#because I waste too much of my life looking for these moments when I am in the mood to listen to some angst

[analogwriting]

The Walk-in

Killer x gn!reader (afab edition) word count: 4.2k amab vers. a/n: i got this idea from a revelation i had about how im pretty sure every walk-in in every restaurant ever has been boned in at least once. my source to site is me bc ive been working in the food industry since i was, like, 12.

“Oh my god, y/n, have you seen the new cook?” Your best friend, Wire, spoke up from behind the bar. He was currently wiping it down, preparing for the rush that would be starting soon. 

You were bussing tables when he spoke up, you paused, walking over to him and tossing the rag over your shoulder. “I haven't. Isn't he a friend of the owner’s son or something?”

“Yeah. Met him in college.”

“Ah. Friend hire.” You made a face, causing Wire to laugh. He knows how much you weren't a fan of people being hired just because they knew someone who worked there - especially when it came to the owner. “They never last.” You shook your head. 

“Oh, c'mon. I heard his cooking is great.”

You raised an eyebrow as you went back to wiping down tables. “Biased opinions, probably. Of course they're gonna say his cooking is great. But good cooking isn’t everything in this line or work. You and I both know that.”

Wire had a thoughtful look on his face as he nodded. “That's true.” There'd been plenty of instances where a good cook was hired, but they couldn't deal with the rush or crazy customers. None of them would last through the night. “He seems like he'll hold well.”

You snorted, standing up and folding your arms across your chest. “That's what you said about the last guy.” You rolled your eyes with a grin. The poor sap didn't last half an hour. 

“I was being optimistic?” You snorted and shook your head. “Oh sure. Optimistic.”

“I'm sure he'll become overwhelmed and leave within the hour.” That was your bet. You didn't usually expect much from newcomers, especially friend hires. 

“Wow, not even giving me a real shot, huh?” A deep voice came up from behind you. A shiver ran down your spine - not from fear, but from the sheer attractiveness his voice had. Oh shit.

You turned around and the air left your lungs as the most beautiful and sexy man stood behind you. You blinked, trying to find words to say but your brain wasn't fully caught up with the situation. Holy shit, this was the finest man you'd ever seen in your life. 

“You must be the head server with the high expectations then.” You opened your mouth to say something - only for nothing to come out. You glared over at Wire who held his hands up in surrender with a shit eating grin on his face. He knew that this man was exactly your type and chose to retain that information. 

A sly grin spread across the cook's face. “Cat got your tongue? Where'd all that barking go?” 

Your eyes widened, one of them twitching. Oh, he had a mouth on him too. It was on. 

Finally, your brain caught up. It'd felt like eternity, but it was only a few seconds. You folded your arms across your chest, an unimpressed look crossing your features. “I believe I am giving you a chance, just don't have high hopes. Can’t in this line of work - takes a special breed.” 

You looked him up and down. Fuck, he was fine as hell. “Anyway. They say you're a good cook. The customers will be the judge of that. That's not all, however. Where most people fumble is service itself. Always ends up being too much for people - too busy.” 

Then your brain circled back to what he had said earlier. “And of course I have high expectations. I only want what's best for this place and I don't need people wasting mine or my coworkers time.” 

The man before you just had an amused look on his face as he watched you. That irritated the shit out of you for reasons you couldn’t specify at the moment. “Don't worry, I won't be wasting anyone's time. I assure you, I won't be going anywhere either. You better get used to me now,” he crooned, leaning in as he spoke.

Your eyes narrowed at him. You wanted to punch him in his smug little face. “I've had plenty like you, too. Big talk. Think they'll last. Usually, they're the quickest to leave. Honestly, I’m being generous with an hour.” 

He chuckled, straightening back out. “We'll see when I'm still here after rush then, huh? If I stick it out, which I will, what do I get for winning the bet?”

The sheer audacity of this man. You stared at him, but didn't hesitate in your answer. “A job, duh.” You rolled your eyes. “I don't have time for this. I have a floor to prep.”

The cook laughed. It was one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard. Damn, you must just be horny. It had been a while since you've gotten laid, but you also had a rule of never sleeping with your coworkers. You didn't knock others for doing it, you just didn't personally. You felt it made things complicated - though you were also an overthinker. Too many what ifs. What if it didn’t work out? What if you hated working together? What if you spent too much time together? What if, what if, what if?

“I'll see you after dinner rush then.” He winked at you and your heart almost stopped. Jesus fuck, you were down bad for a man you wanted to strangle. He walked off, leaving you standing there with Wire. You watched him leave, admiring his fat ass as he left before you turned back to your best friend.

He burst into laughter and you narrowed your eyes. “You're the worst, you know that?” That caused him to laugh harder. “Oh my god. I was just waiting for the moment for the part where you both just tear off each other's clothes and start going at each other right there, holy shit.”

Your face immediately warmed up. “Shut up, Wire. No one asked you.” You folded your arms across your chest with a frown. “You could've fucking warned me he was hotter ‘n hell.” 

Wire laughed again. “And miss the look on your face? That was priceless. I've never seen you be so taken aback before. The great y/n rendered speechless by the new cook.”

“Don't call him the new cook. He's gotta prove himself first.”

Another chuckle came from your best friend and he shook his head. You sighed, looking in the direction said man had left.

“What are you thinking about now?”

“How it's a shame he's not a baker with all that cake he's got. And how I wouldn't mind him icing mine.” Wire burst into laughter again and you just shook your head, clicking your tongue. “Too bad he won't last.”

Your attention shifted to the customers that walked in and you headed over to greet them. 

--

Rush was busier than usual. It was always insane, but it was even more so tonight. This was something you usually lived for, the chaos of the floor. It kept things interesting and helped time fly by. Slow nights drove you insane, which is why you were always scheduled the busiest nights too. Plus, you were insanely good at your job.

Being head server, your main job was just making sure that things were going out on time, keeping tabs on your servers, and taking care of any customer issues. You were technically a manager, yes, but you liked the title of head server better.

However, you could feel eyes on you all night. Yes, that's typically normal considering you're a server, but this was different. You also knew exactly who the culprit was. The new fucking cook. Every time you headed to the back or to the window, his eyes were on you. You'd glance at him, catching him red handed. 

Only, he didn't look away like most people. He kept his stare, only offering up a grin and the occasional wink as he cooked. Your body heated up every time, flustered that he was so casual.  Your mind was running wild with what you wanted him to do to you. You tried to keep yourself busy, but the growing heat across your whole body was making it hard. 

You tried to lie to yourself, saying it was because rush was busier than usual and you were running around even more. Every time you finally started calming down, he seemed to appear out of nowhere with his stupid smile, sending you into a spiral again. 

You could honestly punch him, that might just solve your problems. He was aggravating in every sense of the word. His cocky attitude was getting to you, making you even crabbier than you already had been. You were trying your best not to take it out on your fellow servers or the customers. It was fine for the most part. 

After rush, you asked another server to cover the one table you had left so you could take a minute. You immediately beelined it to the walk in. You flung the door open, unbuttoning your shirt a few times as you walked in. You closed your eyes, listening to the hum of the fans keeping it cool, and taking a deep breath as you fanned yourself with your hand.

Then the door opened, revealing the new guy. Someone mentioned his name was Killer. Funny. You wonder how he ended up with a stupid nickname like that. 

You glared at him as the smug smile spread across his face. Unfortunately, you knew he didn't end up leaving. His eyes being glued to you all night constantly reminded you that he had proven you wrong. He actually had done pretty well and the customers seemed to enjoy his cooking. He'd be sticking around as long as he wanted now - the job was his. Which also meant you had to deal with the fact that you were going to have to see him almost every day. 

“Guess you're stuck with me now, huh?”

“What are you even here for? Just to bother me?” You were in a foul mood and it was all his fault. You weren’t in the mood for his cocky attitude or ‘I told you so’ right now

“Well, I originally came back here to grab something but now I don't even remember what it was supposed to be now that you're in front of me looking like that.”

You looked down at yourself, confused. “What? Gonna make fun of me?” You were disheveled and hot, your skin flushed in some places. 

“No. You actually look really good like that.” A lazy smile appeared on his face as he folded his arms and leaned against the shelves. What the hell was he doing?

You could feel your body growing warmer despite the cooler air being blown at you. “The hell is your fucking angle? You've been staring all night and now you’re saying weird shit.” 

He blinked, raising his eyebrows. “And here I thought I was being obvious.” 

You stared at him for a moment as your head spun. What did- oh. Your eyes widened slightly and his grin grew. “Now you got it.”

Though, he didn't have much time to say anything else before you essentially pounced on him. You couldn't take it anymore, he'd been riling you up all night and you were at your wits end. And he was here, basically telling you to screw him. Actually, literally. 

You had walked over, grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and kissed him hard. He grinned into you, wrapping his arms around you. “Finally,” he mumbled. 

You shook your head. “Don't let your big mouth ruin it.” He just laughed before kissing you again, patting your ass. You took the hint, hopping up and wrapping your legs around him. He held you with ease, hands firmly on your ass as he pinned you to the shelves. He squeezed you hard, making a small whine escape your lips. 

Your own hands pressed against his chest before pausing. You felt something through his shirt. “Oh my god - are your nipples pierced?” You had never moved faster than you were right now as you undid his shirt. 

He blinked in confusion at your sudden shift of attention, disoriented and a little pouty that you pulled away like you did.

You opened his shirt and, lo and behold, piercings. Your eyebrow raised and a grin spread across your face. “Now, that's hot as hell,” you mused as you ran your hands across his broad chest and piercings, tugging at them a bit. You heard him inhale slightly but before you could play much further, you were set on the ground, lips attacking your neck. 

You felt his teeth graze your neck before lightly biting at you as a hand slipped past your waistband and you felt him begin to toy with you. Getting right to business. 

Immediately, you melted into him, your hands gripping his shirt as your breathing grew shallow and labored. You cursed under your breath, your legs spreading slightly to give him better access. You definitely didn't see yourself shagging this man so quickly, if at all, and especially in the walk in. Who the hell were you at this point?

Though, it wouldn't be the first time someone hooked up in here and it also wouldn't be the last. You just never thought it'd be you.

“Fuck,” you whined, feeling his fingers circle your clit before sliding down further and a single finger teasing your folds. He kissed you again, patting your thigh. Once again, you knew what he was asking, hiking up your leg and he held it as one of his thick fingers slipped inside of you. You gasped, moaning against him. Fuck, you hated how much you were loving this. The last thing he needed was an ego boost. 

But honestly, you were too horny to care. 

You were ripped out of what little thoughts you had when he slid in another finger, moving them around inside you. You moaned loudly, causing him to kiss you once more to keep you quiet. Sure, the walk in had the constant fan to keep things cool and it muffled noise, but it wasn't completely soundproof. 

Knowing your coworkers, if they noticed both of you gone, they more than likely put two and two together. Especially the longer you were gone. You were kind of surprised that no one checked the walk-in yet, they were typically nosey as hell. 

Your moans were growing louder and you rolled your hips against his hand, wanting more. “You're a noisy one, hm?” 

“Says the one who cant shut the fuck up,” you mumbled back, breathlessly. He just grinned, inserting another digit, causing you to shudder and moan again. He moved his fingers around, his thumb stimulating your clit as he did so. He was hitting all the right spots and it was driving you insane. 

“Keep your leg up,” he said as he let go before reaching that hand around you to untie your apron. He emptied it out and rolled it up all with one hand. You watched in confusion but as soon as you opened your mouth to ask what he was doing the cloth was shoved into your mouth. Your eyes widened in surprise.

“Since someone can't keep quiet, I'm not going to be able to focus on ruining you and keeping you quiet.” Your face turned red, your body heating up even more. You felt like you were on fire. This was the most embarrassing situation you've been in but holy shit did it turn you on. 

Before you had much time to react, his hand placed itself back holding your leg and his other hand began to move inside of you. His fingers moved fast and ruthlessly, his thumb assaulting your clit in the process. Your eyes widened at the sudden change of movement, moaning loudly. The apron muffled it, so maybe he'd been right. You don't know how to keep quiet. Shit, how was this man single? With hands like this? 

You felt a coil tightening deep within you, your hips rolling and grinding against him. You were moaning and whining. The apron was going to be soaked by the end of this endeavor.

Right before you reached your climax, he stopped moving before pulling his fingers out of you. You whined in protest, looking at him with desperation. You should've expected something like this at this point, but you were so lost in the sauce that you forgot who was currently fucking you right now.

He spun you around, pressing you into the shelves, and pulling your ass out. He gave you a firm smack, making you whine into the apron. Fuck, he was driving you insane. It's like he knew exactly what you liked. 

A shiver ran down your spine as he pulled your pants down, exposing you to the cold air of the walk in. It also didn't help that you were soaking wet either, making things even colder. You gripped onto the shelves before you, trying to keep yourself from shivering anymore. 

Soon, you felt his body heat close to you. Now a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. You had felt him press against you earlier when you were making out. He had felt big and usually you'd end up on your knees, getting a nice jaw exercise before you ended up getting railed. However, Killer kind of just took the lead and took care of you. Which isn't something you were really used to. You were also used to usually ending up having to finish yourself off. 

But by the looks of things that wouldn't be the case this time. 

Killer pressed a kiss to your shoulder before leaning into your ear. You felt the heat of his body wash over you, the sudden temperature shift making you shiver. “If its too much, bang on the shelf twice.” You just raised an eyebrow at him. If only you didn't have this makeshift gag, you would've said something smart. 

“Don't worry,” he said. “I can read your comment in your eyes.” You just narrowed your eyes at him, making him grin - he was eating every moment of this up. You weren’t sure how you felt about him already knowing you so well.

Your glare didn’t last very long before you felt the fat head of his cock press against you. A sharp inhale went through your nose in surprise, not expecting him to be quite that large - he was about the same size as some of your bigger toys. Your eyes rolled back as he began to slide his way into you. You groaned, gripping onto the shelving as you stretched around him. You could feel him throbbing against you as your own walls throbbed trying to expand enough to fit him.

You took each inch of him like a champ, spreading your legs more and bending over to get him to fit all inside of you. He eventually bottomed out and you both were panting as he paused for a moment. You could tell he was holding himself back, which you appreciated. You’d rather not have anything tear. That was never a pleasant experience.

“Look at that,” he breathed. “You took in every inch of me. Good job, baby.” His voice was low as he spoke into your ear. You weren’t exactly sure about the petname, but fuck hearing the praise made your head swim. What was up with you? You were never this submissive. 

You moved, pressing into him slightly as you whined. You needed him to move. He just chuckled, but luckily took the hint.

He pulled out of you slowly, almost agonizingly slow. You knew he had to be messing with you. You glared at him over your shoulder and he just grinned back at you. You had half a mind to take the apron out and say something. You started to reach for it when he slammed back into you. Your eyes widened, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as they rolled back. A strangled scream erupted from your throat as you felt yourself climax suddenly. Pleasure ripped through your body, every inch of you shaking as you held onto the shelves for dear life. 

Your breathing was heavy, labored. You hadn’t been expecting that in the slightest. You thought he’d take it a little easier, but at the same time you’d never felt anything that good…probably ever.

“Too much?” You looked at him through your blurred vision, shaking your head. A smile appeared on his face, replacing the concern that had been there. “I knew you could take it,” he said. In that moment, you realized he was panting pretty heavily too. His skin glistened with sweat, hair sticking to his face. Fuck, he was one of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen in your life.

His hands gripped onto your hips and you knew you were about to have your shit absolutely rocked. You gripped the shelves, bracing yourself. As you predicted, he absolutely started to go to town. One way station to pound town, population: you. Or however the saying went. In moments, the sound of skin against skin mixed with grunts and moans was filling the walk in. You just silently prayed that the cooling system was loud enough to muffle the noise for the most part. 

You didn’t dwell on this too long as your mind was slipping further and further into the lusty abyss of pleasure. Your entire body felt like it was on fire despite the fans blowing right on the two of you. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you the cooler was going to end up being on the warmer side after all was said and done.

With the absolute ferocity he was drilling into you, you wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t walk or had some serious bruising tomorrow. You knew you’d have to push through it though because tomorrow was your double. Fuck, you really didn’t think this through. Hell, you didn’t think at all.

Again, your thoughts came and went, never sticking around for long and soon just nonexistent. Your eyes were practically glued to the back of your head as he used you. This was the railing of a lifetime. You’d already came once and you could feel yourself on the cusp of another. Killer was also about at his wits end too - his movements were growing more desperate and erratic.

You reached the edge first, feeling your body shudder once more as euphoria washed over you with your climax. You let out a muffled, long moan. His hips also stilled as he came hard as well. You were filled with warmth, feeling overly stuffed even more so before feeling some of it leaking down your leg. Damn, just how much did he unleash inside of you?

You were slumped against the shelving, trying to collect yourself. Your eyes were closed as you panted heavily, too weak to make any movement right now. Killer was panting too, placing soft kisses along your shoulders and neck while whispering soft praises that made your head spin a little more. 

After a few minutes, he reached over, pulling the soggy apron out of your mouth. “Holy shit,” you mumbled, coughing a bit. 

He slowly pulled out of you, making you whine slightly. You shivered as you were suddenly left empty, still too weak to move. He shoved himself back into his pants before helping you. He dressed you back up; pants on, apron around your waist. He stood you back up. “Are you alright?”

At this point, you weren’t sure - still on cloud nine. “I think I’ll be fine.” You stretched a bit, wincing slightly. “Tomorrow’s gonna suck though.” 

“I can cover for you.”

You looked at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “No offense, but I think you’d be a shit server.” 

He frowned. “And here I thought shagging you would take the attitude out of you.” 

You raised a brow, putting your hands on your hips. “Is that what you thought? Sorry, this isn’t something that comes from needing to be laid. I’m just always a bitch - personality trait.” You shrugged, retying your apron. You fixed yourself up before looking over at Killer. You snorted, buttoning his shirt back up.

“Looks like I’ll just have to try again.” A smug smile appeared on his face and you looked at him, a smile tugging on the corners of your own. “You can try as many times as you want, loverboy. It ain’t happening.” 

“I’ll ice that cake anytime.” Your eyes widened at his words and he laughed. “Yeah, I heard your little baker comment earlier. So you like my ass?” He winked, making your face turn red. “Fix your hair,” you mumbled. “Make it look less obvious we just boned.”

“Yes, boss.”

You rolled your eyes, flinging the walk-in door open to reveal several of your coworkers standing there. Wire grinned widely, a smug look on his face. “Everyone owes me twenty bucks.” There were collective groans. “No one knows our head server better than me, you should’ve known better than to bet against me.” He shook his head, holding his hand out as everyone forked over money. 

“But they literally never sleep with anyone that works here ever,” someone protested, pouting.

You knew right then and there - you were never going to hear the end of this.

#im pretty sure i lost my vcard in a walk in but i really dont remember lmfaoooo #it really is a wonderland in there tbh #like earlier i was doing inventory and taking shots #my favorite meal at work is a blinker in the walk-in #it's a staple place tbh #one piece #massacre soldier killer #killer x reader #killer #killer one piece #am fics #smut pieces #one piece x you #one piece x reader

[pearlywritings]

A guide to motivate the General

synopsis: just a couple of messages and maybe a call from his loved ones is all Jing Yuan needs to find it in himself to finish his work and go home.

pairing: Jing Yuan x fem!reader

tw: fluff, domestic fluff, dad!Jing Yuan, Mimi being a huge spoiled baby

word count: 2.1k+ words

A loud yawn echoes in an empty space of The Seat of the Divine Foresight. The general squints, but immediately shakes his head - as much as he’d love to take a nap, there are still some urgent cases he has to attend to. It’s so quiet and lifeless with everyone being dismissed. Oh, what he would’ve given to be far far from here… 

He knows, however, that dwelling on such a matter is just a waste of his resources. Instead of feeling jealous of the guards and secretaries he let go home three hours ago, he opts to redirect the remnants of his energy to the last pile of papers he’s already halfway through.

But just as he reaches for another document his phone vibrates, screen lighting up momentarily, but even a second-long glance is enough to see who the message is from.

And he can’t make his wife wait, can he?

As he carefully puts the ink brush down the device makes a sound a couple of more times, indicating that there are three messages already. Quickly typing eight numbers of his passcode - two most important dates of his life - Jing Yuan swipes away all the spam that has gathered there this evening. His thumb lightly taps on the messenger and goes right to the chat with you, tired golden eyes gaining a bit of their usual shine.

Good evening, my love. I suppose you weren’t lying when you said you’d be quite busy. Didn’t want to disturb you before, but I hope Yanqing wasn’t covering you up, telling me that you ‘dutifully ate’ the dinner I asked him to bring you earlier.

Jing Yuan chuckles. Ah, isn’t it wonderful to have a loving doting spouse who cares so much for her husband. Of course he took a break and ate his dinner - how could he ever deny your home-cooked meals? It would be a crime against your marriage.

Ignoring for a moment your two next messages, the man starts typing an answer.

Good evening, beloved. Yes, I’ll be here for another hour it seems. But I am planning to return home tonight, don’t worry. Yes, the dinner was delicious, thank you. And you know that boy knows better than to lie to you.

Though he, personally, finds your infuriated face adorable, not scary. Sending the message, he skips to the next ones.

Look who’s been waiting for your return

And the video attached. Not thinking too long, he presses play.

He is quick to recognize your shared bedroom and from the angle you were filming you were clearly in bed. He can see the double doors of the entrance, some of the furniture and fine tapestries decorating the walls. But the main focus is obviously the big lion pacing back and forth in the space between the bed and the doors, occasionally stopping, glancing at the wooden obstacle, huffing and continuing its pacing. Then he hears you sweet melodic giggle and his heart melts and then immediately bursts when your voice enters the recording.

“She’s been like that for the last half an hour. She clearly misses papa.”

At the word ‘papa’ Mimi swiftly stops and looks at you and then at the door. Her tail slowly moves.

“No, Mimi, sorry, but papa isn’t home yet. Though I am sure he will soon.”

She seems to understand you, because another huff of dissatisfaction passes through her nose and she butts her head against the left door.

“Jing Yuan, you better hurry, before she figures out how to open the door and go bother ‘her cub’. I barely managed to separate the two.”

As the video stops, the general can’t help but snort, mouth covered with his palm. Eyes glance to the side, to the photo frame sitting snugly on his table - of him, you, held against his side with one arm, and a little girl perched comfortably in the crook of his other one. The smiles the three of you presenting are joyful and he can recall why - the day was brilliant, after all.

Not given an opportunity to wonder however, his attention is brought back by another vibration - looks like you still have something to say.

True, but it never hurts to make sure.

Want me to wait for you?

Oh, he’d love for you to be awake and welcome his exhausted body into your embrace, but at the same time he wants you to have a night of good sleep before tomorrow. Even so…he can allow himself to indulge just a little bit, right?

Warmth swirls in his chest when you pick his video call.

“Hi, pretty,” a lazy smile tugs on the corners of his lips when he sees your cozy form - hair let down, a pillow tucked behind your back and two thin straps of the chemise resting on your beautiful shoulders.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he sees your eyes taking into his own visage, noting his tired gaze, messy hair and a palm supporting his chin. “Are you calling me to answer my question?”

“Yes and no. Just wanted to see you before you go to sleep,” and that is enough of a response to you.

“How sweet of you, Yuan,” there is a guttural noise in the background and he sees your eyes dart behind the phone. “Ah, looks like Mimi heard your voice. She started running around the room. Searching for you, Mister,” even though there is a hint of reproach in your voice, the general knows you are simply joking. 

“My apologies. It seems I made all my girls wait. Speaking of my girls, how is-”

Suddenly you gasp and your body seems to jump and for a moment the phone tilts backwards and Jing Yuan has to stare at the ceiling.

“My dear? Everything is okay?”

“What-? Ah, yes, yes, it- Mimi, stop! Ouch, your paw is heavy!”

The ceiling is clearer now - you must’ve put the device down in an attempt to (what he can only guess) fight off the lion that jumped onto your bed, finally figuring out where the voice was coming from. Loud grunts and your noises of discontent with occasional complaints are the only things he can hear for a couple of minutes. Reasoning that it’s better if he stays silent for the time being, Jing Yuan sets the phone against the photo frame and returns to the paper he was about to review.

It’s almost three documents later - wow, a quick peak of his loved one is doing wonders to his worsened productivity - when the commotion settles down and you pick your phone back, heavily exhaling with an annoyed look on your face. Jing Yuan decides to simply turn to you, hand still skipping through the papers.

“I swear, this overgrown cat is the biggest baby I’ve ever dealt with. Here, look, papa is here,” and you practically shove the device into the animal’s muzzle. Big nose sniffs around, and, not finding the familiar scent of her caretaker, the lion gives you a side eye, which makes your husband choke on his laughter. The maned head whips to the left, keen hearing obviously picking a well-known voice.

“Who taught her that jumping onto the bed is okay?” You are in his sight again, fingers running through your hair, now no different from his own messy locks. “Right - you. I couldn’t get her off and barely managed to put this bulk down. You better pray she decides to leave on her own accord, or you are sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Yes, your annoyed expressions are truly marvelous. How he wished to be there with you and shower your puffy cheeks with dozens of kisses, cradling your face in his big warm palms. It would be so lovely.

“I’ll just go and sleep with my angel then. I am sure she won’t be against having dada by her side.”

He hears Mimi yawn loudly and you make an ‘oof’ sound, promptly lifting the phone.

“Everything is alright?”

“Yeah… She just dropped her head onto my lap. And is staring at me, quite offended.”

“Oooh, now you are stuck,” he can't help but smirk, relishing the roll of your eyes. He knows better than anyone how heavy his pet is. Even he feels a strain in his back whenever he picks her up. Or maybe he is just getting old.

“Wow, thanks, General Obviousness. Mimi, your papa is so-”

Abruptly you are interrupted again, but this time by a quiet, almost inaudible sound of the doors opening. He sees your body lean forward and by a warning “Mimi, stay” he knows you are pinning the animal down. Which can mean only one thing…

“Mom?” A sweet sleepy voice of his daughter proves his assumption right. Suddenly, hearing just one word from her, the man wants to abandon what little work he has left and rush home to envelope the little wonder into his arms, hear her giggle and call him “dad” or “dada” or “papa” - he'd take anything, really, as long as it’s from his little one.

“What is it, baby? Having trouble sleeping?” Oh, but your voice is so beautifully tender, he wants to have it directly caress his ears, while he is cuddled into your body, your fingers running through his thick hair. Aeons, he is losing focus.

“I heard Mimi running,” the little voice gets closer and Jing Yuan sees how your shoulder tenses - the arm is undoubtedly wrapped around the lion’s body. “I thought that daddy came home… has he not yet?”

Now, he really wants to get home as soon as possible.

“No, sweety. But guess what? I am talking to him right now. Want to say hi?”

As you are leaning back, your husband reaches for the phone, holding it properly in his hands, heart skipping a beat in anticipation, waiting for the girl to climb onto the bed and settle at your side.

Stars above, she is a carbon copy of him. Fluffy hair, tucked behind her ears not to obscure the vision, keeping the pretty liquid gold eyes on display, a beauty mark under her eye is charming, just as a lovely smile, stretching mouth when she finally catches the glimpse of her father.

“Papa hiii!” Her little hands wave happily at him, a toothy grin even wider than before. Pure excitement written all over her drowsy expression is adorable, so cute in fact, that Jing Yuan fists the shirt on his chest in a silent cry of his heart.

“Hi, my little sparrow,” he speaks softly, gazing at her with so much love, while his mind is screaming with joy. “I am going to be home very soon. But I want you, and mama, and Mimi all to go to sleep.”

“But whyyy,” she whines, pouting. He also hears the lion grunt, as if understanding what he is saying, and you just shake your head with a small chuckle.

“Because papa wants you to be well-rested. He promised us a walk tomorrow, right?” Your hand goes to rest on top of her head, patting. “It’ll be too bad if we are sleepy, don't you think?”

“Mama is right. I know you miss me, baby, and I miss you terribly too. But if we want to spend the whole day together, doing everything you, princess, want, I have to complete some of my cases. That's why I am going to say my good night’s and get back to work to finish it.”

The white-haired girl sighs, dropping her head, letting the heavy fringe escape and cover her eyes.

“Being an adult is awful,” he hears her murmur a complaint and can’t help but agree. Though, if he wasn’t an adult, would’ve he ever had you and her? “But I get it, daddy. I am a big girl!”

“That’s my girl,” he gives her an encouraging smile, when she lifts her eyes again to look at him from under the bangs. His smile is almost immediately mirrored.

“So…” Jing Yuan catches your gaze (you have been watching this whole exchange with a fond look in your eyes) and shares unspoken affection. “Good night, my love.”

“Have you soon in my arms, dear,” you blow a kiss and he makes a grabby motion with his hand, bringing it to his very heart.

“Baby,” the girl perks, wiggling in her place and tucking her hair away when his attention is focused on her once more, “sweet dreams. I promise to stop by and kiss you on the cheek.”

“I'll be waiting- I mean sleeping! Have fun with work, daddy.”

“I will. Rub Mimi’s tummy for me, will you?”

“Mhm!”

Giving the two of you one last glance before hanging up, Jing Yuan is filled with the new found motivation. At that moment he thinks that busying himself for the full duration of the day is absolutely worth it, if he gets to give his girls undivided attention tomorrow.

And he will be damned if he lets something ruin it.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x fem!reader #jing yuan #dad!jing yuan #hsr fluff

[taegularities]

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep. 

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear. 

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion. 

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work. 

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching. 

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh… 

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you. 

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too. 

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks. 

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting. 

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

[dr3c0mix]

Alistair x (platonically) Teen Reader

In the fic he is like oh my god a bride, he walks in and instead of an adult..or a bride-

They find a teen, who literally threw a pebble at him, an angsty teen💀

I’m very happy to read ur fics and usually pair them with teen/child mc because I find it funny because they expect the love of their life

and teen mc standing there :🧍‍♂️

anyways sorry for the long request, luv ur writing, and ur art :D

Yandere! Evil King x Teen! GN! Reader

CW: platonic relationship, Alistair is a bit of a DILF so do with it as you will, Dads are hot you guys!! READER IS A MINOR.

👑 Who is this sassy lost child?

👑 His minions kidnapped you while you were on a carriage ride back to your kingdom.

👑 He was hoping for like a princess or something to marry and take over the kingdom with or whatever so like...what tf he gonna do with you???

👑 Clearly you were too young to be in a situation like this, but theres no way he's giving you back without a reward, so yes he still holds you for ransom.

👑 "Child, I am Alistair, King of-ACk!"

👑 Did...did you throw a pillow at him?!

👑 "How dare yo- AHK! Stop it!" another one..

👑 You refuse to listen to anything he says, you just wanted to go home

👑 You two had a bit of rivalry for a bit. He hated you and you hated him.

👑 He promised not to show any affection or care towards you since in his eyes, your actions didn't deserve it. How can someone be so rude to a king !?

👑 But he starts to notice you don't eat much. He never sees you in the dining hall and has only seen quick moments of you nibbling on some bread or pastries the servants gave you.

👑 He scoffed, so irresponsible! You must eat a proper meal right this second or you'll starve!

👑 You're surprised to see a meal prepared for you during your routine trip to get a snack from the pantry with a note on the plate.

👑 "Next time, ask for a proper meal. I don't want your parents to think I've been starving you. -Alistair P.S. go to bed early."

👑 Huh...

👑 Alistair smiled from the doorway of the dining hall, watching you eat up with a smile on your face. You might have been too scared of him to ask for food so you've been sneaking snacks while he wasn't looking.

👑 Of course he wasn't doing it because he cared about you, he just didn't want royalty like you to resort to such pathetic means to eat!

👑 Why are you still sad? Perhaps he should get you some things to keep your attention..

👑 He asks (threateningly may I add) about your hobbies or interests.

👑 The next morning your cell (which has been upgraded to a lovely room in the castle because he didn't want you to be filthy and gross in a dungeon) was filled with anything he could find that he thought you'd enjoy.

👑 Don't think he wants you to be happy! He's just tired of seeing you sulk everywhere!

👑 He denies everything, but you swear you could see a tiny smile on his face when you hugged him happily.

👑 You start being a little more open to him, showing him anything you've made or done with pride and he'd receive it gratefully, but he won't show it of course.

👑 "I made you this friendship bracelet!"

👑 "I've seen better jewelry."

👑 "Oh I'll take it back then I guess.."

👑 "No, it's mine now, back off."

👑 Drawings and the like that he said would be thrown out as soon as you left would be seen framed in his room

👑 It would be a..waste of good canvas..

👑 And of course he buys a few books of your choice for you to read, he'd be damned if your brain turns to mush.

👑 Bro bro he'd be the type to let you swing around while holding onto his bicep.

👑 If you ever have any problems, or come to him in a bad mood, he'd have no idea how to help other than to sit down and listen to your troubles.

👑 He's not the most physical when it comes to affection, but you bet your ass he's gonna do everything he can to cheer you up.

👑 At this point he's rewriting his demands for the ransom. Either your kingdom lets him sign some adoption papers or he's starting a war.

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #male yandere #yandere oc #oc yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #tw yandere #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #king x reader #yandere king #evil king #platonic #platonic reader

[cryptidghostgirl]

Unexpected (Vox x Fox Demon!Reader)

Pairing: Vox x Reader

Description: Vox tries to make a deal with Y/n.

Warnings: Valentino is his own warning. Um, slightly explicit near the beginning? Nothing too bad. Cigarettes.

Word Count: 2,928

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

A/N Considering the returns on my most recent poll, I figured I should get this slightly steamy little idea I've had for a while out there in the world.

Vox had never been one to make deals with lesser demons, to take their souls. No, that was Valentino's thing. Vox didn't need to own a soul to get a demon to do what he wanted for one, and for another, Vox didn't particularly like people. He preferred to work alone, to be alone. Life was much more productive that way.

The other Vees were different. Vox allowed them in his life because they were useful, they solidified and expanded his power. Anyone else was just a waste of time and space.

Speaking of the other Vees, Vox right now was on his way to visit Valentino. At Velvette's request, he was aiming to talk to the man about whatever scene he'd instigated at a club the night before. It just happened to be his luck because of course it was his fucking luck that the only spare moment he had to deal with the situation was when Val was filming.

Vox burst through the studio doors, making a beeline for Valentino who sat in a director's chair before the set. He was well practiced at approaching his business partner while the man was working and averted his eyes, trying his best to keep focus on the task at hand.

"Val." he hummed in irritation as he came to a stop beside the moth demon's chair, "What did you do last night?"

Valentino blew out a puff of pink smoke, fixing his eyes on Vox.

"Whatever do you mean?"

The feigned innocence coming from this man was laughable. Vox rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, to reveal what Velvette had told him. By chance, just at that moment, he happened to look away.

It wasn't on purpose. There had been a sound from the set that had involuntarily grabbed Vox's attention. His eyes widened, his screen glitching with fury as he turned back to Valentino.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked pointing to the set.

There, in the middle of the bed was a demon. That was far from unusual, as was the demon's half dressed state. What was unusual was the fact that the demon had been dressed up to look exactly like Vox himself. Well, not exactly. The actor had a box over his head with a fake screen on the front. A cheap costume but one that was most certainly supposed to be him.

There was another demon beneath him, a short thing with with wide eyes and the large ears of a fennec fox. It was then that the sound that caught his attention registered with Vox. Trapped under the other actor's arms, his lips to her neck, she had moaned his name.

"Hmm?"

Val lazily threw his gaze to the stage before smiling.

"Just my newest project. Don't you worry."

"Val, I am definitely worried. I want you to cancel this, right now."

"Oh comon Voxy!" Valentino pleaded, "Think of all the money it would bring in! Half of Hell wants to get dicked down by you for Christ's sake."

Vox folded his arms over his chest, actively not looking at the pair who were still on stage. They had not stopped what they were doing for the sake of the overlord's conversation and Vox was so high strung that he nearly flinched at the sound of fabric tearing.

"Val."

His voice came out deep and mangled, as if his speakers were turned up way too loud. Vox's eye twitched slightly in irritation, his hands clenched into fists. Valentino just watched him for a moment before sighing. Waving his hand, he turned to the stage.

"That's a wrap everyone!" he called and Vox turned to watch at the whole crew of demons, including the pair of actors, turned to their boss, "We're trashing this script."

If anyone had complaints, they dared not voice them before the two overlords. Slowly, the crew began to pack up.

"Thank you." Vox reluctantly said to Val.

His eyes were fixed on the two actors, something that did not escape Valentino's notice as he waved the words of thanks off.

"You owe me one."

"Whatever."

The man had pulled himself from the bed by now and discarded the false head he'd been wearing. With a kindly smile, he held a hand out to the girl he'd been on top of just moments before. She sat up, leaning back on her arms. Vox watched her lips move and though he couldn't hear what she said over the clamor, he assumed it must've been a joke as the other demon laughed.

Gently, and with much more grace than Vox could have thought she was capable of, she took the demons hand and brought herself off the bed. Vox's breath caught in his throat because of course, of fucking course, Valentino had decided to dress her like that.

If Val was good at anything, it was guessing someone's kinks just by looking at them. A party trick but in practice, very useful for his line of work. The demon was dressed in blue and red lingerie, running like twisting wires over her limbs, pressing gently into her skin in just the right way. The remnants of a black dress, the source of the earlier sound of torn fabric no doubt, lay in the imprint of her body on the bed. Vox didn't care if it was predictable, she looked fucking hot.

With that specific breed of confidence that seems only to belong to pornstars, the pair began heading toward the door. Muffled, as if through water, Vox heard Valentino ask him something.

"Yeah." Vox absently replied, tearing his eyes away from the pair and meeting Valentino's gaze.

Val smirked up at him knowingly.

"You alright there Voxy?" he hummed, "Fox got your tongue?"

"I am not going to deign that with a response. If you ever pull shit like this agai-"

"Yeah yeah. Doll!"

Vox followed Val's shifted line of sight to see that the girl had stopped by the door which was being held open for her by her scene partner. She turned to face Val, suddenly taking on a much more demure demeanor than she had previously displayed. Hands clasped before her, she met her boss's eyes across the expanse of the room.

"Yes?" she called, her voice like music.

"Val." he warned under his breath for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Valentino, of course, ignored him, seeking his own entertainment and profit above all else.

"Come here for a second, would you?"

She nodded, saying something to the demon behind her over her shoulder. With a shrug, he left the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Stepping carefully between the frantic workers, the girl made her way across the room to Vox and Val. She stopped before Val's chair, looking up at him through her lashes.

"What did you want to see me for, sir."

Her words were careful, perfectly annunciated.

"Back here in ten. You've got another job."

"Yes, Valentino." she replied, bowing her head just the slightest bit towards the man.

Val's wicked grin widened.

"Wear the white."

"Yes, Valentino."

It was like those were the only two words she knew. She treated the horrific man before her with the utmost respect, never once taking her eyes off of him.

"You may go."

Val waved her off with a lazy flick of his hand.

"Thank you, sir."

Another slight bow and the girl turned, her hair splaying out slightly at the ends from her sudden movement. As she made for the door once again, she shot a momentary glance at Vox. It was as if the world had stopped turning the second their eyes met. It felt like an eternity of him losing himself in their sticky softness. Then, she was gone.

Vox didn't understand what was happening. Sure, he had found people attractive before. He'd engaged in hookups, wasted time on the occasional relationship but nothing -- nothing -- had ever been like this. Every time he shut his eyes, there she was. Every spare second, his mind drifted to her. He found himself staring off into space, the image of that wry smile she had shot her costar as he had helped her off the bed burned into his memory.

The worst part was she was one of Val's girls and Val's girls were always trouble. The look they had shared, the scene she had been in, the way his name had sounded spilling from her soft lips, Vox knew it meant nothing to her. She had probably already forgotten it by now. The worst part was, it wasn't nothing to him. His muscles tensed at just the thought of the sound, at the idea of him being the one to actually make her beg for him rather than some cheap excuse for a facsimile. The worst part was, he didn't even know her name. In Val's gaze, she was just another body to profit off of. She was a doll, unworthy of any other title. The idea of someone seeing her so cheaply made him glitch because god, he had only met her once, but she was so much more than a toy. Vox was sure of it.

Wrapped in fantasy, he crafted an image of the girl. Vox imagined her patterns of being, what she must be like as a person -- so obedient but with that dry sense of humor he had attributed to her with no evidence save that she'd managed to make one person laugh in front of him one time. Vox never expected to see her again. He thought that the demon would be forever relegated to his dreams, to the recesses of his mind. He thought she'd be dead in a week, with Val's track record.

Vox pulled himself from his desk chair with a sigh. Three hours had passed and he just couldn't bring himself to be productive. She was a menace, a true vixen with those fox ears and tail to match. He would curse her very name for what she was doing to him if he knew what it was.

"Some fresh air. That's all I need." he said to the emptiness of his office, "Yeah."

The back doors of the Vee's building were seldom used, even by the people who worked there. Half the paparazzi didn't even know that they existed and so, he planned his escape. Of course it had to be his luck because it was always his goddamn luck these days wasn't it that the second he opened the door, it was to the smell of cigarette smoke and the image of a demon leaning against the building's brick exterior.

Vox let the door fall shut behind him with a heavy bang. The demon shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

"Escaping?" she asked.

He hadn't wanted anyone to see him. More importantly, he hand't wanted to see anyone, let alone talk to him. Vox sighed, adjusting his sleeves as he turned to face the demon fully.

She looked up at him, squinting slightly against the sun. Vox's heart stuttered in his chest. She looked... different and it wasn't just because she was fully dressed this time. There was no doubt about it however, this was the demon from the studio just a few weeks before.

None of the playful joy or diligent respect from their last encounter remained in her features, she just looked tired. Black jeans and a leather jacket, hair pulled up and away from her face, not a speck of makeup to be seen besides the smudged remnants of mascara beneath her eyes.

"You... you're that... you're one of Val's..."

"Victims?" she chuckled ruefully, "Yeah. I am."

"You're the one from..."

"Last week? Yep. Sorry about that, by the way. If it's any consolation, it was uncomfortable for us too."

Vox was speechless, stunned, utterly taken aback and completely blindsided. The exact thing he was trying to escape, standing before him and utterly contrary to his every previously conjured image.

"Want a smoke?"

"Uh, no thanks. Don't smoke."

The girl shrugged.

"Mind if I do."

"No."

She took another long drag, watching the smoke she blew out as it hung blue in the air. She shot him a sidelong glance.

"You just gonna stand there?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

She laughed. Vox wasn't expecting her to do that.

"S'pose I do."

The idea of a walk had long left Vox's mind. He leaned against the wall across from her in the cramped ally, watching as she anxiously checked the time.

"Goddamn."

She lowered her arm, shaking the sleeve of her jacket back over the watch and looking wistfully out towards the exit of the ally.

"Val?"

"Val."

"You seem... you're different than I expected you to be."

"Thats your fault for having expectations."

She smiled at him like a shark watching prey and he nodded his head to the side in mild agreement.

"What's your name?"

Her smile fell, eyes widening slightly. One of her ears twitched and Vox could hear the sound of her tail shifting against the wall. The world felt so far away. Right now, there was nothing else in existence except for himself, the ally, and the fox before him.

"Vix..." she bowed theatrically after a moment, "is my porn name."

Her eyes shot up to his as she finished her phrase, the same confident and, he now realized, performative smile curling the edges of her lips.

"But my parents called me Y/n."

The demon straightened herself up, holding a hand out to Vox. He regarded it carefully for a moment before placing his hand in hers.

"Vox."

"I know."

Y/n took a final drag from her cigarette, stamping the butt out on the ground beneath the heavy heel of her boot.

"Well," she sighed with one last look to the shock of sky they could see between the buildings, "I best be going. Nice meeting you."

"Wait!"

Vox hadn't meant to say it, nor had he meant to frantically latch onto her arm. Y/n flinched slightly under the contact, stilling before the door and turning back to him, her brow furrowed.

"Why do you..." he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly pink, "How'd you end up... working... here."

Y/n laughed again. She had to admit, his flustered state was rather endearing, not at all what she had expected from one of the most feared overlords in all of Hell.

"For Val?" she asked and he nodded in response, "Same as every other wayward soul. He offered me something I couldn't refuse, and I was too naive to understand the price."

It took Vox a moment for her words to register with him, for her cryptic language to translate in his mind.

"He owns your soul?"

Y/n nodded once, all traces of amusement having fallen from her face.

"For what."

"Fame! Money! Riches!" she sarcastically called out with wild swings of her arms.

She stilled in her movements, a wry smile flashing across her face as she met his eyes again, her arms falling to her sides.

"Really?"

"Nah, I'm not that classy. I needed protection."

"From what?"

"Anything. I was new and I was afraid."

"And now you're trapped."

"Now I am trapped." Y/n concurred solemnly, "And I have to go."

"Do you want to go?"

Y/n thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"You're not what I expected you to be."

"Thanks?" Vox questioned after a moment, "I am not sure if you meant that as a compliment."

"Yeah."

It was a noncommittal answer and one that sent sparks of anxiety like shards of broken glass through him.

"I meant more so do you want to go to Val."

"Do I want to go get fucked by twenty guys or whatever he's gonna have me do? Of course fucking not. I don't really have a say in the matter so its not really important what I want."

"Of course it's important what you want."

Vox's mouth was moving a hundred times faster than his head. He couldn't seem to make it stop. Y/n's eyes went wide, she shook her head slightly as if ridding it of a thought.

"Maybe in another afterlife." she joked.

"What if... what if I could... fix this for you."

A pause, tense and full of longing. An intake of breath.

"What do you mean?"

"If you make a contract with another demon, Val's would be void."

"Another demon like you."

"Yes."

"I..."

She trailed off, looking up at him with wide eyes. Her tail wagged once happily behind her before all traces of hope were swallowed once again by the utter desolation.

"I dug my grave, Vox."

"But you don't have to lie in it."

He was practically begging her, his hand on her arm again. He couldn't recall when he had placed it there after her wild movements earlier in detailing her deal had thrown it from her. She looked down, examining the place where flesh made contact with leather. Y/n's eyes met his again, she shook him off.

"One deal is bad enough. Trading chains for chains doesn't change anything."

"But it could."

"Look, Vox. I have to go."

Y/n turned her back on him and opened the door. She hesitated for a moment, leaning on it's edge.

"It was nice to meet you."

Vox watched as she disappeared, the door slamming behind her.

----

A/N It doesn't matter if you guys want a part two or not because there will be one.

#x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader fics #fic writer #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #vox hazbin #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox x you #vox x y/n #vox hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #x reader oneshot #x reader one shot #one shot #oneshot #vox one shot

[2kmps]

gojo satoru returns to you after 20 days. you don't just let him waltz back into your life.

notes; 1.4k, mc punches gojo and draws blood, he's an oddly supportive prick here, roughly proofread, mdni

when gojo satoru disappeared from your life twenty days ago, you didn't want to consider any of the worst case scenarios. they turned in your mind like a spinning record, a needle skipping across the uneven surface. gojo was a man who embodied permanence; not in the sense of everlasting love and devotion, rather he would remain long after everything and everyone else ephemeral wasted away.

even in his absence in your life, he still remained there at the forefront of your thoughts while you listlessly navigated life-- waiting tables, handing out room keys to salacious businessmen, chiseled through hundreds of pages of heavy reading and dissertations for grad school.

life was an exhaustive dichotomy of moving on without him there next to you, yet him still wholly consuming you and lingering just there on the fringes of your every thought.

so, when the locking mechanism in your front door clicked and he walked in the apartment twirling the spare key around his finger, shoulders rolled forward, hand in his pocket--a look and pose so intimately familiar and reminiscent of what you knew: something snapped.

"yo!" he tracked you down immediately, glowing azure piercing into your core. "long time no see! c'mere, I could use a hug."

the floorboards rattled underfoot as you tromped towards his open arms, hearing the key land with a metallic rattle as your first swung into his face, peaks your knuckles making contact with the corner of his nose and high cheekbones.

you punched him as hard as you fucking could, put everything into winding your shoulder; all of the hurt, frustration, anger, agony, and longing he had caused you. the sleepless nights, empty dinner table missing his plate, and cold, kempt sheets that you had started inadvertently smoothing your hand across to keep your body from aching too much.

you punched gojo satoru and he let you.

he took the hit to his face, still smiling even when he crumpled against the wall, sliding to the floor in an unceremonious heap. it wasn't the force that did it, rather he thought it was something you deserved in that moment. a sense of closure to those long-held emotion that had been piling up for almost a month.

"not bad." he said, letting the back of head rest against the wall. there was a subtle saltiness filling the crevices in his lips as blood dribbled from his right nare. "do you feel better now? did you get it all out?"

"you're gone for twenty days and you're just gonna walk through that door like nothing?" your throat felt wet and clamped, words croaked and stilted. "you don't call. text. anything. and you just show up? what the fuck is your problem?"

gojo let his long legs sprawl wide, hands resting between his thighs as he gave you a look. "well, yeah. I live here, too. where else am I supposed to go? don't tell me you threw out all my stuff already?"

"god, you're so... stupid." you crumbled with a sob and a bitter laugh, hands pressed into your face as you dropped to your knees in front of him. "you're so fucking stupid. you're so fucking stupid. you're such a jackass. a prick. an asshole. I hate you so much."

his smile faltered, but only a little. "no, you don't. don't lie to me."

your voice was eclipsed by your cries, the warmth of your tears dampening your cheeks and palms. it was all coming out now; the mourning and suffering and too many emotions that you had forced at bay the entire time-- because satoru told you once that he didn't like it when you cried.

and, it seemed that was true even now because you heard him shuffle across the floor, his large hands seizing your arms to pull you against him and reacquaint your body to his.

he always ran a little hot; every part of him that touched you right now burned. when his fingers landed at the base of your neck, you thought they would sear through flesh and bone. his other hand was splayed across your back, holding you form, pushing presence into your spine as you twitched against him trailing up-and-down the length of it.

"it's really not attractive when you cry. you make all kinds of weird faces, and you always get my clothes wet." he was telling the truth here. "I'm giving you a free pass today, though. get it all out."

you rolled your face against his sturdy chest, wrenching the fabric of his black tee in your fingers until your sobs ebbed and the room mellowed into amicable silence. satoru simply waited like that the entire time, caging you against his body with his arms and legs, chin tilted towards the ceiling with his eyes closed.

you sniffed, cleared your throat. "do you plan to tell me where you've been?"

"nope." he replied, airily.

to expect anything else from him would've been your folly, even with him comforting you as he was right now. not knowing what had taken him from you for so long would haunt you for a long time, but there were other things that mattered more.

you loosened your fingers from his shirt, crimps staying in the fabric as your hands moved to his jaw. he leaned the weight of his head in your palms, coaxing you to lift your watery eyes off his chest to look at him. there was something otherworldly about those depths of blue; somehow fathomless, yet emphatically beautiful.

"are- are you going to stay? are you here to stay?"

satoru's pale lashes fell with his heavy eyelids, moving his weight nearer to your face. "who knows? I'm here with you right now. isn't that enough?"

it was amazing just how many times that man would break your heart with a single reply. how effortlessly it all came from his mouth without inflection or a stutter. as horrible as he was, he never once lied to you about anything; no matter how much it hurt, how it made you cry, how it sent painful torrents crashing through your limbs and heart.

"don't start to cry again," his voice rumbled low, vibrating hard in his throat as the tips of his soft, white hair were flattened against your forehead. "you've used up all your allotted cry time forever. you're also not allowed to wipe snot on my shirt, or get your tears all over my face, or in my hair."

it took a few tries, but he got a smile out of you. "you're literally the worst man in the world."

"nah." he still had his hand against your nape, the weight of it luring your face in closer. "I think you think I'm pretty great. alluring. hot. amazing. spectacular. you missed me. you love me."

satoru tilted his head as he brought you the rest of the way in to kiss you. his lips felt so full against yours, tasted metallic and salty from the blood and wet tears that fit between the cracks. he never let up on the pressure on your neck, using it as his leverage to keep you still as his kisses grew in fervor; lasting and lingering, unrelenting.

your hands moved off of his jaw to float up into his hair, fingers twining strands of white into rings at the base of his scalp, tugging only when you felt his tongue try to slither between your teeth. he let you have your way long enough to pull out of the kiss, lips swollen and moist from saliva.

"I missed you." you finally confessed, leaving a hot trail on his skin wherever your lips touched him next. "I love you, satoru."

in that moment, he thought he felt the breath stolen away from his lungs; like something knocked against his chest hard enough to leave him winded. twenty days without your syrupy, tantalizing words had done more to him than he wanted to recognize, and would ever admit to you.

still, he looked at you fondly, now feeling along the planes of your face with his thumb as he leaned into you once again for one kiss after another. he crushed anything else you had to say between your lips where they died in your throat as agonized moans spurred by his fingertips ghosting beneath your shirt.

"I know."

divider; @/anlian-aishang

repost from my deleted blog: cardeneiv

#jjk #jjk gojo #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk gojo satoru #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #2k writes

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

TAKE CARE OF YOU [2]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 7,029

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: i am having too much fun with this, my mind is going wild]

02: HE'S LOADED, BABE

"take a chance. risk everything. be honest. jump. go for it. be all in. why not. or why do anything at all." -jacob holguin

For the first time, maybe ever, you were the one with the insane story to share with Nima. You were actually kind of excited. When you texted her, she said she was still in the office and she told you to swing by because she wasn’t too busy. This wasn’t the first time you had been to her office, but you found it amusing every single time. The rest of the floor had the button down kind of look one would expect of a workplace, but Nima’s little corner was decorated in bright colors. It was a testament to her skill really. If you were indispensable then you could push boundaries.

“Hey!” Nima bounced when she saw you walking toward her office. You stepped in and dropped onto the couch she had pushed up against the wall. “I’m so glad you’re here. I have the craziest story.” Nima was rushing around the room putting away papers and blueprints. Her space was always poorly organized in your opinion, but according to her everything had its place. “It involves a loose chicken, a gallon of paint, and that asshole from the third floor I was telling you about.”

Unable to hold it in, you blurted it out. “I got asked to be a sugar baby.”

Nima blinked for a moment, dazed, then screeched in shock as she threw herself down onto the couch beside you. “Holy shit, what?? And you let me waste time talking about the chicken?” You did want to eventually hear about that. “Tell me everything.”

“You remember that guy I bought a coffee for like two weeks back?”

“Yes!” Nima gasped and you nodded. “Oh my God! I told you I felt sparks.” She paused. “Wait, can he afford to be a sugar daddy? He looked like a homeless cowboy when we saw him.”

You pointed to her. “So, are you thinking ‘cowboy’ too? Because I have been going back and forth between that and lumberjack, but I haven’t⏤”

“If you don’t give me more details right now...”

“Sorry.” You chuckled. You gave her the shorthand version of how he had been visiting you at the bakery and how it ended with him offering to ‘take care of you’ this afternoon. Nima just stared, mouth agape, the entire time. You finished by telling her that he had asked you to meet him this weekend. “So… yeah. Yeah.” You shot her a sheepish smile and just repeated yourself. “Yeah.”

Nima clapped her hands, excited, but you watched as she steeled her features. She shifted so she faced you entirely on the couch. “Wait. You’re always the voice of logic when I get myself into something insane. My turn.” She cleared her throat. “Are you sure you’re willing to basically fuck a stranger for all this? That’s not you.”

You twisted your lips at her words. Was it so out of the question for you to go out on a limb and put yourself out there? Granted, jumping from the vanilla lifestyle you lived to having sex with someone so they’d pay your bills was like going from 0 to 120 in a racecar⏤ or rocket.

As if Nima could see your inner turmoil, she pointed at you. “No, no. Don’t misunderstand. It’s not that I think you aren’t capable of making that decision and going for it. However, up until now you’ve been the serious relationship kind, and your last relationship was almost six months ago.” True. “Plus, you like monogamy. There is no guarantee that would occur here. What if he has multiple sugar babies? And⏤”

“It doesn't matter.” You blurted. You realized then that maybe you weren’t prepared to consider all those angles. You still hadn’t even gone on another date since your last boyfriend. “He doesn’t want sex.” Nima tilted her head in confusion. “The deal is he ‘takes care of me’ and I offer him platonic companionship. Be his date at some of his work functions⏤ no strings attached.”

Nima scoffed. “Girl, then what the fuck are you waiting for?? Say yes right now!”

“Well,” You laughed, “There’s a lot to consider.”

“No. The only thing to consider was sex and if that is off the table? Done.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, I don’t think a sugar baby and sugar daddy contract is⏤ Jesus, I can’t believe I’m saying these words.” You blew out a breath. “Anyways, I don’t think it’s that simple.”

Nima paused in thought. Her fingers drummed against her thigh for a few seconds before her face lit up with a bright smile. “We’re going out to dinner.” Nima jumped up to grab her phone and dialed a number. “My cousin has a friend who has a sister who knows all about this stuff.”

You mentally tried to follow the line of relation that Nima drew out, but you didn’t have the time to question her before she started talking on the phone in Korean. There was no telling what your evening would have in store, Nima knew an odd collection of people, but you assume anything would be helpful right now.

The restaurant you and Nima traveled to in order to meet this mystery woman was the definition of upper class. It was the kind of place you wouldn’t even stop outside of in fear that they’d call the cops on you for loitering. You especially didn’t feel prepared to walk in right now in your work clothes⏤ simple jeans and a plain shirt. At least the apron was removable. When you walked in you were fairly certain the man working as the host was going to throw you out. However, all it took was name dropping the person you were supposed to meet and the host led you back. He gave both of you disgusted looks the entire time, but he still took you back.

As he turned to leave, Nima flipped him off from behind and you quickly grabbed her arm to bring it down. You hissed at her. “We’re already on thin ice.” The table was in a private room. “Who is this?”

“Rosalind Turby.”

“Yeah, you’ve already told me the name, but who is this Rosalind lady?”

Nima shrugged. “All I know is her sister owes my cousin a favor so we’re cashing that shit in.”

You shrugged and the two of you entered the private room. It was elegantly decorated with florals and crystals. An odd combination in your opinion. The table in the middle of the room was covered in a white tablecloth set for three. A beautiful woman sat there on her phone, but she peered up at your entrance and a brilliant smile filled her features.

She stood up, “Hello, girlies!” Rosalind motioned for the two of you to join her. She was probably in her mid to late thirties if you had to guess. Her blonde hair was nearly platinum and fell past her shoulders in beautiful, perfect curls. Right now she had on a tight light blue dress with jewelry dripping from her neck and wrists⏤ all diamonds. Were those real?? She didn’t seem to bat an eye at the clothes you and Nima were wearing. “It’s so lovely to meet you two. I’m Rosalind.”

You both introduced yourselves before sitting down. Nima was quick to grab the wine bottle sitting on the table and began to pour. You resisted the urge to nudge her with your elbow. Rosalind rang a little silver bell sitting on the table and you nearly laughed at the sight of it until a waiter swept in. She ordered something for the group. At least that’s what you assumed based on the way she motioned to the table. It was hard to say considering she was speaking French.

Rosalind finished and focused back on you and Nima who were just staring at her in shock. She laced her fingers together and leaned forward. “So, I hear one of you girls is thinking of becoming a sugar baby.” Nima immediately pointed at you and you sheepishly raised a hand. “That’s so cute. What makes you want to branch into my world?”

“Oh.” You blinked. “You were⏤ are a sugar baby?”

Rosalind nodded and flipped some hair over her shoulder. “Have been since I was 23.”

“Holy shit.” Nima hissed at you. “Is this gonna be your life?”

You lightly smacked her thigh with the back of your hand. No. Of course not. This wasn’t⏤ Nah. Well… Was this going to be your life if you said yes? You couldn’t picture yourself sitting where Rosalind was right now. She had an air of natural elegance. There was no way a restaurant host ever shot her bad looks. 

Rosalind chuckled. “Well?”

“Uh,” You had briefly forgotten her question, “I’m not sure. A man…propositioned me and I have a couple days before he expects an answer from me.”

“You must be thinking it over seriously to involve me.”

“I hope we’re not bothering you.” You blurted. “We’re strangers but⏤”

Rosalind waved her hand with a laugh that reminded you of tinkling bells. Where had this woman come from? Was she made in some ‘perfect woman’ factory? She shook her head. “Please. I’m always eager to help the new girls enter this world of ours. We’re a tight knit group.”

“Really? There’s a community of… sugar babies?”

“Why of course!” Rosalind scoffed playfully. “We have to look out for one another after all.” She reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “So ask me all the questions you might have, sweetie.”

You glanced at Nima who just shrugged before tossing back the rest of her wine. “Um,” You smiled at Rosalind, “Have you had the same…uh, the same⏤”

“Daddy?” Rosalind chuckled and your cheeks burned. “You’re going to need to be comfortable calling him ‘daddy’. There’s no shame in it.” She shook her head. “And no. I’ve had seven so far.” Seven? It sounded like this woman had made an actual career of this lifestyle. That was impressive. Maybe she was the perfect person to ask questions to. “That’s a conversation for another day though. Let’s just focus on your first daddy.”

You chuckled, “Yeah, right. Well, how does it…work? He just said he wants to take care of me and that seems…vague.”

“It’s subjective usually.” Rosalind began. Waiters came in with trays of food and Nima rubbed her hands together in excitement. “If your contract with him is the basic kind then he pays for you to live. Rent, bills, expenses. Not to mention toys and gifts and all the fun kind of goodies.” She scrunched her nose like she was sharing an exciting secret. “And in return, you give him your lovely company.”

You knew exactly what she meant by company.

“You said contract?”

Rosalind nodded. “If your daddy truly has the kind of funds to really take care of you then he’ll push for a contract. This is your opportunity to set firm boundaries. The last thing you’d want is for him to get a piece of you just to toss you aside. Or worse, you get used to this kind of lifestyle just for him to suddenly change his terms and hang it over your head.” She sighed. “I’ve truly heard all the horror stories.”

“Horror stories?”

“Yes. This kind of relationship is built on trust, but not all those who get involved are deserving. You need to make sure the daddy trying to buy you isn’t going to take advantage or hurt you.” You winced both at the idea of being abused and the wording of her statement. Is that what this was? You were being bought? If she noticed your discomfort she didn’t mention it. Rosalind took a sip of her own wine. “How long have you known your daddy⏤”

“He’s not my daddy.” You blurted. 

“Yet.” Rosalind winked. Your cheeks burned again and you tried to imagine what it’d feel like calling Joel that. Could he even take you seriously? Someone like Rosalind using that phrase sounded tempting and sweet. You, in comparison, were just awkward. “So? How long? And has he mentioned any contract details?”

Nima chimed in, “Like two weeks-ish?” You nodded. “Would he even want a contract? That’s for just the super rich guys, right?”

“Typically.” Rosalind nodded. “Here. What’s his name?” Your eyes widened at the question. “If he’s been a daddy before I’ll know him. As I said, we’re a close knit community. We even keep a track of the men who are black listed. I’ll be able to tell you if he's a danger as well.”

Oh, that was helpful.

“Joel Miller.” You smiled. Rosalind’s smile fell right off her face, jaw popping open, and Nima spat out a mouthful of red wine. It splattered and stained the white tablecloth. Your eyes darted between them as they just stared at you. “What?”

“You never told me Mr. Miller wants to be your sugar daddy!” Nima cried.

“You were there the day I met him! And how do you even know him?” You asked.

Nima gaped at you like a fish out of water. “He owns the construction company that hired my office! I’ve never seen him, except in like a few pictures, but Mr. Miller was never wearing flannel in any of those photos. I seriously thought he might be homeless the day we met him.”

“Construction company?” You breathed.

Rosalind cleared her throat before taking a long sip of her wine. Her smile returned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Wow. I knew Joel Miller was on the market, but I wasn't aware he had chosen someone. And someone brand new for his first one.”

“I’d be his first too?” You asked. The knowledge that this was as new to him as it was to you actually made you feel much better. Maybe that was why he had been so nervous this afternoon. This was the first time he had ever offered that proposition. 

“Yes.”

Nima let out a laugh before shaking your shoulder, “He’s loaded, babe.”

“That’s a good description.” Rosalind chuckled. You were able to ask a few more questions, but about ten minutes later she glanced at her phone and then rose from the table. “I am so sorry, girlies. But I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Oh, well thank you for⏤”

She said your name in a sickly sweet tone while picking up her purse. You didn’t recognize the brand, but you knew it was probably just as expensive as everything else she wore. “I’m only saying this out of concern for you. Being a sugar baby can be very demanding and you seem to be jumping in the deep end.” Your eyes widened. “There’s a reason we all refer to Joel Miller as the ‘white whale’. He’s the dream daddy, but typically men with those kinds of means want the most. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

“Thank…you?”

“Absolutely, sweetie.” She blew you and Nima a kiss before heading for the door. “So nice to meet you two!”

 Nima and you just watched her leave before turning to one another. You furrowed your brow. “That was kind of weird, wasn’t it? I thought it was going good, but…”

“I think she was jealous.” Nima replied. You rolled your eyes. “No, seriously.”

“Did you see her? The Rosalinds of the world do not get jealous over people like me.”

Nima scoffed. She motioned to you with her wine glass, “First of all, you’re a fucking catch. I’ve been telling you that for years and now you have proof beyond my genius because Joel Miller wants you to call him daddy.”

“That’s still weird to hear…”

“And secondly,” Nima continued on, “That warning she gave? That was a ‘I don’t want you to go through with this because I wish it were me instead’ kind of warning.” You leaned your head to rest it on the top of the chair’s back. As weird as this meeting had gone, it had been helpful. You learned a lot of things. “So? Are you gonna meet up with him?”

You blew out a sigh, “I’m still not sure.”

“Here.” Nima spun in her seat to face you. “Yes or no only. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like Joel Miller?”

 He was fun to talk to. You enjoyed the moments you got with him in the bakery. So, technically, you did. “Yes.”

“Do you think Joel Miller would physically hurt you if you just met up with him on Saturday?”

You never got that vibe from him before and if you met him in a public setting he wouldn’t be much of a danger to you. “No.”

“Do you want to explore this possibility a little further?”

“Yes.”

The answer came out easily enough. You weren’t ready to give a firm ‘no’ quite yet which almost felt odd. You weren’t used to relying on others for your needs. The idea of taking your hands off the wheel and letting someone else take control was daunting. However, the idea of not having to stress over bills or rent or finding a second job you didn’t love just to get by was very, very tempting. God, you just wanted a break.

“I think that’s your answer.” Nima shrugged. “Meet up with him on Saturday. You don’t have to necessarily say yes to him just because you met with him. This will just be a mission for further information.”

“Alright. Yeah.” You grinned and picked up your wine glass. “What the hell, right?”

“Exactly!” Nima cheered and the two of you clinked your glasses together before taking long sips. 

You glanced around the room and at the table. “Do you think Rosalind paid for this before she left?”

Nima nodded her head in thought. Then she poured more into her glass and tossed back the large gulp of red wine before she jumped up. “Wanna make a run for it?”

“Absolutely.” You grabbed your stuff and the two of you hurried off.

It took you over an hour to get dressed, and it was embarrassing how many outfit changes you had gone through. You almost googled ‘What to wear when meeting your sugar daddy to discuss terms’, but decided that would just stress you out more. After your dinner with Rosalind you had called Joel, a feat that was painfully nerve wracking for no good reason, and you both planned to meet up at the coffee shop where you had bought him that coffee. A public setting seemed like the best bet for you, and Joel was more than happy to accommodate. You almost suggested the bakery, but considering how empty it was these days you didn’t know if it actually counted as public.

You had shown up early, still not entirely loving the clothes you chose for this event, and now you were nursing a cup of iced coffee⏤ chewing on the straw nervously. The notes app on your phone had a bullet list of points you wanted to bring up, ask about, and you scanned through them for the hundredth time. Every single bullet point was burned in your brain, but you had a feeling the moment you saw Joel it would all disappear. You jumped in surprise when your phone buzzed as a call from Joel came through.

“Shit.” You breathed and watched it ring twice more before answering it. “Hey!”

The greeting left your lips loud and excited and you mentally cursed yourself for blurting it out like that. Jesus Christ you were overthinking this.

“Hey, darlin’.” Joel replied. Somehow his voice sounded even more charming through a phone which you found entirely unfair. “I hate to do this so last minute, but I’m not gonna make it to the coffee shop. A work meeting got outta hand, but…” He grumbled. “That doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.”

You twisted your lips and found yourself actually disappointed. “Oh. No, that’s alright. It happens. Do you want to reschedule for a different day or⏤”

“What? No.” Joel replied quickly. “This is important. I wanna talk to you about this today. Plus, I’d hate for you to get cold feet.” You chuckled at the irony because you kind of thought he was the one getting cold feet. “Can you meet me at my office? We can stay down in the lobby or courtyard, or in the cafe, so it’s still public.”

“Sure!” You chirped. “Uh, what’s the address? I’ll uber⏤”

Joel actually laughed at the word ‘uber’ and you just smiled more confused than anything else. He spoke up before you could question the joke. “I’m not gonna make you order a ride to my office, darlin’. I’m sending a car.” Your eyes widened. That was a wild sentence to hear out of his mouth, but you supposed that was par for the course. “Are you at the coffee shop right now?”

“Yes.” You glanced around as if you needed to double check. “But are you sure, Joel? You really don’t have to⏤”

“I want to.” Joel said firmly. “I’m, uh, I’m excited to see you.” Your cheeks burned at the admission. “Even if you’re just comin’ to tell me off it’d be a nice break from my day today.” The sigh at the end of his sentence made it clear he was stressed or frustrated about something. “I’m sending my driver now. Should be ten minutes or so.”

“Got it.” You cleared your throat. “I’ll… see you soon then, Joel.”

“See you soon, darlin’.” He chuckled.

You hung up and just stood there for a second. He was sending a car. A car that would take you to his office of the very successful company he owns. One of the plus sides of meeting Joel in the coffee shop was that it’d feel like equal ground. However, you knew this was something you needed to get used to. You had already decided that you would be accepting his proposition as long as nothing crazy happened during this meeting.

You’d be stupid to turn it down, right?

Before you could turn and go wait outside, you paused in thought then made the decision to buy him a cup of coffee. You still remembered what he ordered the last time, and maybe it’d cheer him up a little. This meeting would go better if he was in a good mood rather than stressed about work, you figured. After buying the coffee, you only had to wait outside a minute or two before a very nice black sedan pulled up to the curb. Was that for you?

A man exited the car and came around to open the back door. He made eye contact with you and called out your name. “Oh.” You waved. “Hi, yeah. That’s me.” Obviously, he knew that. You hurried over and climbed into a car with a stranger. The thing every adult told you not to do while growing up. When the driver got back behind the wheel, you spoke up. “Thank you.”

The driver didn’t speak to you during the drive, but you weren’t sure of the etiquette of these things. There were some Uber drivers that hated it when you spoke up to them. Maybe this was the same. The car pulled up to the curb after fighting traffic and you peered out of your window to the large, very impressive building right outside your door. It was at least seven stories, but it was wider than it was tall and built with a steel and glass design. The campus surrounding it was also gorgeous with an expansive courtyard that seemed to roll right into a park next door.

“Holy shit.” You breathed.

You were so distracted by the landscape that you didn’t notice the man in an expensive looking suit approaching the car. It took even longer for you to realize that man was Joel Miller. He reached out to open the door and you sat stunned as he leaned against it

“Hey there, darlin’.” Joel greeted with a small smile. Up until now, you had only seen him in flannels and t-shirts, but by God did this man know how to wear a suit. The one he had on was a dark navy with a clean white button up. If he had on a tie before he had shed it because the top couple buttons were undone. His hair was combed back neatly and though it was still a good look for him, it made you miss his fluffed up, messy curls. His head tilted a bit, amusement filling his dark eyes, “Darlin’?”

It dawned on you that you had yet to speak. Panicked, you held up the drink you had bought for him. “Coffee.”

“Yes. That is.” Joel chuckled. He held a hand out for you to take.

When your hand settled in his, he carefully pulled you out of the car and shut the door behind you. Joel leaned over to nod his head to the driver in thanks before turning back to you. You cleared your throat and held the coffee up once more. “Yours. It’s⏤ I got it for you. It’s the same one as last time.” Joel’s eyes widened in surprise. “You just sounded stressed so I thought coffee might help.”

“Well, ain’t you a sweetheart?” Joel replied with a growing smile. He took the cup from you then shook his head. “You should know this is a one time thing though.” You raised an eyebrow in question. Joel chuckled. “The point of this is,” He motioned between the two of you with the hand holding the cup of coffee, “I’m supposed to be buyin’ you stuff.”

You chewed on your lower lip and tried to find your bearings. “It felt weird coming with nothing to offer you.”

“All I need is your company. Thought I made that clear?” He countered.

“Still.” You shrugged. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Fine. That just means you can’t argue against the things I bought you for this meetin’.

You blinked. “The what?” 

Joel didn’t respond. Instead, he held out one elbow in your direction and after a beat you slipped your arm through his. He led you across the campus and you couldn’t keep yourself from glancing over at him. Joel looked like an entirely different person, but when he spoke he still felt like the man you spoke to over a bakery counter. 

“How’s your day been so far, darlin’?”

“Good! Just, you know, normal.” You were not going to mention that you spent your entire morning just mentally and physically preparing for this meeting. “What about you? You sounded kind of frustrated over the phone.” Joel glanced down at you and you shook your head. “Not that you need to tell me if it’s personal or about your company. Obviously.”

Joel let out a breathy laugh. “Am I makin’ you nervous?”

Not wanting to lie, you scrunched your nose and just blurted out the truth. “A little. I guess I’m not used to seeing you like this and your company building is so fancy and I also think I’m starting to overthink this again. Don’t get me wrong I’m excited to see you, but…” Joel’s small smile remained as he listened to you ramble. “I should shut up now.”

“I’d rather you not.” Joel shrugged. “You have a nice voice.” 

Your face felt warm, a habit around this man you were learning, and he led you into the lobby of the building. It was just as pretty inside as it was outside. Open, filled with natural light, and decorated with glass panels and shades of soft green and blue. Eyes drifted to Joel, but he didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. He walked you up to the second floor where a small cafe-like area sat in the corner by the window giving a view of the park. Even more people seemed to stare as he pulled a chair out for you to sit in before sitting across from you. The other surrounding tables had what looked like workers on their lunch break.

“Anythin’ I can do to make you less nervous?” Joel asked. He took a sip from the coffee you got him. It was funny he asked because this was somehow more intimidating than just walking arm in arm. Now, across from him, you needed to maintain eye contact. 

You hummed and crossed your arms to rest on the table. “Tell me something embarrassing that will humanize you to me.”

“Embarassin’...” Joel hummed in thought. He laced his fingers together and nodded. “In college, I tried to serenade a girl I wanted to date with my guitar but I was under the wrong window and an old woman opened the window to dump a bucket of water on me. Then she called the cops.”

You grinned. “Nice. Except all I heard from that is ‘you are a romantic who can play the guitar’ so that only makes you more attractive and intimidating to me.”

“I’m attractive to you?” Joel smirked.

“I also said ‘intimidating’.” You replied then motioned to yourself. “This exercise was to make you less so and somehow I embarrassed myself even more? That does not seem fair.”

Joel shrugged, “If it makes you feel better I think it’s cute.” A stupid smile slipped onto your features and you shook your head with a small laugh. He leaned forward a bit and furrowed his brow. “I will admit though I have been dyin’ to hear your answer from the other day.” You sucked in a sharp breath. Joel’s lips twitched up once more. “So? Am I a cowboy or a lumberjack?”

Not expecting the question broke out in a laugh of surprise. Admittedly, it put your nerves at ease. You relaxed in your seat with a grin. “I actually do have an answer for you. I think I’ve settled on cowboy.” Joel’s eyebrows raised. “My friend helped me decide. She called you a cowboy too. Although, she also called you homeless.”

Joel chuckled. “Homeless?”

“You looked worse for wear when we first saw you that one day.” You shook your head. “But look at you now! You clean up well, Joel Miller. Owner of Miller Construction Company. Actual multi-millionaire.”

He bobbed his head with a slight wince. Joel rubbed the side of his jaw sheepishly, “I see you did your research.”

“A bit.” You answered. “I actually, uh, met with a…sugar baby.” Joel’s eyes widened and you wondered if it was because it was the first time one of you finally used the term ‘sugar baby’ in conversation or because you had met with one to interview. Maybe both. “I needed to ask her a few questions. You were infamous, by the way.”

“Infamous?”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh, yeah. Apparently every single sugar baby in LA, of which there is a community if you didn't know, wants you as their ‘daddy’.” Joel cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, and you could see a tint of blush across his cheeks. It made your smile widen. “They call you the ‘white whale’.”

“Jesus Christ.” Joel ran a hand through his hair, making it a bit messier which you found you enjoyed seeing, and he blew out a breath. “I told ‘em not to make such a big deal of it.” Amused, you leaned forward and rested your head on a fist making it clear you were waiting for elaboration. Joel chuckled. “I mentioned my… idea to an old friend, and he got me in touch with this group.” He raised an exasperated eyebrow and waved his hand. “Apparently that group. They, uh, they made me go on… dates.”

“Made you?” You teased. “Like at gunpoint?”

Joel shrugged. “May as well have been.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That day I forgot my wallet? I had just met a bunch of different women who were…interested in being…”

“Your sugar baby?” You grinned.

“You’re enjoyin’ this a little too much.” Joel crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at you. “I think I liked it better when you were ramblin’ ‘bout how handsome I am.”

You held up a finger. “Hold up. I didn’t ramble about how handsome you are. I just said I found you attractive.” Joel smirked and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “And also, when my friend and I saw you that day you were wearing a dirty flannel and old jeans.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So you went on a bunch of dates with women wanting to be your sugar baby, looking like that?”

Joel shrugged. “I was just tryin’ to be real. Hate these damned things.” He readjusted his suit blazer. “I thought it’d be best to show up how I usually look. Find someone who had similar ideals. I also took them to a diner to eat.” You covered your mouth, trying to hide the wide grin you were wearing. Joel shook his head. “What?”

“It’s just… You’re telling me that on all those dates with women who wanted to specifically be your sugar baby,” You said slowly trying to bite back a laugh, “You wanted to find someone who wasn’t in it for the money.”

Joel paused in thought before his face cracked in amusement. His cheeks tinted pink again and he forced his gaze away from yours with an embarrassed wince. “When you say it like that…”

“That’s adorable.” You nodded.

“I think I preferred the word handsome.”

“Never used that one.”

“Attractive then.”

“Nah,” You leaned back in your seat with a shrug, “I think I’ve settled on adorable.”

Joel clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Alright. Guess I’ll take what I can get.” The sound of a phone buzzing cut through the air and you watched as Joel leaned back to pull his cellphone out of his pocket. “One second, darlin’.” He frowned at whatever message he was reading on his screen. It was interesting to watch the lighthearted smile he had been wearing switch to a grumpy frown. He grunted out a sound of irritation before shoving his phone back into his pocket with a shake of his head. When his eyes met yours once more, the frustration melted back into a small smile. “Sorry 'bout that.”

“Don’t worry. You’re a busy man. Running a company and all.” You held your arms up to motion to the building you now sat in. Joel chuckled, and you shifted in your seat. It was now or never. He really was a busy guy. Couldn’t beat around the bush forever. “So… should we talk about the proposition?”

Joel shrugged. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Well, we can’t sit here just joking around forever. You have work to do, right?”

“No.” Joel shook his head. “You’re in control of this conversation, and as far as I’m concerned if you wanna sit here and chat for the next few hours I’m more than happy to do just that.”

A warm sense of reassurance filled your chest and you nodded. “Thank you, but I think I’m ready to talk about it.” You held up your phone. “I even made bullet points.”

“Very organized. Better than half the people who work for me today.” Joel joked.

You took in a slow breath and then held a hand out to concede the next talking point to him. “Tell me your proposition.”

“Sure.” Joel laced his fingers together again and rested it on the table in front of him with a professional nod. “I wanna take care of you, darlin’. Every resource I have is at your disposal. I don’t want you worryin’ about bills or rent or any sort of money issue you might normally face.” You tried not to show any surprise. You obviously knew all of that, but hearing him say it again in this setting felt different. “All I ask in return is your platonic companionship, and you on my arm at a few company conferences and functions.” Joel offered you a reassuring smile. “I just like talkin’ to you is all, darlin’.”

You bobbed your head in understanding and searched for what you wanted to say. Unable to grasp a single word you held up a finger and opened your phone to find your bullet points. You heard Joel chuckle. “By platonic companionship, can you be more specific? Is there some kind of quota I have to meet weekly?”

“No, darlin’. It ain’t that formal.” Joel replied. “And as for specifics? Uh, I figure just phone calls. Texting, maybe? In the evenings we could meet up sometimes and have dinner?” As he answered your question you were reminded that you were his first sugar baby. It made you feel better that he was apparently as nervous and confused as you. “I figure we can puzzle it out as we go?”

“Got it.” You nodded. “My next question,” You glanced down at your phone then back up, “Just to absolutely clarify, there is no expectation for anything…” You leaned forward and lowered your voice, “Sexual?”

“Exactly. I never want you to feel uncomfortable around me, darlin’.” Joel said firmly. “All I’m askin’ for is,” He pointed down toward the table as if to make his point, “This right here. Just chattin’.”

“Really?” You asked in surprise. “That’s it?"

“Yeah.”

“You’re offering me a life of ease, the world on a platter, and all you want from me is to chat?”

Joel shook his head and leaned forward. “What I want is to take care of you. I wanna watch you enjoy life instead of constantly workin’ and stressin’. Along with your presence, that’s the reward I’m gettin’.” 

“Oh, okay.” You bit down on your lower lip in thought. It really did seem too good to be true. A different question came to mind, a kind of embarrassing one, but it was probably best to clarify it now at the start of this. You settled your face between your hands and nervously asked. “Am I still allowed to flirt with you?” Joel’s eyes widened in surprise, but they filled with interest. “It’s just, sometimes at the bakery…” Half the fun of talking to him was getting to flirt with him. “I mean, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable either.”

Joel shook as he let out a quiet laugh. “You really don’t have to worry about that, darlin’.” His cheeks were flushed, but he kept his charming voice confident and firm as he winked. “If you wanna flirt with an old man like me, I won’t complain.”

“Alright, and you’ll match my energy?”

“Sure, darlin’.” He chuckled.

You wondered if he was fully aware of what he was signing up for. This meant you could say what you wanted without the stress of being pressured into something. Joel was a handsome man and the thrill of flirting with him was exciting. You lowered your hands from your face and rested them on the table.

“Hmm. Sounds like a plan then.” You nodded and decided to test the waters. You tried to force every awkward nerve out of your body and stayed confident. “Anything else we should clarify, daddy?”

It took all your strength not to laugh at the look of shock that flashed across his face or the color that filled his cheeks. Joel cleared his throat and straightened his posture before readjusting his suit’s blazer once more. A hoarse chuckle fell from his lips as delight filled his eyes, “You’re gonna be a bit of a brat, ain’t you sugar?”

“Me? Never.” You said with mocking emphasis. “Now, do we need a contract or something?”

“If it’d make you more comfortable we can make one.” Joel shook his head. “I have no preference.” You shrugged. Rosalind said he’d want one, but if he didn’t you saw no reason to press for one. Joel held a hand out across the table for you to shake. “So? This official then?”

You sucked in a breath then nodded and took his hand to shake. “Guess so.”

“Good.” Joel held your gaze and you felt hypnotized by him. He squeezed your hand once before pulling it back and reaching into his jacket. “I have some things for you then.” Your eyebrows raised surprised by how quick he had something prepared. “Here.”

Joel pulled a brand new iPhone from his inner coat pocket along with what looked like a credit card. A black American Express card to be more specific. He set both in your hands and your jaw fell open in shock. “This…What…I⏤”

“Your phone looks ancient.” Joel shrugged. You glanced down at your current phone. It was a few editions behind and the screen was cracked from where you had dropped it months ago, but it still worked. Usually. Joel tapped his finger against the card sitting on top of the phone that you had yet to pull back towards yourself. Your hand just sat open in the middle of the table. “I want you to use the card for anythin’ you might need during the week.”

“Like?” You pressed.

“I said anythin’, sugar.” Joel replied in a low voice and you sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s the point of this, remember?” You nodded dumbly and he slowly closed your fingers around the items then pushed your hand back towards your side of the table. “I also need you to send me the billing information for your rent, power, and water so I can get those covered. Can you do that for me?”

You gaped at him in shock and it widened Joel’s smirk. Seconds ago you had him in the palm of your hand with your ‘daddy’ comment, but now the tables were turned. It was occurring to you that having him pay for you to live your life meant actually accepting his money. 

“Sugar,” Joel leaned forward, still keeping his voice low in a hoarse whisper, “I asked if you could do that for me.”

“I, uh, yes, sir.” The honorific slipped your lips before you could catch it.

Joel raised an eyebrow at it before nodding once with a grin. “Good girl.”

Oh, boy, you were jumping headfirst into something here, and you had never been more eager for the leap.

taglist:

@weddingfairy @bfences @fairntonorth @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#the last of us #tlou fanfiction #tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #sugar daddy!joel miller #female reader #reader insert #pedro pascal characters

[thewulf]

My Queen || Aragorn

Summary: Request - Can I pleeeease send you an idea where he finds a girl in the woods, hurt and not conscious but he feels the need to help her and be close to her. So he takes care of her wounds till she wakes up and it's like true love at first sight for both of them... Read Rest Here

A/N: OH WOW, this got out of hand QUICK but I had SO MUCH FUNNNN writing this way! It was a challenge but it felt invigorating to write. I am obsessed with Aragorn and I just love him. Margot Robbie is so right for her cinematic crush! Thank you for the request anon, hope you love it :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 10,000 +

TW: Violence, orc violence, poison, death, blood, crying, angst, lotr warnings, Aragorn being hot af

Just a few more stumbling steps. You could do it. Glancing down you grimaced at the crimson coated and tattered dress that you’d been wearing for the last five or so days. It used to be so gorgeous, a gift from the man you were meant to wed. Truly it was the only exquisite gift you’d ever received in your entirety. However now it looked as if it’d seen a thousand lives, just like the elves had. It bore this resemblance due to the attack on your home. You ran. Running far away from everything you knew. It was tough to grasp just how much you’d been through in the five days since you had to flee your small village just outside of Eriador.

You’d had a good life. Good but rather simple. Almost too simple for your taste. You were engaged to be wed to the local jewelers son at your father’s doing. He had assured you over and over again that going through with the wedding would lead you to a life that he could not provide you. A life you were destined for. Your mother, Valar rest her soul, had been killed a few years prior in an attack on your village leaving you with your father and a small place to live. But it was home.

The local jeweler boy, Newall, had asked you to take a walk around the village right before the tragic events occurred. One moment you were giving him your kindest smile. The next he pushed you into the woods after hearing the screaming coming from the village center. Not making your most brilliant decision you decided to follow behind him only to come to the horrifying realization that your seemingly insignificant village was being brutalized by Orc’s. You stood there frozen in fear as you witnessed men, women and children being slain as if they meant nothing. 

It was only when you came face to face with one that you realized how much trouble you were in. Valar save you. He must’ve listened because the Orc simply look at you, growled and pushed you into the side of the house you were standing next to. But then it dawned on you that he wasn’t done. The creature walked to you terrifyingly slow, standing over you before driving it’s sword into your side. Before you could even yelp out in pain the orc vanished leaving you to die presumably. But it was a shallow wound. It didn’t seem like it was trying to do too much damage. Orcs knew one thing, killing. It was odd that one would have spared you.

When you finally came back to the reality of the situation you knew you had to go. Run to Bree. Your dad always instructed that’s where you needed to go. You had an uncle up there that could look after you. Deciding not to waste another second you rushed inside the house grabbing whatever clothing you could find. Tying a pair of Newall’s pants around your waste to hopefully stop the bleeding you only grabbed a little bit of food before you made for the forest. You’d have to find something along the way. The trek to Bree would take nearly a month on foot.

Using the stars as guidance you moved through the forest you knew very well. It started out fine. You were trained to do just this. Your father had made sure of it. What you hadn’t considered was the poison from the orc blade that was slowly taking its toll on your body. It was the fourth night that you realized you were in serious trouble. On the fifth day you decided you weren’t going to be able to go any further. No wonder the Orc didn’t just kill you there. He left you to suffer. What a vile creation. 

It didn’t take you long to decide on where you wanted to die. You found a nice tree under the shade of the leaved with a comfortable base. You were just going to go to sleep and hopefully never wake up. Hopefully the poison would just do what it wanted to and let you finally go. 

That did not happen though. You felt a light kick on your boot forcing your eyes to open. What you weren’t expecting was a rather handsome looking ranger with ice blue eyes to be staring right at you. Considering what to do.

“Miss,” He knelt down after whispering something to his horse, “Are you injured?” His surprisingly concerned eyes spotted the blood that coated your worn-down dress.

Taking a long breath, you mustered enough strength to answer the stranger, “Yea, Master Ranger.” You let your head lean back on the trunk of the tree relieving the strain it seemed to put on year mere consciousness.

“Forgive me, but you do not look it miss.” His head was level with yours as he moved closer to you. He didn’t dare touch you without your permission, but he wanted too, you were not all right like you so miserably tried to convince him.

A shallow breath escaped you, “I fear I have been stabbed by an Orc blade Ranger. I do not have much longer.” Your eyes flicked away from his in a pathetic attempt to rid him of the conversation. He would have no such thing though. Leave a fair maiden to perish on her own? Not on his accord.

“Strider.” He corrected you. It wasn’t often he’d give out his Ranger known name to strangers, but you seemed harmless enough. What could a human woman such as yourself have done to deserve such a fate he wondered before continuing on, “We are but a half days journey to a small town called Sarn Ford. Have you heard of it miss?” He asked in hopes of seeing your eyes open once more.

You did as he wished and looked at him again, “Sarn Ford? Oh dear. I’ve gone the wrong direction.” You grimaced in pain as you tried to sit up higher on the tree trunk.

“Where are traveling to miss? On your own?” He held out an open hand for you to take. He left the decision on if you’d accept the help up to you.

Eyeing his hand, you knew he was prying. But he seemed trustworthy. The Rangers of the North were meant to be. Strider as he called himself. Your eyes met his again and you caved right then and there. He looked genuine, like he thought he could actually help you. Like you were not too far gone. With all the strength you could muster in your quickly fading body you put your hand in his, “Aye. My village was attacked by orcs. Third time in the last five years. They got me this time.” You sighed trying your hardest to stay conscious, “I was meant to travel to Bree. But I must have taken to the wrong direction. I will be blaming the Orc poison for the misdirection.” You let out a pained laugh trying to lighten the tone of the conversation going on between the two of you.

“All right. Off we go. What is your name?” He asked you needing to know to continue.

He watched you intently sputter out the words you were trying to get out. His fear of orc poison was right, you truly did not have that much time left. With your permission he scooped you up in his arms, called his horse over and positioned you in front of him while he rode. He knew you did not have enough strength to hold on from behind. He knew It would be a challenge to keep you upright on the journey back to Sarn Ford. He was meeting Gandalf there, anyway, might as well help the woman who he had taken a fast liking towards. Even Strider could see the beauty in things, and you were mighty beautiful in his eyes. Even coated in layers of dirt and grime he knew you shined like a star above him.

“Y/N.” You admitted to the man not feeling up to lying to him. You would likely be dead before dawn anyway. You would have hoped he would find a way to let anybody surviving know of your unfortunate fate. But in reality you were just another causality of war. A human life cut far too short.

“Lovely name.” He smiled lowly as he held you into him. He could feel you were fading in and out of consciousness as he held onto your waist tightly.

You hummed in thanks not having the strength to reply to him.

“Hold on miss Y/N. We will be there soon.” He spoke into your ear startling you back onto the middle earth side of consciousness.

But as much as he tried you had succumbed to your own fate. Blackness took over before you reached the village of Sarn Ford.

Much to your own surprise your eyes opened once more. You peaked around seeing all sorts of supplies. You must have been in some sort of healers room you concluded quickly. Looking down you were not in your attire you had been found in but a simple dress that you were more accustomed too. Being so caught up in your own accord you had yet to see the two men. Well one man and one wizard standing off to the side conversing as you came back to reality.

“Welcome young one.” The wizard spoke. You had never seen one before. Thought they were the thing of legends. But sure, as it would be one stood before you. They were easy to spot. Had an aura about them.

Your eyes snapped back to Striders looking at him in surprise. He was more handsome than you remembered as the sun beat down on his features through the window in the hut you were in, “It is all right.” He nodded at you, “This is Gandalf the Grey, he is an old friend of mine.”

“Hello Gandalf.” You broke your eyes away from the stranger your somewhat knew and turned your head towards the wizard.

“How are you fairing?” He asked whilst leaning onto his cane.

“Fine now. Thank you.” You turned toward Strider who made his way closer, “Thank you Strider. For without you I fear I may have been dead by now.” A shiver of realization ripped down your spine as you admitted it out loud.

He bowed his head, “I am honored to have been of service miss Y/N.” You looked over to him giving him a bashful smile. He was really so handsome. More handsome than any of the boys or men in your small village.

“Are you well enough to travel?” Gandalf asked breaking the trance the two of you had been locked in for a moment too long to be just friendly glances. Gandalf was considered wise for a reason. He had an inkling feeling there was something budding between his usually broody friend and the pretty human girl he had found in the woods. Maybe you were his gift from Valar. Every great leader needed one. Who was Gandalf to question the gods.

“I believe so.” You sat you wincing only slightly as the wound in your side. Strider wanted nothing more than to push you back down and curse the wizard who suggested you move so soon.

“Miss Y/N. You need to rest a little longer.” He insisted placing a gentle hand on your shoulder preventing you from standing.

Gandalf grumbled, “You must get to the Prancing Pony Inn. I’m going to meet Frodo now. Time is of the essence Aragorn.”

Your eyes crumbled in confusion. Who was Aragorn?

He did not leave you time to question as he grabbed at your hand, “Come miss Y/N. We have a ride to take.”

You sat at the bar table with Strider who had hood of his robe covering his face. You grew more uneasy as the night wore on at the Prancing Pony. The horse ride was quick thankfully. And much to your delight the Hobbits Gandalf was speaking of finally appeared. Right on time.

Strider shot up from his seat, “Wait here miss Y/N. I must save the Hobbit.” He sighed before bounding off into the depths of the bar. You felt even more uneasy as the eyes around you made their way to your shaking frame. You were nervous.

After far too many moments alone he grabbed you by your arms, “Come Y/N. We must hide.” He directed you to another room than the ones you had planned on staying in.

“Strider?” You asked following him up a set of stairs you were unfamiliar with.

“Nazgul. I’ll explain later. For now, you must sleep. We have a long journey to Rivendell. Especially with the Hobbits.” He let a long breath while opening the door for you. Quickly, you were attacked by questions from the four little Hobbits. Happily, though you answered every single one before lying next to Strider who promised to keep watch.

“You should get some rest too.” You whispered hoping not to wake the sleeping Hobbits.

He nodded, “I shall. In due time. I fear we have something coming.”

Your frown was evident as he continued to try and comfort you, “Do not fret. I am keeping watch for a reason. We are safe.”

“I believe you Strider.” You yawned not being able to keep the tiredness away for much longer.

“Rest.” He commanded.

You were far too tired to argue that as the darkness crept in.

You were woken when the screeching next door commenced. The Hobbits must’ve had more sensitive ears as they were already up and staring at Strider who looked glum.

“What are they?” Frodo asked.

He sat at the window looking at the five of you, “They were once men. Great kings of men. The Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power.” You felt a shiver ripple across your body. You’d heard the legends and did not believe those either. Yet again, another thing coming true right before your eyes.

“We must move.” He commented seeing the Nazgul retreating away from the inn.

You must have walked for miles until Strider had the five of you rest at the old watchtower of Amon Sul. You stood there behind the Hobbits staring up the decaying rock structure before you. It must have been grand in its time.

Once you were seated next to the Hobbits he stood and tossed each of you a weapon, “These are for you. Keep them close. I’m going to have a look around. Miss Y/N, will this blade be too large for you?” He handed you a smaller sword for you to try.

“I fear you have too much faith in me Strider.” You unsheathed the sword holding onto it carefully, “But this will work.” You nodded towards him.

“You shall not have to use it. In case only.” He pointed at each of you, “I will be back. Rest. Make no noise or sound.” His command was easy to follow. A natural born leader it seemed.

You woke when you heard Frodo yelling from beside you, “What are you doing?” He yelled a little too loud. You rose from the ground you had managed to sleep on and watched the interaction unfold. You cursed when you saw the fire going. He had not explicitly said no fires, but the intention was there.

“Put it out you fools!” Frodo cried. You rose from your slumber and haphazardly helped him put it out.

The horrifying cry you heard from the Nazgul the night before rang out from outside the watch tower.

“Oh no.” You spotted them coming towards you, “No Strider?” You turned to Frodo with a horrifying realization.

He shook his head, “Go! Up!” You followed the Hobbits to the top of the tower and waited. You shivered when you saw them come from the shadows. You heard nothing but your hammering heart in your chest. This was it. This could be the end. You sword was shaking in your hand.

“Back you devils!” Sam screamed trying to shield them off. You blocked a shot but was stopped when Frodo pulled the ring out. You gasped when they all ran from him. To your horror when he put the ring on he disappeared.

Strider came out of nowhere blocking back the Nazgul from all of you. You ran to Frodo in horror seeing the man defend the five of you with ease. A few of them went up in flames as kept fighting them off. They had enough when he got another went up and flames and ran off. Strider quickly came over to the five of you surrounding Frodo. You had your hand on his horrifyingly black wound. You’d never seen poison like that before.

“Help him Strider!” You cried in a shaky voice once he kneeled down next to you.

He picked the sword up shaking his head slowly, “He’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade.” The blade vanished in his hand as Frodo writhed beneath you, “This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine.”

You looked down at the Hobbit in pain and let a single tear fall, “We will get you the help you need mister Frodo. Rest assured.” He picked the Hobbit up and began running, “Let us go.”

The four of you trailed Strider in a daze. The Nazgul screams seemed to ring out from every direction as you ran, “Hurry!” he shouted at the four of you with Frodo crying in his arms.

“We are six days from Rivendell! He will never make it!” Sam cried sending a shuddering realization through you.

You simply heard a faint whisper come from Strider ahead of you, “Hold on, Frodo.” From Strider who kept running and did not acknowledge Sam. As tired as you were you had to keep moving for Frodo’s sake. You ran and ran until you could no more and then you ran some more.

He only stopped when he ran into three petrified trolls. He set Frodo down looking around frantically. You and Sam went over to look after him. Same placed a gentle hand to the despondent Hobbit.

Sam shuddered at the touch, “Mr. Frodo! He’s going cold.”

“Is he going to die?” Pippen chimed in. You stood back looking over the shivering Hobbit who long since stopped crying out in pain.

Strider turned to the five of you with a concerned look crossing over his features, “He’s passing into the Shadow World. He’ll soon become a Wraith like them.” He stated so calmly. Your face grimaced at the horrifying realization. Frodo becoming a Nazgul?

Strider continued, “Sam, do you know the Athlelas plant?” You listened in but bent down to hold Frodo’s hand hoping some comfort would help the gasping Hobbit. His eyes were glazing over with something of a blue sheen that sent shivers down your body.

“Athelas?” Sam asked confused by the question.

“Kingsfoil.” Strider tried a different name.

Sam nodded, “Kingsfoil, aye, it’s a weed!”

“It may help the poisoning. Hurry!” He pushed the Hobbit off, “Miss Y/N. Stay with Frodo. We will be back with help.” You nodded holding onto his hand dearly.

Not a few moments later you saw the help arriving. A beautiful elf strode over and down to the quickly fading Hobbit. You took a step back as she took a step towards him. You gaped at the beauty that she was leaning down to your newfound friend. An elf in real life. She was beyond your wildest imagination. You had been told of their beauty, but this was bordering on ethereal.

“I am Arwen. I have come to help you.” She whispered into his ear, “Hear my voice. Come back to the light.” She grabbed at his hand while Strider handed her the plant.

“Who is she?” Merry asked quietly as Frodo was tended to.

“Arwen, an elf.” You whispered repeating what you heard her speak to Frodo not seconds ago, “She’s going to save him.” You said out loud to convince yourself more so than the group of Hobbits.

“Frodo,” She whispered, “He’s fading.” She sounded concerned as she looked over to Strider, “He’s not going to last. We must get him to my father.” The two of them stood as Strider grabbed at Frodo, “I’ve been looking for you for two days.” She said to Strider. You watched as the scene unfolded before you not wanting to get in the way of whatever was occurring.

“Where are you taking him?” Sam asked confused and terribly concerned for his friend.

He was ignored as Arwen continued, “There are five Wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know.” You watched as Strider put Frodo onto the horse with ease.

Suddenly Strider started talking in what you assumed to be Sindarin as you could not understand what they were saying. They must have agreed upon something as Arwen hopped onto the horse and took off with Frodo. Your mind was sent into a spiral as you guessed where he was going and off so quickly.

“She is taking him to Rivendell. To Lord Elrond for him to be healed. She is the faster rider and will get him there sooner. Come, we must go.” He motioned for the group to keep moving, “Miss Y/N, will you walk with me?”

You nodded speeding up your pace to match his, “Master Strider.”

“Strider is fine.” He hummed as he led the group out of the forest somehow knowing exactly where to go.

“Is he going to make it?” You had to ask him. The thought of his passing was eating at you.

He nodded, “His best chance is with Arwen. The sooner we get to Rivendell the sooner we will find out.”

“Well then let us speed up our pace then.” You smiled up at him.

He chucked and nodded. The two of you walked in a comfortable silence as you occasionally made sure the chatty Hobbits behind you were faring all right.

“She is pretty.” You spoke after a while of not being able to get Arwen’s face out of your mind.

“Arwen?” He questioned you giving you a curious once over seeing that the statement seemingly came out of nowhere.

“Aye. She is beautiful.”

“She is. Most elves are.” He agreed with you, “She is wed to another healer. Her father set the marriage up ages ago before you great great grandmother was even a thought.”

“Oh, to have the lifespan of an elf!” You laughed feeling the weight of whatever tension you were holding onto about Arwen be lifted.

“I bet it is not all that it seems to be.” You nodded as the two of you continued on the trek to Rivendell occasionally chatting about random things back and forth. You were so caught up in him you failed to notice the Hobbits watching the two you of converse the entire journey back as if you were already a married couple just strolling the lands.

“Welcome to Rivendell miss Y/N.” Aragorn smiled when he saw your gaping face taking in all the scenery stretching beyond your wildest imagination. He too was struck in awe by its beauty the first time he had come across it all those years ago.

“This cannot be real.” You gasped as he took your hand, pulling you along to look along the city.

“Aye. It is. Come, I want to show you your living quarters for the time being.” He pulled you along knowing exactly where to go in Lord Elrond’s castle. He stopped in what you assumed to be the center seeing two people walking towards the two of you. The wizard and a dark-haired elf stopped just short of you.

“Ah, welcome young one.” Gandalf walked up with who you assumed to be Lord Elrond, “It is wonderful to see you in one piece. Unlike our young Frodo.” He chuckled not realizing what he had said sounded bad without knowing how he was.

Your face dropped, “Oh no, did he not make it?”

Gandalf shook his head hastily in realization of his error, “He is fine young one. A few more hours and he would not have made it.” Gandalf stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder in reassurance, “Aragorn here will show you to your chambers.”

You cocked your head to the side, “Aragorn? You said that back in Sarn Ford as well. Who is Aragorn?” This really was not your place to speak in front of so many important people. But you were always a curious one, so you had to ask. The worst they could do is refuse to elaborate any further and you would not press. You did understand boundaries even if you pushed them.

Strider looked at Gandalf with a question in his gaze. Gandalf always had a plan. He could see the feelings bubbling to the surface for Aragorn for his newfound human companion that had to be a gift from Valar himself. Gandalf knew the longer he kept his identity from you the harder the breach of trust would befall the two of you.

Gandalf nodded giving his friend a push towards you. He knew Aragorn had to admit this to you himself. You saw Lord Elrond cock his head in confusion watching the interaction go down. He must not have been privy to what had been going down in Gandalf’s mind.

“Ah, miss Y/N. Strider is my Ranger name. It is my identity. As is Aragorn. Son of Arathorn.” He spoke slowly watching as your face twisted from confusion to realization. You may have been from Eriabor, but you surely knew who Arathorn was.

He continued, “I am also called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor."

“A rightful King?” You asked him with widened eyes. You had no clue that you had been traveling with such a company. You had been so crass it made you want to run away right then and there, especially with Gandalf and Lord Elrond’s amused gazes watching the interaction between two humans.

He nodded, “You are correct.”

“Aragorn.” You spoke for the first time giving him a wide smile, “I do like it. It suits a King such as yourself. Would you mind if I continued to call you Strider though?” Bowing your head slightly you felt a rush of embarrassment pulsate through you. Why were you so unladylike? It was all so thoughtless when he was just a Ranger. Not a bloody King of Gondor.

He waited until your eyes met his again, “No need to bow miss Y/N. And thank you. You may call me either.”

A quick head nod was interrupted by Gandalf, “We must be off. Aragorn drop the young one off at her residence. You are free to explore the castle and Rivendell. But we will need you to meet us in the gardens. We have much to discuss before the Council of Elrond shows up in a few days.” Gandalf spoke directly to Strider who just nodded in agreement.

“Come miss Y/N.” He took your hand and pulled you along quickly, “You will enjoy your stay here. It is a wonderful place. There is quite a bit to do, and the elves are very kind.” He tried his best to reassure you knowing that Gandalf was right. You could not go on. You were not prepared for this kind of journey to any extent. Gandalf also revealed of Aragorn’s known feelings for you. You would be a distraction he could not have along the journey.

“It seems like it.” You grinned thankful you were able to do your own thing for the afternoon. You felt bad for Strider or Aragorn. He seemed to have quite a bit of business to attend to.

He stopped at a door letting you inside. It was small but quant and rather extravagant. Fine details laced every surface. You’d come to expect nothing less from the elves, “I will find you later. Enjoy your day miss Y/N.”

The days went by slowly as you got acquainted with Rivendell. You had the sneaking suspicion your journey was also stopping as Strider was not so keen on giving you any information even though he was gone for days on end.

It was on the day of the gathering of the Council of Elrond that you had all but given up. That was until there was a rapid knocking at your door. Thankfully your elf maiden Nimloth had made sure you were dressed as Strider stood before you with a smile on his face, “Come miss Y/N. The Council of Elrond is starting soon.”

“I am invited?” You were sure there was a dumb look on your face.

He nodded slowly, “Gandalf insisted. Lord Elrond relented.”

You followed him in silence to the gathering of the council. You sat behind Frodo closer to Lord Elrond and away from all of the action that was sure to go down.

It was not long after you took a seat that Lord Elrond stood gathering the council to begin, “Strangers from distant lands, friends of old and new,” His eyes met yours giving you a small wink before continuing on, “You’ve been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fail. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo.” A shiver ran down your spine at his straight to the point opening. This was not good.

You watched as Frodo stood and dropped the ring on the stump in the middle of the council.

You heard the man called Boromir speak up, “So it is true.” He looked at the ring with something of desire lacing it. You looked at Strider who was watching the man skeptically. He continued, “The doom of man. It is a gift.” Your heart raced at such a senseless statement. You watched as Strider grew angry at his arrogance.

Nevertheless, Boromir continued, “A gift of the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring? Long has my father the Steward of Gondor kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against them.” He passionately spoke hoping to gain the agreement of the Council.

But Strider would have none of that false speak, “You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.” Your heart rate sped down at the sensible statement to the man you had grown quite fond of in your week or so of traveling. You had grown a strong liking to the handsome Ranger who saved your life without a second thought.

Boromir looked skeptically at Strider, “And what would a Ranger know of this matter?” He asked with a smug look to his face. You wanted to slap that look right off of his face for he had no clue who he was talking to! A king!

But the elf called Legolas stood quickly in his defense, “This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, Son of Arathon.” You watched as his face scrunched up in a minor irritation. He had tried so hard to keep that a secret and now it was out, “You owe him your allegiance.” He finished looking just as irritated as Strider did. It still felt weird to call him Aragorn. So, you kept up with Strider.

Boromir turned back to him, “Aragorn.” He spoke with a hint of shock in his tone, “This is Isildur’s heir?”

“An heir to the throne of Gondor.” Legolas spoke earning a glare from Strider who spoke to him in Elvish quickly. You wondered what he said because Boromir looked suddenly very angry.

Boromir nearly spat with vengeance while looking at the blond elf, “Gondor has no king.” He turned to look back at Strider and shook his head, “Gondor needs no king.”

Gandalf spoke up breaking the tension among men, “Aragorn is right. We cannot use it.”

Lord Elrond stood, “You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed.”

The dwarf called Gimli stood then, “What are we waiting for?” He grabbed his axe and sliced at it in attempt to shatter it. Of course, that did nothing but startle the entire council into submission.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin... by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade.” Lord Elrond spoke matter of factly. You watched as Frodo nearly collapsed from the pain and realization. You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder hoping he would find some solace in the touch.

Lord Elrond continued, “It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.” Your heart was hammering in your chest at the realization. This would be no easy task for anybody let alone a Hobbit and human group, “One of you, must do this.” Lord Elrond commanded sending your head into so many different directions. Would Strider go? Would the Hobbits? Surely you would never be able to go. No, Strider would never allow it. He had made that very clear.

Boromir sighed, “One does not simply walk into Mordor. It’s Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire, and ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with 10,000 men could you do this. It is folly.”

Legolas was angry now. He shot up from his seat spitting his words at the man, “Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed.”

Gimli spoke up next, “And I suppose you think you are the one to do it!” The tension grew in the air as everyone began to feel uneasy of the task at hand.

Boromir stood next, “And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”

Gimli continued, “I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!” He shouted. Your eyes went wide as everything seemed to be going away from the goal at hand, “Never trust an Elf!”

The group erupted in bickering as you and Frodo sat back in fear of what was going to happen. All but suddenly you watched as Frodo stood. He shouted, “I will take it.” It took him a few attempts before the group heard him.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor.” He said again once everyone had quieted down. You gulped as you watched the scene unfold.

He spoke again, “Though, I do not know the way.”

Gandalf nodded, “I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins as long as it is yours to bear.”

You sat further back into your chair as you watched Strider stand, “If by my life or death I can protect you I will.” Your heart sunk at his words. He caught your forlorn gaze and gave you a simple smile. He walked to Frodo and knelt before the small Hobbit, “You have my sword.”

Legolas stepped forward, “And you have my bow.” Your heart raced seeing the elf walk forward. Thank goodness he volunteered. You had heard stories of the mighty elf warrior of Mirkwood.

“And my ax.” Gimli agreed as he walked towards the growing group. You stood from your spot away from the group, closer towards Lord Elrond. Almost as if you had already known your assigned fate.

Boromir joined slowly, “You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council then Gondor will see it done.” He stood by the group.

Suddenly the other hobbits joined in earning a hard-earned smile from Lord Elrond.

“Nine companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.” You watched as Elrond anointed the group complete. Your downcast eyes found Striders who looked at you with all the care in the world. You were more than nervous for the man you had grown so fond of so quickly. Dare you say you might actually have real genuine feelings for the man standing in the group of nine.

“The journey is no place for a lady.” Strider insisted as he pulled you away from the fellowship. He had conjured up a hundred scenarios in his mind and decided you could not come after seeking the guidance of Gandalf. It was far too dangerous for someone as delicate as you were. He shuddered at the thought of seeing you with a sword far too big for you trying your best to defend not only yourself but the Hobbits from the Nazgul. He never wanted to see or put you in such a situation as that ever again.

Your look broke his heart ten times over. It is not like he wanted to leave you in Rivendell with the elves. He would do anything to take you, but it was just far too dangerous. The encounter with the Nazgul did it in enough for him to hold firm on the decision, “I’m not a lady Aragorn, and you know it! But I understand.” You countered but admitted your faults. You were nothing but a lowly peasant from a tiny village near Eriador. You didn’t mean much to middle earth, a place holder for whatever Valar had planned.

He twisted his head to the side giving you a once over and a sly smile, “Not yet anyway.” He walked towards you, stopping right in front of you. Wanting to say the next word so all the elves and Hobbits behind him couldn’t hear. Having to turn your head up to make eye contact he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “I have every intention of making you one, my lady.”

Your eyes growing wide and the rosiness that formed on your neck and cheeks made the elves behind him laugh in unison amongst themselves. You noticed the confusion lining the Hobbits faces, no doubt wonder what he had said to you to illicit such a reaction.

You looked back to him with the hint of smile dancing on your lips, “They can hear you Strider.”

He brushed the pads of his fingers along your jawline, “Let them.” He had yet to be so forthcoming with his feelings so far. Sure, you had only known him a little over a week but you had not left his side since you met him. It had already felt so long ago. And when the heart knew it knew. It knew it had feelings for the handsome man with the most beautiful blue eyes that looked at you so kindly standing before you.

“Please be safe.” Your eyes welled with unshed tears as you accepted his command. You could not go along with them. You’d be nothing but the burden you so desperately wanted to avoid. But you also did not want to stay in Rivendell. The elves seemed welcoming enough but who knew how long he would have to be gone. You would surely overstay your welcome.

A curt nod came from the man you’d grown to love in such a short amount of time, “As you wish.” He moved his fingers to your eyes brushing away the tears that had managed to spill over, “Do not cry. I will be back as soon as I can.” The moment felt far too intimate to have the whole company trying not to watching but paying close attention anyway, they were not being sly about like they thought they were. They had all grown to adore you in some capacity, more some than others. Pippen was especially sad your journey had ended there. He had quite enjoyed getting to know you along the short trek from The Shire to Rivendell. You were unlike any other mortal he had met.

“I know. But you will find me in Bree.” You answered him letting the tears fall even as you tried your best to stop them.

He shook his head quickly, “No, you will stay here. In Rivendell. You will be protected here. Lord Elrond has assured me of that.” That sounded more like Aragorn than the Strider you knew. It hit you that the rightful King of Gondor was standing right in front of you. No wonder he had seemed so effortless in leading the group to Rivendell. It was in his blood.

“I do not belong here Aragorn.” You spoke in a plea muttering his actual name for just the second time. It still felt foreign, but you welcomed it on your tongue. Aragon, King of Gondor.

His eyes piqued up in utter curiosity at the sudden name change. You had seemed so adamant on continuing to call him by his Ranger name despite finding his true identity through Gandalf, “You can find an identity here my lady. Lord Elrond will not let that falter. Do you not believe me?” He frowned not enjoying seeing you in such a distressed state. He too had grown to have deep feelings for you. You were kind and compassionate. Smarter than you knew. Made him smile more than he ever had in his life in the short time he had known you. You kept him on his toes, and he adored that about you. He grew to like maybe even love you in mere days.

“I am a burden here. Useless. They will get sick of me.” You were pleading to him now. If you knew better you would not be pushing somebody of such high stature.

He gulped not knowing what to say. He could pick up on your stress through your expression and the way you picked at your fingernails. A habit he’d seen both at the Inn and when the group was attacked by the Nazgul. Just as he was about to open his mouth he heard Elrond from behind him. And bless him he thought for he had no idea how to calm your racing mind.

“Have you not enjoyed your stay here at Rivendell? Do you not wish to stay?” Lord Elrond spoke up after hearing the concerns you had spoken in private to Aragorn. He knew he likely should have just stayed quiet and let Aragorn handle the situation. But his overly sensitive ears could pick up the frantic panic in your voice towards the man.

You shook your head quickly, “No my lord. I wish to not be a burden to your home. You see I… I do not have much to offer your city.” You hung your head in shame hoping you did not fully insult Elrond. He had already been so kind to you.

“A burden?” He shook his head walking over to the two of you. All eyes still watching the interaction with the utmost curiosity, “You would hardly be a burden. I will be honest with you. With many of the elves planning to take to the sea I will need some help preparing. You will have a place here. Rest assured.”

A small sigh let out from your chest. Aragorn watched you intently with a bright smile on his face seeing the Elf relax your mind in mere moments. Leave it to Elrond to calm you down so easily. He needed to take a page or two from his book.

“Are you sure Lord Elrond?” You asked timidly to the much, much taller elf. Why’d they have to be so beautiful and intimidating at the same time?

He gave you a quick nod before turning, “I have already made up my mind child. Now let us go. The Fellowship has much planning to do before they are off in a few days.” He motioned for you to follow him.

You turned back to Aragorn before you left, “I wish you luck. I will see you soon. Be safe.” Taking a risk, you grabbed for his hand giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Anything for you my lady.” You caught the brief wink he had given you before bowing his head.

You walked over to the rest of the group, “I wish you all nothing but the best. Please take care of each other. I want to see you all when this is over. Yea?” Your voice broke at the end.

The Hobbits crowded around you giving you one last hug, “We will take your word to heart Lady Y/N.” Pippen smiled as he hugged your side.

“I am no lady.” You laughed once more. Where had they all gotten this ridiculous notion from?

“That’s not what Legolas told us.” Frodo smirked while looking over at Aragorn was deep in conversation with Boromir not paying a lick of attention to the goodbyes you were giving. It hurt him just as much as it was hurting you so he distracted himself with the other man in the Fellowship.

Your eyes found the blonde elf who attempted to feign innocence for the second time that afternoon, “You are a rightful menace Legolas.” You muttered to him almost finding enjoyment out of his butting in.

He shrugged innocently, “I am not sure what you are talking about Lady Y/N.”

You smiled shaking your head while giving each Hobbit a quick squeeze, “Good luck Legolas. Please watch out for him?” Your request may have been too much for the elf and you knew it. A big ask that you would have never of done had you not fallen for him so quickly.

But he agreed, “You have my word, my lady.” He smirked sensing your aversion to the formality you so desperately tried to avoid.

A quick shake of the head and you went off to follow Elrond you was waiting for you patiently in the distance, “I will see you all soon.” You waved, not waiting for their response as it felt to be too much in the moment. It amazed you

“Thank you for your hospitality Lord Elrond.” You said quickly once you caught up to the dark-haired elf.

He gave you what you was sure was a genuine smile, “It brings me a great pleasure to host you Lady Y/N.”

Your mouth gaped, “Is he forcing you to say that?” Surely you were going to have to get used to the title if Elrond had agreed to it. It would be shameful to try and correct the ruler of the land. Even you had some semblance of sanity and preservation.

Elrond shook his head quickly. He gave you a serious expression, one that you were not used to seeing from elf, “Aragorn is the rightful heir to the Throne of Gondor. We recognize the title here in Rivendell. I respect what he wishes. If he has given you that title you should wear that as a badge of honor.”

“You think so?” You thought you might have been pressing your luck with the lord. But he had the patience of somebody you had never met before. He was like no human you knew even if he was half of it.

If he was offended at your questioning he hid it well. A small smile adorned his features as he led you down the path to an empty room in the castle he had placed you in earlier, “I know so. When you have been around as long as I. You tend to notice these small things.”

He stopped in front of a door you had not been privy too in your prior explorations, “Your quarters for the time being. I had Nimloth move your belongings from your previous room to here. I suspect you will find it adequate.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when he opened the massive wood doors. The most intricate carvings of wood was placated on every surface of the room. The detail and craftsmanship was beyond anything you had seen in your tiny little village. You ran your fingers along the different sets of furniture admiring the fine detail that was crafted into every surface, “More than adequate Lord Elrond. Thank Nimloth for me?” You asked after finding all your belongings neatly put away.

He bowed to you. An elf bowed to you! What had this life become? Once so lost now you were somebody a lord found pleasure in conversing with.

“I will see to it. She will fetch you for dinner as well. Welcome to Rivendell.” Without waiting for a response, he shut the doors behind him letting you be with your thoughts. And oh, were they racing beyond your wildest measure.

It had been 414 days since Aragorn and the Fellowship had set out to destroy the ring. You refused to give up any sort of hope as you heard bits and pieces of information from Lord Elrond. You had grown close to elf in your stay at Rivendell. He had given you sage life advice time and time again. You were there for him when Arwen and his sons went off to sea not to be seen again until he were to take his trip. You knew he was utterly lonely and wanting nothing more than to go be with his wife and children. But he had a duty to middle earth that he would see too. He would see that the age of man had a true leader in Aragorn to guide peace and prosperity forward. He knew the age of elf was done and good. Frodo just had to finish it by destroying the ring.

You were sitting in the study reading a text in Sindarin, Lord Elrond had taught you enough of the language to get by, when you heard the doors to the study open with a loud thud. You set the text down on the desk as you peaked your head towards the door.

“Lady Y/N?” Lord Elrond’s voice called out.

You stood from your chair, “Yes my lord?” You caught him smiling ear to ear at the front of the study. A giddy feeling of shock shot throughout your body in anticipation for what might come next.

“They are back.”

You felt like your heart might have actually stopped beating there for a second, “Aragorn?” You asked breathlessly.

“Alive and well. Come.” He motioned you to follow him just like he had all those days ago when you first got to Rivendell.

When you spotted him out in the courtyard you did not give a second thought about being a lady anymore. You all out sprinted to the man who had consumed you whole in his time away. He wrapped you in his arms once you ran right into his chest. Letting out a small grunt from the impact he started laughing. A full-on belly laugh rang out from the man as he held you in his arms once more.

“You came back.” You felt the tears forming in your eyes as you buried yourself in his chest.

He held you in his arms as tightly as he could relishing in the moment of just being there with you, “I gave you my word, my lady. Did I not?” He pulled you back so he could look at you. Ethereal. Rivendell had been nothing but good to you he concluded. He would have to thank Lord Elrond for being so hospitable towards the one he had loved.

“You did. Thank you.” You grasped him a little tighter as he clinged onto you just the same.

You gasped opening the letter from the Shire, “Sam and Rose!” You ran over to Aragorn with a gleeful smile on your face, “Look, they are to be wed in six months! Long after you are crowned King. I would like to go.”

“Ahh, finally.” Aragorn grabbed the letter from your hand with a smile on his face. You admired him as he read the joyous news of the union. He was so handsome. And he was soon to be crowned King of Gondor, Gandalf had shared with the group the night they came back. He was due to be crowned in two months’ time in Minas Tirith. It gave time for all parties to travel to the desired destination to see the rightful heir be crowned king.

“I was worried he would never go for it. We shall go if you will have me?” Aragorn noted as he smoothed out the robes for tomorrow’s crowning. He had felt more nervous of the thought of proposing to you than he was about being crowned King. Valar calm his nerves.

“Aye. I would love to go with you Aragorn. But is that so? Had he been shy about her?” You asked your love that you were almost afraid to admit to.

He nodded recalling all the time Samwise made comments about the Hobbit he had loved from afar, “He was never the most risk adverse. I think the journey changed him.”

“Yea.” You nodded, “It was good for him.”

He nodded his head. His soft expression hardening just a tinge as he took you in, “You are so beautiful. When I did not think that I was going to make it… the thought of you kept me going. I am so honored to have you by my side.”

You leaned your head back into his chest letting the sun beat down on the two of you as he had helped you prepare for the journey to his rightful home. He had been to Minas Tirith many times before, but never as the King. He was overjoyed at the thought of bringing you to his home. He was not lying before when he promise to make you his lady. He was planning to wed to you not too long after he was crowned King.

“It is my honor Aragorn.” You felt him squeeze his hand along your waist.

He had taken you to his new home by horse. Just the two of you heading to his Kingdom. He wanted to spend the time with you and get to know you. And he was more than glad he did. He did not think it to be possible, but he had fallen more deeply in love with you on the month-long trek to Gondor. It had solidified what he had planned to do, propose to you as soon as he was crowned King. He had gotten Lord Elrond in on the plan as well. Surely, you would be more than irritated at the public display, but he knew you would soon get over it.

Your eyes lit up in amazement at the city that had spring up before you once you had finally made it after a little over a month on the road. It was more massive than even Rivendell had been. You had no idea such structures existed within the human world and was slightly ashamed you knew so little about your very own brethren.

“Welcome to Minas Tirith my lady.” A breathy whisper in your ear he watched below as you took in the city.

“This is… incredible Aragon.” Your eyes traveled everywhere in awe as he rode up the main street on his horse. You were pleasantly surprised at all the greetings even you were getting from all the citizens that resided within the city.

He led you straight to the castle at the center of the city knowing you were probably more than overwhelmed. Sure, he had warned you but actually seeing it and doing it was entirely different thing. He bowed to his guards as he made his way to his, and soon to be your, chambers.

“You will sleep here tonight.” He said matter of factly as you explored his chambers.

You shook your head, “I cannot. This is your room. You need to rest before tomorrow! You are being crowned King. That does not happen every day Aragorn.” You protested but he simply shook his head.

“It is all right.” He led you to his bed, “I insist my lady. I have made up my mind and you will not be able to change it.” He grinned beautifully as you sat down on the bed, accepting defeat so easily.

“So stubborn you are.”  You mused at him with a delighted look on your face. It felt like a step was being taken as he insisted you stay in his quarters. Protected by the best of the best. He saw you as nothing but precious to him.

He chucked softly, “I must leave you to it. Feel free to explore. One of the guards can show you around if you would like. I must see to a few things before tomorrow. I will see you after the ceremony?” He asked watching you carefully. He wanted you to be comfortable before he left you. He knew it would be tough to go a night without each other after spending so much alone for the better part of a month.

“All right.” You nodded quickly, “I will see you tomorrow, my King.” You grinned right back at him knowing you would never tire of calling him that. It was a far cry from the Strider you had met so long ago now.

He brushed his hand along your jaw. Giving you a brief bow, he spoke once more, “My lady.” Before walking out his chambers and leaving you too it. A wave of exhaustion coupled by the softness of the mattress below you sent you into a slumber much sooner than you were expecting. Maybe you would get the grand tour another time. For now, sleep overtook you..

You watched in awe as Gandalf crowned Aragorn with amazement in his own eyes. You had truly never seen anything so grandeur in your life. All this for your Aragorn. Yet, you felt he had deserved this and so much more.

“Now come the days of the King.” Gandalf’s voice boomed throughout Minas Tirith as thousands stood to watch Aragorn be crowned. You felt your eyes well up with proud tears as the crown laid atop his head. He was so striking. So Kingly. Your breath was taken away as he turned to the crowd. He was your King.

“This day does not belong to one man… but to all.” His voice now boomed filling your chest with the utmost pride for the man you loved, “Let us together rebuild this world… that we may share in the days of peace.” He smiled as the crowd erupted in cheers for their newly crowned King. You joined in happily clapping and cheering along with the city folk.

He sang as the flower petals began to fall. You watched as his company and all those around him bowed to him as he walked amongst the crowd. Your heart sped up rapidly as he was moving along closer, and closer to you.

Elrond pulled you back behind a shield at your protest as Legolas stepped forward. Being none the wiser you shot your elder a precarious look as he told you to be quiet and wait a second and you would see what was going on. He did not lie to you. Lord Elrond never did.

The elf beside you pulled the shield away leaving you staring right into the icy blue eyes of the man you had loved so dearly. You gulped but stepped towards him. He looked just as entranced as you felt.

Feeling overwhelmed at the entirely of the situation you bowed your head to your King once you were mere inches in front of him. Never before had so many eyes been on you. Yet he had made it feel like it really was just the two of you at that moment.

He would have none of that though. He took his hand under your chin and pulled it up, so you were looking at him. He too forgot that thousands of people were watching. It felt like it was just you and him. You had that effect on him. Your doe eyes staring up at him so desperately is what did him in. He could simply wait no longer to have what he wanted… you.

When you smiled at him he did not care any longer. He went straight in for the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him as he spun you around, happier than ever before. He had let his intentions be known. You were his for forever, his forever.

You would be embarrassed later but now it was just you and him. A giggle erupted from you as you hugged him once more. He grabbed your hand and pulled you along as he went to search for the Hobbits.

You took a knee after Aragorn spoke, “My friends… you bow to no one.” A smile erupted on your face as you watched the kingdom take a knee for them. Frodo’s face told the story. Aragorn gently wiped off the tears that were streaming down your face.

“I love you, my Queen.” He whispered in your ear.

“Your Queen?” You gasped looking up to him. Surely you did not think you would take

“Are we to be wed no?” He asked curiously.

“Aye.” You nodded, “I just did not believe to have such a title.” You looked away from him as he directed everyone to stand once more.

“I am King. You are to be my Queen.” He said so matter of factly you could not believe you were questioning yourself.

“As you wish.” You smiled so gleefully not truly believing this was actually your life now.

He leaned in for one more gentle kiss to please the crowd, “My Queen.” He whispered letting you know he had every good intention in the world with you. For the first time in his already long life, he could not wait to get his life started with you.

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Perfect Home

Wife!Reader/Husband!Miguel O'Hara

Part One | Part Two

Genre: Angst (⁠ب⁠_⁠ب⁠)

4.5k words.

Arguments are so tasking to write! They're supposed to be illogical, anyway. :⁠'⁠(

This has been in my drafts for a month! Ideas were not idea-ing! (′д｀σ)σ

Listening to a The Weekend playlist while editing was such a vibe!!! (∩^o^)⊃━☆

I'm getting an A03 account in a bit! Tumblr's great but it does not save drafts sometimes which is a bummer because I sometimes prefer using a laptop to write when I can't get ideas flowing when I'm writing on my phone! I'll drop it!

Warnings: Cheating, Pressure From Parents, Society’s Marital Standards, Desire To Have A Child, Cursing, Envy, Suggestive & Homely Vibes Are Non-Existent.

Peace and blessings to you, My Love!!!

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑ [𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐏] ➜ He cheated, you found out. You don't know whether to leave him or not. Now what?

The egg in the pan let out a bitter scent before you firmly flipped it. “Ugh.” You let out as you looked at it from your sunken and puffed-out eyes, breathing in mucus as you struggled not to sob once more. “Over an egg? Over an egg, [Name]?!” You thought and picked up a tissue to brush your tears and stray drops of slick over.

Just yesterday, you found out about your beloved husband's cheating with his ex for two months.

You should have caught on to the signs during your parents’ gala that took place two months ago. Dana’s excitement led her to firmly hold on to Miguel's firm arm as Miguel discussed the success of a deal with Stark Industries with the both of you, which should have been a warning sight. It irked you slightly, but you didn't view it as enough to suggest anything. Maybe how Miguel didn't depart from her hand for minutes on end should have done it.

You've always been a bit credulous. Always having one too many friends who didn't really care about your well-being from the beginning, desiring all that your younger self, who faked sickening sweet kindness, had. The public loved every bit of it, as did your parents. You noticed the subtle hints of disrespect and commented on them much later. Far too late.

You made sure your presented nature wouldn't crawl into adulthood, but it spread itself into your relationship.

Miguel was a quiet nerd when you first got to know him. Never the hot topic, he stuck to himself the majority of the time.

You bonded with him while you visited your friend in the institution, watching as she obviously flirted with Miguel's friend while they walked with one another. Surprisingly, you bonded over an idle conversation about cake.

“Tres leches is fantastic! Dios mío, there's no arguing with that!”

“Yes, Tres leches may be fantastic to you, but [ — ] definitely crosses that!”

You both didn't catch the side-eye both friends gave one another.

The next week, a double date was set.

It was the perfect TV show grounding for marriage. It all feels like a waste now that you look back on it with low eyes.

“Mi Alma.” You rolled your eyes as your husband walked into the kitchen in sweats with a water bottle in hand. You felt the chill of the Five AM air for a moment before you turned to place the egg on your plate and turned off the stove.

The crinkle of the wrapper as you pulled out the loaves of bread constantly broke the silence in the room as you looked away from him.

“Were those four years we spent with one another a waste?” You asked after a moment, then opened your mouth to chew on a loaf. A tear poured down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away.

“No, no, they were not, Cariño. They were the most amazing years of my life.” Miguel sadly sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm so sorry, Mi Amor. I promise I'll be better. For you, for us.” 

“You don't get to call me that. How am I your love when you cheat on me?” You barked, glaring at him. Your fork clinked when it reached the floor. You sighed in exhaustion and picked it up. You tossed it into the pile of dishes in the sink. “Fuck, I feel done.”

“Can’t we just get past this? We've been through so much for something like this to tear us apart. Miguel tsked and shook his head as he rolled his eyes. Nervousness ran through them, but he wouldn't show it. “Are you fucking serious right now, Miguel?! I should get over it?! Is that what you're saying?!” You yelled, frustrated, and you took deep breaths to calm down. “You’re such a fucking asshole, Miguel.”

“What about you, [Name]?! You're so damn ungrateful! I’m there for you! I support you, but you never support your husband! You barely do anything useful; you're always so caught up in your work that we can't even spend time together!” Miguel yelled, drawing closer to you.

“I have to work, Miguel! What part of that don't you understand?! I don't do anything useful?! Who's the one who does nearly everything in this household?! Me! You aren't even around for us to spend time together! If you aren't working late into the night, you're fucking patrolling! Do you want me to just sit down and wait for you?! I have other things to do!” You couldn't be more thankful in the moment that the room was soundproof. You could let out more than you would have in other spaces.

“You are so damn stubborn! Fuck! We can't even have a conversation without you trying to form an argument!” Miguel yelled, standing at arm's length as he pointed at you.

“Don’t point at me, Miguel.” You demanded and backed away from him to grab your purse. “If you honestly think that this isn't overdue, you're ridiculous. Stop victimising yourself. I’m the one who was cheated on. Go be with Dana, who probably won't piss you off as much as I do.” You said it with a crack at the end of your words as you struggled not to break down.

“[Name], I-” Miguel pushed his hand forward to grab your arm, but you pushed it closer to your form as you quickly left the hotel room. “Read the letter on the kitchen table. Or don’t. I don't really care.” You closed the door and walked away.

On the kitchen table, a letter in cotton paper was laid on it with your mother’s formal handwriting, inviting the both of you for lunch before your departure. Miguel cursed as he read it, the stress already getting to him as he envisioned how it would be.

Meanwhile, you headed to the café, reassuring yourself to calm down as you walked the longer route to it, hoping to have felt better when you reached there.

What you didn't notice was your mother’s gaze upon you from her balcony as she let out another puff from her cigarette while in her white silk nightgown, a black coat with a fluffy neck covering her as she cocked her eyebrows. Her eyes squinted at the moment you paused to quickly rub your eyes. She let out a hum, watching your figure disappear from her sight.

“These crumpets are quite fantastic.” Your father smiled, spreading another with blackberry jam as he chewed the spongy and soft treat. “We should wait for a few moments before requesting lunch, no? It will only take them a few more moments to arrive.” Your mother smiled at the both of you, a glass of water in hand, before taking in a long sip, bothered.

“So, Miguel, how have you been? Is there any success in the partnership with Calahan Tech? I've heard much about it in the Nueva York Times. Business moguls are just as excited about it as I am.” Your father's eyes twinkled in excitement as he imagined the size of the funding he would receive and the amount of votes the results of the collaboration would bring him in the next election as he snacked on a pig in the blanket.

“I’ve been well, Joseph. The agreement to partner has been a bit tough because we've been trying to convince the funders to work with us, but I’m sure we're about to reach a breakthrough.” Miguel responded, proud, as a smile appeared on his face. His hand shifted to your thigh under the table, alerting you as you took a quick look around before shoving it off of you. You were still bothered; he could tell by the way you struggled not to furrow your brows and the quick way your heart beat at his gesture, which reverberated in his ears as you gracefully downed a glass of water to calm your nerves.

“If you ever need some extra help, you know who to call. I can convince those hotshots to remove the sticks up their asses and agree.” “Joseph!” Mary whispered with a hiss, patting his arm as the man chuckled. “No one heard me, Darling. I whispered.” Your father said it with a wink, placed his hand over his wife's, and squeezed it. Her shoulders slouched, pleased even if she didn't verbally express it, at her husband's gesture, and she looked at their intertwined selves, then went back to her drink.

Joseph winked at the both of you once more and separated his hold from hers for the appetisers.

Your heart squeezed with want as you watched them. It was a moment of love, but also a reminder that you couldn't have that anymore. You looked away with a smile, not wanting to endure the feelings of sadness that weighted your heart.

“Hello, Mary. Hello, Joseph”. You heard in the background but were unable to focus on the two new voices in the background as you focused on calming yourself down.

“Cariño, I-” Miguel whispered in your ear, catching onto your feelings, but a sharp noise broke the moment.

“[Name]! Look at you! You're getting more and more gorgeous by the day! My gosh, you're glowing!” Elle, your sister-in-law, beamed and hugged you from your seat. You stood up quickly to hug her and beamed when you saw your brother walking up to the table.

“Aww, you're so adorable! Gosh, we haven't seen you in a bit.” “We apologise for that, by the way.” Micah shook your hand and led Elle to their seats. He smiled at the stink eye your mother threw at the both of them and rolled his eyes once he looked away from her.

“We apologise for arriving so late. Some business had to be taken care of just at the moment I was to leave the office.” Micah said with an apologetic look on his face. “We wish that we could have arrived on your anniversary as well, [Name] and Miguel. Work, once again, occupied us. Happy belated fourth anniversary to the both of you.” Elle congratulated him with a smile and thanked the waiter when he brought their wine.

You internally giggled at her personality change. Elle was always so casual around you but had to become formal when the fact that she's in public sets in. It wouldn't be good for a model to appear improper.

“How are you, Miguel?” Elle was greeted as Micah nodded. “We haven't seen each other in a while, man.”

“I’m doing well, thank you. I’m just taking care of the missus.” Miguel responded to Micah’s approval and your resistance to roll your eyes. “It’s been four years. I still can't believe that [Name] managed to tie someone down. She's so difficult.” Micah chuckled as you glared at him. “Speak for yourself. I still can't believe Elle wanted you. She could have done so much better.” You giggled and dismissed him with a wave of your hand.

“Don’t you remember when you..." Micah began, but Mary interrupted him. "Children, there is no need to complain about one another. To be quite honest, I didn't expect either of you to get married so soon. I thought that you'd both get married after building up your characters.” Your mother giggled, much to both of your dismay.

“Mum? You're cracking a joke? Are you sure you're alright?” Micah questioned, raising a brow that quickly came down when you kicked him underneath the table. “What was that for?” “What are you talking about?” You evaded his glare with a smile.

“I’m just glad to finally see my children and their spouses in the same spot.” Your mother had a gentle smile as she looked at the both of you as your partners looked elsewhere for a moment. She didn't approve of Elle either.

In her view, her children were supposed to marry someone of their status. Someone who is highly regarded. Not anything but that.

However, she regarded your brother in a higher manner when it came down to who he chose to marry.

Elle was a ‘blantant gold digger’ in her words, ‘a model who just wanted someone to raise her higher in the industry’. Micah was a highly praised film director and writer. Who better to expose her to the world of the rich and famous than him?

“Before we continue, Micah and I have an announcement to make.” Elle announced and stood up along with her husband. Your heart dropped as the next sentence echoed in your brain.

“We're pregnant!” They both grinned and hugged one another while grins appeared on your parents' faces. “Congratulations!” Mary cheered and eagerly stood up to hug the couple. “Congratulations. My boy, you've done it again!” Joseph grinned, to which Micah flustered.

“Congratulations!” You finally joined in, grinning as you hugged them both, a bit too tightly. You wanted the moment to feel real. You weren't upset. You couldn't be. You shouldn't be.

“That's a bit tight.” Elle said, causing you to break it. “Oh, I'm sorry. I'm already excited to see your little one or ones.” You grinned. “Congratulations, you two. We can't wait to see the little one.” Miguel smiled next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You could feel the sharp looks from your parents, Micah and Miguel. Elle paused to look at you, and her brows furrowed in worry. "I hope this wasn't inappropriate." She whispered in your ear, looking at Miguel for a moment, holding your hand, to which you tightened the hold. "Elle, are you excited for this new part of your life? I'm so happy for the both of you." You shook your head to hint, and a relieved smile appeared on her face. "Yes, yes, I am." She responded and hugged Micah. He hugged back and smiled at you as a form of assurance and sternly looked at Miguel, to which he looked away.

“I can't wait to find out the gender of your little one. Searching for outfits will be pleasant.” Mary said once you all sat down, smiling at the couple who were in their own moment of adoration as food was brought on the table. Your heart broke as you watched Micah caress Elle’s stomach lovingly, and her hand lifted to squeeze his as they smiled at one another.

You looked at Miguel, whose eyes remained trained on yours, and softly sighed when his hand held yours in assurance, wanting the hurt to end when yours squeezed his. Clinging onto his attention, you hoped that it would rub off the pain you felt, but guilt and shame crawled onto you. You drew your hand from his and onto your fork.

“I just know they'll be spoiled rotten.” Ella giggled as Micah let out a chuckle. “Definately. We'll have to watch out for that.” “I can't wait to meet my first grandchild.” Your mother’s gaze fell on you for a moment, emitting her disappointment in you before having it on the couple as she grinned more.

Much was discussed around the table. The women's attention remained trained mainly on the little one and topics that interested them, as the men were cooped up in their own little world. Soon, it was near the hour of your departure. 

“[Name]. Let's chat for a moment in private.” Your mother said once Micah and Elle left to arrange their hotel room. The frown on her features became more evident the more you both drew away from the public eye. You both stepped into an empty break room. Once the click of a lock was heard, you sighed.

“Do you even realise just how disappointed I am in you, [Name]?” Your mother started. “Micah has a child before you. He hasn't even crossed two years with that girl, and he's made so much progress compared to you. You should be ashamed, [Name].” Anger flared in you as the words sunk in. You had already been through so much in such little time. Why did life’s cards decide to add more to your plate?

“Why does it bother you so damn much? I’ll have children when I want to. What part of that don't you understand?” You responded, glaring at the older woman. “You’ve always regarded Micah highly in comparison to me when it comes to marriage.” You rolled your eyes at her glare.

“[Name], Micah’s a man. Whether or not he has children early, he's alright. If he were to even leave Elle, he'd find someone new. He’d be able to have children, regardless. Men get better with age, unfortunately, unlike us. Your clock is ticking, [Name]. You need to progress into the next step of your life before it's too late.” Mary shook her head and sighed at what she believed was your foolishness.

You drifted into lassitude, it clinging to you like glue, with the realisation that she would never be satisfied with you until you did what pleased her. “I can just imagine how the public will react to this. You've set yourself up for failure.”

“I need to go.” You said, looking at the keys in her hand. “[Name]. Why can't you just listen to me? Did I raise such an impudent child? I’m just looking out for you, [Name]. I don't want you to experience regret. It'll never stop. I’m guiding you towards the right path.”

“Open the door.” You said once more, refraining yourself. “Why do you act so childish? I’m trying to help you.” Mary insisted, only further pushing your buttons. “Open the door.” You repeated it and headed towards it. You hand motioned at it. “You’re going to regret it if you continue with what you're doing.” Mary said, placed the key inside the keyhole, and turned it. “Maybe I will; maybe I won't. I respect you so much, Mum. Let's end this.” You said, then opened the door. “This will only end if you do what is right.” Was all you heard her softly say. You left.

“They offered only sixteen million dollars to help fund the project?” Your father questioned Miguel as he puffed the cigar on his lips and blew it out. The smoke waved in the air, and Miguel glanced at it for a moment as he drank his glass of beer. “Yes, they did. They didn't believe in the project’s potential until recently, when testing made a lot of progress.” Miguel responded, then drank the rest of his drink.

“Your drinking tolerance must be high. You've drank four beers since you arrived, and you're still standing straight. You'd do amazing in the drinking competitions that go on in the basement on Saturdays. Don't tell Mary; she wouldn't be pleased to know about them.” Joseph winked, to which Miguel chuckled as he shook his head. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Miguel, why won't you have children?” Your father broke the silence and looked at him, somewhat disappointed. “I’m a man as well, Miguel. It's not hard to conclude the possibilities.” The cigar was nearing its last draw.

“My career. I don't think it would let me enjoy the simple pleasures of family life. I do my research late into the night. [Name] does so much to accommodate that. I don't think it would be right of me to bring children into that.” Miguel confessed with a sad gaze as he thought back to your heartbroken expression when you found out about his involvement with Dana.

It hunted him throughout the missions he did that night, rage and shame filling his form, and anyone around him sensed it. Many in the Spider-HQ avoided him in the brief night he was there. Jessica and Peter avoided him as well, aside from brief interactions. They knew he'd pour out his feelings to them eventually. 

“As much as using work as an excuse gratifies you, it's a poor choice, Miguel. You'll regret it if you decide to let it linger.” Your father looked at him from the side of his eye and rubbed his moustache.

“My work was easier in my younger days, but I found it just as challenging as I find it now. I was just an assistant to the previous politician at the time, too. You understand what I’m hinting at when I say that, right?” Miguel nodded, to which the older man smiled. 

“I had my children either way. It was a struggle to tackle the task of raising them and working. I had days where I thought I didn't do enough for them and that I found my work to be more important. Mary had her own career to focus on. She would work late into the night. I’m assuming that [Name] does the same thing since she chose to be a designer just like her mother. Do I need to be corrected?” “No, you don't. You're right.”

“We still did the best we could, regardless. We could have done some things better, yes. But we can't go back in time to correct ourselves. We can only give advice to those who seem to be going astray.” Joseph hinted, looking at Miguel, who looked back at him.

Joseph knew; he could tell by the way he looked at him, disappointed and angry, but chose to contain himself.

“I only hope you won't regret your decision, Miguel. Just know that I will be alongside my daughter when she decides to tell us.” Your father took in one last puff and let it out. Miguel and Joseph gazed at the smoke one last time until it disappeared into the clear, blue sky over the beautiful atmosphere.

Joseph's cigar remained in its ashtray, the soft red of it fading with each passing moment. Both men took in the peacefulness of the atmosphere with sombre spirits.

Moments after you freshened up, you headed to your husband. “We should head out in a bit.” You said, then placed your head on his shoulder and laid your hand on his chest. He noticed how drained you felt. He sensed the irregularity in your hormones. You felt his arms wrap around you, and you wrapped yours around his. You made your decision at that moment.

“Cariño, I am so sorry. I'll be better. I'll never hurt you again.” He whispered in your ear, his soft tone and the warmness of his breath in your ear making you melt in his arms as you tightened your hold on him.

“We will see each other once more.” Mary stated, across both of you with her husband. She hugged you, then Miguel. Her hands held the sides of both your shoulders and shook them. “Drive safe, alright?” Joseph said, then hugged you and shook Miguel's hand. “Yes, sir. We'll be alright.” Miguel responded and shook the keys with a grin.

“We hope to hear some good news soon.” Your mother commented, smiling as she directly looked at you. “We will soon, won't we, Miguel?” Joseph said, looking at Miguel with a grin. “Hopefully.” Miguel responded and straightened himself. You could tell that something happened between them. “Don’t worry, you will soon.” You responded with a smile and left hand in hand with your beloved.

The strawberry air freshener, coffee, Miguel's spicy cologne, and your sweet perfume lingered in the air of your home when you both stepped in. The cosiness hugged your form, and you took it all in, craving the warmth you desperately needed in the last two days.

“Miel, it feels good to be back, doesn't it?” Miguel placed your luggage on the side and hugged your waist, savouring the comfort of the air before him. You squeezed into his warmth, cherishing it as a longing emotion overcame you. You turned to face him, and before anything could pour from his plump lips, you locked them with your own.

He lifted you, soft lips still entangled, his stamina much greater than your own, to the wall, willing to do all the work as you squirmed in eagerness across him. “Let me help you.” You said, in between gasps, need flaring all over your body as he kissed your neck, nearing your collarbone as kisses and tiny licks trailed towards it.

You could feel the slight sting of a canine; the sensation became foreign as it had been a long time since you embraced in hazy lust. Your body missed it—the curl of your back as you felt it draw a messy line down your collarbone.

“Mikey, please-” You drew out a sharp breath, your eyes hinting towards the stairs that led up to your bedroom, then shut tight when he pressed his hips closer to your own, evidently just as excited as you were. He lifted you in a hug, and your legs immediately clung on to his waist as he tightly held on to you, almost as though you'd disappear right there and then.

“Mi Vida, I promise I will never hurt you again. Te quiero tanto. Te quiero, te necesito tanto, Mi Vida, Mi Todo. Por favor, por favor, déjame tenerte.”

[“I love you so much. I love you, I need you so much, My Life, My All. Please, please let me have you.”] 

“You can have me, Mikey. Please.” You dragged on, clinging more to him as want consumed your forms.

The sensual fog filled the house as carnal desire mixed between your bodies late into the night. You finalised your decision as sweat stuck to your body, your gaze on Miguel as he slept soundly. You hadn't seen him like this in such a long time. Your fingers moved to separate a stray lock that stuck to his cheekbone. Pain struck your heart when you thought about how Dana must have seen him this intimately. You wouldn't blame her if she did the same thing you had just done. You just hated that she got to.

The never-ending bustle of Nueva York in the distance was all you drifted off to sleep once more with. You had a fleeting thought of what went on in his mind when he watched you drift off to sleep first. You knew he must have loved it; he must have gazed at you with the same adoration during your first moments together. You missed it all.

“I want a divorce, Miguel.” You calmly let out, scrambled eggs on your plate and his as you ate breakfast with one another, spirits low. He sighed, an indication that he expected this, then looked at you, searching for a sign that you would consider any plea that fell from his lips. He didn't find any. “I’m sorry, Mi Amor.” He apologised, then drank coffee. The cup was placed on the counter a bit loudly for comfort. He looked towards you in apology. You nodded, then turned to eat.

“I know.” You responded, looking out the window at the eggs that softly lay on the nest on top of the tree next to the household, wondering if, by leaving him, you'd unlock the path towards that. The mother bird’s eyes lingered on her eggs for a moment. Maybe it was in adoration.

You let out a hum, making Miguel shift his low eyes towards your own in questioning, and you shook your head, then turned back to your plate.

I’m done!!! Yessssss!!! I don't know whether to continue with this or not. If I do, it'll take a bit to get chapters. This took a bit out of my lifespan but I’m so happy that I wrote this! ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

#☁️🌟🩷writes #miguel angst #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman atsv #miguel spiderman #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #x reader #x you #x you angst #reader insert #x female reader #fem reader #angst

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 4

Damian's face twisted in disgust at the offending object.

Phantom's quirked in confusion. He nudged the massive striped bass towards the smaller siren. "What's wrong?"

"I am a vegetarian." Damian huffed. "And it's raw."

"Oh. Uh, whoops." Phantom shrugged. "I don't know how to break it to you, dude, but, like... There's not much better to eat out there."

Damian glared at him. "I would rather starve."

Perhaps he was being too stubborn. With a buffoon of a companion such as this, the situation was better treated as a survival scenario than a mere mission. Damian was no fool. Vegetarianism was a luxury afforded to those with the food abundance to choose.

That, and it had been a solid sixteen hours since his last meal. His tail felt sore and aching in a way he hadn't felt in years. His stomach growled and groaned, demanding something to fill it.

The last time he felt a hunger like this was when he was still in the League, when they sent him out on weeks long missions where he starved under moonlight and ate birds and rats to survive.

"Come on, Damian, you need to eat something." Phantom cajoled, as if his puppy-eyed look could ever match that of Richard's. "And the seaweed's not gonna sustain you. Believe me I tried."

"Are sirens obligate carnivores?"

"No, but-"

"Then tell me why I cannot sustain myself off of kelp and seaweed?"

"Dude, those things have literally no calories in them."

A valid point, but just because he was right did not mean Damian had to cede the point so easily. "Is the siren species so primitive as to not have cultivated plants in order to sustain their population?"

"I literally don't know how to answer that dude. Do I look like an ambassador or something to you?"

Damian frowned.

"Look, it's getting late and we'll need all the rest we can get. I promise it doesn't taste that bad. We'll try and work something out tomorrow, how's that?"

Damian sighed. "Very well, but only because I very my life, thank you very much."

"Thank god for that..."

Damian unwrapped himself from his tail, and approached the poor fish. "I am terribly sorry, fish. I will not let your sacrifice be in vain." He muttered.

He looked up to find Phantom with a small knife, cutting up the fish into messy fillets, like this was the first time he'd done so. Peculiar. Surely he had lived off fish his entire life, and had deboned many before this moment.

"Just so you don't get poked in the mouth by a bone or two. Those things suck."

Phantom offered a strip of meat. Shutting his eyes, Damian took the food, and shoved it into his mouth, chewing minimally before swallowing.

The taste was... acceptable.

More than acceptable. perhaps.

It would be a shame to let the fish's death go to waste.

...

Damian sank his teeth into the side of the fish, eyes almost rolling into the back of his head from the taste.

Some time later...

Danny floats back into the cave, a handful of kelp bundled up in his arms. "Hey Damian, look I know this situation sucks for you, like in every way, so I went out and got some greens for you, just so it's not all meat and- Wait, Damian?"

The boy in question slept fastly, his fins gently drifting back in forth in the small currents caused by Danny's entrance. His head was slumped against the bass he'd brought in earlier, little strips of fish still stuck in his teeth.

Now that he wasn't making faces and being angry at Danny, he was honestly pretty cute.

Danny wiped some of the bits of meat off Damian's cheek, careful not to scratch his soft scales with a misplaced claw. Despite being so small, Damian managed to chew through a sizable portion of the fish that was easily half his size or more.

Setting the child's body to the side, and draping a small blanket over him, Danny set to finishing off the rest.

He hoped everyone back home wouldn't worry too much. If the GiW boats didn't clear out by tomorrow, then they were in for a big problem. He and Tucker were working on making waterproof earpieces, but they weren't ready yet, and his waterproof phone had been left in his room when he'd rushed out to get Damian back. That meant no communication with Amity Island whatsoever. No way to get in contact with Bruce Wayne, and no way for his friends to know he and Damian were ok.

He was really in over his head, wasn't he?

The morning came with a very loud wake up call.

"YO BABYPOP!"

Danny jolted awake and bumped his head into the nearest desk overhead. "Who's attacking us?!"

Beside him, Damian jerked himself into a defensive stance (or as close to one as he could manage.)

The curtains of the cave were pushed open, allowing streams of sunlight to stream in and blind the boy with its glare. Peeking into the cave was the head of one Ember McClain, a vicious grin plastering her face.

"You never told me you got a kid!"

Damian chirped indignantly.

Danny sputtered. "Whawhwh Wh Wait a second!"

Ember pulled out of the cave, and squealed. "Yo Kitty! Dipstick's got himself a kid!"

A woosh of water rushed past, and Kitty's neon green and teal scales showed themselves. "Omg! Phantom aren't you like fifteen? What the heck?!"

Danny blushed deeply teal. "He's not mine I swear!"

Ember pushed Kitty out of the way. "Oh my gosh he's so tiny. Who's the lucky woman?? Or man??? Phantom what have you been getting up to without us?!"

Damian hissed at him from behind Danny's shoulder (when did he get there?) "Begone, harpies! And cease your accusations! I would sooner perish than be related in any way to this incompetent fool."

Ember trilled in adoration. "He's so freaking adorable. Where did you get him, Babypop? An orphanage??"

Danny would've done a spittake, if he was above water. "W-what?! Dude, literally where would even find an orphanage around here?"

"Did his parents dump you on him like Johnny was?"

"Uh I'm not even gonna question that."

Ember clasped her hands to her mouth in scandalous shock. "No way, did you finally turn to the dark side and kidnap him?"

Damian piped up again, gripping on Danny's shoulders with his unsheathed claws and rising higher. "Nonsense, I claim no familial relationship with this person, not by blood, law, or emotion. He is as close to me as any stranger would."

"Ouch Damian. I literally saved your life."

Ember and Kitty chortled and shorted. They clutched their bellies and lead against the walls of the cave. "It's just... PFPFTT Phantom you total scoundrel, ahah!"

"Yeah yeah, look I gotta get this kid back to his dad on Amity, and quick. He's probably losing his mind over there."

Kitty gasped. "So you did turn him."

Danny shushed them. "Don't scream it out for the whole ocean to hear!"

He rushed out the entrance of the cave and shooed them in, covering the doorway up as they entered.

"Look I'd really, really rather you guys keep this on the down low. This is kind of a huge deal right now." Danny said.

He turned to Damian, still perched on his shoulder, his little tail brushing against Danny's ghostly white sail. "Is it ok if I tell them?"

"if it will convince them to vacate the premises."

"If you have to know, Damian's the son of some ultra rich guy. Skulker got him for whatever reason, and I was forced to turn him."

"Dude, Skulker went for a literal child?!" Ember clenched her first, likely hiding her extending claws. Right, Skulker was a bit of a touchy subject for her. "Of his own kind, no less?!"

"That's fucking low, girl."

"And now the GiW are going crazy too. Probalby got a huge donation or whatever. We're just waiting untli they go away so I can get Damian back to his dad, without any dissections. That also means none of you guys should be going near the place either."

"Pfft, too late for that."

Danny froze. "Who did they get?"

"Relaaxx, Dipstick. I was just preparing another concert, only for like fifty boats to show up out of fuckin' nowhere. Luckily I heard them before they saw me, but come on! I was miles from Amity at that point!"

"Miles?" Damian whispered.

Danny felt the same way too. They were only increasing their patrols now, shit.

"It's bad enough that the rest of the Pod are freaking migrating. We haven't migrated in years!"

"Yeah, actually, Phantom you wanna join us? I know you have this whole, err, thing, with Amity Island, but we hardly see you. And Johnny's been itching for a rematch."

Danny looked over his shoulder, to where Damian was lost in thought. This might have been the first them he'd seen the kid not glaring.

"Thanks for the offer, but I need to get Damian home. It's my fault he's like this, and he's got a whole family out there waiting for him."

"Don't you too?"

Danny swallowed a thick of water. He did have a family, a family that was probably going crazy. But at least part of that family, and his friends, knew he could take care of himself, knew that he was a siren, knew that the water was his element. Damian's family didn't have that luxury.

"We'll figure it out."

The girls shared a look, and shrugged. "The offer still stands, Babypop. Oh, and i'll be sure to fuckin' dice Skulker next time i see him, lying, cheatin' bastard.

For a moment, the boys watched the two siren teens' trailing tails, before they turned a corner and disappeared.

"Gotham."

"What was that?" Danny asked.

"If Amity Island is inaccessible to us, then we have to go to Gotham."

"Isn't Gotham-"

"On the East Coast? Yes, it is. It's our only option."

"That's thousands of miles, and you can't even walk!"

"Would you rather we stay here, waiting for the GiW to approach us and kill us both?"

Danny clenched his jaw. Damian was right, wasn't he.

"The only way to reunite me with Father is to go to Gotham. They will not be expecting us there."

"How can you be so sure?"

Damian dislodged himself from Danny's shoulder and floated in front of him. "Because they are unaware of the sirens' power of transformation, am I correct?"

"Good point, but wait, how did you know that?"

"I did some cursory research before coming here. The prevailing theories put forth by the supposed 'experts' on the matter asserted that sirens eat their human victims, with no mentions of turning. They have no reason to believe I am not dead., and no reason to suspect any siren activity in Gotham."

"And you're ok with that. Thousands of miles of swimming in the endless ocean full of things wanting to eat you?"

"Are you not?"

"Ok ok, calm down." Danny had to chuckle though. Rich as this kid may be, he was definitely not spoilt enough to sit still and wait for his dad to save him.

"And the fastest way to get to Gotham is via the Panama Canal." Damian puffed his chest out in what was probably pride. Danny stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Have I ever jested to you before?"

"No seriously. The Panama Canal. You realise that place is monitored up and down, right? Literally the moment we get spotted, the locks are gonna, you know, lock down, and then we'll be stranded and sitting ducks to be chopped up by the GiW."

"That will not be an issue. You possess the power of camouflage, do you not? And again, they will not be expecting us in Panama, so they will have no reason to bring any sonars there."

Danny wanted to bang his head against the wall. This idea sounded so stupid, but not stupid enough that it was unfeasable.

"In addition, you said it yourself. Your negligence resulted in my permanent loss of humanity, so it is your responsibility to do whatever you can do right your wrong."

Shit. Came with being the son of a businessman, didn't it? This kid was guilttripping the hell out of him and Danny could honestly not say he didn't deserve it.

"Fiiiine. We're going to Panama."

"Excellent." Damian grinned. "Let us leave immediately."

Danny could only pray that none of the 50 things that could go wrong, did go wrong, but when was his luck ever that good?

No, instead, Danny strapped in whatever supplies he had laying around in the cave. To Panama we go...

#dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #damian wayne #merman #merboy #dcxdp #angst #vegetarianism #damian vs fish #the fish wins #ember mcclain #mer!danny #mer danny #mer!damian #mer damian #mermaid au

[analogwriting]

The Walk-in

Killer x gn!reader (amab edition) word count: 4.2k afab vers. a/n: i got this idea from a revelation i had about how im pretty sure every walk-in in every restaurant ever has been boned in at least once. my source to site is me bc ive been working in the food industry since i was, like, 12. also guapo means 'handsome' in spanish.

“Oh my god, y/n, have you seen the new cook?” Your best friend, Wire, spoke up from behind the bar. He was currently wiping it down, preparing for the rush that would be starting soon. 

You were bussing tables when he spoke up, you paused, walking over to him and tossing the rag over your shoulder. “I haven't. Isn't he a friend of the owner’s son or something?”

“Yeah. Met him in college.”

“Ah. Friend hire.” You made a face, causing Wire to laugh. He knows how much you weren't a fan of people being hired just because they knew someone who worked there - especially when it came to the owner. “They never last.” You shook your head. 

“Oh, c'mon. I heard his cooking is great.”

You raised an eyebrow as you went back to wiping down tables. “Biased opinions, probably. Of course they're gonna say his cooking is great. But good cooking isn’t everything in this line of work. You and I both know that.”

Wire had a thoughtful look on his face as he nodded. “That's true.” There'd been plenty of instances where a good cook was hired, but they couldn't deal with the rush or crazy customers. None of them would last through the night. “He seems like he'll hold well.”

You snorted, standing up and folding your arms across your chest. “That's what you said about the last guy.” You rolled your eyes with a grin. The poor sap didn't last half an hour. 

“I was being optimistic?” You snorted and shook your head. “Oh sure. Optimistic.”

“I'm sure he'll become overwhelmed and leave within the hour.” That was your bet. You didn't usually expect much from newcomers, especially friend hires. 

“Wow, not even giving me a real shot, huh?” A deep voice came up from behind you. A shiver ran down your spine - not from fear, but from the sheer attractiveness his voice had. Oh shit.

You turned around and the air left your lungs as the most beautiful and sexy man stood behind you. You blinked, trying to find words to say but your brain wasn't fully caught up with the situation. Holy shit, this was the finest man you'd ever seen in your life. 

“You must be the head server with the high expectations then.” You opened your mouth to say something - only for nothing to come out. You glared over at Wire who held his hands up in surrender with a shit eating grin on his face. He knew that this man was exactly your type and chose to retain that information. 

A sly grin spread across the cook's face. “Cat got your tongue? Where'd all that barking go?” 

Your eyes widened, one of them twitching. Oh, he had a mouth on him too. It was on. 

Finally, your brain caught up. It'd felt like eternity, but it was only a few seconds. You folded your arms across your chest, an unimpressed look crossing your features. “I believe I am giving you a chance, just don't have high hopes. Can’t in this line of work - takes a special breed.” 

You looked him up and down. Fuck, he was fine as hell. “Anyway. They say you're a good cook. The customers will be the judge of that. That's not all, however. Where most people fumble is service itself. Always ends up being too much for people - too busy.” 

Then your brain circled back to what he had said earlier. “And of course I have high expectations. I only want what's best for this place and I don't need people wasting mine or my coworkers time.” 

The man before you just had an amused look on his face as he watched you. That irritated the shit out of you for reasons you couldn’t specify at the moment. “Don't worry, I won't be wasting anyone's time. I assure you, I won't be going anywhere either. You better get used to me now,” he crooned, leaning in as he spoke.

Your eyes narrowed at him. You wanted to punch him in his smug little face. “I've had plenty like you, too. Big talk. Think they'll last. Usually, they're the quickest to leave. Honestly, I’m being generous with an hour.” 

He chuckled, straightening back out. “We'll see when I'm still here after rush then, huh? If I stick it out, which I will, what do I get for winning the bet?”

The sheer audacity of this man. You stared at him, but didn't hesitate in your answer. “A job, duh.” You rolled your eyes. “I don't have time for this. I have a floor to prep.”

The cook laughed. It was one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard. Damn, you must just be horny. It had been a while since you've gotten laid, but you also had a rule of never sleeping with your coworkers. You didn't knock others for doing it, you just didn't personally. You felt it made things complicated - though you were also an overthinker. Too many what ifs. What if it didn’t work out? What if you hated working together? What if you spent too much time together? What if, what if, what if?

“I'll see you after dinner rush then.” He winked at you and your heart almost stopped. Jesus fuck, you were down bad for a man you wanted to strangle. He walked off, leaving you standing there with Wire. You watched him leave, admiring his fat ass as he left before you turned back to your best friend.

He burst into laughter and you narrowed your eyes. “You're the worst, you know that?” That caused him to laugh harder. “Oh my god. I was just waiting for the moment for the part where you both just tear off each other's clothes and start going at each other right there, holy shit.”

Your face immediately warmed up. “Shut up, Wire. No one asked you.” You folded your arms across your chest with a frown. “You could've fucking warned me he was hotter ‘n hell.” 

Wire laughed again. “And miss the look on your face? That was priceless. I've never seen you be so taken aback before. The great y/n rendered speechless by the new cook.”

“Don't call him the new cook. He's gotta prove himself first.”

Another chuckle came from your best friend and he shook his head. You sighed, looking in the direction said man had left.

“What are you thinking about now?”

“How it's a shame he's not a baker with all that cake he's got. And how I wouldn't mind him icing mine.” Wire burst into laughter again and you just shook your head, clicking your tongue. “Too bad he won't last.”

Your attention shifted to the customers that walked in and you headed over to greet them. 

--

Rush was busier than usual. It was always insane, but it was even more so tonight. This was something you usually lived for, the chaos of the floor. It kept things interesting and helped time fly by. Slow nights drove you insane, which is why you were always scheduled the busiest nights too. Plus, you were insanely good at your job.

Being head server, your main job was just making sure that things were going out on time, keeping tabs on your servers, and taking care of any customer issues. You were technically a manager, yes, but you liked the title of head server better.

However, you could feel eyes on you all night. Yes, that's typically normal considering you're a server, but this was different. You also knew exactly who the culprit was. The new fucking cook. Every time you headed to the back or to the window, his eyes were on you. You'd glance at him, catching him red handed. 

Only, he didn't look away like most people. He kept his stare, only offering up a grin and the occasional wink as he cooked. Your body heated up every time, flustered that he was so casual.  Your mind was running wild with what you wanted him to do to you. You tried to keep yourself busy, but the growing heat across your whole body was making it hard. 

You tried to lie to yourself, saying it was because rush was busier than usual and you were running around even more. Every time you finally started calming down, he seemed to appear out of nowhere with his stupid smile, sending you into a spiral again. 

You could honestly punch him, that might just solve your problems. He was aggravating in every sense of the word. His cocky attitude was getting to you, making you even crabbier than you already had been. You were trying your best not to take it out on your fellow servers or the customers. It was fine for the most part. 

After rush, you asked another server to cover the one table you had left so you could take a minute. You immediately beelined it to the walk in. You flung the door open, unbuttoning your shirt a few times as you entered. You closed your eyes, listening to the hum of the fans keeping it cool, and taking a deep breath as you fanned yourself with your hand.

Then the door opened, revealing the new guy. Someone mentioned his name was Killer. Funny. You wonder how he ended up with a stupid nickname like that. 

You glared at him as the smug smile spread across his face. Unfortunately, you knew he didn't end up leaving. His eyes being glued to you all night constantly reminded you that he had proven you wrong. He actually had done pretty well and the customers seemed to enjoy his cooking. He'd be sticking around as long as he wanted now - the job was his. Which also meant you had to deal with the fact that you were going to have to see him almost every day. 

“Guess you're stuck with me now, huh?”

“What are you even here for? Just to bother me?” You were in a foul mood and it was all his fault. You weren’t in the mood for his cocky attitude or ‘I told you so’ right now.

“Well, I originally came back here to grab something but now I don't even remember what it was supposed to be now that you're in front of me looking like that.”

You looked down at yourself, confused. “What? Gonna make fun of me?” You were disheveled and hot, your skin flushed in some places. 

“No. You actually look really good like that.” A lazy smile appeared on his face as he folded his arms and leaned against the shelves. What the hell was he doing?

You could feel your body growing warmer despite the cooler air being blown at you. “The hell is your fucking angle? You've been staring all night and now you’re saying weird shit.” 

He blinked, raising his eyebrows. “And here I thought I was being obvious.” 

You stared at him for a moment as your head spun. What did- oh. Your eyes widened slightly and his grin grew. “Now you got it.”

Though, he didn't have much time to say anything else before you essentially pounced on him. You couldn't take it anymore, he'd been riling you up all night and you were at your wits end. And he was here, basically telling you to screw him. Actually, literally. 

You had walked over, grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and kissed him hard. He grinned into you, wrapping his arms around you. “Finally,” he mumbled. 

You shook your head. “Don't let your big mouth ruin it.” He just laughed before kissing you again, patting your ass. You took the hint, hopping up and wrapping your legs around him. He held you with ease, hands firmly on your ass as he pinned you to the shelves. He squeezed you hard, making a small whine escape your lips. 

Your own hands pressed against his chest before pausing. You felt something through his shirt. “Oh my god - are your nipples pierced?” You had never moved faster than you were right now as you undid his shirt. 

He blinked in confusion at your sudden shift of attention, disoriented and a little pouty that you pulled away like you did.

You opened his shirt and, lo and behold, piercings. Your eyebrow raised and a grin spread across your face. “Now, that's hot as hell,” you mused as you ran your hands across his broad chest and piercings, tugging at them a bit.  You heard his breathing sharply hitch and you looked at him with a grin.

You squirmed out of his arms, making him look at you with a confused expression. You placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him backwards and guiding him essentially. He tripped, falling back into a few sacks of onions. He looked up at you as you slowly straddled him. “You’re gonna learn why I run the place tonight, guapo.” 

Before he could ask you what that meant, you kissed him. Your hands found their way to his chest again, groping and squeezing him. He let out a few grunts in response, clearly enjoying himself. His hands found their way to your ass, squeezing roughly. You groaned against him, your head spinning.

You felt his hands move from your ass to your thighs, squeezing there too before they found their way to your waistband. It wasn’t long before he had your pants undone and your cock out. Part of you was glad you wore your comfy pants, easier to move around. 

When the cold hair touched your cock, your breathing hitched as it twitched in his hand. “Fuck,” you mumbled. 

Your head dropped down to his shoulder as he began to stroke your cock. A shiver ran down your spine from finally being touched by him. You’d been imagining it all night and you honestly couldn’t wait to get to the actual railing part. You planned on riding him like no tomorrow.

He removed his hand from your cock, causing you to whine in protest. “Patience,” he crooned, earning a glare from you. He just smiled at you, kissing you so soft and in a way that caught you off guard. It gave him leeway to spin you around and bend you over, pressing you into the floor. You yelped at the sudden movement and him pulling your pants down just enough to expose your ass to him.

“You fuckin- fuck.” Whatever insult you were going to say completely derailed as you felt one of his thick fingers slide into you with ease. He must’ve used your own precum to slick up his own fingers. You didn’t even realize that’s what he had been doing.

You sank to your knees, ass in the air as he worked you. Fuck, you didn’t like not being the one in control. It was a whole different feeling. You’d need to regain control but-

Your thoughts were interrupted as he inserted another one. Damn, his fingers were thick and drove you inside as they moved about inside of you. He worked you as if he’d done it a million times before - as if stretching you was something he did every day. You hadn’t pegged him for a whore but maybe he was, you didn’t know. Nor did you care that much.

You bit your bottom lip, your eyes rolling back as you felt the third one make its way inside of you. He pumped his fingers in and out of you before you suddenly felt his other hand wrap around your cock. Your eyes widened at the sudden double sided attack you were facing. A loud moan erupted from you as pleasure began to make your body really buzz. You wouldn’t last long at this point.

And you didn’t. It wasn’t long after he started his assault that you came hard, making a mess on the floor below - gonna have to clean that up later. He removed his hands from you, making you shiver as you were suddenly left empty. Fuck, what the hell was that about?

You weren’t about to let him have the upperhand again. You pushed yourself off the ground despite still being a bit disoriented from your high. You looked behind you, another shiver running down your spine. He looked down at you like you were his last meal on death row. Or like an apex predator that hasn’t eaten in weeks and you were a juicy antelope or something. The wild look in his eye made your heart race with excitement.

“Pull your dick out,” you instructed. He blinked at your sudden demand, but he didn’t hesitate. Your eyes widened as you saw the sheer size of him, but you also knew you could take it. You had plenty of toys that size - you just weren't expecting someone to actually have that size of cock. 

“Too big for you? Wouldn’t be the first time.” That smug smile spread across his face and you had half the mind to just walk off, leaving him to his own devices. You were too horny for that though. You needed his dick in you right now.

“What did I say about your mouth,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes.

You moved, pressing yourself against the thick head. You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. As he made his way inside of you, you began panting as he stretched your insides to the max. He was throbbing inside of you and you were throbbing around him. You could already feel your legs numbing with pleasure. Fuck, you were going to feel this tomorrow - and it was your double day. Awesome. You really were great at thinking ahead.

You were thinking about a head alright. 

All your stupid thoughts went out the window as you felt Killer bottom out. He was completely inside of you now and you felt utterly full. You were panting heavily, as was he. Even being in the cooler, both of you were also sweating a considerable deal.

After a few moments of catching your breath, you began to move - slow at first, trying to find a good rhythm. You heard him grumbling about wanting to go faster. “If you wanted it your way, you shouldn’t have acted like a smartass,” you said. You were in control now and you were going to remind him of that.

Oh, how very wrong you were.

“Punish a smartass? I can do that.” 

Before you could even process what he said, you felt him place his hands on the bottoms of your thighs before pulling your legs up and locking his hands behind your head. Was he really going to full nelson you right here in the fucking walk-in? 

If someone opened the door right now, you’d be on display for everyone to see. Oh dear sweet Jesus, that somehow made everything hotter.

“I-” You weren’t even able to form a single word before he was absolutely using you. He pistoned his hips, slamming in and out of you - your own dick bouncing around. His cock dragged along your insides, hitting all the right spots in the process. Your head was spinning and your moans were loud despite your best attempts to quiet them. You just hoped the cooler was loud enough to muffle the noise enough. Walk-ins canceled out a lot of noise but they weren't completely soundproof. 

Then you heard it. The click that signaled someone was opening the door. You scrambled quickly, but felt yourself being hoisted up inside as Killer stood up. He moved, heading to the part where the shelving stopped and the wall dipped in a little. It was the perfect little nook for hooking up. Why you didn’t start there, you weren’t sure.

He moved quickly, pressing you against the wall before pressing as close to you as he could to hide himself from view as well. Only when he did that, he shoved himself so deep inside of you so suddenly, you felt him slam into that sweet spot that made your vision go white for a moment and ecstasy flooded your body as you climaxed, making a mess of the wall before you. You inhaled but before you could make too much noise, his hand covered your mouth, muffling your noises right as the person walked in. 

Your head was spinning and you were struggling to keep it together. “Find them?” you heard someone call. The door must’ve still been open. 

“No! I could’ve sworn I saw Killer come back here.”

“Same. I thought I saw y/n.” A sigh could be heard.

“I wonder where they went.”

“Wherever it is, they’re probably shagging.”

“Probably not. Y/n is very against sleeping with their coworkers. We all know this.”

“Wire thinks otherwise and no one knows them better. Not to mention the insane sexual tension from dinner. It was painful to watch.” 

If you weren’t about to explode at the moment, you would’ve been offended - maybe even said something. The only thing you wanted right now was them to leave so that Killer could fucking finish fucking you. You could deal with everything later. You didn’t care about what was being said.

Finally, the two of them left. Killer let out a sigh of relief. “I didn’t think they’d ever leave,” he said before slowly removing his hand from your mouth. You fell into a small coughing fit.

“Are you-”

“I swear to fuck, if you don’t finish what you started, I’m going to lose my marbles.”

Killer looked surprised for a moment before that stupid, smug smile was back. “Yes, boss.” You rolled your eyes but the attitude didn’t last very long as his hands gripped your hips and he started going to town once again.

Your nails dug into the metal walls of the cooler, your body both hot and cold. You were moaning and whining, not even caring if you were heard at this point. Your entire body was buzzing with pleasure. The fact that you’d already came twice and was more than likely going to a third time? You might just pass out from the euphoria of it all. 

The line cook’s movements grew more desperate and erratic. You knew he wasn’t going to be lasting much longer and neither were you. Both of you were making enough noise and with the skin slapping on top of it, there was no way the cooler was masking all of it.

He slammed inside of you one final time, sending both of you over the edge. You came all over the wall again, knowing you were probably going to have to scrub the damn place at this point. You shivered as he filled you up to the brim and then some, feeling it trickle down your leg.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, panting heavily as you recovered. After some time, Killer straightened up, slowly pulling out of you. With how oversensitive you were right now, it almost riled you up again. When he pulled out, another shiver racked your body as you were suddenly left empty. 

You heard him shuffle himself around before moving to help you. You turned around, looking at him.  “Are you alright?”

At this point, you weren’t sure - still on cloud nine. “I think I’ll be fine.” You stretched a bit, wincing slightly. “Tomorrow’s gonna suck though.” 

“I can cover for you.”

You looked at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “No offense, but I think you’d be a shit server. Completely different vibe from cooking.” 

He frowned. “And here I thought shagging you would take the attitude out of you.” 

You raised a brow, putting your hands on your hips. “Is that what you thought? Sorry, this isn’t something that comes from needing to be laid. I’m just always a bitch - personality trait.” You shrugged, retying your apron. You fixed yourself up before looking over at Killer. You snorted, buttoning his shirt back up.

“Looks like I’ll just have to try again.” A smug smile appeared on his face and you looked at him, a smile tugging on the corners of your own. “You can try as many times as you want, loverboy. It ain’t happening.” 

“I’ll ice that cake anytime.” Your eyes widened at his words and he laughed. “Yeah, I heard your little baker comment earlier. So you like my ass?” He winked, making your face turn red. “Fix your hair,” you mumbled. “Make it look less obvious we just boned.”

“Yes, boss.”

You rolled your eyes, flinging the walk-in door open to reveal several of your coworkers standing there. Wire grinned widely, a smug look on his face. “Everyone owes me twenty bucks.” There were collective groans. “No one knows our head server better than me, you should’ve known better than to bet against me.” He shook his head, holding his hand out as everyone forked over money. 

“But they literally never sleep with anyone that works here ever,” someone protested, pouting.

“Wait - does that mean they were in there boning when we…?”

You knew right then and there - you were never going to hear the end of this.

#hopefully these are okay cause damn im slammered rn #hopefully this will tie yall over for the next week while i take care of some personal stuff before diving into the killer fic #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #am fics #killer one piece #killer x reader #killer #massacre soldier killer #smut pieces

[planetsxmore]

SHORT MESSAGES FROM YOUR FUTURE LOVER

one two three

four five six

lowkey inspired to make this as i saw a few other blogs - this a short pac that'll consist of complete/incomplete sentences channeled by your future lover/spouse/soulmate- choose your pile carefully! - you can choose more than one pile if you'd like - used intuition and rw tarot deck for this reading - this is a general reading and may or may not resonate for you all - stay positive,and hydrated loves <33

© planetsxmore rights reserved 2022 • masterlist

your likes and reblogs will be appreciated •

ꕤ PILE 1

you're the sunshine to my darkness

are you okay? because i'm not

stop doubting yourself,you're amazing and complete! i love you for how you are -

i can't wait to have you in my arms but i know that's not possible - even after we meet because it'll take us time to realize how much we love each other

the color blue is our color..

it takes time to heal wounds and broken hearts

you're the best thing that ever happened to me

i'm insecure and i'm afraid you'll run away from the scars i have...

let us dance all night,talk all night - love all night...

i love your smile,it's adorable

ꕤ PILE 2

stop it,you're tickling me...

we're literally more than friends,more than best friends even....

it's uncanny the way we both understand each other. words aren't even needed to express what we want to communicate with each other

we're weird,and we know it- and frankly speaking we don't don't care *wink*

our love is more like an understanding - it's pure,less of the lust and more of the emotional love - we laugh with each other,cry with each other and do absolutely everything together - if we haven't met,i know it's unbelievable for you but you'll believe me once we meet, darling.

you hate my pet,why tho?

our dates are the best - they're soo secretive yet soo quirky lol

you hate it when i snort/snore/slurp - but i can't help it love xD

i gave you my everything yet you didn't think of it alot. why does it feel unrequited at times?

our taste is very similar..in almost alot of things

ꕤ PILE 3

i really love the way your body looks or may look,keeps me guessing...

you're a little too sensitive,can you be a little open? i mean c'mon life's about fun - don't waste yourself overthinking most of the time

whenever i listen to love songs,it reminds me of you..

you're jealous of my exes,but what am i suppose to do if i'm soo hot --

i feel as though so much,so much could be better between the two of us. i'm a little impatient in everything and i can't change that,love - i've tried, trust me

idk why you're soo shy,i'm all in for you -

i hope you understand that i'm not the one to believe in "happy ever after-s" - it's life,babe - we gotta understand it's not a storybook

i love it how you listen to me,it makes me feel as you're the one for me for life - but again,i don't believe in story tales - kinda love. i love it fast - and quick -

clinginess is not anything i love neither co dependency

i love it when my gifts make you happy - the twinkle in your eyes are everything!

[ loves,i don't know how you feel about this pile - but for some of you, i feel you're attracting a very toxic lover/fs - if that's the case,and you don't feel good about this pile- please don't worry since this is the future you're attracting at the moment - change your energy and be a little more positive to attract a better future and partner / you don't need to end up with such an individual if you don't want to - however,if you're fine with this,then no prob! ]

ꕤ PILE 4

close your eyes and imagine - i know you'll feel me around you...

i love how we do homely activities together (cooking/cleaning/working etc.)

you and i are equals. - equals for life

we argue like little kids and make out at the very next moment..

you're my jellybean and i'm your savior.

you always end up in trouble and i always end up fixing it all for you,but i'm with you don't worry

i'll find you but you need to be strong till then! don't let your feelings out for just anyone please

you like my car and i like your lips ...*winks*

it's soo funny how you'll hide your feelings for me and it'll be obvious at the same time..i'll do the same thing.. honestly it'll be a circus and we'll be like two clowns until we confess

please bear with me when i close off. i have past baggages that make me feel isolated at times and opening up can be difficult. just stay with me,i promise i'll open up for you,love.

ꕤ PILE 5

you're literally my drug - i don't know if it's toxic or not,but all i know is that i feel strongly for you ... strongly.

you love my hugs,i know you do .

i know i'm usually very busy and taking out time can be difficult - but i'll manage i promise,just don't go away with anyone else.

you're my favorite - my utmost favorite

maybe sometimes you'll feel as though i'm selfish - wanting all of your body,time and love for myself while i give you less -- but what can i do,love? it's just the way i am. i crave you... can't see you with anyone,even your work bothers me at times when you ignore me because if it - i'm sorry,i'll try to work in these habits...but habits are difficult to change y'know?

i'm possessive,yes i am. i don't want any third party between us - any !

you love our long drives and dinner dates , and i love them with you too !

i love you. i love you right? it's not infatuation,it's not obsession !

i love it when you smile for me, because of me - i love to be your source of happiness!

just be mine, please. when you crush on anyone apart from me,i feel -- i just don't feel good,even if it's a celeb.

[ loves,i don't know how you feel about this pile - but for some of you, i feel you're attracting a very possessive lover/fs - if that's the case,and you don't feel good about this pile- please don't worry since this is the future you're attracting at the moment - change your energy and be a little more positive to attract a better future and partner / you don't need to end up with such an individual if you don't want to - however,if you're fine with the possessiveness,then no prob! ]

ꕤ PILE 6

we're soulmates,yes we are.

do you know how much i had to think over before approaching you? why are you always soo - soo intimidating y'know lol

we're opposite poles of magnets. two parts of a heart - we fit perfectly.

listening to music together soothes me..

i can be a little workaholic but trust me sweetheart, whenever i get time - i rush to you,for you. i just want to build the most stable future for us. I see you in my future..

i'm a little inexperienced in relationships - they never excited me until you came in the picture..

i do whatever i can for you, but if something still bothers you - please,tell me. i don't mind you telling me what i can do better.

love me forever.

i'm all yours,love. the good and the bad. just like the raw ..

i'm scared that our families won't accept us but, no matter what,i'm with you. we'll work through this - you just work on yourself right now, don't stress out. we'll be with each other,as soon as the universe thinks it's time

#planetsxmore #pac reading #pick a card #future spouse #future lover #free tarot readings #pac #tarot #tarotcommunity #tarotblr #intuitive readings

[argisthebulwark]

'I'd Kill For You' vs 'I'd Die For You'

summary: who would fight and who would lay down their life in place of yours? gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Farkas, Cicero, Rune, Mercer, Miraak, Teldryn, Erik warnings: canon typical non-graphic blood/injury/death

Brynjolf would die for you. He can’t bring himself to take a life - Gallus never mixed words when teaching Brynjolf that lesson. But he would gladly die in your place. He begs you to leave him and save yourself, to get as far away as you can before Mercer’s Frenzy spell. His knuckles are white as he struggles to keep the blade pointed away from you despite the magicka taking hold of his mind. "Please, you have to get away. Let me handle this traitor. If there is love for me in your heart then you need to run and not look back."

Farkas would kill for you. He would lay waste to an entire camp if you asked. Silver Hand or run of the mill bandits it makes no difference to Farkas - he’d cut down anyone threatening your life.  "You're not getting away from me that easy. I'm not burying you 'til I drink you under the table one more time."

Cicero would kill for you in a heartbeat. He’s been waiting. Please ask him to kill for you. Daggers are in hand awaiting your word. He’s already mapping out the order in which he’ll take down anyone who looks at you wrong. You are his Listener, after all. It is his duty to keep you safe from harm.  "Loyal Cicero strikes at your command, dearest Listener. Just say the word."

Rune would die for you without thinking. He’d jump in front of the killing blow meant for you. He would let you cry into his armor, would wipe your tears when you demand to know why he would do such a thing. He would tell you that you still have so much work to do, the rest of the Guild relies on you too much to let you die. "The rest of them, they need you. Go on and make me proud, yeah?"

Mercer would begrudgingly kill for you. He’d try to spin it so you don’t think it has anything to do with you but there’s no mistaking it - he saved you. He’d grumble something about you being more useful alive than dead but you both know. Even if he refuses to admit it he’d kill almost anyone to keep you safe.  "Don't let it go to your head. The moment you stop bein' useful I'm tossing you back to the wolves."

Miraak would only die for you. When it comes down to it, when his sole hope for survival is ending your life he can’t bring himself to do it. He lets you kill him because he knows what you mean to the rest of the world. He’s realized that even if his life stretched on for another millennia it would be worthless without you. "I cannot face it without you, Mal Dov. I have wasted enough lifetimes to mourn the one I might have lived with you."

Teldryn would kill for you. The moment he spots you in trouble, surrounded on all sides and outnumbered by bandits all the memories would come flooding back. The grief of losing a close friend and patron. He couldn’t lose you. He’d rush in without a thought, fending off swords and arrows at your side. "Can't have you dying and ruining my fine reputation. I am Morrowind's finest bladesman, you're not dying on my watch."

Erik would die for you. He’d do anything for you. After all you’ve done for him - reigniting his dreams of becoming an adventurer, helping him escape the family farm, seeing the world at his side, he will not allow you to die. Laying in your arms he reminds you that he’s loved every moment spent in your company. "I wanted to grow old with you. I wanted to see everything with you."

#skyrim #writing #x reader #brynjolf #farkas #cicero #rune skyrim #mercer frey #miraak #teldryn sero #erik the slayer #x reader fanfic #skyrim x reader

[writingmysanity]

Missed it

happy birthday my friend! I hope you enjoy this, and that I did your man some justice!! @sordidmusings

Pairing: Buggy x reader

TW: none, buggy is an idiot. We love him anyway.

A/N: This is my first time writing the fool of a clown, so I am sorry if he isn't quite himself. Growing pains and all. You understand. Thank you @fanaticsnail for reading this over for me. You're an angel.

“You’re sure?” you do little to hide the hope in your voice. Buggy doesn't try to hide the smile that twitches at his lips, a small soft thing that has only ever been just for you. 

“I am sure, Doll,” he hums. “Your day is your day – you will be the star of the show.”

“I just want it to be you and me,” you admit quietly. A small thing – quiet, personal, private. He nods. 

“You and me.” 

=====

The rise and fall of voices lulls into a single sound, clashing cheers mixes with the distant shatter just beyond the line of sight. Each of them nearly shouting over the others with various overly indulged tales of their plunders earlier in the day. Sighing, you down the rest of your drink, shaking your head when yet another one of your crew mates offers to refill your mug. 

“I think i'll call it a night,” you mumble when Cabaji tries in vain to refill it anyway. He looks at you oddly. You have never been one to turn down a celebration. Yet, he doesn't stop you as you start to walk away. He misses the way your eyes flicker to the familiar mop of blue hair as his laughter rings out above the rest, calling for another round of drinks. 

You should have expected this, he is always the life of the party. It doesn't stop the sting. 

Just one day, you sigh, biting back your bitterness as you flop back against your bed. Am I not worth him remembering just one day? 

It isn't as if he doesn't care, you know he does. He just tends to be forgetful, too wrapped up in the limelight to keep dates at the forefront of his mind most times. Another island, another haul, another celebration. Another day. 

Head lulling to the side, you spot the cupcakes you had made last night. Just two, one for each of you. The time you spent calculating and recalculating the recipe to make just the two tiny cakes took you much longer than you are willing to admit. 

It took so much longer than if you had just made the original, normal amount in the first place. But you wanted to be selfish, you didn't want to share. Not your cake, your birthday or your man. 

The flashy fool you grouch to yourself as you roll out of bed. 

You refuse to let your day waste away because he forgot it. 

Settling in at the small table, you reach for the pack of matches you left off to the side this morning. Shaking it, you huff at the weight. You'll need more soon. There is only one left. Shrugging it off, you light it, watching the fire flicker for a moment before leaning it towards the candle.

“Happy birthday to me,” you sing weakly, choking back the disappointment as you close your eyes. Huffing, you rub at your thighs, feeling silly. You're much too old for childish wants and wishes. Nothing will come of it. 

And yet, you make a wish. 

The whispered request settles into the silence of the room, almost drowned out by the distant celebration. By his laughter. 

You can't help the way the wave of emotion hits you at the sound. Your hand lifts to cover your mouth, to muffle the sob that wretches from your chest. Curling in on yourself, you rest your head to the table, letting the tears fall. Laying there, you watch the candle flicker, shuddering from the force of your hiccuped cries, the flames blurring slightly from the tears as you sit up again. 

Taking a deep breath, you whisper your wish again before leaning forward to blow out the candle. You sit there in silence, letting his laughter ring out around you for a while longer before you pull yourself to the bed. Tomorrow will be better. You can forgive him tomorrow. 

Hell remember, right?

=========

The night is nearly over, the dull tug of dawn lightening the shadows from the sky, when Buggy finds himself stumbling back into your shared room. No matter how hard he tries, the drunken tilt of his steps thunder against the floors. Somehow, the sounds do not rouse you. 

Pausing for a moment, he stops to stare, watching the way your chest rises and falls in your sleep. He lets himself smile, leaning heavily against the wall as he takes you in. The moment doesn't last, the thick smell of something sweet hitting his nose. The scent rams against his senses, making his head swim and his vision cloud slightly, making him nauseous. Looking around, he frowns. 

Where is that coming from? 

His eyes glaze over the room, becoming increasingly agitated when he can't find the source, until his eyes fall to the table beside him. He freezes as his eyes fall on the two delicately decorated cupcakes resting there. His gaze flickers between the cakes and the bed, swallowing hard. 

That's tomorrow… right?

He eyes the burnt out match beside the cake with a candle in despair, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry. 

Fuck.

==========

Shifting in bed, you wince at the distant clatter followed by a curse. Buggy’s voice echoes harshly against the thin, wooden walls. Sighing, you sit up, half convinced that you had only fallen asleep for a few hours. Blinking slowly, you stare – the gentle wash of orange and red lingering on the panels of the window seat just on the other side of the bed, golden rays lighting the rest of the room. 

It's only then that you realize that there is no sound, none other than Buggy. 

Without thought, you’re to your feet and out the door when there is a slam followed by muffled curses. You wince at the distant chill of the wood against your bare feet, finding yourself leaning into the kitchen. Brows furrowed, you watch him as he rummages around. 

Ingredients are tossed about like he does with loot when he is looking for something specific, a total disregard to anything but what is currently plaguing his mind. He is unharmed, from what you can see, so you stay there watching, resisting the urge to yell at him for last night. When his head pops up again, you see it in his eyes. 

Panic. 

Frowning, you almost speak up, until you hear the words spilling from his lips. 

“You damn fool” he grouches to himself, picking up and moving things from one place to another. He is pacing around the kitchen, eyes wide as they flicker over everything around him. “You forgot you forgot you forgot.” He chastises himself over and over. 

It is only then that you tear your eyes from his fumbling form, blinking in surprise. There are balloons, the plastic spheres littering the ceiling, bobbling along as he rushes by. The kitchen is completely decorated, your favorite color splashed along every surface haphazardly. You can't help but eye the various bags cluttering the table top – each decorated to peak bedazzlement, bright and shiny papers glinting back in the early morning sun. 

“Why does it look like that?” He mourns out loud. Your eyes snap back to him, finding him with his head in his hands standing before what you assume is supposed to be a cake. The cake itself is crumbly, falling apart. He had tried to plaster it back together with frosting, but it seems that that had only made the cracks more obvious. Again, it looks as if he had tried to hide it, large clumps of icing half smeared around it, all of it melting before he is able to spread it properly. 

Pausing to take him in again, you soften. He is a mess, and not in his usual over dramatic way. His hair is tied back in a rush, half of it falling from the band he had used to pin it back. His brilliant red nose is nearly white, smeared with flour and icing. His clothes are covered in it, splotches of white, blue and green. 

“You iced it too early,” you answered him, your voice still heavy with sleep. “And from the looks of it, you took the cake out of the pan before it had cooled.” he jumps, his head literally twisting from his body as he jerks, eyes wide as it plops back onto his neck. 

“You’re awake,” he breathes as he fumbles to stand before you, trying in vain to smooth out his clothes. “I, uh…” you frown, the anger bubbling up again, seeing him avoid your eyes and the silence seems to linger more. Just as you're about to open your mouth, he begins again. 

“Please, just.. Let me…” he swallows, taking a breath. “I'm sorry.” he begins again, wringing his hands. “I was a fool, I let myself get so wrapped up in the celebrations that I forgot our – your – celebration.” he whispers out, wincing. “You deserve so much more, and I understand if you hate me–” 

“I don't hate you,” you cut him off sharply, eyes narrowing at him. “I am mad at you,” you correct him. “Those things are mutually exclusive, Buggy. I am allowed to be upset with you, it doesnt change the fact that I love you.” he nods his head so quickly that you are sure it will come bobbing off again, his eyes wide and pleading. 

Sighing heavily, you shake your head while rubbing at your eyes. You kick yourself for finding that you have already forgiven him, that you had forgiven him well before this. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you have yet to decide, you can't seem to stay angry with him for long. Especially after seeing what he's done to try and make it up to you. Smiling to yourself, you lift up to press a chaste kiss to his lips, a silent indication of your forgiveness. Automatically, his lips chase yours as you start to pull back, but he stops himself. 

“I truly meant to spend your day with you,” he says quietly, his tone almost begging you to believe him.  He looked around quickly, as if making sure that everything was still there. He wanted it to be perfect, and it had started out well, but things seemed to have quickly fallen apart as he started the cake. Literally. “I uh, I baked you a cake.” he motions to the baked goods, watching in despair as a large chunk slides from the side and down onto the plate with a distant thwap. 

“I… can't bake.” he admits, making you laugh. He relaxes some, lips twitching at the sound. 

“I know,” you agree, stepping towards the sad blob of icing. “Is it edible?” he shuffles over, staring at the offending item as if it had personally betrayed him. 

“I can't promise that.”

========

tags list because requested @short-honey-badger

#buggy the clown #buggy one piece #captain buggy #buggy x reader #buggy #op buggy

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine making the red haired pirates laugh during serious moments

Warning slight spoilers

The crew is in the town jail

Benn: *drunk as shit and annoyed he's too drunk to fight* We need to get out of here or the navy is going to be up our asses by morning light. Gods it was such a mistake letting you talk us into bar hopping this close to Mary Geoise. We need to figure out how to get out of here, think you idiots.

Shanks: *Snores loudly*

Benn: *kicks him awake* think of a way to get us out of here like your life depends on it.

You: Yeah, wouldn't want the world government to get a hold of you boss, they'll stick one of those stupid bubbles they wear on you.

Shanks: Those old men are always lenient with me like I'm their loser grandson.

You: probably because you are their loser grandson, or at least one of theirs, and they feel too guilty to really punish you because ultimately it's their fault that you became a pirate in the first place.

Benn: You give them too much credit, they're not capable of that much empathy, and also less talkie, more thinkie.

A few minutes later

You: *trying to make small talk to pass the time* So are you just a Benn? Or are you a Benedict, Benjamin?.... A Bennathan?

Shanks: *slumped next to Benn, starts cackling*

Benn: *snorts* Bennanathan? No, just a Benn. Also, this is very serious, we might get caught by the world government tonight.

Shanks: *slurring* it's fine, I just need to sober up a little, so give me a few minutes, and I'll bust us out once I am no longer able to feel the planet spinning.

You: sure, it's the planet that's the only thing spinning. Our Boss is too strong to fall victim to a bit'a hooch, but I can't say the same for his liver.

Hongo: *snorts* I'll make arrangements to get him a new one just in case.

A week later

Shanks: *yelling* But we need an escape pod for the ship, it'd be very useful to have!

Howling Gab: *the quarter master in charge of the ship's budget and also yelling* no, you have legs and one good arm, just swim, most of our enemies are devil fruit users anyway!

Benn: *secretly wants one too* it would be pretty cool.

Howling Gab: *Bellows* (y/n) come get your boys, they want a ludicrous escape pod!

You: *Missing all their social ques, as you come out of the office* Oh, that sounds hella rad!

Howling Gab: *gives you the disapproving dad look and growling low in his chest*

You: I mean, why would we need that? Especially when both of you are such excellent swimmers, and you both look hot when you're soaked.

The crew: *nods in agreement*

Shank: All very true, but please try seeing it from my perspective~

You: *opens the broom closet next to you, pulls out a stepladder and gets on, so you can look him in the eyes*

Hongo: *keels over laughing*

Benn: *coughing because he's laughing so hard and needs to stop smoking*

Shanks: *Wants to be mad, but can't*

You: We don't need an escape pod, okay?

Shanks: ... fine.

You: *takes another step up the ladder, so you're at eye level with Benn* agreed?

Benn:.... Agreed

You: Good, now let's go get wasted.

Shanks: It's probably a good thing we don't get an escape pod, I'd end up driving drunk.

You: we know darling, we know, there's a reason why we don't let you near the stern when you've had a few. You always try to drink and sail.

Coming Soon (5/13)

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #akagami no shanks #red hair pirates #red hair shanks x reader #red haired shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks x reader #red hair shanks #shanks #benn beckman #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #5/13/23 #no beta we die like men

[auteurdelabre]

GONE - Javier Peña x M OR F! READER

Pairings: Javier Peña x m OR f! Reader (never specified)

Rating: pg13

Tags: angst, established relationship, breaking up, love but it hurts.

Notes: I had this story floating in my head all day so I had to write it quick. Sorry for any and all spelling or grammar errors.

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

GONE

"I'm tired of having the same fight over and over."

"So drop it."

"I can't," you say, swallowing the crack in your voice as you turn to face him. "Either we talk this out or I'm gone."

You're standing by the door of his apartment, by the framed photo of his mama. He's seated on the couch, cigarette in one hand, whiskey in the other.

There's a quiet moment of clarity as you two engage in this silent stand-off. He's never going to change.

Only a single lamp illuminates the room, casting half his face into shadow. You drink in the strong nose and plush lips. The way his large, soulful eyes go from staring at the ground to gazing up at your face.

"Then go," he scoffs, the hand around his whiskey glass tightening. "Leave the key in the bowl on your way out."

"I'm serious, Javi."

"So am I."

You'd been foolish to think a man like Javier Peña could commit. The charismatic enigma who's sole focus was work? How could you think you'd ever compare?

The very thing that drew you to him was what now pushed you out of his arms and his life.

You'd liked that he was focused and dedicated to his job. You liked that he had an easy smile for most, even if it hid a tortured look in his eyes. You liked that when he talked to you he barely blinked, as if even those milliseconds would be time wasted not seeing you.

He gave you a key to his apartment after three months. Murmured into your neck that he liked coming home to you. You fucked all hours, you made dinners together dancing in his cramped kitchen, he fell asleep on your shoulder more than once.

And when you saw toll that the the weight of his job took you'd painted him as a tragic, romantic figure with galaxy-filled eyes and a passion that burned, stoked by life's past tragedies.

Perhaps that had been your biggest mistake because what you hadn't painted him as was human.

A human that drank too much and worked too late. A human that liked fucking you but ignored you in public. If you tried to claim his hand in yours it was casually batted away.

He tried to convince you it was for your safety, that Escobar had men watching him. That when he went out with Connie and Murphy and didn't invite you it was to keep you alive.

And you'd believed it, or at least you'd accepted it. Was it naiveity on your part? Or willful ignorance?

Whatever it was it's over now. Over ever since you got the call this morning that your parents are coming to Columbia to see where you work at the embassy and to meet the man you've been dating half a year. The man you've told them you're in love with.

You hadn't been expecting Javi's vitriolic response when you'd happily told him over coffee this morning that they would be coming over for dinner the next night.

Despite it being hours ago you still vividly recall the way he'd slammed his coffee cup down so quickly dark brown droplets landed everywhere. The way he'd fixed you with a hideous scowl and demanded you cancel it because:

"I'm not meeting your fucking parents."

Hours later he still won't give you a straight answer. Won't explain why he never brings you to drinks with friends and why date nights are usually alone in his apartment. Why fucking him sometimes seems like the only way you can feel close some weeks. When he holds you down by the small of your back and fucks into you with an animalistic growl that feels ripped from his lungs.

And then you realize you're done. It's over. It was never really started was it? Is it a relationship if it only exists behind closed doors? Can love bloom in a cage?

You take a moment to look at him one last time. The way his shoulders cause his pale blue shirt to strain, the way his tongue comes to swipe the last dregs of whiskey from his full lower lip. The lean fingers that hold a cigarette he hasn't taken a drag from since you started this conversation.

"Goodbye, Javi."

You turn before you're unable to keep the tears from falling. They come though, streaming down your cheeks as you make it to the door, suitcase in hand. Like you'd always known it would end like this.

The key is dropped in the brown bowl he keeps his wallet, sunglasses and other items when he comes home from work.

When the door is shut behind you, you're certain you can hear footsteps over carpet and the muffled sound of your name being called.

But it's too late.

You're already gone.

#javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena #javi pena #narcos fanfiction #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic