationship a secret all the while finding time to meet up at the club or at one of your respective flats. In some ways it's like nothing has changed as you sneak in make out sessions - or a little more - during lunch breaks, but in other ways it's not. Jamie particularly likes the little things your elevated relationship status brings to the table. You’re a lot more affectionate and share more words of affirmation, things Jamie hasn’t been particularly used to. Jamie’s the same way with you, and he opens up more little by little. You can tell there are things he’s still holding back, but you trust that he’ll tell you with time.

Just as your relationship has been better than ever, so has AFC Richmond’s track record. Since their victory at Arsenal, they’ve won three more games in a row. Jamie cheekily credits you with part of the reason he’s been doing so well as of late, and while you know that’s hardly the truth, you still accept the compliment and the many, many kisses that follow.

You’re together for about a month when Michelle and Henry visit England, along with Michelle’s new boyfriend, Jacob. In anticipation of their trip, you talk yourself up to the idea of telling your aunt about your new, official boyfriend. You were nervous to tell anyone in your family, particularly your dads. And Ted. You figured Michelle would be good practice and she’s always understood you differently than the paternal figures in your life. She used to be your go-to person to talk about boys with, and was the first person you told when you started dating Mason. But once you’d moved to Chicago and things with him started feeling off, you avoided talking about him when you could. This was different though. You were happy and proud to be in a relationship with Jamie. It should be easy to tell people. You should be bragging about it.

Unfortunately, when the opportunity strikes itself, you freeze. Jacob was making sure the last of their things were ready for their Paris trip, and Ted was getting Henry ready to go to the club, so you and Michelle had a moment alone. She even teed you up perfectly and asked if you were seeing anyone, but instead of enthusiastically telling her about Jamie, you anxiously laughed and told her no. No, there wasn’t a guy who treated you like you deserved and made you feel you’ve been struck by lightning every time you’re together. You told her you were happily single, straight to her face, like a liar. Because you were a liar.

The last few weeks you’ve been making up excuses to Jamie, Sam, Rebecca and yourself as to why you couldn’t admit to anyone else that you were dating Jamie. And while all of those reasons had validity, there was still a nagging feeling in the back of your head that didn’t want you to tell anyone even if those little worries went away. But you didn’t know what it was. You just hoped it went away sometime soon so you could be with Jamie in the way he deserved. Not hiding away, but out in the world together. With a modest amount of PDA. You weren’t an animal.

You push the uneasy feelings in your stomach away to wish Michelle and Jacob well on their trip. You stand beside Ted and Henry and wave them off as their taxi disappears down the street, before the three of you start your walk to Nelson Road Stadium. A few minutes in, Henry naturally walks ahead of you giving you and Ted the chance to talk. Per usual, he senses that something’s off, but you tell him you’re just a bit down this morning, and that Henry being here was already starting to cheer you up. Then you whisper that Jacob annoyed the shit out of you the entirety of your breakfast at Crown and Anchor. Who the hell dates one of their formal couples-therapy clients? You could tell Ted has also been uneasy since your meal, but he lightly scolds you and tells you to play nice. You do manage to clock the tiny smile in the corner of his mouth when you quietly refer to Dr. Jacob as a wanker and you take the tiny victory.

When you arrive at the club, you part ways so you can get set up in your office for the day, but you tell Henry he can visit you at any time. He knows the drill not to tell anyone that you’re related, seeming to understand the power dynamics of corporate culture in his own little kid way. There was a reason he was your favorite cousin.

He takes you up on your offer barely thirty minutes later. He bounds into your office, already going on about how Will showed him what it takes to be a Premier League kitman, and you barely have time to wonder how he knew where your office even was. Henry sits criss-cross-applesauce on the chair across from your desk as he asks you questions about your job and you try to make it sound as exciting as possible. He lights up when you tell stories about the mishaps you’ve witnessed during team training. You’re nearly about to attempt a PG explanation of the red-string incident - though you’d only heard about it second hand from Jamie after the two of you shared a particularly potent bottle of wine a couple weeks ago - when the man himself appears in your doorway already dressed for practice. Your heart skips a beat, both from seeing his face and the mental reminder to not let your secrets slip to either of the boys in the room, but you trusted them both enough to let yourself relax.

“Hi, Jamie,” you call out brightly, alerting the younger boy to the footballer’s presence. Once he turns to see Jamie, he eagerly sits up and greets him, “I was telling Henry here all about the glamorous life of a Premier League club owner’s assistant.”

Jamie nods and crosses his arms, “Hmm, what do you say, Henry? Would you rather stay here and help her go through documents all day, or come to training with me and the team for a bit?”

“Definitely training!” Henry exclaims with no hesitation.

“Okay, ouch.” you tease with a fake frown.

Jamie chuckles and nudges Henry’s arm, “You can head down to the pitch if you want then. A few of the boys should already be down there waiting for ya.”

“Awesome!” Henry cheers, practically sprinting out of your office. He calls out a goodbye and apology to you, promising to spend time with you tomorrow.

Jamie quirks an eyebrow at that and your heart stops briefly again, but you remain calm.

“What’s tomorrow?” Jamie asks, shutting the office door so you’ve got some privacy.

You shrug as nonchalantly as possible, “He probably said that to be nice.”

False. You had lunch plans with Henry, Ted, and Beard tomorrow. Yet another lie you’d told today.

Jamie nods, his eyes trailing you as you get up to formally greet him with a kiss.

“What brings you to my office?” you ask, pulling away but keeping your arms interlocked around his neck. “Can’t stay away from me?”

Jamie smirks, “While that is true, Ted actually asked me to bring Henry to the pitch while he talked to Rebecca about something.”

You hum, with a small smile, “Did you know you’re kind of Henry’s favorite player on the team?”

His smirk turns into a genuine grin, “He told you that?”

Technically no. But since you’ve been working for the club, every time you’ve had the chance to speak to Henry over Facetime, he always asks about Jamie. And you knew it wasn’t a coincidence he was number 9 on his own soccer team. Even when you and Jamie weren’t an official couple, and before you’d even started hooking up, you thought it was cute how much Henry looked up to the footballer. And when you commented on it, Ted remarked that Jamie always made Henry feel special each time he visited, even early on when Jamie was less than the friendliest guy on the team. You had to admit, being good with kids was definitely a turn on.

You just nod. Jamie’s smile turns mischievous again. “Who would you say your favorite player on the team is?”

You bite your lip and look off in the distance pretending to think.

Jamie lightly squeezes your waist and scoffs, “If you say Richard, I swear…”

“You know it's not Richard,” you laugh, fixing him a look as you lean closer to him, “My favorite player is obviously Sam.”

Jamie groans and presses his forehead against yours. “You are still so mean,” he whines, but you can hear the laugh in his voice.

You giggle, “You can be my second favorite.”

“Huh, well second is the best, some say.”

“Yeah, some.” You tease, pressing another kiss to his lips, “You should get to practice.”

“Yeah,” Jamie sighs, but doesn’t hesitate to kiss you long and hard one more time. “Can I come over tonight?”

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Jamie gives you one more sweet smile and kiss on the cheek before leaving you alone. Alone with thoughts of why you couldn’t possibly want to shout about your relationship from the rooftops. But for whatever reason, you weren’t ready yet. You just hoped one day soon you would be.

For some reason, Jamie cancels on you that night. He doesn’t offer much of an explanation as to why, but you trust he has a good reason. So, you tell him not to worry about it and offer up a rain check for the next night. Instead of responding yes or no, Jamie thumbs-up the text, which you aren’t thrilled about, but you try not to overthink one weird text exchange. Either way, you’d reach out to him tomorrow and see if he was still acting off.

In effort not to dwell on the strange interaction, you busy yourself with making dinner. While your meal is in the oven, you also call Keeley. Earlier that day, you’d heard the news about her personal photos getting leaked and since you were swamped at the club, you didn’t have a real chance to reach out. While it's been a minute since you’ve seen the girl, each of you busy with your jobs and respective relationships (not to mention you still hiding yours from her in particular), you could tell she appreciated hearing from you.

After cheering her up a bit with some words of comfort, and then a bit of girl talk to distract her, you settle down on the couch with a bowl of baked ziti and your laptop. First, you answer a few emails. One was from your dad of a goofy meme that he definitely could have just texted, but you respond nonetheless with a culturally relevant GIF. The other was from Kara, your old coworker from Chicago. You’d kept up with her pretty regularly since your move, exchanging texts now and again, but using email for longer life updates. You’d admitted that you’ve been seeing someone to her, but haven’t given details as to who yet, and that’s as close as you’ve gotten to telling anyone out of the circle of people who already knew.

You’d also confided in her about writing again, which you hadn’t really done with anyone else either. Telling your dads or even Ted or Michelle would put pressure on it you weren’t ready for. They’d be so excited for you, of course, but then you knew your dads would follow up with questions about whether you were going to do anything with the book you’ve been writing, and while that was the goal, you weren’t that far yet. Once it was in better shape you’d happily tell them.

And that’s what you do with the rest of your night. You bang out a few more chapters of your rom-com novel and then get to bed at a reasonable hour. You try not to dwell on the fact that it's the first night in weeks you’ve gone to bed without Jamie, but you push the thought away in order to get a good night’s rest. You’ll probably hear from Jamie in the morning.

And you do - but he just hearts your text when you wish him a good morning and say you hope to see him that night. At least it was a heart instead of a thumbs up.

Something was definitely wrong. You should just ask, but your brain keeps making up horrible reasons for his distance, starting and ending with him wanting to break up with you for some reason. You knew that couldn’t be it. You saw him less than twenty-four hours ago and everything was fine. Something else had to be bothering him, but you wanted him to tell you himself and only if he wanted to.

Again, you throw yourself into activities to distract you. First with an uncharacteristically large breakfast for one, and then with work at the club for a few hours before you meet up with your cousin, uncle, and surrogate-uncle at Crown and Anchor for a late lunch. You tried to text Jamie a couple times throughout the day, but only got minimal responses still. Ted and Beard can both tell something is off, but you force a smile and listen intently as Henry recounts their morning at the West Ham game.

You do manage to enjoy the rest of the evening with your family between bursts of anxiety when you see Jamie hasn’t sent anything. But you’re both relieved and twice as anxious when you see him standing outside your apartment as you arrive home that night. You wonder how long he’s been here.

“Jamie?” you call out softly as you reach the top of the stairs. It’s very obvious he’s not in a great place, “Are you alright?”

You’re surprised when he shakes his head and answers honestly, albeit avoiding your eye line, “No, I’m not so great, actually.”

You gulp, but try to give him a reassuring smile, “Okay. Do you want to come inside and talk about it?”

He nods and you move forward to start unlocking your front door. You two silently enter the flat, the only noise coming from the rummaging as you lock up and discard your coat and bag. A few moments later, you take a seat on the couch and look expectantly at him to join you, but he just shuffles to stand in front of you, staring at his barely worn Nikes.

“Jamie?” you speak up again and try to sound as gentle as possible, despite your increasing heart rate, “You know that you can talk to me about anything right? But you also don’t have to talk about it if you're not ready.”

He nods again, once, and you study his hands, and he clenches and unclenches them into fists a few times. You want to be patient with him, but with each passing second, you make up more and more worst case scenarios for how this was going to go.

“Did you hear what happened to Keeley?” he finally asks after a few minutes of excruciating silence, “About that video getting leaked?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. That’s not what you thought he was going to say.

“Yeah,” you force out, brushing past your confusion, “Yeah. Its so fucking shitty. I actually talked to her last night. She’s upset, of course, but she sounds like she’s holding up okay.” You explain. You study him for a few seconds before continuing, “Is that what you’re upset about?”

He once again silently bobs his head up and down, before he admits, “She actually made that video for me. The one that got leaked. Back when we were dating.”

Your mouth forms an “o”, starting to recognize some puzzle pieces but unsure of how they fit together. “Are you worried that you’re the reason it got leaked? Because you know it's not your fault. Whoever the asshole hacker is, who leaked everyone's shit, is to blame.”

“I know but I should have made sure everything was deleted,” Jamie sighs, his voice practically cracking as he slowly continues, “And it's more than that.”

“What is it, Jamie?” you question, “Because if you think it's that I’d be upset about the video itself, I’m not. You and Keeley dated a long time ago.”

“It's not that,” Jamie says, finally looking at you, “This happening has just reminded me of what a shit person I used to be when I was dating her and how she deserved better than that. And so do you.”

You frown, sitting up a little straighter, “Don’t say that. I know about your reputation back then, but it doesn’t matter. You’re not the same guy you were.”

“Yeah but you don’t know everything.”

“Jamie, I don’t care-”

“Please,” he pleads, “You have to let me say this. It’s been eating away at me since I met you. You have to know.”

You take a deep breath, and not knowing what else to say, you just nod encouragingly.

Jamie takes a deep breath and once again looks at the floor before he begins, “I wasn’t just a dick to Keeley. I cheated on her. I actually probably cheated on most of the girls I’ve been with. Honestly, for a few years, I can’t think of a time where I wasn’t seeing a girl or hooking up with another until a little while after Keeley and I broke up. I didn’t really know it, but I think I used my relationships or sex as another form of validation. It didn’t matter who I was seeing, if someone was interested I went for it. I just wanted to feel…good. I liked the attention. I liked being wanted. Not that that makes it okay, it definitely doesn’t. Especially with Keeley, who was probably one of the most genuine people I was ever with. And that’s why I feel even worse that the video got leaked.

“I didn’t feel that way with you, though. I still don’t. I wasn’t just sleeping with you for validation. Not that you don’t make me feel good or wanted, because you make me feel that way even when we’re just watching TV or playing a board game. But all that mattered to me was making you feel good, even when I thought all I was was a distraction for you. I knew all you wanted was sex, and I knew I was good at it, so I was more than happy to help. But even then I was so hyper aware that if you really knew the guy you were sleeping with, you’d hate me.

“Your ex is the biggest idiot in the world for cheating on you and making you feel like you weren’t good enough, and I’m glad you’ve moved on and that I could help you do that. But deep down I know that I’m just as bad as him. Maybe even worse. I have been an asshole to every girl I’ve been with, and I regret that, but it's the truth. I avoided telling you for so long because I was afraid if you really knew the kind of guy I was, you’d stop seeing me. But I wanted to tell you now, so that you could if you wanted to. Stop seeing me. Because I wouldn’t blame you.”

Jamie could barely hear the sound of his own voice as he finished his impromptu speech, with his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. As much as he hated to admit all of that, he knew he needed to. It’s been his inner monologue for months, he just finally needed to air it all out. And he felt like he owed you the full picture, so you knew what you were getting into; so you could decide if you really wanted to be with someone like him. You deserved a good man. One who was better at all of this and wouldn’t fuck it all up like he knew he could. He was still fucking up with Keeley after all of this time. You deserved better than him.

After a few beats of silence, he forces himself to look at you again, unable to fight the morbid curiosity of how you’d react. He manages to make out the tears forming in your eyes, through the tears welling his own. He didn’t realize he’d gotten so emotional during his speech, but he figures it's the guilt coupled with the fear of what you’d do.

He could tell you were biting your lip as you figured out what to say. This was it. You knew he wasn’t just a prick, but a cheater, too, and you were trying to find the right words to kick him out of your home and out of your life.

His breath hitches as you rise from your spot on the couch and take hesitant steps towards him. He almost flinches at the movement, but instinctually relaxes as your hand finds his own and intertwines your fingers together with a squeeze.

“Jamie,” you hoarsely whisper, and the sound of you saying his name makes his heart skip a beat, “Before I say anything else, I need you to know I am not going anywhere.”

Jamie lets out a loud breath of relief and your lips quirk up just a little.

“I really appreciate you telling me all of this, I know how hard that must have been,” you continue, “I am also sorry that somewhere along the way you’ve been made to feel not good enough - because I get it, I do - but you are absolutely good enough. For me and for everyone who is lucky enough to know you. I also need you to know that even at the beginning you were more than just someone I want to have sex with. You are someone I like talking to and someone who makes me laugh and has always made me feel safe, especially when I arrived in a brand new city at a time in my life when I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.

“What you did in the past was wrong; cheating on Keeley or on anyone. But what matters is that you realize it was wrong, and that you’ve learned and have grown. You are not that guy anymore. The guy I’ve gotten to know over the last few months knows right from wrong, is considerate, is kind, is attentive, and is still a bit of a prick sometimes, but he wouldn’t be himself if he wasn’t. And I really like that guy. Again, I respect you for telling me this, but I don’t care about your past, Jamie. I know who you are today and I want to be with you.”

Every word you said was true. Sure, it hit a nerve to hear Jamie has cheated before, especially with someone as amazing as Keeley, but despite those nagging voices in your head, you knew in your heart he wouldn’t do that to you.

Jamie’s lip quivers a bit at your assurance that you’re not leaving him. But still, he’s crippled by self doubt, “I’m still afraid that I’m going to fuck something up one day.”

“You probably will,” Jamie sputters, so you quickly place a comforting hand on his cheek and barrel on, “But so will I. We’re both bound to mess up from time to time because nobody’s perfect, Jamie. All that matters is that we try.”

Jamie nods. He’s unable to deal with even the minimal space between the two of you at this point and pulls you completely into his arms. “I can do that,” he whispers into your shoulder.

You melt into his embrace, “Good.”

It’s a blur, but somehow over the course of the next few minutes, you both end up back on the couch, completely wrapped up in one another. His head is resting on your chest as you lightly brush your fingers through his hair. You shush him as he attempts to make more apologies about not being truthful, as well as for blowing you off the last day or so. You’re happy to spend the night reassuring him that he was forgiven and that you were very happy with him. Immensely so.

“You know who might like to hear some of this,” you eventually comment and Jamie hums in question, “Keeley.”

You peer down at him as he plays with the string of your Richmond sweatshirt, of which you of course stole from him.

“I know. I’ve been meaning to.” He agrees quietly, “Think I just wanted to talk to you about it first.”

“That’s okay,” you smiled against his head, “Maybe next time you don’t have to stand outside my door waiting for me to let you in.” He looks up at you curiously, “Maybe I could make a copy of my key…so you can wait inside next time you want to talk. Or see me…If you want.”

You don’t know what possessed you to propose this idea all of a sudden. Maybe it was all the emotions surrounding his confession, or maybe it was how much you hated sleeping alone last night. Either way, you liked the idea of him being able to show up as he pleased. And even though you’ve officially been a couple for only a month, emotionally you’ve been together a lot longer.

A genuine grin appears on Jamie’s face for the first time that night. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” a smile of your own starts forming.

“Yeah,” he props himself up to brush his lips against your cheek, “I can see about getting you a copy of mine as well, but I honestly think I like being at your place a lot more than mine.”

“I like you being here, too.” you gently pull him on top of you for a full fledged kiss.

Jamie eagerly reciprocates and feels the weight that’s been on his chest the last couple of days fully melt away. He would definitely still talk to Keeley, but he’s comforted by the fact that he not only still has you, but that you didn’t look at him any differently after knowing more about his past.

Also, despite his unsuredness over you wanting to keep your relationship a secret, he no longer cared about that either. You made it very clear tonight that you wanted him and thought he was good enough for you. He still hoped to one day proclaim his feelings for you to the world, but for now, being with you in any capacity was more than good enough for him.

A/N: once again, thank you all for reading and all the love and support! this was one a beast to figure out and write, so i hope you liked it! i’m also envisioning that my original drabble “i like you” takes place in this four weeks they are dating at the start of this chapter <3

Taglist: @atabigail @escapismqueen @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster @geek-and-proud @grippleback-galaxy @lalla-04p @gabbycoady13 @royalestrellas @qardasngan @creationcitystreet-em @percysaidnever @emily-b @mrfitzsimmons @k-n-e @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25 @sokkigarden @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @dollfaceyourfear @dicgohargreeves @heyitz-julia @vampirodelascajas @grxcesmind @lizziel1410 @bcon24 @looooooooomis @queen-of-dumbasses @moseyluvs @alipap3 @amachira @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @daphneblakeswife @chelseamount @k0z3me @lickitandsendit3 @miakat9 @shimmeringfrenchie @meg-ro @selmasemlan @hellfire-babez @rockchickrebel @taytaylala12 @lemonpiegurll @pri00r @brianandthemays @afraidofshrimp @curlypeter @sonyume @a-sweet-little-fangirl @katdahlali @buckybarnex @scaramou @beardsplitter @gcidrvsh @ringpopdust @marveltg365 @optimisticsandwichgladiator @spookysins @ibong-adarnaaa @piper570 @eviemae263782 it wouldn’t let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #mine #distractions series

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makeste · 5 months

Note

Do you actually believe the DFO theory? What do you think supports it? (Genuine question)

I do think Deku and AFO have a yet-to-be-revealed connection, and back in my early BnHA fandom days I did think Dad For One was a possibility. nowadays though, I'm convinced there's a different explanation for the link between them -- namely, that OFA and AFO are actually the same quirk, and Deku is effectively a horcrux of AFO. I have a post here which explains this theory more in-depth, but basically the gist of it is that OFA was never a separate quirk at all. Yoichi really was quirkless, and when AFO attempted to force a quirk on his brother, he accidentally gave him a piece of his own quirk in the process. just broke off a lil section of it, like a Kit-Kat bar.

I will say that regardless of which theory turns out to be true, there's definitely something going on between AFO and Deku. chapter 217 in particular is practically overflowing with hints that the two are linked. Katsuki sees it right from the start, and even theorizes that AFO might have something to do with the SIXQUIRKS activating. and rather than disagree, All Might simply says "I didn't want to raise that point," meaning he made the connection as well. and then they just freaking drop the entire subject never to mention it again. and Horikoshi lays this panel on us as a parting gift.

which to me is confirmation that we'll be revisiting this at some point. simply because you do not lay the symbolism on that thick without some kind of game plan for the future. this isn't merely setting up OFA and AFO as foils; this is deliberately (and ominously) drawing attention to the numerous "coincidental" similarities between their two quirks. such as the fact that OFA is the only other quirk capable of holding multiple quirks within itself. and the only other quirk capable of being passed down to another user.

not to mention there's also the as-yet-unexplained link between Deku and AFO. the fact that Yoichi can "hear" his brother, and vice-versa. back in Jakku, the pre-Danger Sense Deku somehow knew that Tomura was awake before anything had actually happened. and when Deku first activated SIXQUIRKS, AFO was somehow aware, even miles away locked up in Tartarus. and we're just supposed to pretend this is all perfectly normal and makes total sense, lol.

so yeah there is definitely some sort of reveal coming up before this all ends. but I think DFO is more likely to be a red herring at this point. Horikoshi definitely knows about the theories, and that's probably why he still hasn't revealed anything about Dekupapa. he's the Hagakure in this scenario. distract me us with speculation about her, when in reality Aoyama was the culprit all along. it's the same tactic here. convince all the fans that AFO is Deku's father, when in reality the truth is even more insidious. he's not Deku's dad -- he's Deku's quirk. and the final final boss, secretly lurking not within Tomura, but within Deku himself.

tell me that's not the perfect final showdown setup. you know it's true. you know it's coming. or at least I hope it is lol.

incidentally, during the process of typing this all up, it occurred to me that if AFO is capable of creating horcrux!quirks (which we know for a fact he is regardless of how this theory pans out, since that's essentially how TomurAFO was created)... then why not Deku as well? which immediately led me down a whole new different theory rabbit hole. that's going to have to be its own separate post, though. my mind is now going a mile a minute, holy shit. this is going to be a busy weekend.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #all for one #midoriya izuku #one for all #bnha meta #bnha theory #horcrux!deku #all for one for all #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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hyunfilms · 6 months

Text

blue side of the sky (lmh) | twelve.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: waking up after 3 months with no recollection of your past, your friends do what they can to help you remember. except, they omit an important piece to the puzzle - afraid you would remember the heartbreak and hurt all over again.

—pairing: lee know x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers, bestfriends to lovers au | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut

—word count: 4.5k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, more of a lighthearted chapter hehe but a very oc x minho centered chapter! JJ & chan share some words with minho, hanging out and spending time together, cute lil flashback, small sweet kisses, lots of thoughts about recent events lol, holding hands, feelings being aired out, quickly edited so pls excuse any errors! also pls trust that things will fall into place as they should 😩

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing? I got this. Just goooo." JJ whines and tries to shove Minho out of the back area of the café. "You're hanging out with Y/N today and the first thing you think about is coming to the café? Weirdo."

"Shut up, okay? I wanted to bake something really quickly."

"Where are you guys hanging out at now? Is it just you two this time?" Minho nods.

"Yeah. She said she's been wanting to go to the Conservatory of Flowers, but hasn't since it's kinda far. I offered to take her."

"Hm." JJ hums. "What did Jisung say about this?" Minho shrugs.

"Nothing. We haven't been talking too much. I know he's still mad, but I'm sure we'll talk about it soon."

"I mean truthfully, it's valid. Cause you fucked up." Minho glares at him before shaking his head. "But, I know you're trying to not make things weird. I just hope you both don't fuck this up."

"Yup." Minho pops the 'p' in his response, tired of people associating him and Jisung with 'fucking things up.' Him, mainly. He gets it, though.

"No, but on a serious note. Are you going to tell her?" Minho pauses.

"I will. I will eventually." He looks at JJ.

"As long as you do it and it comes from you. Nobody else." JJ looks at him worriedly. "Promise me that, please? It's the least you can do for Y/N." Minho continues to keep eye contact with his cousin, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh.

"Yeah, I know." Is all he can respond with before swallowing the lump in his throat. It has to come from him. It wouldn't make sense for Jisung to do it, and even if they were fighting about it now, he'd never let Jisung take the blame for this.

It needed to come from him.

"Alright." JJ says. "So, what are you baking exactly?"

"Nothing for you, if that's what you're asking." Minho chuckles. "Kidding. I did get a head start on these brownies for you, though." He sets the timer aside, peeking into the oven at his special for the day. "7 mins left." Minho washes his hands and sets the hand towel aside.

"Didn't you make these already?"

"Yeah." Minho purses his lips together before heading towards the back door of the café. "They're Y/N's favorite."

"This dude." JJ mutters to himself as he watches his cousin hop into his car and drive off. He has to stop by home really quickly to get a few things together [esp himself] before swinging by to pick you up.

"Where are you going?" Chan asks as Minho steps through the door and hurriedly heads up to his room.

"I need to take Y/N to the conservatory."

"For what?" Chan chuckles.

"Just cause. She wants to go." Chan hums.

"I'm assuming Jisung doesn't know about this?"

"He does."

"No, that's not what I'm saying." Minho stops in front of the bathroom to look at him.

"Then, what are you saying?"

"You. Your feelings for her."

"He's aware, I guess." Chan shakes his head and shrugs.

"We can't keep hiding this from her, you know? Especially if you're starting to have feelings again."

"Yeah, I know." Minho sighs. "But Jisung just doesn't wanna talk to me about it. He doesn't wanna talk about any of this. Wants to play things safe."

"It's not going to be safe forever. We're going to end up hurting her more." Chan looks at him worriedly. "Besides, you've called it quits with Kat, right? Officially? No more back and forth shit. You— that—" Chan pauses. "That whole thing was fucked up." Minho's eyes soften and all he can do is respond with a small, subtle nod. "When you say you're done, please mean it. For both their sakes, especially Y/N."

"I know. I.. I mean it. That's done with."

"I get it. The whole accident was hard to process but falling onto Kat shouldn't have been the first thing you thought about while Y/N was in there. But, you should know that's why we're equally scared about the outcome of this, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Alright then." Chan shrugs it off as if he didn't know what else to say. Of course, he couldn't continue to lecture the guy— he's aware Minho has heard it time and time again. "Well, enjoy the conservatory."

"Mm, yeah. I will." Minho rushes into the bathroom to end the conversation and finish getting ready. The topic has started to dwindle on him and it's been messing with his mood a bit. He knows JJ and his friends come from a good place, and he knows he has to tell you.

It just never feels like the right time.

Or, he's just afraid of ripping that bandaid. He tells himself it's never the right time because he wants to avoid re-opening the wound.

Inevitably, it will re-open and he has to understand that.

By the time Minho is finished getting ready, Chan is also on his way out to head to the studio. They bid their farewells and go their separate ways, Minho brushing off the talks that just happened to put himself in a better place before having you in the car.

Uncle Adrian is just about to get into his truck when Minho pulls up to the curb. He gives him a small smile and wave before hopping in. Minho waits until he pulls out of the driveway with one final goodbye before stepping out and heading to the backyard. As he approaches your cottage, he can hear the soft music playing in your living room area while you hum along.

"Y/N?" He knocks and calls your name.

"Door's open! I'm almost done." He hears you say before twisting the door knob and entering your space. A gentle, calming smell of lavender fills the room, and it fills Minho with nostalgia.

You brought home some fresh lavender. Like you used to.

He plops on the couch and manspreads, catching up to the group chat with his roommates. He chuckles to himself when he finds Seungmin and Jisung going at it over a certain video game, with Chan trying to change the subject and prevent it from going on.

seungmin: dude you're full of shit, that game is sooo bad

seungmin: i've seen better

chan: what time is everyone getting back home?

jisung: maybe you're the one who's bad at playing it?! i highly enjoyed it

jisung: the complexity, graphics, story line? chef's kiss

minho: both of you could greatly benefit from being quiet

jisung: all of a sudden

jisung: go pay attention to y/n

jisung: since you wanna be all knight and shining armor now

chan: ooooookay lets relax lmao

chan: so, what's for dinner tonight?

Minho lets out a small, dry chuckle at Jisung's continued passive aggressiveness, but he knows he also just needs a moment to talk to him more about this; to let him know that he acknowledges he was wrong first and foremost, but he truly means it when he'll do better this time around—

"Hi." You pop out of your room in a cute little sundress and your sneakers.

"Hey." He smiles at you and stands. "You look cute."

"Thank you." You giggle.

"Are you ready? Do you need anything before we go?"

"Mm, no." You grab your bag and phone before looking back at him. "Thank you for taking me. I know it's probably going to be so boring for you. I really would have been okay taking a cab and going by myself."

"No, I don't mind it. I'm happy to take you." He chuckles as he steps out and waits for you to lock your door. You walk alongside of him and scrunch your nose when you look up to meet his eyes.

"You sure?"

"Of course." Minho laughs, letting you settle into the passenger seat before he hops in. This really wasn't unusual for him, anyway. You used to drag him and Jisung to the monthly free admission days that a few museums participated in. He'd go, he loved spending time with you. With his bestfriend. It was always good times.

☁︎ FLASHBACK | JUNIOR YEAR

"Wake up!" You yell as you run into Jisung's room, letting the door hit the wall harshly.

"Cielo, what the actual fuck?" He mumbles sleepily, bed head poking out of his covers. "It's so early."

"It's literally almost 11am and time to start the day." You smack the covers. "Get ready! We're going to the science museum!"

"Have you lost your mind? On a Saturday?" Jisung tries to bring the covers over his head, but you tug on it and pull it back.

"Nope! It's free admissions day! Minho's already getting ready." Jisung groans.

"Yeah, because he's your boyfriend! Just take him!

"Nope, you're coming along too.

"I swear to god."

"I'll buy you food later." He groans even louder before tossing the sheets off of him and waddling over to his closet.

"Fine." He mumbles, shooing you out of his room so he can pick his clothes out and get ready in peace.

Once the two are finally up and ready, you take them to the science museum downtown. It takes about a good 25 minutes to get there with the daytime traffic already beginning, plus finding parking in the garage proves to be even more difficult until you hit the lower levels. The admissions line is a bit lengthy, but it moves quickly, finally allowing you, your boyfriend and your bestfriend to enjoy the museum.

"What exactly are we doing here?" Jisung's bitter ass wonders as he adjusts his hat.

"To learn new things." You face him just as you slip your hand into Minho's.

"Okay then, lead the way princess." Minho gives you a toothless smile before letting you begin the journey around the museum. Eventually, Jisung slips out of his exhaustion and begins to enjoy the visit— now also joining in and excitedly pointing at the huge dinosaur exhibit and the aquarium right past it.

As Jisung settles to watch the divers swim around the coral reef exhibit, Minho lags behind you to snap a few candid photos before slipping his arms around your waist and planting a soft kiss against your head.

"Enjoying yourself?" You giggle as he continues to hug you from behind, the both of you a few steps away from Jisung [who is nearly pressed against the front and center with the kids].

"Yeah, told you it'd be fun."

"Baby, I never even had a problem with it." He laughs a bit. "At least he's enjoying himself now." You both chuckle at Jisung joining the kids and pointing at different fish.

"I know, grumpy pants."

"Hey." He gently taps your waist. "Face me."

"Why?" You look at him slyly before turning in his hold to face him.

"Just cause." He smiles before kissing the tip of your nose, down to your lips. "Glad you're having fun."

"Are you having fun?"

"Course. Nothing beats spending time with my girlfriend and the child." You laugh. "Look." He pulls out his phone to show you the pictures he's taken of you. "Like 'em?"

"They're cute! May I have permission to post these?" You ask cutely and Minho laughs.

"Yeah, but. I need a little tip." He puckers his lips, and you give him what he asks for— slightly tiptoeing to kiss him on the lips again.

"Thank you."

"Mhm." He boops your nose.

"Yo, lovebirds! Let's go check out the insects please." Jisung pleads.

"Why? All you're gonna do is cry about it when you actually see one." Minho furrows his brows and laces his fingers with yours as he follows him to the insects section.

"Oh yeah, so funny." Jisung says sarcastically. "And what about you, funny guy? Like you're any better!"

"At least I don't scream and make a scene when they move!" They continue to bicker as you silently follow along and make your way into the insect section—

Where, as expected, Jisung flinches and nearly knocks a child out after seeing the tarantula on display.

☁︎ END

"This is for you, by the way." He hands you a small pastry bag with a brownie inside.

"My favorite!" You let out a small gasp before taking it out to begin munching on it. "You wanna share?"

"I have it too many times, Y/N." You chuckle at the small head tilt he does.

"Did you eat or have some coffee?"

"I did. I'm good, promise."

"Okay." You happily eat away at the brownie. "I hope there aren't too many people since it's still early."

"We'll be fine."

"I felt bad for leaving Mrs. Pak alone today, but she said I should go. She went recently and said they have new plants and flowers decorating the place." You look at him. "I think I'm gonna take a few pictures and try to paint some."

"That sounds like a good plan. Did you ever draw the beach from the wedding?"

"I did. Rough draft. I wasn't too happy with it. Maybe I'll work on it a bit more later."

"I'm sure it looks great."

"I'm rusty." You shrug it off. "I asked Jisung if he wanted to come but he said he's seeing his parents today."

"Yeah, he left really early this morning. But, I think he'll be back for dinner. The guys were trying to figure out what to make for tonight. Which, good for me. Gives me a break from feeding their asses." You laugh at the way he slightly huffs after the response.

Sooner or later, Minho pulls into a spot along the curb since the conservatory sits within a bigger central park. The both of you walk towards admissions to buy tickets for the day and walk in, feeling the warmth increase a teeny bit. You pause in your tracks to take in the view, admiring the colorful blends of all the exotic plants and flowers decorating the place.

Mrs. Pak was right.

Minho does the same with his hands tucked into his pockets, following closely behind you as you take the time to stop in front of all the exhibits so far. You happily read out the facts to Minho as he stands next to you and takes all of this in.

You gently place your palm under some of the flowers to admire them closely, and Minho takes this as his opportunity to start snapping photos of you— just like before. Most of the time, you don't say much to him because you're so engrossed in the plants, the flowers.

And that's okay, as long as you're enjoying yourself. He wants to see you happy.

"Minho, look!" You smile at the huge monstera leaf, holding it in your hands to show him how big it's gotten.

"Hey, that's cute." He says, holding up his phone to take a picture and showing it to you shortly afterwards. "Here." Your eyes glow at the picture, the shyest smile creeping at the corner of your lips once you meet his eyes again.

"I love it. Thank you, Minho. Did you.. take more?"

"I did. I like 'em all. But— " The two of you continue to walk alongside of each other as he scrolls through the pictures he took of you. "This is my favorite. Besides the one I just took." He chuckles a bit, showing you a picture of you tipping the Medinilla flower close to your nose with a cute smile on your face.

"You actually took photos of me?" You giggle.

"Why not? Gotta capture the moments, right?" He chuckles.

"I'm shy."

"Why? It's just me, Y/N."

"Cause. It's weird to see myself in photos. I can't really explain it." You giggle and shake your head, subconsciously holding onto his arm as you continue to walk through the conservatory.

"Hm." He hums. "You look beautiful to me." He looks at you with the softest, sweetest eyes.

"You're sweet." You look down at your feet, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Minho is your bestfriend, but he feels more to you. You crave for him, his comfort.

He feels special, feels like something deeper— to you.

"Did you like it? Do you wanna stay around for a little more?" Minho asks when you finally hit the end of the conservatory. He watches as you glance around before shaking your head, smiling up at him with your phone in hand.

"I did like it, but I think I'm good. I took photos of all the plants I want to attempt to paint."

"Cool." He holds his arm back for you to hold onto. "Wanna go on a walk?"

"Where to?"

"I don't know honestly, let's see where it takes us."

"Okay." You chuckle.

Minho leads the way down a random path that goes around the central park and into the residential neighborhood that has a few small shops lining the streets.

The sun is still up, and the streets are busier now that it's hitting the early afternoon. Minho gently moves you to the side and away from the street, taking the busier side to keep you safe. The both of you talk a bit about the café and JJ, which then reminds you about San.

"I hung out with Sannie the other day."

"Yeah?" Minho says, kicking the rocks beneath his feet as you continue to walk around in the surrounding area. "How was that?" He's trying his best to not give away the fact that he saw you two happily walking into the theater together. With the way it was going, it was easy to tell you had a good night. He's assuming you'll tell him he made you happy, and he asked you out. This is how the news will be broken to him. He hates thinking about it, but he needs to be here for you first and foremost. If you were happy with San, then he needs to hear it and he needs to be happy for you. He will be happy for you. You are his bestfriend before anything, and you are important.

"Good. We had dinner at that fancy unagi place. Then we ate dessert at Peace Piece before catching Spirited Away at the theater."

"Oh, for the Studio Ghibli event?" Impressive, Minho thinks. He honestly thought San was going to take you to see something else. "That sounded like fun."

"I know, I kinda missed you guys while sitting in the theater. Not that San isn't good company, but it would've been nice to see it with you guys, too." You chuckle. "Hopefully, they do it again."

"Yeah, I'd be down." He responds. "What else did you guys do?"

"Hm, nothing really. He took me to the beach and we talked about some things." Minho looks at you with a brow cocked up— definitely his way of prying for more info. "He.. kinda confessed that he liked me? Not kinda, but.. you know what I mean." You feel the heat rise to your cheeks again, and you suddenly feel shy, maybe a bit embarrassed, to be telling Minho this like it's some silly elementary school crush.

"Mm. Can't say I didn't see that coming." Minho responds with a drip of sarcasm, making you gently push him with a giggle.

"What do you mean?"

"It's obvious he likes you."

"I guess? We just clicked easily." You sigh. "To be honest, I thought I'd have some genuine feelings for him. But, I realized I felt like I was forcing myself to feel a certain way just cause he was there and we've spent time together." You pout a bit as you look back down at your feet. "Anyway, I told him I wanted to stay friends. I don't wanna ruin what we've built. We just seem.. good this way. I think that's what my mind was trying to tell me and I feel content saying that out loud."

"I'm sorry. I know that's tough, though."

"Hm, it's okay." It falls quiet for a bit before Minho's head shoots up and slows his pace a bit. You almost bump into him with the way your head hangs low, unsure of what is stopping him from moving forward.

"Ice cream?" He points towards the ice cream shop.

"Before dinner?" He laughs.

"It's the only way to do it. Plus, it's a nice little picker-upper." You giggle, letting him lead the way into the ice cream parlor. You two stand off to the side, eyeing the menu before stepping forward to order your ice cream. Minho settles for his to be in a cup, while you fully indulge in a waffle cone. He pays for your ice cream shortly after, with you savoring the flavors on your way back to the car.

As you continue the trek back, you hear sounds coming from nearby. You gently tug Minho in the direction, loosely lacing your hand with his to figure out what's happening at this time of day. To your surprise, there's an event happening in one part of the park nearby, with people laid out on their blankets. It seems to be a family friendly movie event, being that there are a ton of kids running around if not seated with their family.

Minho takes a seat at an open bench facing the screen and shaded lawn area, leaning onto his knees as he eats away at the ice cream scoops sitting in the cup. You sit as close as possible to him, with your legs brushing against his. He likes the feeling, he likes being close to you. It brings him comfort.

"Oh, look! They're playing a Disney movie."

"Toy Story." Minho responds. "Such a classic."

"Did you plan this?" You look at him slyly before he chuckles and shakes his head.

"If I say yes, does that give me more brownie points?" You giggle and shake your head, chomping onto your waffle cone.

"I can say that grabbing ice cream before dinner was the right idea."

"See." He looks at you and smirks.

"Good thing it isn't super cold."

"You're not too cold now though, are you?"

"No. I'm okay." The movie starts and the both of you actually start to watch even though this wasn't really included in the original plan. Minho finishes his cup of ice cream first, tossing it into the trash can nearby before plopping back down next to you. He sits back against the bench, lazily throwing an arm onto the ledge and behind your back. You silently giggle to yourself, assuming Minho was probably trying to be slick about his actions. You don't mind it though, and it makes you settle into your seat a little more— back pressed against the bench, bodies close enough to exchange warmth.

"You sure you're okay?" You look at Minho when he suddenly pops the question, wiping at your mouth once you've finished the cone entirely. You let it marinate for a minute, wondering what he could possibly be hinting at.

"Of course, why?" You ask him, stuck on what could possibly be bothering you.

"I don't know. The whole thing with San?" Minho hates to ask, but he wants to be sure you're okay. You make an 'o' shape with your mouth before nodding.

"Oh, yeah. I'm okay. I think." You shrug. "I just hope we can continue to be the same as friends. We've built a really good friendship in such a short amount of time, I'd hate to lose that." You look at Minho. "I'm just getting used the world again. You know? Exploring everything, making friends. It'll be terrible to lose a friend already."

"I know, but you won't, Y/N. I'm sure it'll be okay. He seems to feel the same way, and I'm sure he understands."

"I—" You look at Minho worriedly, and he slightly furrows his brows in response.

"Hm?" He hums.

"I think it's my turn to sort out my feelings." You chuckle a bit. "I'm not really sure how to explain it."

"That's okay, Y/N. Take your time." You pause, fiddling with your fingers as your feet sway over the edge.

"Minho?"

"Yes?"

"Would you find it weird if I said I feel attached to you?" He chuckles a bit. "I feel comfortable and safe with you. Like you've always taken care of me. It's nice."

"No. I wouldn't be surprised." He looks at you again with a small smirk. "I've always been the fun one compared to Jisung, anyway." You laugh and playfully push him. "Kidding."

"Seriously. It's not weird? I can't explain it."

"No." He says softly. "We've.. always been—" He pauses as if he's trying to choose his wording. "Really close." He purses his lips. "We've gone through a lot together." He sighs.

"I see." You respond because you're not sure if you should continue to ask. Perhaps, this was what he wanted to talk more about. But, he wasn't ready. It's obvious he wasn't ready. He knows he should tell you. He's just afraid. Of course, he doesn't wanna be selfish— though, at the same time, he looks at you and realizes he just can't lose you again.

This is the first time Minho has been able to look at you for long.

"I've really.. missed this." There's a slight pause in between his words, and part of you has to prevent yourself from prying more. You won't out of respect to him, but you also aren't sure what to make of this feeling when you look at him.

Like you love him, adore him— like he means much more to you than you think, than you know.

"We're here now, right?" You smile at him. Minho looks at you, really looks at you— adoration twinkling in his eyes as he softly smiles back. He doesn't say anything, even as he throws his arm around you and pulls you close, planting a sweet kiss on your temple. You lay your head on his shoulder as you two continue to sit there, admiring the surroundings, casually watching the movie.

Sadly, part of you is also overthinking. You can't help but wonder why he wasn't in photos with you. Or, why he was so distant in the beginning. It couldn't just be that he hated taking pictures, or that he was learning how to cope. You were surely missing something to the puzzle. Something that didn't end well, something that happened? Kat? Maybe two young lovebirds who didn't expect their turns in the relationship? But, you trust in Minho to tell you when he's ready.

And who knows, maybe you won't be ready to hear what he has to say. Or, maybe you won't understand what this is all about. Maybe, it'll give you the time that you need. You just hope it isn't entirely heartbreaking.

Whenever it comes.

You trust him.

That's probably what sucks the most because Minho knows you trust him, but you won't after he tells you. He doesn't wanna ruin that today, not just yet— he'll just need to find another day where he can tell you before he gets too wrapped up into this, into you.

Again.

But he will tell you, he will rip that bandaid. And when that day comes, he'll only hope that you will let him show you that he's better— that he's acknowledged his mistakes and that he is learning from them. Hopefully, you'll still be able to trust him no matter how long it takes.

Hopefully, you'll still look at him with the same love, the same twinkle in your eye.

Hopefully, you'll still smile at him the same way you smile at the blue sky— the sky that makes room for everchanging weather, like dark clouds or thunderstorms. But, the blue sky has always waited behind every dark cloud, or every thunderstorm just to shine again.

Hopefully, you'll see that what you've longed for has always been here, just like the blue sky.

Minho is your blue sky.

⇢ 12.5 [cloud days]: here

♡ taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk @hoes4lino @skzddicted @skzho @edgaralienpoe @harui-zen @bestleeknowstan @havenwithleeknow @septicrebel @heesdazed @borahae-reads @yoontaethings @pearbunny @bintific @lukeys-giggle @ajxreads @everglowdaisies @allaboutsan @endzii23 @leeknowsramen @heres-your-ramen2000 @morningstardada @mal-lunar-28 @downbadreading @lilysophie @feelikecinderella @urmomma0324 @ddazed-lhs @djeniryuu @melanctton @i8rsie @maru-matt @sleepyleeji @taerifin @nattisbored @jisunglyricist @m111nho @drhsthl @nixtape-foryou @arminseas @guiltycoco @syuuji @sulkygyu @cadihyo @reianagarcia @leeknowyah @smndjdufuehr @dprkbyn @xxibreinaxx @mxnsxngie [bold = can’t tag 😭]

#lee know series #lee know fanfiction #lee know fanfic #kpop fanfiction #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids series #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids x reader #lee know angst #lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee minho angst #lee minho smut #lee minho fluff #hyunfilms: blue side of the sky

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