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randomshyperson · 1 month

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Five Times Carol Danvers Kisses You

Summary: The five times Carol Danvers kisses you until you two finally get together.

Warnings: Mentions but nothing explicit, a lot of fluff, mutual pining (and typical angst of trope), best friends to lovers, pre-canon-compliant (takes place before Carol is taken), kissing, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 4.836k

A/N-> As mentioned on this blog before, I absolutely love the dynamics of "Five Times Something" and after watching The Marvels I became obsessed with Carol Danvers, and here I am with something about my beloved blondie. It's short and sweet, and I didn't want to write anything too angsty but you can get hints of what's to come from the canon (Dr.Lawson being a Kree in disguise and what will happen to Carol). But the fic doesn't address this directly and ends up with a happy scene. Let's all live in denial.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

One.

“This is not a place to raise a child” was the justification your father used when he left. Funny enough, he didn't take the child, you, away from all the high-tech military weapons that he described as inadequate for a child to grow up around.

His lost, it what your mother said, an easy smile on her lips while she offered you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She still had some grease on her jacket and a lot of dust on her hair but she looked beautiful. That was just how things were for Wendy Lawson.

And because she was the best mom anyone could ask for, or at least that was what you would perceive it with your limited references of healthy families. She was the best because she would let you sit around while she worked for the Shield, casually teaching you advanced engineering like it was the same homework you had from secondary school.

That was the only life you knew: Afternoons of trying to stay out of the way of Shield Agents and their big weapons until you were old enough to have a gun yourself.

But before that time came, some of them worried you weren't having a decent childhood. Away from guns at least.

You don't know which of the Agents suggested to Doctor Lawson the kart track, but you wish you could thank them. Your mother, as the busy cientist she always has been, was not available to be around all of the evenings you wished to spend there but she trusted your independence to use the bus after school. Besides, you had the impression that there were always Shield Agents keeping an eye on you no matter where you went.

Só for three whole years, that old place was your favorite. You would run out from the classroom with the first ring of the bell to get to the kart track as fast as you could, and for all those three years, you were also the best runner there.

Of course, it cost you some bloody noose and bruised hands. Especially with sore losers little boys who were very unpleased to be second placed by some random girl. There were also the parents, who would whisper not very lowly on how absurd it was to let an unsupervised little girl in such a violent activity.

As luck would have it, someday you were no longer the only little girl around.

The Danvers were local, and you always thought there were only three of them. The grumpy father and the loud and popular sons. But one day, the one with the warmest smile, the youngest son brought someone with him.

His little sister's name was Carol. She had her blonde hair tied down and she looked ready to punch anyone who gave her a hard time. All the Danvers kind looked the same to be fair. Blonde, strong and angry.

Unlike her brother and their free pass to do as they please, Carol was constantly reprimanded by her father. Even there, in front of the whole crowd and runners, he would scream and pinch her ear, adding to the fury that shone behind Carol's little blue eyes.

The other children would whisper just like their parents but growing up with spies and secret agents gave you this second nature to sneak in and out of places without being noticed. You weren't supposed to hear some of the adults whispering how Mr.Danvers drank more than he should or how his older son was leaving next summer for the army with a purple eye he didn't get in the training. You weren't supposed to but you did.

So the next time Carol crashed a car with one of the other runners, you messed up your perfect record to help her.

Her dad screamed again, as usual. But he left, muttering she could find her way home since she was so clever and Carol had those thick tears in her eyes that made them bluer, so you were helping her before you could give a second thought to it.

She didn't mind that you took her hand and brought her to the administration lobby. She's more interested in knowing how the hell you knew how to get there in the first place.

When you told her you grew up with spies she laughed thinking you were joking. You decided to tell her more stories in the hope it would distract her from the pain of the cuts she got in her legs from the crash.

It worked.

Carol had colorful patches on both her knees when you two sneaked out of there to the bus stop. You could take her home if she wished because you knew a lot about public transport but Carol smiled and said she could do it alone; Her dad was often not around and with soldiers brothers, she knew a lot about doing things by herself.

Yet, she appreciates the gesture and the thought. Her bus should be here in 25 minutes so you sit next to her and let your healthy knee brush her bruised one.

“My name is Carol Danvers by the way.”

You have to chuckle at her line.

“I know who you are, Danvers.” You retort with an easy smile. She looks up with curiosity. You chuckle again. “You know your name is on the scoreboard, right?”

She laughs, almost shyly. You don't know that yet but Carol is not the best at making friends. Especially girlfriends because apparently, every girl hated how not 60s girly behavior she acted on as much as any boy.

You didn't mind. If anything, it kinda made you like her more.

“You didn't have to do that back there you know?” She starts over, fingers tugging at the bandaid you put above her knee. “Lose the race to check on me.”

You shrug, eyes on the road. “No worries. There'll be other races. Besides, you're the only real competition I get there. If you're not participating, what's the fun in winning?”

Carol's cheeks grow a little hotter, but you're both too young to know it has nothing to do with the sun above your heads. You offer her a smile and she gets up to signal to the bus.

But before she leaves, she turns to you again.

It's quicker than her crash that morning, the thank you little peck on your right cheek but is as meaningful as losing a three-year Invictus status on a track race for someone.

Carol nearly flees the scene once she catches the first glimpse of surprise in your expression. You were caught off guard, that's all. But all you can do is laugh to yourself as you watch her run to her bus.

Tomorrow, when you are back here, you'll find Carol so you can share your lunch with her. Today, you would walk home with no clue why the spot she kissed was tingling.

-&-

Two.

Shield Academy is not the army.

It is, as the name suggests, an academic program for the gifted-minded. It's a place where a child who grew up surrounded by the brightest minds on the planet can get it easily.

Well, of course, there's a lot of studying and tiring exams that you wouldn't describe as easy but when taking everything into consideration, the only place a brainy - or huge nerd as Carol would call it - could end up was there.

So while you had big dark blue sweaters with the Shield logo on them, Carol had worn out public school uniforms.

But she was doing okay. In fact, if anyone asked you, even though you were the nerd one in that friendship, for you, Carol was quite brilliant. She had a quick mind and such a strong, well, everything. She was as clever as she was kind. She was passionate about anything she cared for and she was easily your favorite person.

The kart track gave space for the public library and the green plains behind Shield Academia as you two grew up. Carol would take her bike from across town and spend the whole day after school in those green yards with you. Often, she had a football with her while you had a book.

And while you tried to escape your Shield colleagues, Carol would find her spot at your side. She would watch those training agents and wish to be like them, while both of you knew she would follow her brothers to the military when the time came.

But for now, you're sixteen. And Carol has been your best friend for almost 6 years now. You're not sure if friends have anniversaries or if it's something reserved for dating, and since you're not gonna ask any of the agents around, especially not Doctor Lawson, you just assume is okay to get Carol a gift.

She had been wishing for a walkman for so long - she had three already, all broke down during some of her naughty antics, from jumping into the reservation without remembering to take them off her backpack to get into a fight with older kids who thrown her stuff just for the fun of it. So yes, she had those before and she loved music but somehow she always ended up breaking them so you thought maybe because you were the one gifting it, she would be more careful.

You were right of course, but that's hardly the point.

Carol started to act strange after the gift. Even days later, during movie night at her house, she got quiet, which is definitely not a Carol Danvers kind of attitude, so you started to wonder if the present was a good idea at all.

That of course, until Carol clarified the whole thing.

“I got you something too. For, hum, the anniversary thing.”

You pinched her ribs, the nearly shy behavior was such an odd thing to testify that was actually terrifying you. Carol has been your best friend for way too long for that or anything to be awkward between you two.

But then again, adolescence makes everything weird.

You don't open the gift very graciously. Because you were in the middle of movie night, of course, hands full of popcorn butter and Carol was being weird and suspect that you just wanted to put an end to it.

You chuckle at her worn-out team jacket there.

“So your gift to me is your jacket?” You asked with a confused frown, watching your friend struggle with her words the next moments.

“No, I mean yes. But not, just that.” She starts and it's quite the scene. Carol Danvers not being able to talk when that's all she does. “It's my favorite jacket. I… really like it.”

“Do you want it back then?” You suggest with a confused laugh but Carol shakes her head immediately, her cheeks rosy.

“God, no, that’s not…” she takes a deep breath. “I like the jacket, a lot, but not as much as I like you. So I thought, maybe if I can give you something that I really like, it will mean…”

“Oh, I get it.” You say with a smile, holding the jacket against your chest as Carol switches the weight in her foot. “Thank you, blondie. But you don't have to give me your favorite stuff to show me you like me. You don't have to give me anything at all really. Perhaps, all you have to do is say it and I'll believe you.”

Carol nods, shallowing dryly, and without missing a beat, she repeats her words from before: “I really like you.” It's nearly a whisper, and the way she struggles to hold your gaze tells you everything you need to know.

You smile, aware of the warmth spreading in your cheeks and ears.

“I really like you too, Carol.” You tell her and with no hush, you put her jacket on. The blonde in front of you takes a shaky breath once the jacket is properly around your body. You're distracted with the new outfit to take notice of the new dark shine her eyes hold. “Gotta admit it, Danvers, I could totally worm the athletic style. I mean, I look super cool don't I?”

But your question goes unanswered. Carol moves forward, her hands grab the collar of the gifted jacket and just like the first time, she kisses you quicker than you can manage to process.

Her lips are dry against yours because she's nervous. Trembling and terrified. You pull away, and Carol has her eyes closed tightly, breathing unevenly.

You take a deep breath and lick your lips to moisten them a little and the second kiss is much better.

There's this soft noise she makes when you move your mouth but the second you feel her tongue on your lower lip, there's noise around you two.

As if getting electrocuted, Carol jumps away just in time for her evidently drunk father to stumble inside the garage.

Carol is not eight anymore, but she's the only one left in that house. Her older brother taught her five different ways to break someone's noose, but Carol still shakes like the leaves if her father is around with his harsh words and angry looks.

This time, however, he takes a long glance at you both. The guilty looks, accelerated breathing, and he just laughs.

The only thing he says is a slur that makes Carol flinch. Then he turns his back and climbs the stairs to his bedroom, passing out in the hallway before he can make it through.

“Carol, I-” You try but she forces a smile and nods at the door.

“Please go.” She asks. “I have to take him to bed and you don't have to stay.”

“But-”

“Please.”

You leave. And Carol doesn't bring up that night for the next two years.

-&-

Three.

Graduation means Army. More specifically, the Air Force because of course Carol Danvers wants to fly away from everything and everyone.

“Not everyone.” She frowns when you tell her that. Then she smiles, legs brushing yours at the back of her truck. “I would love to have you up there with me.”

You chuckle, giving her shoulder a little bump with your own.

“Sorry Blondie, you know I hate planes.” You joke but the shine in her eyes is deeper now.

“What about spaceships?” She insists it.

You sigh into the night, pensive for a second.

“Well, Mom would probably love it if I ever suggest anything that involves flying.” You say, breaking into a chuckle as your hand moves to the leg you have bent in that position, which allows you to trace your fingers toward your ankle. “Of course, anything other than my secret little Pegasus.”

Carol gives a compliance smile at the mention of the secret tattoo you got on her seventeenth birthday but continues to watch you in silence.

The stars are shining bright above you two, and the parked truck gives as much privacy as one could get in that neighborhood. If you and Carol weren't girls, people would make conclusions.

Perhaps they’ll do it anyway.

“What would I even do up there, Danvers?” You ask her because Carol is so passionate about flying that you're starting to wonder if she is able to see a whole different world up there that you can't.

This time, her hand finds you before her lips. She brings her fingers to yours resting on the truck and locks them. She gets closer and closer and gives you all the time in the world to push her back.

But she's Carol, and she's beautiful and she's your best friend. Why wouldn't you want to kiss her?

There's tongue this time. Hesitant at first then curious, until finally hungry. Of course, Carol Danvers is a good kisser, this asshole.

You break apart, to complain with a husky tone that is unfair but Carol only chuckles before kissing you again. And again. Until somehow you end with your back against her truck, painting into her mouth.

And Carol is seventeen years old and she's a huge virgin like you who really wants this to change tonight. Not just that, of course, but she's still a teen and that's exactly what she chooses to say in order to make this less life-changing than it is.

Because sleeping together as a way of ending high school without the V Card has a completely different meaning than sleeping together because you really want to ruin a friendship.

You swallow at her suggestion, aware that the heat in your veins doesn't cover for the way your heart just broke inside your chest.

But you smile and tell Carol you love her, making sure it sounds platonic. Just to hurt her just as much.

It works, but she kisses you anyway.

-&-

Four.

Maria Rambeau is the most incredible person you have ever met. She's clever and fun and kindhearted. It's so easy to love her and it comes so naturally, that you can't really blame Carol.

You also have no right to be jealous, you tell yourself.

After all, Carol asked more than once for you to at least consider following her to the Air Force. You both had military families, so it made sense for her that you both ended up following the same path.

You were not entirely excluded from that, of course. But unlike Carol with her soldier training, you had medical classes. And while she and Maria learned to shoot people, you learned to heal them.

That of course until the third year, when Carol's training moved to space crafting and yours moved to biological charts. The Pegasus was not the only military project available for you, and being home was good but every time you caught a glimpse of the empty fields near the station, you remember afternoons with Carol and the lack of her ache a hell lot inside your chest.

But visiting her at the base and then at a local bar was a bittersweet occasion.

Because time went by and Carol made a new friend. A lovely and brilliant and apparently less confused woman new best friend. Maria who made her laugh and blush and was such a great company that you couldn't hate her no matter how much the jealousy burned inside your veins.

Somehow, no matter how many dove eyes Carol threw at Maria, she didn't catch them. Immune to her charm entirely. You kinda wished she would teach you that.

The last free week you had was spent visiting Carol and ending up in a bar. But Maria's night was continuing with a good-looking soldier somewheres else, so yours and Carol's would continue with cheap drinks.

It was probably common sense, not to mix alcohol with feelings but you and Carol clearly skipped that class.

You ended up pressed behind the bar's wall in a messy attempt of drunken make-out with your former best friend.

Carol tasted like beer and the army's year changed her. Even drunk, she knew her way around a woman's body now and you had to force your stupid brain to stop wondering about who she had been practicing with. Perhaps Maria was not immune to her charm as you thought she was.

Just as things were getting out of hand, that is, it was probably against some army rules to have sex behind one bar in the military area, Carol pulled away.

She looked so good like that, with messy hair and flushing cheeks, her lips swollen due to the whole thing.

But her eyes were so sad. And you couldn't push the alcohol and the lust away to have clear thoughts on that.

“We can't do this again.” She declares with a seriousness that makes you swallow hard. “I can't.”

She stumbles away and you nearly slip down the hall on your shaky legs. Carol is looking for her car keys but she will definitely fall asleep on the seat.

To be fair, you kinda wished that night would end in her car seat, just in very different scenarios.

“Why not, Danvers?” You manage to question once the anger pushes a little of the alcohol away. Carol sighs tiredly. “Why?” You almost scream and she stops in her tracks, turning to give you a hurt look.

“I can't do this again, okay?” She retorts and she's drunk but she's so hurt. You can see it in her eyes and it kills you to think it is something you have done it. “I don't have the strength in me to get over you again”.

Your world freezes for a whole second. Your mouth is bitter suddenly.

“O-over me?” You repeat her words, confusion mixing with the pain you feel growing in your chest. “When… When were you under me?”

The question is the best of what your drunk brain can come up with but it's enough for Carol to understand.

She lets out a sad chuckle. “C'mon, Lawson. How could you not know? Everyone did. Even my dad, especially my dad.” She corrects herself then, bitterly before taking a deep breath. “It's past. It doesn't matter anymore. We are no longer kids, messing around with things we don't understand. I know what am I. And I know we shouldn’t. I won't jeopardize our friendship again for someone I cannot have.”

There are tears in your eyes, and Carol has the fucking worst timing in the world because your brain simply can't catch up with the meaning of this conversation with all the booze in the way.

“Carol, what are you even saying?”

She just smiles, giving a nod to the bar.

“Let's get inside, I'll get you a cab back to your hotel.”

She doesn't let you question further and the next morning, when the hangover barely allows you to open your eyes, Carol says the worst thing you did last night was try dancing with a Statue.

-&-

Five.

Doctor Lawson has been acting strange lately. She says it's work stress when she returns your calls and ignores your advice about her retiring.

You use your mother's stress as an excuse to come home, and it seems ridiculous that you have to invent reasons to see Carol, but she gives you no choice. Things have been very strange between you in recent months.

The house is a mess, and it's the first time you've worried about the possibility of dementia.

Strange phrases, disconnected words. You think about calling the head of Shield when you put Dr. Lawson to bed after making her some hot tea, but you end up calling Carol.

Your former best friend brings her old truck into your garage.

"Hey, blondie." She hugs you first at the greeting, and you sigh with satisfaction at the contact. You almost forget the stress of the whole meeting with your mother. "It's good to see you."

"I missed you." Carol says with a smile, squeezing you tighter before letting go. "What happened? You sounded worried on the phone."

You sigh before telling her everything you saw, standing there leaning on Carol's truck in the dim light of the garage. It's her turn to sigh when you finish.

"Good thing I brought beer." She comments, getting a laugh out of you.

You don't even notice the time passing that night, but it's like being back in senior year, sitting side by side in the back of Carol's truck, forgetting the world around you for a moment.

When the case of beers is about to run out, you've said almost everything you have to say. Carol thinks she needs to add something more.

"I know the circumstances aren't the best but... I can't say I'm sad." She begins, looking straight ahead, a half-full can of beer in her hands. "With the possibility of you coming to live here again, I mean. I've kind of hated Washington since you left. And Shield too, for taking you away."

You giggle shyly at this and don't know what to say to Carol, so you just decide to hug her. But you're a bit dizzy after the third beer and miscalculate your approach. You end up too close to her face and can see almost in slow motion how the blue darkens or how Carol chokes on her breath.

"I'm sorry, I-" you begin in a hoarse voice, but she doesn't let you finish. The beer can slips out of her hand as she uses both to pull your face towards her.

It's an intense, messy, and passionate kiss. Carol swallows all the sighs that escape your lips as she presses her mouth to yours. Her tongue doesn't ask for passage. You melt against her and try your best to match her energy, suddenly feeling very dizzy, unrelated to the beer.

Her hands move from your face to your neck and down to your waist. Carol mentions pulling you onto her lap, but the balcony lights flicker on and she grunts as she pulls away.

You're still blinking spellbound at the whole thing, trying to catch your breath as she stands up, adjusting her hair.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that." She mutters more to herself than to you, hoarse and upset. You swallow dry. "I'm so stupid."

"Carol."

"You're so fucking stupid, Carol Danvers, I swear to God." She ignores your call, continuing to curse quietly to herself. You frown, but end up looking at the porch; your mother has woken up and looks just as lost as before and you really need to check on her.

When you get out of the truck, you touch Carol on the shoulder, and she turns around almost in despair.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm leaving-"

"Carol, shut up." You cut her off and don't let her say another word.

She shuts up immediately. "I really have to get back inside, and make sure my mom doesn't turn on any water or store the cat in the fridge again." You chuckle apologetically, stroking her cheek. "But I need you to understand that this isn't a mistake, an accident or a thoughtless act after a few beers. At least it isn't and it never was for me. We need to start talking to each other."

Carol nods quickly, swallowing as she looks down at your swollen lips. "Yeah, talking is good."

You smile, and hear the sound of the cat in the house and think you'd better start running. "Later, okay?"

"Later."

But your mother doesn't have dementia. She's not even allowed in a regular hospital. Shield is strangely private about everything, but you're practically coerced into signing confidentiality papers about the current state of Dr. Lawson, who seems to miraculously improve after spending an hour in a room with other agents.

Carol is the only person you can talk to about things, and she has news of her own.

"Maria is pregnant." She tells you, with a twinkle in her eye, without waiting for you to finish absorbing the news. "And she wants me to be the godmother!"

You're happy for Maria, especially perhaps because she's seeing that handsome soldier and she and Carol have nothing going on. Also, you need to tell Carol that you can go back to Washinton now that your mother is better.

"Oh, I thought..." The blonde hesitates as she hears the news, trying not to look upset by forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I thought you'd decided to stay."

You're having breakfast in the living room of your house, Dr. Lawson is working upstairs. You swallow the bitter feeling of hurting Carol again.

"I would, for Mom. But why would I stay in Louisiana?" It's a rhetorical question because you both know very well what would make you stay. Carol laughs sadly, looking down. You get tired of pretending. " I would stay for you. I would stay for... us."

She looks at you in silence, a conflict of emotions on her face. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't just give up your career for a friendship-"

"Carol." You cut her off seriously, and she choked on her sentence, her eyes as tearful as yours. You give her a small smile, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

She swallows dryly, and despite reaching out to take your hand, she insists; "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"God, you're such an asshole." You gasp with emotion, laughing as tears of happiness escape yours and her eyes. Carol also laughs but waits. "Okay, Danvers. You've got me. I'm completely, irrevocably in love with you. I have been for a long time, maybe since the first time I saw you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Carol almost knocks over the coffee table when she moves in to kiss you but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers fics #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel #marvel imagines

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just-some-random-blogger · 8 months

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Safe Keeping | 3

Part 1 2 3 4

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, jealousy, canon typical casual misogyny/violence, themes/mentions of menstruation/pregnancy/miscarriage, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: i made a bunch of shit up in this this chapter so just roll with it (: originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds

I blink harshly and pinch myself, willing my body awake. I force my eyes wide open, doing my best to make sense of the surroundings that were cloaked in black.

We were heading to my family's abandoned estate in the Brown Wood by the Sterling Rivers; finally, the people there would have a present preceding lord to govern them.

I had not been to the estate since my family was murdered when I was 10 and 3. There was a dread and an excitement that tingled in my body at the idea of return.

Right now, however, my head was starting to hurt from sleepiness.

It seemed we could cease for nothing. We, or rather, the horse and Sandor, have been walking for what felt like ages towards naught.

"Perhaps we should stop for the night," I turn to the Hound from atop my horse, whose face was barely visible in the darkness.

"And do what, little girl?" he groans, "you wanna sleep in the mud?"

I feel Lucy lean further into my shoulder from behind. She nuzzles into my neck and sighs; her arms, which were wrapped around me, loosened as she deeper fell into slumber. Daisy, too, was asleep. Much like Lucy, she nuzzled into Sandor's neck, who's been carrying her since King's Landing.

"Our options are currently limited," I tell him.

He scoffs, "a prissy lady like you thinks she can catch a wink of sleep with her head on a rock?" The Hound adjusts his hold on the reins of the horse, "if you find it hard to sleep on horseback, gods, do I have news for you."

I knit my brows at his words, "I don't find it hard to sleep. I'm choosing to stay up with y-"

"And which of us asked you to do that?" he scoffs and eyes me, "shut your mouth and sleep."

"You've been walking for leagues," I whine, "yours and the horse's backs must hurt from carrying-"

"Then shall I throw you away?" he snaps and stops in his tracks. The horse neighs at the sudden halt. I tighten Lucy's arms around me as I look down at him.

He was truly so large; even now as I was perched upon a steed, he barely had to crane his neck up to look at me.

"It'll be fucking easier for me to get by without 3 bitches weighing me down."

I turn away and huff.

Regardless of this, unlike most times, I feel no threat with his words. If he really wanted to get rid of us, he wouldn't have taken us in the first place. This much I knew. Still, I keep my silence on the matter and mutter instead, "I hope we find lodging soon."

Sandor scoffs and continues walking. He adjusts his grip on Daisy as he looks forward, "your hope is just as helpful as your dollies, little girl."

It's nothing short of a miracle that wandered to a town and found an inn. The moment I thanked the gods tough, they laughed at my face.

We flock outside the inn and Sandor immediately calls the worker girl carrying a bucket of potatoes, telling her to prepare us a room. She turns to him, swallowing the immediate terror she felt over his appearance, and choked out there were no rooms left for many claimed rooms tonight. She says we should try the inn another town away.

You could guess how much The Hound liked that.

The girl and I both gasped when the massive man blocked her passage and imposed upon her, "I suggest you fucking make room for us."

"Sandor!" I cry out, feeling Lucy wake behind me.

The girl drops her bucket; it breaks with a crash and out spills the potatoes. She scrams to pick it all up.

Daisy whines in shock of the noise, wakes, and lifts her head. I pull Lucy's arms off me when Sandor kicks the girl's bucket away. She squeals and falls on her bum just as I jump down from the horse gracelessly.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I stand in his way before he can do anything further to the girl. This causes us to collide and I shuffle back in contact. My feet hit the girl's legs and I lose my balance.

I yelp the same time the Hound grabs me by the arm and snarls, "you stupid fucking girl!"

He rips me into his chest. His iron grip on my arm stings so bad I feel my eyes water. I hiss, "let go of me!"

Daisy begins to stir in his arms. She barks and he wrangles out of his grip. The Hound releases the both of us; the dog jumps out of his arms and comes to my side.

At this point, Lucy is wide awake and jumps off the horse. She fixes her satchel around her and comes to my side. She asks me if I'm hurt and rubs my arm as I did. I tell her to help the girl up as I glare at Sandor.

Daisy is losing her mind barking. It makes the Hound more furious than he was already. He tries to kick her, but Daisy was thankfully quick and managed to run off before he could hit her. She continues barking behind me.

I walk towards him when he makes an attempt to hurt Daisy again. I block his path and grabbing his thick arms, "STOP IT!"

The Hound's eye twitches. He reaches out and yanks my head back by the hair, "you really think you can stop me?"

I whine. I grab the hand on my hair, "she's just a child! It's not her fault there are no more rooms!"

The Hound growls. He releases me roughly.

I shuffle back.

Lucy glares at him as she collects the potatoes and gives it to the weeping girl; she gathers them in her skirts.

"I'm doing this for you, hen-peck," The Hound quips, "and you'd prefer to make me suffer all the way to the next rat infested village!"

"That's not what I'm asking you to do!" I rebut, blood pumping hot with anger, "I'm asking you to leave the girl alone because she's done nothing but be honest to us!"

A chill runs down my spine when I hear him laugh; it's the first time I've ever heard him make such a sound.

"You know what happens to you lot of honest people?" he steps forward and leans down to meet me eye level. I step back but hold his gaze. He he snorts then spits by his side before straightening up, "we lot kill you."

I am equal parts frustrated and scared when he turns around and walks off. Gods know what he will do now.

I call out to him, "I'll find us lodging! I swear it!"

"You go do that, little girl," he growls back as he disappears into the thicket.

I release a breath as I turn around and walk up to Lucy and the girl. Daisy finally stops barking.

"Forgive me, sweet girl," I mutter as I help the weeping thing up. I give Lucy a look and she immediately nods and goes through her satchel. I frown at the girl and brush away the hair sticking to her dampened face, "my husband has rough hands and a sharp tongue."

Her face falls upon hearing this.

Lucy pulls out a coin and shows it to her before slipping it between her belt.

"For your trouble, my dear," I pull away from her, "I hope no one will bother you again tonight."

With that, the girl curtsies and walks off.

"Would you like some wine, my lady?"

I turn to the man, sat diagonal to me. He gives me a beaming smile from ear to ear, hazel eyes twinkling with the morning sunshine. His his rosy cheeks are framed by his mousy blonde hair. He motions to his servant, but then changes his mind a second later. He stands from his seat on the table and grabs the ewer, ready to pour me a glass.

I cover the chalice before me and smile, "water is enough for me, my lord. Thank you."

"Oh," he raises the object, "please. This is special wine from my uncle's vineyard. I tell you there is none like it."

Lucy, sat to my right, lifts her eyes as she chews the duck we had been served.

I shake my head, "I do not doubt it. I do not think it appropriate for me to drink wine, however."

"Nonsense," he shakes his head and smiles, "a cup of wine in the morning will get your blood pumping."

"No, Lord, I do not make issue of drinking during this time of day," I purse my lips, "I mean I am..." I trail off trying to think of the simplest way to explain it, "expecting."

The man tilts his head in confusion.

"Of course, I am uncertain, but..." I turn to my lap then turn back to him.

Lucy chews slowly as she straightens up beside me.

"... I could be with child."

The man freezes upon hearing that. His lips part and his arm slowly lowers.

I offer him a soft smile. He makes a cautious sound, "my apologies, Lady Clegane."

"No. All is well, I assure you, Lo-"

"No," he clears his throat, "it was quite impertinent of me to press upon such a thing with a lady," he nods, "you have taught me a valuable lesson."

I let out a polite chuckle, "glad to be of service, Lord Alistair."

"Please, the Lord of house Alistair is my father," he smiles, "I bid you call me Cedric."

Lucy pretends to clear her throat and then grabs her cup. Our host sees this then stands up to offer, "perhaps you would like to try the wine instead?"

Lucy blinks and looks between him and I. I give her a look then she says, "don't mind if I do, milord."

I chuckle under my breath.

He pours her a cup and she immediately drinks it.

She lets out a breath, "wow. Cedric's right about the wine!"

Both of us perk in shock of Lucy's words.

"Lucy!" I quip.

"What, milady?" she makes an innocent face, "it really is god wine!'

"You cannot call our Lord by his name!"

"But he said not to call him Lord Alistair!"

My jaw drops, "Lucy!"

Cedric laughs, "no. She is right. I did say that." He looks between us, "I pray both of you call me by my name."

I turn to Cedric but do not get to respond as Lucy does it for me, "I am your obedient servant."

Cedric laughs and we make small talk as we continue to finish our morning meal.

Cedric Alistair was a most courteous host. Last night, as our options went dry, I asked the townsfolk where their lord resided, and we walked all the way to the Alistair stronghold in hopes of amity. We were met with much more than that

Not only did he feed me, Lucy, Daisy, and the horse, but he had his servants draw us baths and give us a change of clothes. He refused any of the coin I had to give him, and said it was only right to host a lady this way. He even said he would also have his men look for my missing husband.

Sandor wandered off after our squabble, thus we looked for a place to stay ourselves. I knew partially, he probably needed this time to cool his temper, but I obviously didn't want to be separated from him. And yet, the idea of having Lord Alistair's men look for the Hound made me anxious, as I knew the chances of a fight breaking out between them was high. In the end, told him he did not need to deploy his men because my husband would find his way to us eventually.

Cedric chuckled in surprise when I told him this, remarking I must have quite the capable husband.

Neither of us expected him to walk into the room in the middle of our conversation.

I stand from my seat when I spot him, "Sandor!"

Lord Cedric stands with me.

The Hound is expressionless, save for the way his brows were furrowed. His skin and armor is still covered in blood from the battle of the Blackwater; it's now dried up and brown. His hair and beard is matted.

Daisy, who had been graciously kept indoors and was being fed at the end of the room, runs as fast as her three legs can take her, towards the Hound.

Lucy finds herself standing because of this. She runs up to Daisy, who was now near Sandor. She scolds the dog who is excited to see him. Sandor ignores them both and heads towards me. I meet him halfway, looking his body once over.

Sandor halts when I place my hands on his arms. In truth, the action was instinctive. Seeing him like this in daylight was making my stomach churn. I look up at him, "this is not your blood, right?"

His eyes look heavy as he looks down at me. He huffs, "no."

I nod in relief, "here," I pull away and motion to my seat, "you can have my food-"

"Nonsense," Cedric interjects, turning from us to the entrance of the dining room, "could someone prepare a plate for Lord-"

Sandor reaches past me and grabs the duck on my plate, stuffing it into his mouth.

Cedric turns to him as he does this.

I ask, "could I request a damp cloth?"

Lucy finally calms Daisy down and convinces her to go back to her bowl and finish eating.

Cedric eyes me, then Sandor, then the entrance, "and a damp cloth!"

I watch as Sandor devours the meat, "where did you sleep last night?"

He huffs as he chews. "On a rock in the fucking forest," the Hound grumbles before swallows the duck in his mouth.

I frown at him, "we tried looking for you for a while after you stormed off, but I did not want to lead us any deeper into the forest beyond what torchlight touched."

Sandor gives me a nod, "smart girl."

The compliment fades in an instant when he pushes me aside and sits on my spot, finishing whatever was left on my plate. Cedric and I watch him eat. At the same time, two servants come in with a plate and cutlery, and a small basin bowl and a cloth.

"Good morn, milord," Lucy curtsies at Sandor, who spares her a glance but nothing more.

I circle around to grab a chair from across Sandor and bring it to his side. Cedric holds back whatever he is meant to say as he watches me thank his servant for the bowl and cloth, and prop it on the chair I took.

"Stop!" I hiss at Sandor, just as he reaches to a leg of chicken with his bare hand.

The Hound pulls back and turns to me with slightly wide eyes. In contrast, Lucy's eyes are as big as the moon.

I wring out the towel before taking Sandor's left hand, wiping it. I mumble, "I know you're starving, but you should eat with clean hands, my Lord."

Cedric finally sits down on his chair. Lucy turns to her own hands and wonders if she should wash after touching Daisy.

Sandor gives me his other hand to clean, silently watching me do this.

"Would you like milk of the poppy for your wounds, Lord Clegane?" Cedric asks, unable to tear his eyes from the man's face, "for your burn?"

I turn to him when he says this while. I motion to Sandor, wordlessly allowing him to continue eating now. I wash the towel in the basin, "he's not inju-"

"I would like some milk," Sandor says as he tears himself some chicken.

I furrow my brows at this, turning to him, "but you said-"

Cedric is about to call the order but then my husband's voice cuts him off. The Hound blurts just as I begin to wipe his face, "but only if it's from my wife's teat."

Lucy begins to choke on the wine she was drinking.

My freeze in my spot. I feel my face burn like a thousand suns.

There is a thick tension in the air, only thinned by the sound of Lucy's coughing.

I don't know what to say and so I decide not to say anything. I simply wipe the man's face with bit more force than necessary. He didn't even seem to notice.

The Hound eyes Lord Alistair the whole time he eats. It makes both the Lord, himself, and I severely uncomfortable.

"Sandor," I scold warily.

He does not turn to me as he picks up a cup, "wife."

I watch him chug down water then turn to me. The Hound asks, "you want some duck?"

I do my best not to roll my eyes.

The horses grazed as we took a break near a river. I watch Sandor kneel down by the water and wash his face. I scoff at him, sitting down on a rock.

We were on our way to my family's estate again. Cedric had been kind enough to offer us each a horse. The Hound, however, was too proud to accept a horse for himself, arguing he would not be able to carry the stupid bitch if he got on horseback.

He also rejected a bath, as 'we ought to not waste daylight.'

I look around the surroundings, finding solace in the fact that at least the weather was clear and kind. I watch Daisy run around and dig a hole with her paws; her broken leg did not really help, and yet that did not stop her from using it. I smile at the animal.

I watch Lucy lean into her horse and stroke it's mane. I can barely make out what she was whispering to the steed Cedric gave her. Still, the sight intensified my smile.

I so badly want to give them a good life.

I turn to the tree by my side. I remember how we used to have a tree in Brown Wood, how my father made my brothers and I a swing himself. I want that. I want to do the same for my children. I wonder if that tree was still there. I gasp when I spot a squirrel on the branch.

The Hound is immediately alerted by this and grabs his hilt, "what is it?"

"A squirrel," I point and stand. I walk over to the tree, "look, it's so little!"

Sandor makes a noise and makes a face, "Little?" he releases his grip, "what like you? Shall I get it for you as a pet?"

I turn to him, shocked by his offer. He would get a pet for me?

He walks towards me, "I won't be the one to kill it. Your dog will."

My expression morphs into a scowl.

He clicks his tongue twice then whistles. Daisy barks in response and follows after him. I am somehow angered by her obedience to him. I scoff under my breath, "I suppose dogs recognize each other."

The moment I see Daisy's excitement towards him, I regret speaking such harsh words. I'm glad Sandor did not hear it.

Lucy watches me as I walk up to my horse. Sandor takes me by the waist and lifts me with no fuss. I easily mount the horse and look down at him. I finally find it in me to bring it up after a painfully quiet travel, "you did not have to be so icy to Lord Alistair. He was a temperate host."

Sandor chuckles dryly and grabs the reins of my horse. He begins to walk. Daisy walks beside him as he says, "I'm sure he'd love to warm your bed. And I'm sure you'd want him to."

My face falls at his accusation.

"I'm sure you'd let him."

"Do not speak so low and surely of me, Hound!" I hiss, "these words you sputter weigh heavily on the both of us."

He chuckles again, "is that supposed to be a threat?" He turns to me, "you think I give a shit about words?"

"Well, I do!" I snap, eyes watering in anger and frustration, "and your words hurt me!" I turn away from him, "I have done nothing but try to please you, and you do nothing but try to hurt me!"

"Please me," he grumbles and looks away, "you've done nothing but nag and slow me down!"

I ignore him as I ruefully wipe away my tears, cursing myself for crying over him again.

The Hound is about to bark another string of complaints but stops himself as he whips back at me. He looks for a second, adjusting his hold onto he reins, then turns away, "you should have married the likes of fucking Lord Alistair, little squirrel."

I scoff and shake my head at his new nickname, "well, I didn't choose you, didn't I, Hound?"

Lucy's looks at me, lips parting at sound of the remark.

Sandor turns to Daisy, watching her keep up with him with her three paws, "no, you did not."

We were finally... home.

It was the dead of night when we arrived, and my family estate was as abandoned as ever. The place was called Brown Wood, as it was near a forest which was home to many brown bears. The forest extended to the Sterling Rivers, which got its name for it's clear waters where you could fish for gold. It used to be a haven for both men and beasts alike, now, it was a ruin of darkness.

The people that remained there stayed as far from the forest as they could, fearing what lurked in the shadows.

Sandor had to open the gates himself, as there would be no one to do it for us. The moment we were inside, a chill ran down my spine.

"This was your home, milady?" Lucy asks, looking around the place as our horses tread inside.

I sniffle and offer a smile, mostly to mask the fear building in my stomach, "it wasn't always like this."

"How old were you when you left again?" she asks as she readies to dismount her horse.

Sandor shoos Daisy away before reaching out to help me down. I reply before I do, "10 & 3."

I huff as Sandor sets me down. I look up at him. He looks down on me, pulling his hands that lingered too long away from my waist. Daisy begins to run around and bark. The Hound walks off and shushes her.

Lucy takes my arm and we go inside together.

I thought if we lit candles and the fireplace, I'd feel less scared, but I think I was terrified now. I thought that if I ignored that feeling as I showed everyone around my old home, I'd feel better, but I didn't.

Lucy had decided to take the room near the kitchen, so she wouldn't have to walk so far in the mornings to cook for us. I wasn't exactly sure where Daisy was. It was now only Sandor and I walking down the halls. I was leading us to the master bedroom with a single candle in my hand.

I open the door and step in, "here it is."

I turn to Sandor, stood by the door. I place the candle down my the bedside table. He surveys the room, taking in the cob webs and the dusty furniture, "it's big room."

I lick my lips, "it was bigger in my head, but... it must have just been because I was a child when I was last here."

Sandor looks at me and nods, "I will sleep in the room beside you."

"Wha- wait!" I step forward.

Sandor's boots skid on the floor as he stops himself.

"Y-you're-- y-you're not going to sleep with me?"

Sandor grips the knob, "have I ever slept with you before?"

I feel like I'm going to be sick.

A moment of silence passes.

"You could start sleeping with me now," I offer weakly as I motion around, "there's more than enough space for the two of us."

Sandor shifts before speaking, "I'm going to take a bath before going to bed." And with that, he closes the door behind him.

I gasp when he does. I feeling a heavy dread sliver up my spine.

I roll my shoulders back and roughly brush my arms. I light the other candles in the room and busy myself with changing the sheets. There was a bittersweetness in doing so. This used to be my parents room. I knew where they kept their things and all their things were still in place. One would wonder why every item was still intact and untouched, but then one clearly does not know the horrid tales that befell Brown Wood.

I rip the sheets off the bed, coughing as dust flew around. I do my best attempt at changing the sheets and chuck the musty ones by the edge of the bed.

Once I gave up in fitting the sheets the way Lucy did, I huffed and undid my dress, remaining in nothing but my shift. I then hid under the covers.

My exhaustion should have made it easier to sleep, but the setting was triggering my memories. It wasn't long until I was recounting the one I hated the most. Fear was clawing at me, and soon enough, my mind was playing tricks.

The next thing I knew I was frozen in bed, too petrified to move, but wanting nothing more than to get up and flee, to where, I did not know. I begin to feel tears stream from my eyes, but I'm too scared to make a noise, too scared that it will bring forth the darkness lurking in the shadows.

Somehow, I eventually manage to convince myself to call a name, I do this against a pillow though. Slowly, I call the name louder and louder until I was screaming into the bed, "SANDOR!"

I burst into a shriek when I feel something touch my shoulders.

"IT'S ME! It's me!" he groans, ripping my blanket down, turning me to face him. I sit up and grab hold of his arms. I look at his face, I look at Sandor's alarmed expression. He was in nothing but his breeches but that didn't stop me from grabbing his bare shoulders as I sobbed.

"What's wrong, squirrel?" he pushes my hair away from my face, "why are you calling out to me like this?"

I feel him wipe my cheeks. I miss the gentleness of his touch because I'm too wrapped up in my terror.

I shake my head, "I can't do it."

"Do what?"

"Sleep on my own," I choke out, grabbing his wrists, "please."

Sandor remains still as I move closer to him.

"I swear to you I will stay on my side," I shake my head rapidly, "I will not move. I will not make a sound. I will make myself as small as possible, but I beg that you sleep with me, that you stay with me."

Sandor considers my desperation in silence.

I whine when he pulls away. I repel his actions and throw myself onto him, "please-"

"I'm just going to get my shirt."

"There are shirts here!" I say as I grab his arm and stand from bed. I drag him towards the closet and hand him my one of my father's old shirt. I get on my tiptoes and begin to put it on him. He grunts as I do this, but lets me do it anyway.

"I got it," he quips when I try helping him put the sleeve on.

I watch him put on the shirt. It looked a bit tight on him but I couldn't care less, he would have to make due. I grab his bicep, "so, you'll stay with me?"

Sandor eyes me, pushing his hair back, "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

I release a breath, "I swear," I shake my head again, "I will not make a fuss! I am a light sleeper! If I do something, simply wake me so that I do not both-"

"I get it," Sandor says, pulling his arm away. I follow him closely as he steps into bed. I quickly follow after him, taking the smallest portion of the bed possible.

"I'm not that fucking massive, girl," he grumbles once he's on his side.

I turn to him, "I don't want to-"

"I'm bothered with you sleeping so on edge that you're going to roll off any second."

I scoot a tad closer to him.

Sandor makes himself comfortable. I slowly let myself do the same.

I anticipate an interrogation from him. I'm sure he wanted to ask why I was crying, why I wanted him here, why I'm so scared, but they never come. He just lays there with me in the quiet. I instead find myself focusing on the sound of his breathing as a distraction to my racing mind. I eventually tire myself out and slowly doze off.

I wake up with a groan. I bite my lip and reach out to the other side of the bed. Empty again.

I sigh and roll under the covers. I freeze when I feel a dampness between my thighs.

I push myself up and pull the sheets down as I sit up. A pool of red was seeping through my shift. A panic shoots through me. I clutch my belly, mortified as I rip up my skirt and see how much blood I've lost. Was this...

I lie back down and try to count the days that I last bled and the day Sandor and I laid together.

I release a breath. The counting is both calming and frustrating.

I sit back up and call, "Lucy!"

I stand from the bed and pull the sheets off, "Margaret!"

I walk to the closet and fish for a change of clothes, "Annetta!"

A voice from afar calls out, "coming, milady!"

Lucy was the one that responded. She gasps when she walks in, eyes immediately on the red of my otherwise white attire, "you're-"

"Not with child," I finish for her, looking over my shoulder, "is a bath prepared for me?"

Lucy takes a moment before nodding, "yes. It's why it took me a while to get here," she walks over to the sheets, "the girls didn't prepare the bath the way you like it."

"I do not mind not having lavender," I pull out a dress from the closet.

"Well, I mind," Lucy turns to me, "you have been aching for a two days now."

I hum, "and now we know why," I motion to the bed she was fixing.

Lucy takes my arm before I can walk off to the bathroom. She speaks my name; she says it in a soft and wary manner. I purse my lips and turn to her. I raise my brows expectantly.

She clenches her jaw, "do you think it is monthly blood or..." Lucy's face hardens.

"My love," I shake my head and offer a smile, "it is simply my that."

My handmaiden is unconvinced, "it's been three moons since you've bled."

"And has that not happened to me before when I was a maiden?" I tilt my head and brush her hair behind her shoulders.

The both of us turn to the door when someone knocks. I tell whoever it is to enter and in comes Annetta. The young farmer's girl was one of the now many servants in Brown Wood. Her eyes widen when she sees the red on my clothes. She scrambles to get something to cover me. I chuckle and assure her it is alright because I will be bathing anyway.

This haunted place lost its ghosts once we took in people to employ. The estate now resembled something like that of my childhood; plenty of rooms were now being used, people were bustling in and out, only except now, all the responsibility was glaringly obvious to me for it was my responsibility... and Sandor's.

It was tedious work, managing a house, managing an estate, managing the whole expanse of what was within the Brown Wood and the Sterling River. The Hound was keen on being obvious to how tedious it was.

I am partially grateful that he was doing his duties-- no, I am grateful that he was. But-

"My Lord," I rise from my seat on the dining table when I see Sandor march down the halls towards me. I smile softy and nod, "good morrow."

"Nothing's good about morrows," he grumbles. Sandor draws the chair at the head of the table back with a screech. He looks down at the table. He turns to me and asks, "where's the grub?"

I decide not to respond and only look over to where the kitchen was, calling for the servants. I sit down and smile when I turn to him, "I was hoping you would join me today."

Three servants walk in carrying our plates of food and an ewer. The Hound watches them place it down and leave.

I stand up again when he takes his plate, "please."

"You know I've got no time for this," he hisses in annoyance, "I have a bunch of sorry fucks' complaints to listen to-"

"I can do that!" I place my hand on my chest, "I can fill in those duties for you."

Sandor freezes.

I turn to the table, "I wanted to speak to you about these things as we ate."

My belly swirls at his silence.

I turn back to him and catch the way he rolls his jaw and wrists. I manage to repress the way I jolt at how he roughly sits himself down. I take a deep breath before sitting down.

The Hound immediately feasts. He makes soft sounds as he chews. The cutlery clanks against the china.

I begin to eat as well, "did you wake before sunrise again?"

He responds by stuffing more food in his mouth.

I look at him as I chew. I look at his burn scar, where his hair started and ended on that side of his face. I notice at how, though he is quick to eat, he is mindful not to get anything on his beard. I notice how he not once looks back at me.

"You needn't wake so early," I offer softly, "you can have someone else-"

"None of the sorry fucks in this town know how to use a sword, not properly. Once I train a few of them, they can train themselves," he takes the ewer and pours himself a cup of wine. He mutters as he brings the cup to his lips, "they keep complaining about the woodland monsters stealing their sheep, but I reckon it's them thieving on each other."

I put my silverware down, "you might not believe it, but the woodland monsters are real."

The Hound sets his cup before him and continues to eat.

I feel a frustrated ire build in me, "I've told you, those creatures are what killed my family. You saw my scar. You know why I cannot sleep without you."

"I didn't say I didn't believe your story," he finally turns to me, "I said they're stealing each other's sheep."

I turn back to my plate and cut up my food, "will you investigate the theft then?"

"What for?" he continues to eat, "I scared those pricks shitless. If anyone is stealing, now they won't."

My face twitches at the thought.

Sandor notices.

He chews for a moment before asking, "what?"

I tense as I turn to him.

He looks expectantly.

I purse my lips tightly before curving it into a smile, "you have been working tirelessly and have... very surely established lordship to Brown Wood, a role that is immensely different to the one you used to have. I know that this is not the life you want or ever thought of having, but I am grateful for your a-"

"You don't have to shield my heart and kiss my ass, squirrel," he leans back on his chair and waves impatiently, "get to the point."

I lick my lips and huff, "your time in service has hardened you, as it would any other man. It has helped you become the valiant warrior you are, but--" I cut myself off to gently mutter, "I feel your way is a bit too coarse."

The Hound says nothing.

I straighten up, "that is why I would like to take upon your load of relating with the people," I reach for the ewer and pour myself some wine, "in this way, you will not have to rise so early to fit all your errands in a day."

He places his hand atop my cup when I try to pick it up.

I pull my head back as he straightens up, "you know I used to wake at the ass crack of dawn for the stupid boy-king, doncha?"

My stomach drops when he leans in.

"So, what?" he narrows his eyes, "you'd do all the talking by yourself?"

I gulp, "ideally-"

"Ideally," he chuckles and pulls away.

"-so that you may use that time for your other responsibilities, your patrols. That is something you're much more accustomed to."

My skin pricks as when laughs harder. It felt like his amusement was laced with poison.

He shakes his head and sighs deeply. He looks at me for a good long moment then tilts his head, "you think I can't do it."

I furrow my brows.

"You think I'm an imbecile who can't solve petty arguments between illiterate boneheads," he begins to flare, "and you don't want the pretty memory of your dead fucking family to be tainted by my monstrosity."

I am appalled by his words, "that's not what I said!"

"You didn't need to," he nods, "shackled to a Hound, you ought to use him like one, right? Never mind giving him a chance."

I feel like a stake pierced through my ribs. His low chuckle squeezes my heart. I rebut, "that is not what I meant."

"And what did you mean?!"

"I want to help you!" I fight back the way my eyes wanted to water, "I want to share your burden! I grew up watching my uncle speak to his people in his house, while you grew up learning the ways of the blade. What I offer is a more logical setup."

"Just like it was logical of you to keep a three legged dog," he quips back.

I scoff in disbelief.

"I suppose you want me to hunt the creatures that butchered your family next, huh?" he scratches his beard.

My face drops at the thought. I rapidly shake my head I disagreement.

He clenches his fist and grits his teeth, "why not? Maybe then you can have your kid with that pretty boy-lord across the meadow."

His words make belly contract. I clutch my belly, painfully aware that I was bleeding between my thighs this moment.

"I'm not with child," I blurt out, unable to contain my tears any longer.

Sandor is freezes, at the sight of the tears and the statement.

"I woke up bleeding," I say between cries, "I've never been regular bleeder. It's not unusual for me to skip through multiple moons."

The next words he says butchers me.

"Maybe it's the gods' will for you not to be a mother."

I stare at him in horror after hearing this. His blank expression is chilling to the bone.

He suddenly stands, "there's always something awry when we speak, and you always end up weeping."

Is this why he thinks I shouldn't be a mother?

"In any case, we ought to not speak to each other at all."

My jaw drops. I nearly choke on my heart, "now you don't even want to speak to me."

"Look at yourself," he raises a hand, "you don't want to speak to me."

"Because you are treating me so cruelly!" I spring up from my seat.

The Hound shakes his head, "I'm treating you just fine. I'm doing you a favor."

Sandor tenses as he watches me shove my chair back and walk away.

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rexlroze · 1 month

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𝟏 — 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Hobie Brown / SpiderPunk x Fem! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Use of Y/N, no physical description of reader (other then their clothing), Swearing, Mention of Alcohol, Mention of bugs, Violence/Fighting, and mostly Fluff I think.

𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

A/N: This is my first time EVER writing a proper fanfic so if it sucks. Yeah. Idk- I tried my best tbh and hope y'all like it cuz if not, idk either. I'll be doing a tag list so if you want in, uh. Comment or sumn ig. Leave tips for me to improve in areas you think I need improvement! Also this isn't exactly canon to Earth-138. It's set in the early 2000s cuz no way am I writing for the fucking 1960s or whatever fuckin' year that mf comes from. I don't do requests nor do I plan on doing so. Happy Reading! 💛

Chapter 1 >>> Chapter 2

Recently, you just moved out of your parents house into a small cozy apartment in the North of London. About 200 miles away from your mummy and daddy dearest.

“No ma, I've already rented out my parlor. 'm not changing my mind at the last minute.” You grumbled into your phone as your mom hounded you with questions about literally everything. Your health, food, water, apartment and your new parlor.

Your new parlor, you were proud to say. You had finally rented out a small shop in Camden which was about a 10 minutes walk away from your apartment.

The only problem was that the area where your shop was grounded, it was in a small narrow area where people barely passed by and only a few residents lived and since you couldn't really afford a better place due to the flies that flew out of your wallet when you opened it and your limited budget, you just had to deal with it.

“Just know, if you ever need anything sweetie, me and your pops are always here.” Your mother reassured you sweetly but you could hear the concern trailing behind her voice.

“Yeah thanks, ma. Love you, and dad.”

“Love you too, sweets. But if you need anything like money, food or even—”

“Ma.” You cut her off abruptly.

“Yes?”

“I'll be fine, alright? I love you.”

“We love you too, sweetie.” She finally answered after a second of hesitation.

With that, you hung up the phone. Beeps punctuated the silence hanging in your room before you let out a deep sigh.

You sunk into your bed, looking up at the ceiling. As supportive your parents tried to be, they didn't really trust you with your career choices. The first time you told them you wanted to be a body piercer, they laughed and brushed it off… that was until they figured out you were being 100% serious.

You were grateful they didn't try to stop you, not directly at least because they never failed to mention and suggest a few other paths of careers. They got to the point of getting so desperate that they even suggested acting school but alas, you were as stubborn as a mule.

You got your license around 2 months ago. You can still remember yourself squealing and hopping around in your (old) room like a five year old who just got a puppy for Christmas. You couldn't wait to finally quit your side job (which was being a boring cashier with fake smiles and a faker kindness towards the karens that walked in and ruined your Monday mornings) and start your own little business in London. Your literal dream.

I'll get to work tomorrow. You thought to yourself since it was pretty much late afternoon now, turning the next 3 hours into a continuation of scrolling on your phone, listening to music on blast from the speakers sitting by your desk and knocking yourself out with some cheap bottle of booze that you bought during your ride to your apartment from the airport.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Making your way through the streets of Camden, you didn't fail to see the liveliness of it. People busy with their own lives, friends giggling, children skipping, couples holding hands, staring at one another with heart eyes.

Something squeezed your heart at the sight of the adorable couple. It reminded you of what you could've had with him if he hadn't… but unfortunately, what life throws at you isn't really under your control no matter how much you wish it could be.

You brushed off the nostalgia quickly and turned a corner, finding your parlor that you had rented about a week ago. You were met by sudden silence. The streets were quiet and empty other then the two teenage boys who were giggling and had run away after when you arrived, disappearing into a narrow alleyway.

You walked to where they previously stood just to see a poster. Specifically a band poster that was vibrant with different colors. A lanky punk boy posed in the middle of the poster with a guitar slung over his shoulder accompanied by three other members.

You couldn't help but get lost in the beauty of said punk boy. Honey-coated eyes that shone back at you, the color complimenting his ebony complexion along with his puffy jet-black hair that were braided into wicks, jawline so sharp that it made you wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers along them.

You shook your head, breaking the love trance you were stuck in. You didn't have time for dating, falling in love or whatever, not that you wanted to either. Your eyes zeroed on the big font at the bottom of the page.

“Spidersica, performing this 9th March at 9:30pm.” You read out loud to yourself. Almost 2 weeks away. Shrugging, you turn back to your shop. You'll decide what to do with that information on a later date.

You twisted the door knob that was attached to the black sleek door with the obscure glass window adorning it. The gold paint was scraping off the knob revealing the silver underneath. Besides that, when you turned the knob, the door didn't budge. You twisted it once more. Nothing. You pushed the door while twisting the knob the third time. Nothing again.

Slamming your body against the door in frustration, making the door burst open and you fall through it onto the cemented flooring. The bell atop the door chimed, swinging back and forth, mocking and taunting you.

Get the door fixed, you made a mental note as you pushed yourself up back onto your two feet. Running a hand over your T-shirt and straightening it.

You scanned the room, eyes roaming over the unused facility. Cobwebs decorating the corners of the roof, dust bunnies waving at you from the floor, old cream wallpaper peeling off the walls revealing the cemented wall beneath, the polluted air making you have a cough fit after you inhaled some dust accidentally.

Unshed tears pricked your eyes as your coughing fit wore off after a little while. “This could use some renovations,” you croaked out to no one in particular as you switched the light switch on.

The light bulb lit up producing a very bright light (brighter than normal) that illuminated the room. At least something works— your train of thought was cut off when the light bulb abruptly exploded.

“Just had to jinx it,” you grumbled, placing your hand onto your face.

You found your way to some curtains beside the door, pulled the long dirty brown pieces of linen apart, revealing a huge window that let the warm sunlight seep in and lighten the dark room. You slid the windows up to let the toxic air out and fresher air in.

Get the curtains replaced. You noted down somewhere in your brain as you took in the hideous pattern of the curtains.

You walked around the shop, letting your hand trace the long wooden counter that extended from the wall. Dust collecting at your fingertips that you wiped off on your shirt.

Making your way through the shop, you found a recessed door that was fixed into the left wall on the opposite side of the parlor. You gently turned the door knob not wanting to repeat the incident that transpired a few minutes ago. It opened without a fight.

When you peeked your head in, you found yourself in a small closet room. Metal shelves up against both sides of the wall with various random and dirty objects decorating them. The closet was just as filthy as the rest of the shop.

You found boxes, some small, some large sitting at the other end of the closet. That must be the furniture! You think, making your way towards them.

As you pick up one of the boxes carefully, wrapping both arms around the box that was bigger than your own head. You suddenly yelped falling back on your butt, the box falling into your lap.

“Fuck no!” You screeched in horror as you saw a cockroach fly up in the air. “Nononononono.”

You dashed out the closet, almost tripping on your shoe laces that came undone who knows when, slamming the door shut so the pesky rodent wouldn't escape and terrorize the rest of your shop as well. “What the fuck!”

Mental note 3, get pest fucking control. So far, the day was not going as planned.

You released a deep breath pulling your phone out from your back pocket to check for damage. You've never been more grateful for the invention of phone cases in your life. You doubted your phone could bear another crack on it's already kinda-fucked-up screen.

Pocketing your phone once again, your hands rested on your hips. You stared at the floor trying to calm down. “Fuckin’ hell,” you murmured to yourself rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm.

You kicked off your left shoe and turned back to the closet, mentally preparing yourself for the battle your a lifetime.

—

After fighting for your life and clearing out your closet of any other unpleasantries that may surprise the living Christ out of you, you pulled out your phone and began typing in some to-dos into the notes app. Tile installment, cleaning, probably pipe replacement, a door fix, bulb and wiring replacement, paint, decoration and all that stuff with the budget of five fucking hundred pounds. Just yay.

You left the parlor with determination to accomplish your goal; renovate. You thought as you found your way through the door and back on the streets of Camden.

In a matter of a few hours, you had managed to hire a few mechanics and workers to, one, install marble floorings into the parlor, two, get any pipelines or such fixed, three, get all cracks and crevices in the walls plastered, four, fix the door lock, and fix, rewire and reinstall the lightbulb. All in the cost of four hundred and thirty pounds, and with the seventy pounds left, you could buy the paint, curtains, and other pleasantries as such.

Walking through the appliances stores, your phone on hand as you check off a few to-do boxes. Satisfaction bloomed in your chest to see how much you had done in the matter of a day.

A small smile spread across your face as you made your way towards the next shop when a sudden boom behind you made you stop in your steps.

Screams fill the air but they're tuned out by the sudden high-pitched ringing in your ears. People passed by you running towards the exit and evacuating while you just stood there, unable to move for some reason when finally, your head snapped towards the chaos to see what everyone was running away from.

Green Goblin. You had seen him on the news whenever you scrolled on your phone for too long or when you scrolled through the TV channels and ended up on the news channel but never did you think you'd see him in real life but if the Green Goblin was here then…

Abruptly, the villainous individual who was flying abounding on his hoverboard and terrorizing everyone in the mall was knocked off by a swift kick. The one who delivered it was quick, you only saw the red and blues colors blurring together. Oh my fucking god, no way.

Slowly, the blurs of color started mashing together into an appropriate form. It's Spider-Punk. THE fucking Spider-Punk. And you were seeing him not through tv, but through your own goddamn eyes.

You watched as the Green Goblin regained his composure and lunged towards Spider-Punk. The two vigilantes participating in a violent game of tango while you stood there wide-eyed and stuck amidst the chaos sitting in the front seat.

It didn't take long for both vigilantes to notice your presence. All at once, a shout broke out from the red masked punk, “move!” when a broken piece of the wall was thrown right in your direction by the one and only Green Goblin. You saw the white's of Spider-Punk's mask widen.

Move. An inner voice in your head screamed. You couldn't. Move, goddamnit! Nothing. It felt as time had slowed down.

The stone piece inches away from your face, ready to smash your skull in when suddenly a silky white rope connected to your side and pulled you towards it. A hand wrapped around your waist and suddenly, now you're in the air.

Your heart thumped in your ears from the sheer amount of adrenaline and fear coursing through you as the two of you swung out the appliance store.

Your arms were subconsciously wrapped around his neck, your face was buried into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. You peeked your head up to see yourself high up in the air, and a glimpse of blurred green chasing the two of you.

You sucked in a shaky breath, you wondered if he could hear how loud your heart pounded, like it was gonna erupt from your chest anytime soon.

You felt heavy air hitting your back when he abruptly turned a sharp corner and now you're sitting on a dumpster in an alleyway who knows where with a vigilante in front of you checking for any major injuries.

“You alrigh’, love?”

It took you a minute to register his words due to the daze but you finally managed to choke out a “I'm fine,” your voice was slightly breathless but you didn't focus on that right now instead, you focused on the individual in front of you.

You quickly took in his wardrobe. A red spandex bodysuit, spiked mohawk, leather jacket, collar, spikes, nets, guitar, red boots, blue laces— blue laces? well damn…

“Aight, take a breather f'me, lovelie. ‘m gonna go deal w’him, ay? Take care!” He shouted, his voice fading as he ran towards the exit of the alley and swung away before you could manage another response.

…

What the fuck just happened?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You slowly recovered from the incident that happened just three days ago. An hour long face call with your parents who had seen you on the news swinging around in the arms of Spider-Punk. You lost count after sixteen of just how many times your parents had asked you if you were okay.

You had paid off the workers to get the job done while you were away, now you could only hope they hadn't robbed you and were currently flying to another state with your money.

You didn't have much left to do from your to-do list. The only thing you needed was some paint and furniture. You had ordered the paint (and paid) online, it would be at the door of your parlor in about a few hours. Or at least that's what the notification you gotten had said.

As you were currently laying in bed clicking away on your computer and chewing on the back of a pencil you randomly found in your backpack and an orange sofa that you found in your fridge, something ringed in your head.

Right!

The concert, you were supposed to look into it when you got home. Unfortunately, it had pretty much slipped your mind due to your little experience about a day ago.

You clicked away, opening a new tab, “Spi…der…si…ca… baa…nnd.” You pronounced each syllable carefully while you typed away.

Pushing down the enter button, you were met by a white loading screen that led you to another google page. You clicked the first link and found yourself on another website.

“A popular punk band in london with the following members: Karl Morningdew, the bass Guitarist, Riri Williams, the keyboardist and Mattea Murdock, the drumist followed by their BandLeader, Hobart Brown, the guitarist—” Your voice slowly faded out as you saw the image of a familiar punk boy pop up that you had gotten lost in just a few days ago outside of your parlor. “Huh.”

You scrolled through the website until your eyes settled onto the information you were looking for, “Spidersica, publicly performing on the 9th of March.” The information was followed by the location and other necessary details.

“Eh, screw it. I gotta socialize anyway,” you blurted out, clicking off the tab.

—

After finishing another can of soda, you finally had gotten ready to go back out after locking yourself in your house for the past forty-eight hours. Patting the pockets of your jeans to make sure you had your phone and keys in them, you escorted yourself through the door of your apartment.

You soon find yourself making your way down the three quarter turn stairs and back on the roads looking up in the sky for a particular rebellious masked vigilante.

You didn't know what for, maybe to thank him. Or maybe just curiosity at its finest. You shrugged the thoughts off and continued making your way to the parlor. You didn't have time for a cat and mouse chase where the mouse doesn't even know he's being chased.

After all, you were no one special. Just a normal everyday civilian whom his job was to protect.

Finally arriving at your parlor, it looked a lot less abandoned than it did when you arrived three days ago, the front door opening with ease when you pushed the keys in and twisted the knob which was also replaced. You could tell due to the shining new gold color coating it.

Polished white marble tiles installed in the once cemented flooring. The crevices in the walls were filled out along with the old cream wallpaper removed. An air conditioner was fixed into the wall above the recessed door, a fixed bulb and working electricity.

Those were some major improvements but that didn't change the fact the place was still filthy as fuck.

You sighed and grabbed a broom that rested in the corner of the closet, pulling your headphones over your head and began sweeping away.

—

After you finished sweeping, you decide to install the new curtains you had bought. They were a dark marengo made of a silky smooth material. As you tried to push the curtains into the metal pole, the bell aloft the door began chiming signifying somebody had arrived, when you turned the door, you were met by a man who stood in a blue-ish uniform, a clipboard in his hand while he tapped the back of a pen on it.

“Uh hello, delivery for Y/N Y/L/N?”

“That would be me.”

“Oh, please just sign here.” He turned the clipboard around to face you, offering you the ballpoint he had.

You walked over, taking the pen from his hand and signed the piece of paper where he had told you to.

He put the clipboard away, taking the pen back from you as he stepped out and came back in with a large box placing it down onto the tile flooring. “G’day, madam.”

He politely bowed his head while you let out a small “thank you” after he tilted his head back up and walked back out the parlor.

You picked up the box that was immensely heavy, probably because of the damn paint cans in them, Sherlock, you had just assumed they most likely were the paints you ordered.

When you turned away, placing the box onto the counter, suddenly the bell chimed once again. You spoke without looking up, “did you forget something, Mr.mailman?”

“Mailman? Hardly.” A familiar angelic voice spoke, making you freeze, Spider-Punk—? You thought as you turned to the voice with wide eyes, but to your surprise. It was someone completely different.

“You good, love? You look like you just seen a ghost.” Honey-coated eyes, ebony complexion, jet-black hair, sharp jawline, is that-?

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “are you Hobart Brown?” your voice was a higher pitch than usual but you couldn't help it. “Oh my god, what are you doing here—” you were abruptly cut off by him.

“Okay okay, I'm gonna cut you off right there, love, first of all. Just call me Hobie. Please.” He chuckled, a small smirk on his face, “and well, second of all, I heard you did piercings, hm?”

“Oh. Uh… okay then, Hobie. Yes. Yeah, I do piercings, why?” Well, that's a stupid question.

“I was wondering if you could do mine, because as you can see, my face is pretty clean.” He smiles softly, pointing to his face that didn't bear any piercings… yet.

“Oh yeah, um. I'm not really open yet—” you cut yourself off at a sudden realization. “Wait, how'd you find me?” You raised an eyebrow, you only remember telling everyone in your circle about the parlor yet.

“Oh, one of my friends told me.”

You raised your eyebrow higher, confusion bubbling in you. “Can I know their name?”

“Yuri.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Yuri? As in your goddamn BEST FRIEND Yuri?

“Yuri Watanabe?” You asked, expecting a no.

"You know her?"

Of course I know my damn best friend, dumbass! That's what you wanted to say, but instead you held your tongue.

“Well yeah, she's my best friend. We met at a bar back in York.” You didn't know why you were telling him, you didn't even know if you could trust him. After all, he was just a random stranger— sure he was famous or whatever but you still just found out about him like three days ago.

“Huh, I don't think she's mentioned you but nice to meet you, er…?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you too, Hoba- Hobie.” You quickly corrected your small error.

“Y/N.” He looked like he was trying to remember something from a long time ago. Suddenly his eyes lit up, “oh yeah, she has mentioned you a couple times if I think about it.” He gave you a polite smile, “Do you need help? with whatever you're doing?”

“What?”

“I said do you want help?” He repeated, “seems like you could use some.” He observed, eyes roaming around your unfinished parlor.

“Do… are you looking for something in return?” You were confused by his sudden offer. He had to be wanting something in return, right? I mean, he learned your name like JUST a minute ago.

“Nah, just wanna help you out. Plus, you could prolly use some company, ay?”

“I mean… wait, why would you wanna do that? Aren't you busy with things like… practice or something.”

“Do you want help or not?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” You answered with a small voice, biting down on your lip gently.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @the-kr8tor @hobieszeze @missshelleyduvall

Banner(s) by @/cafekitsune

158 notes · View notes

messyhairedhazeleyeddude · 4 months

Text

╔═════ •┈• “I Hear You.” •┈• ═════╗

A Toge Inumaki x Fem!Deaf!Reader || Fluff + SMUT || ˚. ୭ ˚◦˚.

Contents ; Mind reading (reader has cursed hearing), Toge has PTSD, soft touches, hesitant fingering, face-riding, mind control (Toge uses his speech curse), squirting, soft dom Toge, public sex, cock-warming, and a cumshot in reader’s panties.

A/N ; Hi, so I just wanted to explain a little bit of background on this since reader’s curse might be hard to understand for some right away. But, basically, reader is partially deaf from a horrible accident involving a curse that had consumed one of Sukuna’s fingers. It left her with a cursed ability to where she can listen into someone’s thoughts for a limited amount of time at random. However, it has its drawbacks which you will see in the story. Now, that’s all! Hopefully that clarifies some confusion if there is any.

Dynamic ; Best Friends to Lovers

Sexual Dynamic ; Soft Dom!Toge | Bottom!Fem!Reader

P.O.V ; First

Age range ; 18+

Music Suggestion ;

{Y/N’s P.O.V :}

I sat on an oak polished bench with a heavy sigh, facing toward the buildings of Jujutsu High, hundreds of Ginkgo trees shrouding certain parts of their rooftops in a pretty spiral. The same ones lining the path that I walked on to get to our usual hang-out spot.

Their orange leaves danced around my head and landed at my black Mary Jane’s, my glossy lips quirking up into a smile at the perfect shape of the leaf before lifting my Canon camera to take a picture. As soon as my finger hovered over the snap button, it flew away.

Wind being the culprit. A shudder ran down my spine when the gust blew through my {H/C} hair and ruined another shot, making me huff in frustration.

I’ve been dealing with this annoying weather all day. Finally, the day I’m off of studying and training. Left alone to fulfill any hobbies I want for as long as I want with no one calling me on a mission to exorcise curses. And it just had to be windy.

However, I couldn’t complain. Being able to get dressed for the day, something I hadn’t been able to do in a long time— was more than exciting. There was even time for myself to do my makeup and having hours like that as a Jujutsu student would be considered lucky.

Reminding myself of him, I smiled. The memories of his horrible attempts at being on time flashed in my mind and brought a small giggle out of me. Oh, that’s right. How could I forget the example himself? For the boy I was waiting on, getting out of work was non-existent.

The feeling of a warm hand placing itself on my shoulder made me jump out of my seat, twisting around to stand in a fighting position with a little scream. When I saw the recognizable white parted hair and tired, doe eyes of Toge, I clasped both of my hands together and puckered my lips out of embarrassment.

He was quick to be apologetic, repeating the same weird ingredients he usually said over and over again, “Sujiko… Takana..?” But, by now, I somewhat understood what he meant. Takana was used as a form of asking if I was okay. Sujiko… That, I could only guess meant an expression like, ‘Oh gosh.’ Or I liked to imagine it was.

Hanging out with the cursed speech user outside of missions had benefits when it came to understanding his way of talking. Although, that was funny to mention because the way we had come about to regularly seeing each other was far from willing. Or maybe it wasn’t on my end. But, if I could take those doubts back, I would.

Thinking of that dredged up a flashback of how it all started.

•···· ‘ First Meeting Him . . . ’ ····•

My feet slipped while trying to hop onto the next stone in the middle of a river I was crossing, almost taking a tumble into the cold water before I saved myself by stretching out my arms. I regained my balance and breathed heavily, cursing underneath a couple of them.

Then I went for the fifth one, regaining momentum and skipping across each of them until I landed on my toes into the bed of pebbles near the water. Surprisingly, I had yet to cut them on a sharp object sticking through the dirt.

I turned my head from staring down at my legs and white skirt to looking at my reflection in the clear stream.

{E/C} eyes peered back at me, filled with happiness from the moment of quiet, and appreciation for the fact I didn’t have to stress my attention span on anyone. Or that’s what I thought.

Before I could get further with that thought, a headache began to form on the right side of my temple and I placed a hand up to it; worry rising as I knew what was happening when I heard ringing after the throbbing. My curse. It was coming.

I couldn’t understand how it was. A person had to be beside me in order for me to connect to their inner consciousness and they’d have to be in an extremely weak mindset which would take hours for me to perfect in battle.

So, what this was and what this meant was far beyond anything I’ve experienced with my curse. Right up until this very point.

Crouching down to my knees, I started to hold both sides of my head now. The pain and ringing worsening by the minute. I rocked back and forth to try to ease myself. Why was it so hard to connect to them? It was like they were poisoning my brain the more I tried to.

Whoever it was took me forever to process before I could hear the faint sound of mumbling, such a soft and sweet voice.

“What do I do? What do I do? I can’t have her knowing that I stopped to watch her… Even worse, she could think I followed,” I managed to make out what they were saying, the masculine tone rambling on and on, as if the boy had some form of hyperactivity disorder.

Thankfully, the migraine stopped once I was successful in linking. So I was able to stand up straight again. Looking around for the responsible one of my misery.

I figured I’d tell them I knew they were here to lure them out of their hiding, shouting with a lag on any words I couldn’t hear I was pronouncing right, “Who’s out there?! You can show yourself! I won’t be upset with you!” Hope I said that correctly.

The voice paused and no longer spoke a word, a silence enveloping the atmosphere and leaving me to barely confirm that they were still present by checking if my cursed energy was still being used. When I did, I called out a second time, “I promise! I won’t think anything bad of you! I can hear your thoughts! My curse is working with you as of now!”

My attempts at getting them to come out seemed futile and I was about to give up before I heard rustling in the bushes to my left. I turned my head to see who it was and to my surprise, it was that cursed first grade sorcerer. What was his name? Inumaki?

His chin was lowered but his eyes were wide and fixated on mine, like he was in shock. He was nervous from what I could tell in his body language: hesitant in his footsteps, jagged breathing, and small pupils. I could see a shake in how he walked too. Whatever it was that was scaring him about me, it was definitely due to underlying trauma.

And once I heard what he started to think about, I pieced together why, “Okaka, okaka, okaka, okaka.” He continuously repeated the Japanese word for ‘Fish Flakes’ in a panicked tone, his hand moving up to his forehead to press against it. Toge was forcing himself to not think anything because he was worried his curse would affect me.

The poor boy proceeded to break down in front of me, landing onto his knees in the grass while pulling at his hair as slips of actual words were coming into his sentences, “Okaka, I can’t, no! Stop thinking, Ikura, just Ikura! No, no, no, OKAKA!”

I could feel his torment. Having access to someone’s mind wasn’t a gift like people assume it is, this was why. You get to see what they see, feel how they feel, and physically align yourself to the point where it could be labeled as scientifically combining one’s spirit with another. That means I can see all of his past and present. I can understand every single thing Inumaki was trying to do for me in that moment. And it was to save. Save me from him. Only save me from him. That was what he was really trying to say.

There wasn’t enough time left of my ability for me to convince him to calm down and see that nothing was wrong. I was cut off before I could say a word of affirmation and from the look of dull surprise on Toge’s face, he sensed that it was over.

I don’t think I’ll be able to forget that look of sadness in his purple eyes when he came to the realization that everything was fine. That none of his words had hurt or done the things he had saw in his head. It’s what led me to tug his sleeve as he tried to leave.

Inumaki didn’t look at me, but he stopped. Like he was waiting for me to say what I had to say. So, I hurriedly proposed an idea I wouldn’t have blurted out had I not felt rushed, “Can I see you again?”

Admitting this now, I adored seeing that smile curving up his cheeks, as melancholy as it was. It’s what made me start to crush on the boy. He nodded his head and gave me a thumbs up, his eyes squinting into crescent-shaped moons while he remarked, “Shake.”

That was the beginning of our unspoken friendship.

•···· ‘ End of Flashback. . . ’ ····•

I blinked rapidly when coming back from the small memory trip, realizing that I had been staring at Toge the entire time I was lost in it. A blush creeped onto my face, I could feel the warmth scattering my cheeks and I lifted my hands to cover it; leaving my eyes open to keep eye contact with him.

That wasn’t a smart idea. He was bound to know that I was flustered. Inumaki had such an odd increased sense of observation because of his inability to have conversations. I could see it from how he looked at me. It always felt like he was reading into my soul, gently peeping behind the curtains of my brain, and looking at the scripture of my bones whenever he held his gaze on me like he was currently.

A hum left me and I laughed it off, brushing the sleeves of my brown cardigan on my cheeks, stepping toward him, “Pardon that, it’s so cold… Do you think we could go somewhere warmer?”

Toge lingered the stare for a minute before he gave me a break and answered, “Tsuna Tsuna.” I distinctly recall that to mean, ‘Look’ in his vocabulary. Confirming it when he grabbed me by my wrist and pulled me closer, bringing me into a hug.

At first, I thought he was trying to warm me up with his own body temperature but then I felt him taking off his jacket and that made me pull away. The stupid blush on my face wouldn’t ever go if he kept this up. I apologized and waved a hand at the action, “No, no! Thank you for the kindness.. But, you need that too.”

He continued to take it off and walked back to where he was in front of me, throwing the jacket over my shoulders and holding it there with the arm holes wide open.

I stared up at him, his face closer than before, and the details in it enough to make my face burn brighter; like a tomato. Then I slowly slid my arms through the warm piece of clothing, letting it mold into my body, giving him a small smile of comfort and gratitude.

Toge looked me up and down, holding two thumbs up with an exclamation of the word he uses for praise, “Mentaiko!” His eyes smiling at me once again.

Why did he have to be so sweet? I was lost in thought about my crush on the boy for what felt like the millionth time. Tired of stressing my feelings on it but I wasn’t able to say a word about it to him. I didn’t want to ruin a friendship that seemed so fragile by acting on something that’d be so selfish. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, he was looking for a friend. Someone he could finally have a connection with outside of his stressors. Not another load to bear.

Shunning myself from having anymore thoughts on the matter, I went to sitting on the bench from earlier again, Inumaki following behind and plopping down next to me.

We sat in silence and watched the scenery like I had been before, helping me calm myself so no more unnecessary romance made me avoid the white-haired boy. I closed my eyes and burrowed most of myself into the jacket to keep some heat maintained, the smell of rice and red mungbean paste wafting from it.

Glancing at Toge, I noticed that he was leaned and fixated on scribbling something on a paper resting in his lap. Seemingly to have got it from the backpack he carried here.

I watched as he jotted down the last of what he needed to write. He shoved the pencil back into one of the pockets of his bag and folded the paper up into a square; handing it to me the moment he was finished. My expression changed into a surprised stare, digging my fingers into the corners of it until I undid the folds one by one.

There was no way I would expect to see what I read on that paper, but I did. Stumbling over the words he wrote with shock.

‘Please, try to connect to me again?’

Looking over at him, my wide eyes met with his purple, calm orbs. Like he was trying to tell me it was okay. Inumaki outstretched his hand and placed it facing up on my thigh for me to hold it, peacefully smirking at me as if he was letting me know that he was ready to talk.

My breathing increased and my eyelashes fluttered, trying to process everything without getting too overjoyed, but that was really hard. He wanted to speak to me. Would I be the first person he’s talked to? Would I be the first to experience a conversation with a cursed speech user?

None of this mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to experience the connection again and after having so much time to regain control over this cursed energy I had, I was more than prepared to pull it together.

My eyelids shut and I focused every single bit of my attention on Toge’s presence, pinpointing the exact spots of his soul and reaching out a hand to place it on his forehead. Sweeping hair out of the way for my palm.

A buzz of power vibrated through my entire arm and I could hear the sounds of almost thousands of student’s thoughts for a fraction of a second, my head spinning until a snap was heard. And then quiet. I could picture a thin white line in my head, the sound of soft, running water making me giggle. His soul was so gentle and pretty. It was exactly what I thought it would be like.

I opened my eyes to look at his handsome face once more, giving him a nod to let him know that I succeeded in the connection. My heart picking up pace and thumping against my chest as I waited to hear that voice of his.

Quiet but kind, he murmured to me, “Can you… hear this?” I eagerly nodded, a wide grin accidentally peeping from my lips as I said, “Yes! Yes, I can!” His eyebrows raised and he appeared starstruck, choking out in his mind, “You can… And nothing is happening to you? You can talk to me?”

Tears formed in the corners of his ducts out of being overwhelmed, threatening to spill while I continued to shake my head up and down, confirming the one thing he had been wanting almost his whole life.

He scoffed, thinking out loud with more confidence, “I didn’t think something like this was possible for me…” I had never heard him speak so clearly before. Last time he was so hard to hear that I had to listen to each syllable for a clue on what he was saying. Now, he spoke directly into his head.

But, pushing everything to the side, I was curious about his reasoning. Why was he suddenly okay with this? So, I asked him, “What made you want to connect?”

Toge bit his lip at the question and a random look of nervousness crossed his face, his directness failing him as he gave himself away instantly, “I was trying to ask if you would be willing to cross the boundaries of friends and into something more…?” My jaw dropped at what he just said, looking at him like he was insane before coughing a reply, “Wow! I wouldn’t have thought this was what you were going to say! Um…!”

Tilting my head to the ground, I tucked my knees together and sheepishly took the hand that he kept there from earlier. Interlocking my fingers with his and squeaking out, “I think I would really enjoy that…”

This was happening. He was confessing feelings for me I believed didn’t exist a moment ago and telling me he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Holy, shit. Mind my language, but seriously! HOLY, SHIT!

Inumaki squeezed my hand and reached over to grab my chin with his other one, turning me to face him so he could get closer. Observing how I was responding to the situation with a tiny smirk. Was he being cocky? The Toge Inumaki?

He touched noses with me, asking as he barely hovered his lips on mine, “I don’t know why… but I really want to…Is it okay if I kiss you, {Y/N}?” My breath caught in my throat and I froze, responding through my own thought, “Yes.”

There was no hesitation after, our lips locking in a tight hold as he brushed his hand to the back of my neck, tugging me into him to where we were smushed against one other. A small bit of desperation in the pull, causing the both of us to stay in the kiss until we needed a break for oxygen.

I panted once apart, Toge moving his arm from holding my hand to pushing his fingers to my lower stomach, hesitating right around there. He murmured, “Can I go all the way?” Struggling from holding back by the way he was dragging down. I dug my teeth into my tongue and contemplated over the ask, secretly accepting it as soon as he mentioned it. Fuck, I felt like such a bad influence.

“Do it,” I quickly whispered into his ear, nuzzling down into the crook of his neck to hide there afterward. What were we doing? What if someone saw?

Me and Toge were exchanging kisses on an outside bench. We were cuddled up until the white-haired boy laid me down on the wooden planks, his lips dipping for my neck and sucking on parts that were exposed. I gasped, wrapping my arms around him to plant my nails deep into his back. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I was just overstimulated by the rushes of dopamine from every single touch he gave.

It was so soft. Even as he pushed his fingers underneath my skirt and in between my thighs, it tickled me from how delicate he was. This was weird. Who knew I would like someone touching me like this?

Inumaki hovered above my underwear once he got around to them, swallowing nervously while he confirmed with me for a second time, “I can go ahead? You want this?” He was so adorable in the way he quirked his head like a puppy as he asked, his messy hair making me want to squeal. But I refrained.

I decided to vocally express it now, “Yes, I want you to.” Hopefully that would get it through to him. His face almost innocent for that brief moment he asked right until he got the message. A darkness shading over his face before he hooked his fingers on the fabric that covered me. Pushing them to the side and making me hold my breath.

He was doing this to me. He was really going to do this with me. Out in public. My head turned to stare out at the falling leaves with a churning anxiety in my stomach now. Letting the boy above me feel the wetness between my legs with his fingertips, pushing down to my entrance and slowly sliding one third of it in.

If my grip was bad then, I couldn’t imagine how it was once he started. It felt like he was trying to tease me for the first half of it, constantly taking his fingers out, pushing an entire digit inside, then half of another, and proceed to completely abandon the whole thing. Like he was experimenting with me and figuring out which made me feel the best. Eventually, I had to plead, “Toge, Toge…! Can you please… just keep them in?” That was awfully embarrassing.

The purple-eyed boy raised his brows, gushing out an apology and pulling completely away instead, “Oh..! Sorry… You feel really.. nice. I hope this is okay…” Before he went to kiss from my neck down to my chest, all the way to my hips. Looking up at me through those white eyelashes of his as he went for it, wrapping his mouth on my sensitive bud and dipping his tongue to my entrance.

He lapped in and out of me, my legs tensing and squeezing around him on accident while he dragged me into sitting on top of his face. Peering at his eyes that stared straight up at me, the other half of him covered by my thighs and lower half. I humped a tiny bit from how good I was feeling. Unable to stop myself from getting out of hand because he was driving me nuts with his pace.

I couldn’t keep it in for longer if he kept pressing the tip of his tongue on those sweet spots inside. Or if he kept sucking on the right places. Anything. I would unwind. And I didn’t want to make a mess on him.

Without me saying a word about it, it was like he knew I was close because of how fast he got all of a sudden. Thrusting his tongue until my legs were shaking. I cried out, reaching for and tugging on his hair. Toge groaned on me, sounding like he was annoyed, “Cum already.”

Those were real. He actually said that. And I couldn’t respond to it because my first instant reaction was to scream, collapsing forward onto the arm of the bench to hold tight as I rocked my hips.

All of my juices fell out of me and anything that couldn’t be caught by him dripped down the sides of his cheeks onto the floor. I twitched and lifted myself off, my shoes thudding on the concrete as I tried to regain my balance. Jesus, fuck, I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe WE did that. I was so dizzy from it, I didn’t know how I was awake. My hand reached up to rub my forehead.

Although, I had no idea that Inumaki had different plans. The sound of another command from him frightening me to my core, “Take them off.” I didn’t even know what he was telling me to take off but I went for his pants anyway, guessing that he could mean something and I would still do it despite not knowing. His ability was something else. And to say that I’m not freaked out about what he was telling me to do was an understatement.

Toge was making me hook up with him. Not like I wasn’t going to in the first place, I’m only confirming this because he was going down this route and I shamefully liked it. Well, loved it…

After taking his cargo pants off of him and resting them at his knees, he helped take off his boxers next, making me cover my eyes out of sheer inexperience. I’ve never seen one in real life. And here I was about to see Toge’s. This was my first time. He seemed to get how I was feeling because he patted my head for reassurance, cooing at me in thought, “Take your time… Sorry that I’m so eager. I hope you aren’t minding, {Y/N}..”

Oh no, I was far from minding. I snickered at myself and dropped my hands from my face, excusing my behavior, “Crap…! I don’t mean to act like a kid! I haven’t done this and it’s so nerve-wracking!” Red was covering my cheeks once again as I glanced over to see his exposed erection, becoming a flustered heaping pile of mush.

Toge huffed, “That’s why I was saying uh… those commands.. If I keep doing it, will that help?” Sounding so sexually frustrated that I was starting to feel bad for holding out. But, he was suggesting an actual solution that had been working. It made sense.

So, I agreed, “Yeah… actually.” And he cleared his throat with a squint to his eyes, quickly adjusting himself. It was crazy seeing the words really leaving his mouth, “Ride me.” That could go for what he was telling me to do as well.

Feeling my body go on autopilot, both of my legs straddled the sides of Inumaki’s hips, and I began lowering myself until his tip was prodding around my inner thigh. My hand grabbed the base once I struggled for a minute, aligning it against my entrance to ease his shaft into me.

A gasp escaped my lungs, moans cascading afterward while I shakily grabbed onto both of his shoulders, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold and guide me on him. Fucking into me as I bounced lightly. I could feel how small I was for him from his dick refusing to slide out at some points. Like my body was trying to keep him inside.

We groaned in unison, syncing with each other’s movements, my voice pitching when he brushed into a spot that he abused earlier. He memorized where it was and aimed directly for it, his eyebrows knitting together as sweat dripped down from his forehead. It was so good. He felt so good. And he had a look to his face that I would never forget.

After fifteen minutes of doing it out in the open, someone was finally about to walk past and I sensed them barely seconds before they could see us. Pretending to have fell asleep on Toge once the person arrived. His jacket placed over our lower halves.

“What’s up Inumaki? Aaaaannnnd… {Y/N}…” the sound of Maki’s voice made me internally cringe as she seemed like she was getting closer. Making me pray that she wouldn’t get any ideas about what was going on. If she found out, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.

He gave his usual greeting, “Konbu..” Playing it off surprisingly well with the tone of his speech, no stutters whatsoever. Even though I could feel his dick throbbing inside of me and that was not helping my case in fighting against the demand he gave.

I tried to steady my breathing into the soft breaths like I do when I’m about to fall asleep, panicking in my mind, forgetting that Toge can hear, “I want to so badly.! I need to! I need to!” In my defense, I really couldn’t help it. He told me to do it in cursed speech. Every part of my body was screaming at me to, pain coursing through my skin when I denied the action.

Maki’s voice lowered, sounding like she was getting suspicious which terrified me, “What is she doing lying on you like that, Inumaki?” But, I couldn’t think of anything from the burn of the speech curse and it seemed like he knew that. Because even as she was right there and asking him, he began to subtly roll his hips into me, helping relieve it.

The way he said the ingredients in response were getting a bit butchered, “Nntsuna m-mayo..” And his swear word kept slipping when he pushed himself deeper into me, “Ikura…” I held my breath as I tried not to make a single noise. Too hard. Way too hard. This was such a dangerous game to play. But, why did I love it so much?

It seemed like Maki knew something was up from the way she responded, although she didn’t know what, “Ooookay… Well, I’m not going to get any information out of you any time soon.” Keeping it at that, I could make out her energy walking away from us to the other side. A huge wave of relief washed over me as I arched back into a sitting position on him, spreading my legs so he could move more freely. We were right back into it with our lust at an all time high.

Toge did most of the work when it came to it, but he didn’t seem to care. His dedication in making me feel amazing nothing short. Fingers slipping down to play with my bud after I became labored in my moans, edging me closer and closer into cumming again. My walls tightened around him before more of my liquids rushed out onto his lap, becoming a huge mess.

I wanted to apologize for ruining the bottom half of his shirt, but I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me, continuously ramming into me until he was approaching his own end. There were several actual curses from him inside of his head as he neared it, no longer those innocent food items he loved, “Fuck.. How does it feel so.. tight? Fuck, that feels too good..! Y/N}… I think I’m going to… I need to..!”

Then he pulled out at the very last moment to cum around my lower back, most of it landing on my underwear and sabotaging them like I had with his clothing.

I was exhausted, both of us panting and taking a break by resting on the bench. Pulling up my panties as dirty as that was. I liked to think it was like a finishing touch. I gave him a small peck on the cheek, muttering weakly, “I like you… Toge…” Too shy to say the word ‘Love’ despite what we did just now.

Using the last of my strength, I kept up the connection of our brains to hear him reply back, not hearing a hesitation to his voice in the slightest, “I love you, {Y/N}.” Then I passed out on him quickly after, ironically fulfilling what we feigned earlier.

#jjk smut #smut #smut prompts #jjk toge #jjk toge inumaki #jjk x fem!reader #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki #inumaki toge #toge inumaki x reader smut #toge inumaki fluff #fluff #toge inumaki x fem!reader #reader has a hearing curse #deaf reader

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room-surprise · 3 months

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Hey! Fun question, how do you think an in-canon kabumisu confession would go? People keep portraying mithrun as blunt and straightforward about their relationship, but would he be scared to tell kabru in the chance that he'd say no and leave? Is the desire to just be in a relationship with kabru, or is the desire of not wanting to scare him off greater than that? I'm so starved on the lack of post-canon kabumisu content, they make me go crazy

As usual, I'll try not to go into TOO much detail because then I won't be motivated to write fic about it... and I AM planning to write a post-canon Kabumisu fic anon, so don't worry. I'll get there eventually :3

They make me go crazy too 😔

I think Mithrun's a complicated guy with complicated emotions. Even when he was "empty" in the dungeon he actually showed a lot of feelings - smug satisfaction, annoyance, anger, even a little bit of subtle happiness.

So while I DO think he will still be blunt in general, I also think it's a mistake to assume that means he doesn't feel things and won't have anxieties and insecurities just like any other person.

Mithrun used to be WILDLY insecure, and jealous, and paranoid. He just stopped caring about anything, but if, like the end of the manga suggests, he is going to try to START caring again, he will then start to have feelings, too.

I think Mithrun is intensely aware of his own "undesirability", that's one of the reasons he's BEEN so depressed. Most of his self-worth before the dungeon hinged on being "better" than his brother, and better than other people. Then he looses that (or maybe he was never actually better at all!), so what does he have left? And now his youth is gone too, he's middle-aged and lost his "best years" to depression. He's disabled, he's scarred, he's a bastard that nobody wants.

It's a pretty huge fall from "most eligible bachelor in the empire"!

So I think no, he won't just bluntly tell Kabru that he likes him. It will take Mithrun awhile to realize how he feels, and once he does, he'll be afraid to reach out, so he's going to do what I call "playing silly little elf games". He's going to try and flirt via writing letters and sending gifts, to hint that he likes Kabru.

Luckily for Mithrun, Kabru also knows how to play Silly Little Elf Games (he's an Olympic champion), so he picks up the signals and starts reciprocating, though he's also uncertain and worried that he's misunderstanding. Captain Mithrun couldn't be flirting with him, could he? But... what if he is?

(I will go into Kabru's feelings at a later date anon i promise.)

I think the thing that will ultimately push Mithrun to act is the fear that he'll miss his chance. Mithrun realizes Kabru is a limited time deal that he can only enjoy for the next 60-something years, and he wants every minute of that time for himself, no matter how much it will someday hurt to lose Kabru.

And he also knows that Kabru is very handsome and charming, and he can't expect Kabru to wait for Mithrun to get himself figured out. Someone else will swoop in and snatch that man up, so Mithrun has to hurry.

ALL OF THAT SAID... I think their confession is a lot less of a confession, and much more "we have both been picking up these signals of interest for months/years, and finally one of us pushes it a little bit further than we've ever pushed it before and we acknowledge the unspoken thing that has been growing between us."

Maybe it's a hand resting on someone's leg, or a gentle touch on the arm. Maybe it's leaning in so their shoulders touch. Maybe it's looking into each other's eyes a little bit longer than normal.

Probably it involves both of them admitting "Spending time with you makes me happier than anything else in the world. Whenever we're apart all I think about is when I'm going to see you again. I spend hours composing letters to you in my mind. I want us to spend our days together, no matter what shape that takes."

It's very vulnerable and scary for both of them, and I think they're both DEEPLY relieved after they finally get it out, and they don't get rejected. They know each other so well, and they're so good at reading people - they both thought that the other might feel the same way, but it's so scary to take that leap of faith and hope that they're right.

And just for the record, I think that Kabru worries about if Mithrun will be interested in sex or not, because sex is something that matters to Kabru, but what if Mithrun just doesn't have any desire for it?

And so before they get into a relationship Kabru has a long hard think about it, and decides that even if they never have sex, he wants to be in a romantic relationship with Mithrun anyway, because just being around him makes him feel happy, and understood, and like he isn't alone anymore. There's someone who sees him as he is, all the good and the bad, and says "I love you anyway."

And Kabru decides that he's willing to just jerk off for the rest of his life if that's the price of this relationship that he wants.

Luckily for Kabru, I think Mithrun does want to have sex with him, but I like to think that Kabru thinks through all the possibilities and decides that no matter what they end up doing together, being with Mithrun is worth it.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #kabru #mithrun #kabumisu #my stuff #theories #kabrun

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wintaerbaer · 4 months

Text

things we don’t say: part 5 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut

word count: 12.1k

chapter warnings: jeon jungkook, seventeen is here because i needed fill-ins (also they’re not singers but their music still canonically exists in-universe so good luck figuring that one out), a wedding!, tae is WHIPPED, the infamous butt debate, jealousy (plural), jimin has terrible timing, alcohol consumption ft. a drinking game, a mega cliffhanger i’m so sorry

a/n: while not required, i highly recommend reading the prequel drabble if you haven’t yet as it has some heavy relevance to this part and the next! special thanks to @btsborahaee and @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this chapter and letting me gush and brainstorm in their inboxes on the regular <3 also, shout outs to @animeniacss and @taegularities for sprinting with me all the time (and a forehead kiss to rid for coming up with the idea for the bathroom scene, mwah)!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"After today, I never want to see a ribbon ever again."

Jimin fumbles his fingers over the thin string, throwing his hands up in a huff when the slippery material resists his efforts to tie it. With Hoseok and Sunny's wedding only two weeks away, you'd offered to help out with some of the prep work, and Taehyung suggested hosting a mini prep party at your apartment as part of his efforts to make new memories since you'd moved back. True to his word, he’s been at your place nearly every day the past few weeks, cooking dinner with you and rewatching your favorite shows from high school.

You have to admit it’s been pleasantly domestic.

"It's not that bad," you say, finishing off your own ribbon around one of the tiny boxes of chocolate which will be distributed to each of the two-hundred-plus guests as a wedding favor.

"No, I'm serious. I don't even want to tie my shoes anymore. I'm a Crocs guy now."

"I've heard girls love sport mode," Taehyung quietly teases. "Is that right, Y/N?"

The flirtatiousness of his tone startles you, and your eyes snap up to meet his where he sits across from you at the dining room table. He's smiling one of those mischievous grins that makes your stomach churn, belly lurching when he stuns you with a wink before turning back to his own tiny box.

What the fu—

"If any of you show up to my wedding in Crocs, I'm kicking you out," Sunny grumbles.

Hoseok smacks his lips as he ties off a ribbon. "Does that also go for—"

"You as well, yes."

Your group settles into a momentary silence at her declaration—not a sound besides the ripple of ribbon and paper. At least until—

“I got laid wearing Crocs once.”

The entire table groans in unison, and you toss a bit of balled up wrapping paper at Jungkook's chest that bounces pathetically to the floor as Jimin boos. “No one cares about your sexcapades, Kook.”

“What, it was impressive!” he argues. “Just be thankful I'm not bringing any of them to the wedding.”

“I almost wish you were,” Hoseok grumbles. “You'd better not be picking up anyone inappropriate that night. Sisters, cousins, aunts—”

“That was one time!”

“—and anyone else even remotely close to family are off limits.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, pouting to himself, before he says, “Moms?”

The table boos again, more bits of wrapping paper flying his way.

“I'm kidding! Kidding!”

“Actually, Y/N,” Sunny murmurs, leaning towards you. “I hate to bring it up, but are you planning on bringing anyone else in Jace’s place?” Her expression is one of compassionate regret, with pursed lips and a furrowed brow, but the question still hits you low in your chest, knocking the wind out of you.

“I feel terrible asking,” she continues, “but one of my friends from high school originally declined a plus-one, and now she’s asking if there’s any way we can squeeze in this guy she met two weeks ago, and normally I’d tell her no, there’s no way I can change the head count two weeks out and who is this guy anyway, but then I figured that we do technically have an extra spot so we could fit him in, but I’d definitely give you the option to bring someone else first if you wa—“

“It’s fine,” you say, trying to ignore the way everyone else around the table is now looking on in sympathy. “I have no one else to bring. Let her guy come.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” It feels like you’re dying inside, but you try to look unbothered, especially since you can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Sunny quietly agrees, just as Hoseok suddenly jumps in at her side.

“You know, Tae isn’t bringing anyone to the wedding either,” he says, looking between the two of you. “Why don’t you just go together?”

“I’m also going alo—“ There’s a thump under the table and Jungkook immediately shuts his mouth.

You glance at Taehyung, who’s looking back at you with a dip in his eyebrows and parted lips. It was probably a given that you would spend time at the wedding hanging out already, but wouldn’t going together mean something else entirely? A promise of dancing and proximity and a label the two of you have never shared?

Perhaps that’s the reason why he’s staring at you with a touch of discomfort. Your own skin prickles at the thought, and so you scratch away the itch at your chin and deflect.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to.” Then you stand from the table sharply, hitting your limits with this conversation. “I’ll be right back.”

You head for the bathroom, not even needing to do anything in there, but sure that you can busy yourself for a few minutes to get your emotions under control away from your friends. But as you’re about to swing the door shut behind you, a large hand reaches out to stop it with a thud, and Taehyung quickly slips in before closing the door himself.

“Tae, what are you—“

“Come with me.”

You’re practically chest-to-chest, and if not for the fact that you’ve stopped breathing with his question, you’d probably be pressed up against him in the tight space.

“What?”

He licks his lips, pulls in air through his nose like he’s bracing himself.

“Come to the wedding with me.”

The room is heavy with silence as his request fully sinks in, the air between you thick and hot as you try to get some of it into your lungs. It’s hard, though, to develop a coherent thought with him standing so close—his scent engulfing you and dark, searching eyes fixated on your expression.

“I don’t kno—“ you begin, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Why not? Like Hobi said, neither of us is bringing anyone already.” His fingers brush yours—an apology for mentioning it again. “So why not go together and…not be as alone.”

You shift on your feet. “But you do know that you don’t have to do this. I’m fine without a plus one. There’s no shame in it for me.”

“Y/N,” he huffs. “You know that I like being around you, right?” He nudges gently against the underside of your chin, making you look at him directly. “I wouldn’t have stuck around this long if I didn’t.”

You’re still skeptical—nervous about the implications of what this would look like, especially when you just got out of a relationship. To you, it feels very much like teasing a boundary. But Taehyung is all nerves in front of you, gaze darting up-and-down your face and a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth telling you that he’s chewing on his lip.

And of course, because it’s him, you cave.

“Okay.”

He beams and, not for the first time, you feel your chest lighten at the sight of his boxy smile. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, smiling back.

“Okay.” Almost impossibly, his grin gets even wider, and you can see the wheels begin to turn in his head. “Do you have a dress picked out yet? What color is it? I can match you.”

It takes you aback. You wouldn’t have even thought about that. “Emerald green.”

“Emerald green,” he repeats, something registering behind his eyes, and he licks his lips again. “Okay. Great.”

He shifts like he's getting ready to leave, but you catch his fingers to reel him back. And you hate to put it out there, hate to even bring it up, but after everything you’ve been through, you need the clarity.

“And Tae,” you say, “this isn’t a date, right?”

He gives a slow blink, a wave of unknown emotion rippling from forehead to chin before he smiles gently at you, eyes softening at the corners. “Of course not.”

You nod. “Okay.” And a small part of you feels…disappointed?

But there's no time to dwell on it as he exits the bathroom, and you follow him out in spite of doing exactly zero bathroom things. You return to the dining room together, your friends clearly trying to look nonchalant as they diligently work on their party favors but being way too quiet to not have been trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Sunny,” Taehyung says as you take your seats, looking positively brighter. “Just make sure we're sitting next to each other, yeah?”

She snorts. “As if you were anywhere else to begin with.”

Blue skies stretch endlessly in front of you, wind running through your hair and sunlight filtering in through the sunroof as you and Taehyung make the trip to the lakeside resort where Hoseok and Sunny are to be married. He's the absolute picture of relaxation in the driver's seat, wearing sunglasses and a mindless smile with his fingers wrapped delicately around the steering wheel like vines.

He'd opened the door for you when he picked you up, a seemingly spontaneous gesture that had left you both shy and blushing. But if the afternoon started with a touch of unusual awkwardness between you, the prospect of your “not a date” wedding date making itself known, it has since evaporated in the hot summer air. At this point, you’ve spent the past hour chatting, playing road trip games (Taehyung somehow destroying you in the alphabet game in spite of having to focus on driving), and burning through three boxes of Pepero.

“These are an addiction, I swear,” you say, crunching down on a chocolate-filled stick and clapping your hands in delight. Taehyung’s eyes leave the road for a second as he takes you in and grins.

“Was that the last of it?”

“Oh.” You peer into the box. Empty. “Yeah. Sorry. Did you want it?”

“No, it’s fine. You can have it.”

“I sure hope so since I already swallowed it.”

He laughs, whole face lighting up with it, and you feel something turn over behind your ribcage as if someone’s flipped your heart like a pancake. It makes you think that even though you were supposed to be making this trip with a different person, you’re glad it’s him instead.

My love only amounts to this.

The lyrics ring out through the car, and Taehyung leans forward suddenly, turning up the volume on the stereo.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite song!” he joyfully says. “I know you like to sing along.”

You stare at him blankly, taken aback because you don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this to him. When did he notice…?

“C’mon, sing with me. Play a song I know and one step. Hold my hands and put my feet in, two steps.”

His sweet baritone sounds out beside you, and you feel a grin break out across your face. You always forget what a joy it is to hear Taehyung sing.

“The person to know all my secrets is you,” you sing, joining along. “So I’m even more thankful.”

“Sometimes when you get tired, and I see you crying with your head down, I don't know what to do. What can I do?”

You’re both belting it out at the top of your lungs by the time it gets to the chorus, and you think the sun has somehow moved inside the car with how bright and warm you feel.

My love only amounts to this. But thank you for staying by my side, my baby.

Your car charges down the road, trailing laughter and joy in its wake, and your chest feels light for the first time in weeks.

Even if my love only amounts to this. I'll be your umbrella in the rain. I'll protect you on all your days.

Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook meet you in the hotel lobby—a marble behemoth with wrought iron staircases and sofas that definitely cost more than your rent—and you all line up to check in, gawking at the elaborate chandelier that hangs above your heads.

“How did they even afford this place?” Jimin wonders.

Maya sucks her teeth. “At this rate? I think they might have mob ties.”

“Feet pics,” Jungkook says simply.

Once everyone has obtained their key cards, you set off to find your rooms. You’re all on the same floor since a certain section was booked specifically for the wedding, but with you having a room with only a single queen-sized bed, you’re down the hall and away from the others who booked doubles.

While Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook break off to get acclimated in their own respective rooms, Taehyung follows you into yours with a touch of melancholy, your luggage slung over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re fine here alone?” he asks, setting your bag on the ground. “I can room with you if you’d like. I’m sure Kook wouldn’t mind.”

“There’s only one bed,” you point out, blushing.

Taehyung also goes slightly pink. “Well yeah, but the other week we just…or I can take the couch. Or we can ask Kook to swap rooms?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I’m alone at the apartment all the time anyway.”

He nods, looking oddly shot down. “Alright. But if you change your mind, just ask.”

“Unlikely,” you tease with a wrinkle of your nose. “You snore.”

He gasps, feigning hurt. “I do not.”

He doesn’t. But you still tilt your head solemnly, pressing your lips together as if preparing to deliver bad news. “You do.”

“Shit,” he sighs before the two of you break down in giggles.

A few hours later, the five of you wind up at the resort’s restaurant for dinner, lamenting the exorbitant prices but enjoying an incredible meal. The night dwindles down as you settle in at the bar, figuring you can have a couple drinks before resting up for tomorrow’s big day. With a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a perfect view of the lake outside and the glow of the sunset spreading out above the trees. It tints the room orange, seeping onto every surface, including Taehyung’s forearms resting atop the bar.

You trace his veins with your eyes, study the way they trail to his hands curled lightly around his low ball glass. Your friends are talking about plans for tomorrow, but you’re not paying much attention; you’re far more interested in trying to figure out when your best friend’s arms started looking like that.

“And don’t worry, Chim. If I have the chance to get lucky, I’ll make sure not to use our room,” Maya says, placing a hand over her heart in pledge. “No locking you out because I’m a good friend.”

But Jungkook has tensed up next to you, and in spite of the cute pout of his lips, the creasing of his forehead suggests that he’s genuinely upset. “Hook-up? You’re going to find a hook-up?”

Maya looks at him incredulously, drink paused halfway to her lips. “Possibly. Aren’t you?”

“I…” His teeth bite into his lip. “It’s a wedding.”

She barks out a devilish laugh. “So? When has that ever stopped you?” A spiteful glare is sent his way that even has you shrinking behind him in secondhand shame. “Since when do you have morals?”

Taehyung’s knee squeezes against yours under the bar—a warning, probably, but your brain momentarily becomes fixated on the weight of it, on how nice it feels to have his warmth pressed against you. It’s not until he taps a finger against your thigh, signaling with his eyes at the sullen man behind you, that you pass on the touch, giving Jungkook’s elbow a gentle nudge in support and encouragement. He takes a quick look at you with sad, vulnerable eyes, and you’re reminded of how flustered he’d been during your conversation a few weeks ago.

“I was actually thinking,” he begins, more serious than you’ve ever seen him, “that maybe we could go together since neither of us have dates.”

Maya snorts, setting her drink down firmly on the countertop. “Why, so you can ditch me halfway through for the first woman that flutters her eyelashes at you? No thanks.”

Jungkook physically recoils like he’s been slapped, the force sending him back so far that he practically winds up in your lap. “You really think I would do that?”

His voice is tiny, hurt dripping from every syllable, and it makes Maya finally look up, face dropping as she seems to realize the wounds she’s inflicted upon him.

Her brows draw together, and she opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by the bartender popping up to ask if anyone needs a refill. By the time he leaves, the moment’s passed, and Jungkook briskly stands up, throwing some money down on the bar.

“I’m done. See you guys tomorrow.” And he strides out towards the hotel lobby.

You hop to your feet, shaking your head at Maya. “That was uncalled for.”

She looks guilty but says nothing, rubbing a finger along the rim of her glass, and you follow Jungkook out, calling his name as he approaches the elevators.

“Jungkook!”

He spins to face you with a frown, thumbs hooked in his pants pockets like he’s trying to look casual, but his eyes betray his discomfort. “What?”

“She didn’t mean that,” you say, slightly breathless from your jog across the lobby. “I know she didn’t.”

“Sure she did. That’s who she is. Always speaks her mind.” He shrugs, shirt rippling over his shoulders. “It’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Don’t you though?” you ask. “You’re not a bad guy, Kook. You deserve simple respect at least.”

“Maybe I don’t.” The elevator dings, and he steps inside, turning back to you with a final sad smile. “Night, Y/N.”

A sense of dread taps into the back of your skull, fear that your original inkling on this relationship was perhaps correct. Though you’ve since warmed up to the idea of Maya and Jungkook as a potential couple, it was this exact tension that you were worried about—their fire and gasoline dynamic harboring implications that could blow up your entire friend group.

Taehyung strolls up next to you as the doors roll shut, sighing as he comes to a stop. “He okay?”

“No, but don’t try telling him that.”

He purses his lips. “I had a quick talk with Maya. Reminded her that just because she’s had bad experiences with guys in the past doesn’t give her the right to take it out on him.”

“Good,” you say. “She probably needed to hear it.”

A nod as he assesses your figure and asks, “Are you coming back to the bar? I already covered your tab.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you back—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “You can make it up to me a different time.”

You smirk at him, stepping closer. “How about I roll it into your Christmas present?”

“Deal.”

You let out a soft laugh, and he offers to walk you up, pressing the button to call the elevator back. The two of you chat about nothing in particular as you make your way to the third floor, commenting on the ridiculously patterned carpet in the halls and laughing about the strangely risqué photos that you noticed hanging in the rooms.

When you arrive at your door, you swipe your key card over the sensor, turning the light from red to green and wishing Taehyung goodnight, but he loops his fingers around your wrist to lightly tug you back.

“Y/N.” He curls his bottom lip over his teeth, head dipping towards the ground in a shy smile as he searches for his words. “I’m…really looking forward to tomorrow. It’s going to be fun.”

He’s adorable; he truly is. Seventeen years of affection, and he still finds ways to endear you to him even more, bits of gold from the lamps catching on the browns of his eyes as he stands before you.

“It is,” you say, tongue tied around your own apprehension. He hums and looks like he wants to say more—tangles his fingers in front of him and chews on his lip as he fidgets. But after a moment passes—you still stuck on his eyes—he jerks his chin down in a nod, says goodnight, and leaves you standing at your door in confusion, taking one look back as he swipes his own key card down the hall and disappears into his room.

You enter your own space with your mind whirling, not sure what the hell just happened but also sure that you’re not upset about it. And once you’ve gone through your bedtime routine and settled in for the night, you fall asleep thinking about brown eyes and shy smiles, welcoming the most restful sleep you’ve had in weeks.

You awake to the sound of Maya knocking on your door promptly at 9am with her suitcase in hand, casually making her way to your bed when you let her in and picking up the hotel menu from the side table while you stare at her. "What are you doing?" "We are going to order room service and watch some shitty TV, and then I am going to help you get you ready for your date." "It's not a date," you say on impulse, though you're internally tamping down the involuntary flutter that's tickling your stomach. "If it's anything, it's a guy taking pity on his unexpectedly-single friend." "Pity date then." She says it with a nonchalant wave of her hand and doesn't give you the chance to speak when you open your mouth to protest. "Y/N, please, just give me the chance to make his jaw drop. If there really is nothing there like you say there is, then what's the harm?" The harm, you think to yourself, is the tingling feeling that's been increasing in intensity when you've been around Taehyung recently, warmth flooding your body at just the thought of him. Your brain has been desperately explaining it away, chalking it up to years of familiarity and comfort being stoked by the emotional trauma which (you're quick to remind yourself) you're still working through. No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you. It's these thoughts that, in the end, have you acquiescing as Maya lets out a joyful squeal. At the very least, you make your friend happy and get some well-deserved girl bonding time. Really, what's the harm?

The idea has barely finished running through your mind when you’re already beginning to regret it and wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Maya wheels her entire suitcase to the foot of your bed and pulls out no less than seven bags of make-up, a curling iron, hairspray, four different brushes, and a straightener.

“Are you doing the entire wedding party after this?” you ask incredulously. “Why did you bring so much?”

“Needed to be ready for anything,” she says, organizing her tools into neat rows. “When I’m done with you, every straight man and half the women will be falling at your feet.”

Your face heats, and you subconsciously rub at your arm. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Okay, then just one man.” She raises her arms, fingers arranged into a square through which she peers at you like she’s sizing you up for a photograph. “Hmm, where should we start?”

You and Maya make your way to the resort's event hall a little while before the ceremony is scheduled to begin. Seating doesn't seem to have opened yet as guests mill about the entryway, the buzz of conversation filling the space above your heads, and the two of you pause at the top of the stairs to see if you can spot your friends. "I think Kook's got a purple tie," she says, peering around. "And you know what he's wearing why?" you ask, but she ignores you. "Oh, look, there they are." Maya's goal may have been to get Taehyung's jaw to drop, but you're left stunned when you look over to where he's standing with Jimin and Jungkook, the now-familiar tingle rippling through your veins once again. His black suit is perfectly tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, emerald green tie wrapped around his neck to match the color of your dress as promised. He's slicked his hair back and away from his eyes so you're able to see how they nervously dart between Jimin and Jungkook, clearly not listening to whatever it is they're enthusiastically saying. Actually, once you look more closely, everything about his body language screams nerves for some reason, his hands moving back and forth to play with the hems of his jacket before smoothing the lapels over and over again. Maya waves, grabbing Jimin's attention, and you watch as he grins at the two of you before leaning in to say something to Taehyung, pointing at where you're standing. Maybe, you think, just maybe you appreciate Maya's plan from this morning after Taehyung glances up at you. His incessantly-moving fingers finally still—halfway through re-adjusting his tie—and his perfect Cupid's-bow-lips pop open, eyes wide as he soaks you in in your floor-length gown. Maya’s worked your hair into loose curls cascading over your shoulders and bare back, and while you convinced her to not go wild with the make-up, she strong-armed you into agreeing to a deep red lipstick that’s only accentuated by the green of your dress. A smug cough comes from your right (clearly Maya's pleased with her work) as you descend the stairs and approach the trio of men. Jimin and Jungkook greet you brightly while Taehyung still looks mildly concussed, continuing to stare at you with his mouth half-open. "Alright there, Tae?" you ask, reaching up to adjust and smooth out his tie, messy from where his hands had frozen on it.

The pads of your fingers are hot where they brush against the hard muscle of his chest, and you try not to read too deeply into the pounding of his heart. Taehyung makes a weird noise akin to what you'd imagine a drowning fish would sound like, and Jungkook gives him a sharp slap on the back, which seems to knock him out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. "Incredible!" he blurts, and you almost want to laugh at the reset-button-like effect Jungkook's smack seems to have on him. He clears his throat, composing himself further. "I, um—you, I mean. You look incredible." You thank him, ignoring the second wave of smugness that comes from Maya's direction, just as the event staff open the doors and begin ushering guests into the hall. Taehyung offers you his arm, and you gladly take it as he guides you to sit alongside your friends.

The wedding hall is as grandiose as the rest of the hotel, with columns ornamenting the sides of the room and a massive flower arch constituting the altar. You all talk as you wait for the ceremony to begin, admiring the decor (the bright bouquets of red, purple, and blue flowers pop against the stark white of the venue) and trying to see if you recognize any of the guests.

“Oh, there’s Sunny’s cousin Chan,” Maya says, peering out over the room. “Remember we met him at that party one time?”

“Didn’t the two of you drunkenly make-out?” you ask.

Jimin frowns. “I thought they hooked up.”

“No, Y/N is right.” She fixes her hair, oblivious to the way Jungkook is now staring at the man in question, hackles raised. “Wouldn’t say no to that happening again; he was good with his hands. Tae, are you alright? You’re looking at Y/N like she’s sprouted four more arms.”

You swivel your head around to see Taehyung next to you, entirely flushed red above the shoulders. He licks his lips as he meets your eyes, blinking furiously like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, I spaced out.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maya waves a dismissive hand, shuffling her attention to Jimin to ask if he knows about the music choices for the ceremony.

A throat clears on your right. “You do look nice. Really.” Taehyung looks utterly sheepish, his head tilted low as he softly pays you the compliment, and it reminds you of how shy he was last night as well. A butterfly takes flight in your chest, and now you’re the one blushing.

“Thank you. You cleaned up nicely, too,” you reply, and he blinks at you in a way that has you second guessing your words. “Not that you don’t always clean up nicely. And not that you don’t normally look very handsome. Because you do. Look very handsome, I mean. All the time.”

His bashfulness morphs into amusement, lips quirking up in an affectionate smile. “Oh, really?”

Your face heats up even more, mouth opening to respond with you don’t even know what, and you’re grateful when a hush falls over the room, the beginning notes of a wedding march signaling the ceremony’s start.

Hoseok appears first, looking dapper in a full tuxedo and grinning ear-to-ear. He walks down the aisle with long strides like he can’t possibly get to the end fast enough, bouncing on his toes as he settles into his spot.

The officiant is next, followed by Iseul and Seokmin, one of Hoseok’s childhood friends. Hana and Namjoon stroll in arm-in-arm after that, then Yumi and Jiho, and finally, everyone rises to their feet as Sunny appears at the entrance and begins her walk in, gaze finding only her groom.

Just as Sunny reaches the head of the aisle, a teary-eyed Hoseok taking her hands in his, another image, one which had once occupied your mind almost constantly but hadn't plagued you in weeks, takes hold: you and Jace in a similar setting, pledging forever to each other in front of your friends and family.

Maybe you had gotten ahead of yourself—the discovery of the ring box in his desk along with the natural longevity of your relationship sparking your imagination—but in the weeks leading up to your heartbreak, you had allowed your mind to plan—what kind of dress you'd wear, the colors you'd pick out, what you might say in your vows. It seems stupid now, dwelling on a future that's already evaporated into nothingness, but seeing the echoes of your dreams being played out in front of you, it’s like you can feel the sand physically slipping through your fingers.

Right as it starts to become too much, as you feel your chest tighten and heart ache, there's a brush of skin against the side of your hand, and glancing down, you see that Taehyung's reached over to quietly hook his pinky with yours. You turn to face him, but he keeps his eyes directed on the bride and groom, face neutral and unreadable, and you know he's giving you the chance to pull away, no questions asked.

But the gesture has warmth flooding through you, thawing the ice of your previous thoughts, and so you move to slip your hand under his, lacing your fingers and pressing your palms together tightly.

Taehyung looks at you then, a shy smile crinkling his eyes and twisting up the corners of his mouth, and you grin back, the previous ache in your chest replaced with a steady flutter as he begins to skim his thumb back and forth in a gentle caress.

You stay that way for the rest of the ceremony—watching your friends vow eternity to each other, Taehyung's hand tethered with yours.

Classical music drifts from the speakers at the back of the room as you find your seats for the reception. The ballroom is tremendous, with tall, arched ceilings, a gorgeous chandelier, and a wide dance floor that you’re sure will see a ton of action later. With the tables seating eight, you see that you’ve been placed in a grouping of you, Taehyung, Maya, Jimin, Jungkook, and three of Hoseok’s medical school friends, who introduce themselves as Wonwoo, Joshua, and Mingyu.

Thankfully, your group hits it off immediately. Wonwoo is rather reserved, more an observer of those around him than anything, but Taehyung and Jimin quickly strike up a conversation with Joshua about college after the latter mentions having gone to the same school as you, albeit never crossing paths. Maya and Mingyu, meanwhile, immediately fall into their own introductions, talking about how they know Hoseok and Mingyu’s studies to become a doctor.

“If you ever need a headshot or something, let me know,” Maya says, laying a hand on his arm. Across the table, Jungkook's head shoots up. “I do work as a photographer and would be happy to help.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu makes no move to remove her hand; if anything, he shifts even closer. “What are your rates?”

“For you? Free of charge. Any friend of Hoseok is a friend of mine.” They're in their own little bubble now, Jungkook watching wide-eyed. “Besides, you'd be doing me a favor. With a face like that, you're a photographer's dream. Perfect model.”

Mingyu smirks. “A face like what?”

“Dangerously handsome.”

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT TO SPECIALIZE IN?”

Jungkook practically screams it, and not only do Maya and Mingyu turn to look at him in bewilderment, but so does the rest of the table and a few guests in the neighboring seats.

Joshua clears his throat awkwardly, eying Jungkook like he might be rabid. “I’m trying for pediatrics.”

“Surgery,” Wonwoo says.

Maya turns towards her new companion. “What about you, Mingyu?”

He leans back in his chair. Gives a light tug on his tie. “I have a residency lined up in obstetrics and gynecology.”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me—”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, cutting him off as he slides his chair back from the table. “Why don’t you help me get a round of drinks?”

“But—“

“C’mon.” He says it gently, like he’s trying to coax a toddler, and rises to his feet, giving you a gentle tap on the shoulder as he goes. “Cosmo?”

“Yes, please,” you say, and he nods, dropping a quick wink your way as Jungkook joins him, grumbling under his breath.

Joshua watches them walk away in the direction of the bar. “Is he always this…”

“Annoying?” Maya scoffs.

“Transparent.” Wonwoo quietly smirks.

A gentle laugh sounds on your left as Jimin hears. “I don’t know that anyone has ever described Jungkook as subtle in his life.”

Maya frowns, Mingyu looking downright perplexed at her side. “I don’t think I quite understand what’s going on,” he begins, but Maya soothes him with another press of her hand to his arm.

“Don’t worry about him. It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Tell me more about your residency.”

The reception passes in a swirl of music and drinks and food—and oh goodness, the food. Plates heaped with calamari, crab legs, and tiny filets wrapped in bacon are placed at the table by wait staff as your group digs in. Even Jungkook is placated, no longer scowling at Maya and Mingyu.

"Ughhh, I am never eating this well again," Jimin groans, stretching back in his chair and giving an exaggerated rub to his belly.

"You'd best get ready to," Taehyung says from your other side. "This isn't even dinner."

"This isn't even dinner?!"

Dinner turns out to be just as delicious and lavish as the appetizers, and it's no surprise that once dancing starts, your friends opt to stay seated for a while longer talking and digesting. As the party climbs to a full swing, Mingyu asks Maya to dance, Jimin and Jungkook start a debate on whether the butt is one body part or two, and Taehyung excuses himself to the restroom.

“It’s one part that’s split!” Jimin loudly exclaims. “The top is connected!”

“Jimin, go home, stand in front of the mirror, and pull your right ass cheek up. See if your left cheek comes up with it, and then get back to me, you absolute clown.”

“Do they do this a lot?” Joshua asks, the two idiots arguing between you.

“At least once a month.” You take a sip of your drink as you look on, bored. “I’m pretty sure this one is a rerun from last Halloween.”

“It’s one,” Wonwoo says, amused.

A flash of green catches your eye, and you look up to see Taehyung standing by the side of the bar, speaking with a woman. She's about your age, you think, and pretty, wearing a low-cut dress that certainly accentuates her chest.

She and Taehyung are talking excitedly, and you can tell he's putting the charm on—eyes bright, signature boxy smile lighting up his face. Nausea simmers in the pit of your stomach, and you force your attention back towards Jimin and Jungkook, trying to focus on whatever nonsense they're debating now.

This isn't a “date-date,” you remind yourself. And Taehyung hasn't had a relationship in a year—not since he was so torn up after Luna. He deserves to meet someone.

You’re spaced out next to your friends, still only halfway listening to them jabber on about butt cheeks, when a slow song starts up over the speakers and, within seconds, a hand is being extended over your shoulder.

You look up to find Taehyung's eyes gazing steadily down at you, a small but confident smile playing on his lips.

"Dance with me?"

And in spite of the unease that had plagued you only moments ago, you don't hesitate to let him wrap up your small hand in his large one and lead you to the dance floor. His palm settles on your lower back to pull you in close, and maybe it’s the proximity or the intoxicating smell of his cologne that weakens your resolve, but you find the words spilling out.

"Did you get her number?"

Taehyung looks at you quizzically, brow furrowing in confusion. "Whose?"

"The woman at the bar."

His face relaxes as he realizes. "Oh, yeah. I did."

"Good." You manage a smile. Why does it feel so hard? "It really is…good you're getting back out there. Are you going to ask her on a date?"

He laughs, mischief in his eyes. "I don't think her fiancé would like that." And now it's your turn to look confused.

"Her fiancé?"

"I met the two of them through Hoseok a couple times so we've chatted. Nice people." He nods his head, and you look over to see the woman now dancing with a man not too far from you. "They just got engaged, and she knows I'm a photographer so she asked if I'd be interested in doing the wedding. I said I'd call her this week to talk about it."

"Oh." You can feel your face flush, but there's no doubting the relief that floods through you. And Taehyung surely notices, grinning down at you in amusement.

"Were you jealous?"

"No!" you say, but perhaps a little too quickly because Taehyung laughs, his fingers applying a gentle pressure to your back to pull you closer.

"I'm here with you," he murmurs matter-of-factly.

You shake your head at him. "It's fine, Tae. If someone catches your eye…like I said, it could be good—"

"I'm here with you," he repeats, more firmly this time. He releases your hand for a moment to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and you have to look away. You spot Hoseok and Sunny swaying together in the middle of the dance floor, pressed closely together and smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world. What it must be like to have someone look at you like that, you think, to hold you like you're something precious to be cherished. You had thought Jace made you feel that way, but now, watching your friends gaze at each other so delicately, so in love, you're no longer sure he even came close.

"What are you looking at?" Taehyung's voice rouses you out of your thoughts, and you suddenly notice his hand has drifted a little higher to where the back of your dress dips down low, exposing your bare skin.

Trying to pass off the shiver that involuntarily runs through you as a nod, you gesture at the newly married couple. "They're so good together."

Taehyung follows your line of sight, watching Hoseok lean down to murmur something in Sunny's ear that makes her giggle and press her face into his chest. "They are."

"Can you imagine loving someone like that?" Your voice is a bare whisper as if the words slipped out on their own accord, like a wish you didn't even realize you were making.

Taehyung's fingers splay at your spine, gently tugging you in until your hips are bumping his. Startled, your eyes snap back to him, breath catching in your chest. He's gazing at you intently, but as opposed to the intense fire that you've seen from him at times, there's only a deep warmth to his brown irises that you're not sure you've ever seen before. He looks at you with softness, with both a sense of familiarity and wonder that can only be attributed to your many years of companionship, and you see it all swimming behind his eyes—every day spent together seeking refuge from your families, every stupid childhood fight, every time you comforted each other through the bad days. And before you can deflect, can explain away the question as a rhetorical slip of the tongue, you hear his answer come out on a breath.

"Yes."

There’s a weight to it, the word landing from his lips like a stone into water, and you suddenly forget where you are. The world around you fades away: faces, music, and noise all receding into the background until it’s just him and you, you and him.

Just like it’s always been.

Taehyung's head dips towards you as if pulled by gravity, and your body responds in turn, hand sliding from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck and eyes fluttering shut. Your breaths mingle together, his nose lightly brushing against yours, and you find yourself on the brink of keening forward, on the brink of diving headfirst into a place of no return, when—

"Hey, we're going to step outside for some air. Do you guys wanna—oh."

You spring apart. Jimin is staring at the two of you, eyes so wide you're worried they might fall out of his head. His hand is still half-raised, pointing in the direction of the doors behind him, and you use this to make your escape.

"Yeah sounds good I'll come outside definitely," you babble before speeding towards the exit. Glancing back over your shoulder, you see Jimin say something animatedly to Taehyung, but the latter shakes his head and mumbles something back, his face pink.

The night air is cool on your skin, and you could not be more grateful for it because what the fuck was that?

Were you really about to kiss your best friend? Or was he going to kiss you? Things had certainly been…different between you two recently, but this surely would have been an awful idea. If something went wrong or there was a misunderstanding, you'd likely never be able to come back from it.

He said he doesn't have feelings for you.

…But do you have feelings for him?

Maybe yes, his smile has always set your heart alight unlike anything else and yes, your brain seems to have been lingering recently on how damn handsome he is and yes, you'd do anything for him at the drop of a hat—follow him anywhere—but given your history, of course you would, right? He's your best friend.

And he deserves to be more than a rebound. Because that's what this must be—lingering heartbreak amplified by the emotions of a wedding. You may have even imagined Taehyung leaning towards you, a desperate fantasy of a mind just wanting to be loved.

That's it, you decide. Your brain must have finally snapped into a world of delusion.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't hear Jungkook approach you, practically jumping out of your skin when he places a gentle hand on your arm.

"Y/N—shit—you okay?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes wide and apologetic.

"Yeah," you say, as your racing heart begins to calm. "You just startled me."

"Sorry, I tried to call you, but I don't think you heard. We're back over there if you want to join us." He nods his head in the direction of a patio area behind him, and you spot Namjoon, Joshua, and Wonwoo sitting around a table next to an elegant fountain, its ornamental lights illuminating the magnificent swan sitting atop it. They’re all laughing and, for some reason, the sight makes your chest tighten.

"Um, maybe in a little bit. I think I might just need a walk right now."

Jungkook studies you, biting ever so slightly into his bottom lip, and you think you see something in the way of understanding behind his eyes (you wonder if it has anything to do with the notable absence of Maya and Mingyu). "Do you want company?"

When you just give him a small smile and shake your head, he nods.

"Okay, well…you know where to find us." He moves to rejoin the others, but then turns back towards you, taking easy steps on his heels. "And just shout if you need a friend."

You meander around the outside of the hotel, following the stone path that paves its way around the perimeter. There's a certain kind of peace out here. Though the summer is nearing its close, you can still hear crickets chirping in the grass and spot the occasional firefly dangling in the air. You focus on the swishing of the cars out on the main road and try to let the sound clear your mind, but as you settle on a short brick wall overlooking the property's enormous lake, you realize it's no use.

Your eyes drift closed as you sink into the grief once again, let it slowly overtake you like quicksand until your lungs are crushed and burning. But more than anything, you’re simply exhausted—perpetually drained by the demons which have once again arrived to feast on your psyche.

At this point, you think most of your frustration lies with yourself. Maybe you’re being overdramatic, maybe you should be over it by now—if only you were stronger, more resilient. Not the miserable pushover you feel you’ve turned out to be. Harsh? Yes. Unfair? Perhaps. This does feel like the breaking point in your life’s long line of abandonments, digging up feelings you haven’t felt since you were a child.

But that being said, it also makes you feel like you should be used to it by now. Should be used to having to bounce back—what else can you expect from the world at this point, really? What a fool you were to even think that this time would be different.

The sound of quiet footsteps has you opening your eyes again, and you’re not sure whether the man in front of you is the first or last person you want to see right now.

Taehyung has his hands in his pockets, watching you with that calculated expression he always has on when he’s trying to gauge your mood. But all you can see in his face on your end is concern, not a hint of awkwardness or trepidation after what just transpired between the two of you in the ballroom.

So it really must have been all in your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Kook said you seemed upset.”

“I’m fine.” You try to push out a smile, but he unsurprisingly sees right through it, closing the gap between you and gesturing at the spot to your right.

“Mind if I sit?”

You’re still not entirely in the mood for company but you can’t bring yourself to say no to him, so you give the tiniest of nods and Taehyung settles on the wall next to you.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, the buzz of the surrounding trees continuing its serenade. Taehyung doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything, only provides a steady presence. On particularly bad days when you were kids, you’d both wander down to the local playground and sit on the swings for a while. Sometimes you’d talk—either to rant and let it all out or make each other laugh to distract yourselves—but most nights, you’d just sit in the quiet and enjoy the feeling of not being alone.

It feels like that now, with Taehyung’s warmth radiating at your shoulder and the stars hanging above, but tonight, you’re compelled to speak.

“I’m really pathetic, huh?”

Taehyung’s eyes flash as he looks over at you, but he doesn’t interrupt, sensing you want to say more.

“I’m at my friends’ wedding, I’m supposed to be celebrating them and their love for each other, and instead I’m out here having a pity party.” You scoff. “It’s pathetic and selfish.”

“First of all, we are out here having a pity party,” Taehyung begins, and it draws a sudden laugh from you that you think sounds halfway deranged, but he only smiles.

"Secondly, you're not pathetic, and you're not selfish. You just went through a traumatic event, you know? You're allowed to have emotions."

"I know, but I just don't…want to," you sigh. "I just want it all to stop. I'm so tired of feeling weighed down especially on a day like this, but it's like it just doesn't end. The reminders don't end."

"You thought he'd be here," Taehyung says softly, and though his head nods slightly in understanding, his voice is tinged with sadness. "You miss him."

"I—that's not exactly it, no," you quickly say, not wanting him to think that you somehow regret being here with him. "Given what he did…like you’ve said, it's not forgivable, so it's not like I wish he was here. I mean, sure, are there some days where I reflexively think about him and stuff? Of course—we were together for four years—but I…still would prefer to never see him again."

Taehyung lets out a short sigh that you interpret as approval, but he stays quiet, giving you time to work out your thoughts.

"I think it's more the loss of security than anything. Seeing Hoseok and Sunny up at the alter…I couldn't help thinking that I was so, so close to that—to having that one person that I could commit to walking through life with. A partner, a friend, just someone to have day-in and day-out. Forever." You choke up, a fresh wave of tears lodging in your throat that you try to keep down. Taehyung is stiff next to you, staring down at his hands in his lap.

"And I want that, Tae. I want that so bad. But it's…so scary to start from scratch after feeling that close. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm just constantly overwhelmed and feel like I can't outrun it, and then I feel guilty on days like this because I shouldn't be letting it get to me, and—"

"Hey, hey, Y/N, shhhh." Taehyung finally jumps in as you begin to spiral, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You don't have to worry or feel guilty because you are going to have all of that. Okay? You will."

"You can't know that."

"I do." He slips his pinky around yours briefly before his hand comes up to cup your jaw, guiding your eyes to his. "I promise you. I don't know how far out it'll be, but one day we'll all be together again at a place like this, and it'll be your turn." He gets a faraway look in his eye, seemingly perceiving something that you're struggling to even grab a glimpse of right now. "It'll be everything you've ever dreamed of—intimate and outdoors, right? I know you always said growing up that you were going to get married at the Spring Day Gardens. If you still want it, it'll be yours."

You let his words draw you in, painting you a picture so beautiful you're afraid to even let your heart believe in it. But his baritone voice presses on.

"And it'll be perfect. Not a cloud in the sky—nothing but sunshine. And we'll all be there, and you'll have your favorite lily bouquet and your perfect dress…"

Something stops him, and he blinks at you, dropping his palm from your face and glancing away at the lights from the party before resuming his tale.

"And the guy…" He licks his lips, and you feel the hand that's still holding yours tighten ever so slightly. "He's going to love you so much. Properly love you. He's going to see you come down that aisle and weep because he's just going to know that he's the luckiest guy in the universe. And if he doesn't cry right away, I'll kick him in the shins up there until he does because in spite of what Jimin and Jungkook think, we all know that I'm actually your best man."

You let out a watery giggle, the tears flowing freely now, and Taehyung reaches up to swipe a few off your cheeks, letting out a chuckle of his own.

"I want to believe you," you say quietly. "And hopefully one day I will. I just…I need more time."

"Whatever you need, you know I'm here for you," he murmurs, and you nod.

You fall back into silence for a few moments, Taehyung dutifully continuing to hold your hand while you lightly sniffle and wipe at your cheeks.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to go back to the party like this—I think you ruined my make-up," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe, but you're the prettiest raccoon I've ever seen."

You laugh in earnest now, your shoulders shaking with it, and Taehyung smiles at you before suddenly rising to his feet.

"Wait here," he says, and then he's jogging back up towards the venue.

The silence envelops you again as you continue to mull over Taehyung's vision. Your battered heart is hesitant to dream, all of your imaginings coming in with fuzzy edges and blurry details that you just can't seem to place. But you're sure Taehyung was definitely right about one thing—you can't imagine a situation where you get married without him standing by your side.

It's a handful of minutes later when the man himself finally reappears with a hand behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face. When you raise your eyebrows at him in question, he comes to a halt in front of you and presents a full fifth of your favorite whiskey.

"What do you say we get out of here?"

The dim hotel lights cast a soft glow about the room as you and Taehyung pass the bottle back and forth, the mood significantly more casual than the extravagant party you just ditched. The decor may be fancy—Hoseok and Sunny certainly didn’t skimp when it came to location—but the two of you are perfectly rumpled, stretched out on the expensive sheets: you having removed your make-up and changed into your pajamas and Taehyung propped up against the headboard with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his jacket and tie tossed over the couch.

You’ve started up a game of Truth or Drink, a somewhat milder version of Truth or Dare, where you get to take turns asking each other questions, and the respondent has the chance to either answer the question or take a mouthful of whiskey. Normally, between you and Taehyung, such a game would be low stakes, with your shared years and few secrets between you making it hard to ask challenging questions. But something about tonight and the need for a distraction seems to have made both of you competitive, going for questions that you know the other wouldn’t want to answer.

“What was the last thing you cried about?”

“One thing you don’t like about me?”

“Favorite position?”

“Did you really lose your virginity in a tree house?”

“What’s your greatest fear?”

"If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?"

"Oh God, one of those cupcakes from Sweet Night Bakery," you groan. It was a place you had passed every day on the way to school, the wafting scents of cookies and cakes playing pied piper to your youthful noses. You had always dreamed of one day being able to afford the expensive pastries but had fled your hometown before having the adult money to do so.

"Seriously? Anything in the world and you want a cupcake?" Taehyung laughs, pink tongue poking out from behind his teeth.

"It's not just anything, it's one of my life's dreams," you counter, playfully shaking a fist at him for emphasis, but Taehyung seems unconvinced. "Fine then, if you have such a good answer. Same question."

He tilts his head at you, a mild haze in his eyes that tells you that while he's not drunk-drunk, he's definitely tipsy. A beat passes and he takes a drink.

"Ooh, mysterious," you slur. "But I win."

"Alright, alright." He grins at you. "I concede to your sugary dreams."

You mirror his smile, observe the way his fingers curl in his lap as you try to think of your next question. He’s always had nice hands—so delicate and careful with everything he touches. It’s odd, you think, how such gentleness could emerge from a home and upbringing that was anything but. How someone as bright as Taehyung could come from such darkness.

“Do you want kids one day?”

The question takes him by surprise when you ask it, and he physically startles, turning the bottle in his hands slowly. “I don’t know. Why?” He looks at you then, and you feel like you can see a riddle being worked out in his head. “Where did that question come from?”

“I don’t know,” you echo. “You spent so much time earlier imagining a future for me. I realized that we’ve never really talked about what you want for yourself outside of your career.”

Growing up, you’d discussed your dreams for the future, of course. But while you have always skewed towards the romantic, envisioning rings and weddings and vows, Taehyung’s always been much more practical and career-oriented—his plans always involved degrees and promotions and retirement funds.

A beat passes as he continues to fidget with the whiskey bottle before he again says, “I’m really not sure.”

“Well think about it now,” you challenge. “Or drink up.”

He chuckles to himself, some private joke in his head. “It would terrify me, I think. But I’d love them with everything I’ve got. Want to give them everything I didn’t have and be better than my parents were.”

You hum in agreement; you’ve had the same thoughts on occasion. Some who grew up in your situation may have been turned off the idea of children—and the idea does scare you in certain respects—but you’ve always been stubborn. “It’d be a chance to prove that it doesn’t have to be that hard. That you didn’t deserve what you went through.”

Fingers graze against yours in a subtle show of kinship. As always, you understand each other. “Exactly.”

And he may be struggling to imagine it, but you can see it so clearly: a small boy with big, brown eyes and a boxy smile riding on Taehyung’s shoulders. The two of them playing in the sand at the beach house or walking down the street together—the boy’s tiny hand tucked safely in his father’s.

The image chokes you up, fills you with so much warmth you think you might burst.

“You’d be an amazing father, Tae.”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind about it—that this incredible, thoughtful, selfless man would also be a wonderful dad. He doesn’t look so sure, but a flicker of recognition passes through him.

“You’ve said that to me once before,” he murmurs.

“I did?”

A nod. “One time when you were drunk junior year.”

You don’t remember it, the memory lost to the alcohol. “I guess drunk me has flashes of brilliance.”

“Maybe we’ll see someday.”

“I hope we will.”

Suddenly nervous, he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his neck. “But it’d have to be with the right person.”

“Has there ever been anyone who you thought was close?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re asking a disproportionate amount of questions.”

Reaching over, you pull the bottle from his hands, drink down a mouthful of burning liquor, and set it right back in his lap. “Answer.”

Wide eyes appraise you through the dim light; he looks almost impressed. “No.”

“No, there’s never been someone you could see a future with, or no, you won’t answer?”

“The first one,” he says. “I’ve never been with someone I could imagine having kids with.”

You frown, the blunt despondence in his tone cutting. “Not even Luna?”

A look is thrown your way—pursed lips and creased brow telling you that’s a stupid question.

“What happened with her?”

He scoffs, lips immediately wrapping around the bottle as he takes a gulp.

“So something did happen.”

“We broke up,” he states. “That’s what happened.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never said why.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if you’ve just asked him what he wants for dinner and not why the longest relationship of his life ended. “We weren’t compatible.”

You can’t help but sigh, a small part of you hurt that he still refuses to talk about it, that he’s closed this part of himself off to you. “You don’t trust me?”

“Y/N, no.” He shakes his head, looking genuinely remorseful to have given you that impression. “That’s not it. It’s just…impossibly complicated—“

“Was it me?” You’re suddenly reminded of a conversation with Maya from weeks ago, when she’d suggested that you were the reason all of Taehyung’s relationships had failed.

His lips part, tongue pushing into his cheek like he’s trying to hold words back.

“It was, wasn’t it?” you push, and his teeth dig into his tongue now, chewing. “You can tell me. I can handle i—“

“You were part of it, yes.”

In spite of what you’ve just said, the words land like a blow. You’ve spent years watching him go through breakup after breakup, and now you find out that you were a source of that anguish all along—helped fuel that heartbreak in his life.

It pains you to think you’ve been holding him back.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” you whisper.

“Because there was nothing to tell. It didn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Tae. If I’m getting in the way of your relationships…I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

That silences you, the sincerity in his voice leaving you blinking at him, and he continues.

“She didn’t like how close we are—most of them haven’t. But it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, I’ll always choose you. And that’s the end of it. Nothing left to tell.”

You feel like you should protest this, insist on him putting himself and his future first.

But given similar circumstances, wouldn’t you do the same for him?

“Did Jace ever give you shit about us?” he asks, reading your mind.

He had, ranting about Taehyung that night in some fucked up attempt to explain away why you’d found him in bed with another woman. Before then, you hadn’t noticed the signs: hadn’t picked up on his reluctance to spend time with your friends, hadn’t read into the way he stuck close to your side on the rare occasions he did, a possessive arm always tight around your waist.

It all made sense afterwards, and you hate that the vulnerability and anguish of the moment made you question your own actions. You never would’ve shut Taehyung out—never in a million years—but it initially made you think that maybe if you’d been more attentive towards Jace, had been more sensitive to his feelings, that maybe you wouldn’t have wound up in the situation you did.

You recognize now that he didn’t deserve it in the end, obviously, but heartbreak is a funny thing.

Not wanting to have to admit to any of that out loud, you whisk the bottle from Taehyung’s hands again and drink. He watches the movement of your throat with heavy, knowing eyes, immediately taking the whiskey back for his own sip once you’ve finished.

“I must admit,” he says, the alcohol clearly loosening his tongue as he sags against the headboard. “I’m a little relieved about things ending for you and Jace. Aside from him being a certified douchebag, I mean.”

You frown, not sure where he’s going with this, and the look on your face must come across as offense because he’s quick to clarify.

“Not that I liked seeing you hurt.” He shakes his head, and you can see some anger at the situation still lingering under the surface. “No, never. But I just…now I get to keep you longer at least.”

“Keep me?”

“Yeah, this…” He wags a finger between you. “You know this has to end one day, right?”

The whiskey should be warming, but your veins fill with ice at his words. Losing Jace was one thing. Losing Taehyung would be a different matter entirely.

“You’re always going to have me,” you say, reaching for his pinky.

But he pulls his hand away.

“Not like this.” He smiles with what you assume to be intended comfort, but his entire demeanor is tainted with sadness. “One day, when you have the dream guy and the family and the white picket fence, there won’t be room for me. Not like this.”

It feels like earlier—him trying to paint you a picture of a possible future for you—but unlike earlier, you can’t picture this future. You don’t want it. Not if he’s not there.

“Tae—“

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He gives another sad smile, takes another drink. “No husband is going to want a third wheel hanging around. I understand. I want you to be happy, too.”

But you wouldn’t be happy without him, and in many ways, you’ve always known that to be true. But that knowledge hits you now with such force, such raw truth, that it renders you speechless and leaves you staring at him, drunken eyes laser-focused as if discovering the very center of the universe.

You want to challenge him on his statement, make him see that he’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But the alcohol muddles your thoughts, has your brain dropping half-formed sentences through your mind like Scrabble pieces that you can’t quite wrangle into a coherent thought.

Taehyung takes your silence for agreement and, seeming to suddenly realize that some kind of line has just been crossed, takes the quiet opportunity to flip the conversation back to your game.

“The shoes you gave me for my seventeenth birthday,” he begins, the words tipping out slow and oddly calculated for someone who’s had as much to drink as he has. “Where did the money come from?”

You know where he’s going with this. And it’s perhaps the only secret you’ve kept from him in the entirety of your friendship. “Christmas money, I told you.”

“No, really.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“I never saw that house decorated for Christmas even once.”

“Could’ve been from an aunt or uncle.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

It wasn’t. You snuck the money out of your father’s desk one day knowing that he wouldn’t have even noticed it was missing. Absent-minded in everything aside from work, your father had misplaced things constantly. You drink. And even though it’s supposed to be an avoidance of the question, it gives him his answer.

“I knew it.”

“They weren’t going to miss it, and you needed it more.”

“You could’ve gotten in so much trouble.”

“I knew I wouldn’t. I didn’t. And it was worth the risk regardless.”

Looking back, you wish you’d had more of a fear of getting caught—wish your parents would’ve scolded you, screamed at you, anything. It would’ve been better than the indifference you’d been met with day in and day out. As if you were invisible.

Taehyung’s head swings from side-to-side. “You shouldn’t have. I would’ve been okay.”

“And you shouldn’t have punched Jace in that club, but you did anyway, didn’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not. You’re not the only one who gets to put your ass on the line for the people you care about. You were worth the risk.”

He blinks, regarding you as if you’ve presented him with some outlandish concept. Like you’ve asked him to explain rocket science or open-heart surgery. “Then you should’ve told me then.”

“You would’ve given them back.”

“Maybe, but then at least we would’ve been in it together instead of you lying to me.”

“And you’ve never lied to me?”

He hesitates, tongue tracing his bottom lip. “No.”

“Okay, then. Truth or drink: what’s the worst lie you’ve ever told?”

You know there must be one, can read it in the way his shoulder is suddenly pressed against yours as he tilts into you. Fingertips skim the bare skin of your knee, tentative in their movements, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath as the distance between you closes to mere centimeters, his gaze roaming your face and snagging on your mouth.

And you feel it—the pull that you’ve always felt towards him, the gravitational force that’s kept you in the same orbit since you were children. Two souls that intertwined the moment they sensed the other’s presence with a flash of awareness and said, You, you, you.

Thinking back on the entirety of your life, you don’t know how you possibly could have made it through without him: your best friend, your partner, your sanctuary. In such a volatile world—a turbulent youth marred by uncertainty and sorrow—he took your hand and held you steady, made sure you didn’t go through it alone.

In hindsight, you can’t truly regret it. Yes, there will always be a part of you that will resent your parents, wish that they would have loved you enough to spare you the hurt and stress they put you through. But just like the night when he brought you back to your apartment—held you close as you fell asleep in his embrace—your memories with him far outweigh the trauma you endured. When you think of your time spent growing up, he is by far the brightest star, outshining any darkness that may have lingered at the corners. It’s not the empty house or your parents’ stony faces that you think of first, but him: blanket forts and starry nights and walks in the park and blurry photographs and sometimes tears, sure, but only with him there to hold you.

Looking at this man in front of you, in every familiar line of his face and body, you know, without a crumb of doubt, that you’d do it all again. Screw Jace and Luna and your parents and anyone else who’s expressed disdain at your closeness with him. He’s written into every line of your history, every memory that’s worth something. And he may fight you on it, but he’s worth every risk you’ve ever taken—you would’ve stolen a thousand pairs of shoes for him. You’d move mountains and drain the oceans if he needed you to. You’d do anything.

You couldn’t live without him. You don’t want to live without him.

A moment of clarity, a wave of revelation as you lock eyes and are met with your favorite color. And at long last, you find the words.

I love you.

Your heart throws itself off a cliff…

And you lean in to press your lips to his.

a/n: happy holidays to all who celebrate 😊

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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runin-reads · 5 months

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James/Lily vs James/Sirius: a case of accidental queer coding

Jily (James/Lily) is a pairing central to the HP universe in the sense that had they not been married, Harry Potter, the main character, would cease to exist and neither would his story as we know it. Yet we are left with only a few brief glimpses of their relationship in canon whilst other pairings are textually far more fleshed out– take Prongsfoot (James/Sirius), for example, who are frequently portrayed as The Duo, not just by those closest to them (Lupin) but by many others too such as McGonagall, Flitwick and so on. Harry himself could see how close they were during SWM in OOTP and this is someone who had a very limited time with Sirius and close to none with James.

Queercoding is described as “the subtextual coding of a character in media as queer. Though such a character's sexual identity may not be explicitly confirmed within their respective work, a character might be coded as queer through the use of traits and stereotypes recognisable to the audience.” One character comes to mind when I think of “queercoding” and that’s Sirius Black. He’s estranged from his family, goes against the norms associated with his upbringing, there’s no mention of any ex-girlfriends and most notably he has intense love and devotion for his male best friend; James Potter. At first glance, James had led an incredibly hetero-normative life by virtue of his wife and son, but through his relationship to Sirius there’s leeway to reach a queer reading of him as well.

As recognised by countless characters and even Sirius himself, Prongsfoot come in a two-for-one deal:

“Do you remember who his best friend was?” “Naturally,” said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!” “Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course — exceptionally bright, in fact…” “You’d have thought Black and Potter were brothers!” chimed in Professor Flitwick. “Inseparable!”

The use of the word “brothers” in the above quote is one reason why fans don’t interpret Prongsfoot as queer-coded and/or romantic. However, it’s important to note that Sirius never referred to James as a brother, and there’s no canonical proof to suggest that Flitwick was close to James and Sirius– he was their teacher, not their friend or confidant. He isn’t calling them “brothers” either but rather he’s saying that word to express how strong their bond was. Hence why I believe an exclusively fraternal reading of their relationship doesn’t hold much weight.

They are, however, established as each other’s closest friend and most trusted confidant.

“Harry had the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one for whom James would have stopped showing off.” “Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was the best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. “I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me.” “Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it,” Black hissed

On multiple occasions James and Sirius were described as a unit– The Unit– within their friend group. Lupin said they were “the cleverest students in the school.” They were the “ringleaders” of the Marauders; always on the same page and in agreement with each other.

“Then, with identical fluid movements, they reached into their back pockets.”

Even during their very first encounter, they quickly and effortlessly become a team.

“Got a problem with that?” “No,” said Snape, though his slight sneer said otherwise. “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy–” “Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?” interjected Sirius. James roared with laughter.

This excerpt from DH also neatly sums up the Marauders group dynamic:

“To Sirius’s right stood Pettigrew, more than a head shorter, plump and watery-eyed, flushed with pleasure at his inclusion in this coolest of gangs, with the much-admired rebels that James and Sirius had been. On James’s left was Lupin, even then a little shabby-looking, but he had the same air of delighted surprise at finding himself liked and included”

Lily herself acknowledged Sirius’ importance in James’ life in her letter to Sirius, where she all but says that only he could lift James’ mood whilst the Potters’ were hiding from Voldemort’s forces.

“James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell — also, Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much.”

On the other hand, Jily is portrayed in a less compelling way for lack of better words. I spoke about this in my other meta but to summarise it briefly: Lily is James’ wife, the mother of his son and… that’s pretty much it. In the books they’re barely spoken about as a couple, unlike Prongsfoot who are always mentioned together as if they were a package deal– which they were, as recognised by practically everyone. That’s not to say Jily has zero textual backing, though it is far and few between.

“How come she married him?” Harry asked miserably. “She hated him!” “Nah, she didn’t,” said Sirius. “She started going out with him in seventh year,” said Lupin. “Once James had deflated his head a bit,” said Sirius. “And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,” said Lupin.

Conclusion

What we do know about James and Lily’s relationship is limited to the following: Lily disliked James because he and Snape were enemies, James developed feelings for her first, they began dating in seventh year once James had matured, they got married when they were nineteen to twenty years old, had a child together. The end.

On the contrary, James and Sirius are constantly implied to be each other’s closest, most loyal friend; each other’s most trusted confidant. They are equals in every conceivable way. Both were popular, from wealthy backgrounds and intelligent. Throughout the entire series Sirius’ only priority was Harry, James’ son. He went through unfathomable lengths to protect Harry: he was the first to escape Azkaban, he snuck into Hogwarts with all the dementors around and lived off rats during the GOF so he could be close to Harry, the last piece of James he had left.

There’s also evidence to suggest Sirius was a narrative parallel to Snape. There are two adults in Harry’s life who sought to protect him due to their respective relationships with one of his parents. Snape was a double agent for Dumbeldore out of love for Lily; Sirius escaped Azkaban to protect Harry out of love for him, an extension of his love for James.

All these factors are why I believe that by not fleshing out Lily as a character and Jily as a couple, JKR accidentally queer-coded Prongsfoot.

#prongsfoot #bambibelle #starbucks #jily #james potter #sirius black #lily evans #marauders #james x sirius #hp meta #relationship study #prongsfoot meta

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shakespeareanwannabe · 2 months

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As You Wish, Chapter 7

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Potential Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, panic attack, drinking, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to babies, swearing, references to the hospital

Top Gun, almost 12 years ago

When Payback was standing on the tarmac of the training field as they landed, Bob knew it was go time.

It had been odd enough flying without Bagman the past few days; the blond lieutenant opting to take a few days leave as his new wife approached and passed her due date, and Bob found himself almost missing the sarcastic comments shared over comms and the easy way that his new brother-in-law was able to push the other members of their team to their limits. It wasn’t always great for morale, but there was a reason they were the best team the Navy had to offer.

Bob hopped down from his seat behind Natasha and took off running towards Reuben, who he had handed his phone to before takeoff. The older pilot knew a thing or two about impending parenthood and had suggested holding onto the uncle-to-be’s phone, just in case any news broke about the delivery of the twins.

Twins. His sister was having twins. With Hangman. As much as Bob had fought her on her relationship with the cocky aviator, there was no denying how happy the couple had been over the course of the past year. Sure, they had moved fast (too fast, in Bob’s opinion), but that’s the way Hangman operated. His mind moved a million miles an hour in his cockpit, and he saw no reason to slow it down when he was on land.

“Text just came in about ten minutes ago,” Reuben called when Bob was in earshot. “She labored all day and all night, and the girls were born around 2 this morning. Mom and girls are doing fine.”

Bob felt his smile stretch so wide he was surprised his face didn’t break.

“But it’s almost 6 now,” Natasha griped, standing over his left shoulder. “What’s with the hold up?”

Reuben chuckled. “Would you want people all up in your face after over a day of labour and delivery, Phoenix? Or would you want some time to soak up all the lovin’ of those two little angels before you had to share them?”

“I’d want to soak up all the love, that’s the point.”

While Bob tended to agree with her, he knew that this was all part of his sister’s plan. She was a private person at heart and hated being the center of attention. She especially hated feeling like people were waiting on her. So, it made sense that she would’ve held off on announcing the birth of his nieces until she’d had time to adjust.

“Bob, you okay?” Reuben asked, realizing that the WSO hadn’t said a single word since landing. “You with me?”

Bob nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Thanks, Payback.” He reached out and took his phone back from the older member of their team.

He grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “You wish the new parents congratulations from me and Lori, alright? We’ll be by to visit when we’re allowed. But it sounds like you’ve got permission already, Bob.”

Bob glanced down at the message from Hangman, which did indeed invite him to the hospital to meet the newest members of his family.

“C’mon,” Natasha held up her car keys. “I’m driving.”

“You—”

“Probably wasn’t invited, was I?” his partner smirked. “But you’re shaking like a leaf, so I’m doing the team a favour and driving you. And, if I get to meet the babies before Javy and Rooster, that’s even better.”

London, England, 24 hours ago

Charlie sat at the high round kitchen table, poking at the cheese and crackers she had assembled for her midday meal as Auntie Nat raced around the kitchen, half a bagel stuffed in her mouth as she prepped her coffee.

When she’d woken up that morning, Uncle Bob had been halfway out the door for work. A schedule that consisted of bouncing from London to Frankfurt to Barcelona and, finally, home ensured that he would be home in time for Jeopardy and dinner but had left her with her surly aunt and her mom, who had been locked into Zoom meetings all morning in her office. Not that she was complaining. While the first few days had been a difficult adjustment, dealing with the time change and the customs of her new home, she absolutely adored her life in London. Her Uncle Bob was just as awkward and funny as she had been told, Auntie Nat was everything she had ever wanted in an aunt, and her mom? Her mom was better than she had ever dreamed. They had spent hours together, reading together and tossing ideas around about Mum’s latest book, going out to eat, watching trashy reality shows while eating ice cream. Mum kept reminding her that things would go back to normal when she went back to school but wanted to keep things loose for the last few weeks of summer because she had missed her so much. It was kind of nice to have a relaxing morning at home with her aunt while waiting for her mom to be freed from work.

“Alright, kid, I’m off,” Auntie Nat announced, breezing past her with her arms loaded down with gym equipment and water bottles. “Have fun with your mom tonight, and remind her to eat something before her book signing, okay? You don’t want to deal with a hangry Buttercup, believe me.”

Charlie grinned at her as Nat paused in front of the large mirror next to the door, putting down a water bottle to touch up the makeup that concealed the angry red edges of the scar that bisected her left eye, a remnant from the battle that had taken Maverick’s life and Natasha’s clearance to fly. Abby had told her that Nat still got self-conscious about the scar and warned her not to stare too much at it, but that hadn’t been a problem. She’d seen worse scars on the cowboys and cowgirls who worked on the ranch. Hell, one of their best breeding experts was a man with four fingers on one hand and only one ear. Scars didn’t exactly scare her.

“I will. Have fun at work!” Nat winked at her through the mirror before gathering her belongings and jetting through the door, allowing it to fall closed with a thud.

Feeling a short, staccato vibration in her pocket, Charlie tugged out her phone and checked for any new message from Abby. Her sister (it still thrilled her to be able to say those words) had been keeping her up to date on the ranch and the lives of the men who lived there. Last they had spoken, Abby had been excited about going on a trail ride with dad, and Charlie had shared a few tips on how to navigate Jake’s favourite trail. They both hoped that the trail ride would be a good opportunity for Abby to start digging into what went wrong with their parent’s marriage, while Charlie was angling for an opening to bring up the same topic with their mother. Thus far, all attempts had been foiled on both their parts, but neither of them was willing to give up without a fight.

Charlie clicked onto the messaging app and read the most recent message.

A: Does dad have a girlfriend?

Charlie snorted. Sure, she’d heard rumors about her dad from Rooster and Javy, how he had all the ladies drooling when he was in the Navy, but that couldn’t be further from the truth now. Besides, there was no way her father could hide a whole girlfriend from her.

C: LOL no he’s got no game

But…those rumors had to have started somewhere. And her father, as dorky as he was, had managed to date and marry her mom, who was the coolest woman Charlie had ever met. And she’d been gone for six weeks at camp. If so much had changed for her in those six weeks, there was no telling what could have changed at her home in Texas.

C: Why??? 👀

Abby’s response was sent almost immediately, as though Abby had had the message waiting to send.

A: Because there’s a random blond lady hanging out in the kitchen and he’s calling her baby

Charlie bit her lip. It didn’t sound like her dad…then again, her dad hadn’t done much dating because he’d been busy with her and the ranch. Still, he wouldn’t just hide a girlfriend from her, would he? Feeling a dark cloud begin to drift over her head, she replied.

C: You sure it’s him and not Rooster?

C: Uncle Roo has lots of hookups 🤢

A: Pretty sure I know what he looks like, thanks 🙄

Charlie tamped down a bolt of anger. It wasn’t Abby’s fault. She was just looking for information and they’d both inherited their mother’s penchant for sarcasm with their father’s ego. Abby didn’t deserve to have her head chewed off just because Charlie was asking stupid questions.

C: You didn’t until a couple of weeks ago, smartypants

“Hey babe, sorry about that!”

Charlie nearly threw her phone across the room as her mom came into the kitchen, dressed in a stylish pair of black palazzo pants and a pretty cream coloured sleeveless top.

“H-hi mum!” Charlie chirped, flipping her phone face down and grinning.

“You okay?” Buttercup’s brow furrowed.

“Fine! I was just looking up restaurants around the bookstore. Auntie Nat wanted me to remind you to eat before the book signing.” Charlie flipped the little switch on her phone to shut off notifications as Abby’s replies started buzzing in.

Buttercup rolled her eyes fondly. “Listen, a girl gets hangry one time, after 27 hours of labor and not being allowed to eat due to archaic hospital policies, and she’s never allowed to live it down.”

Charlie grinned. “But would you really want to get hangry a second time in front of your adoring public?”

Buttercup grinned. “I suppose not. But it would make for one heck of a story, wouldn’t it?” Despite her words, Buttercup dug into the fridge and pulled out a slice of leftover pizza, taking a large bite as she leant against the marble countertop next to the sink. “You know, you don’t have to come with me to the book signing, love. It’ll be super boring, and I could just have a driver pick you up and bring you to the restaurant by the theatre for dinner. I’d come get you myself but you know me. Once I walk back in the door tonight, it’s yoga pants and ice cream for me.”

“No, mum. I want to come!”

Buttercup fixed her with a look as she took another bite of pizza. “You do? You want to sit and watch me talk about the book I can’t finish and sign my name a gazillion times instead of staying home and doing whatever the cool 12-year-old girls are doing?”

“Yep!” Buttercup’s suspicious look lingered as she polished off her pizza. “What? Can’t a girl want to hang out with her mum over summer holiday?”

“She can…but she also hasn’t seen her friends since she left for camp. Are you sure you don’t want to invite Madison or Brooklyn over while I’m at work?”

Charlie was already shaking her head. “I missed you, mum. I want to spend more time with you before I go back to school. Besides, I’m almost 12. I’m not going to want to hang out with you forever.”

“Oof, right for the guilt trip,” Buttercup grinned as she washed her hands. “Alright, lady, if you’re sure, you’d better go get dressed for a day out on the town.”

Charlie grinned and hopped up from her seat. “Give me ten minutes!”

Grabbing her phone, she raced up the stairs and started pulling on the outfit she had chosen for the day, checking her hair, and brushing her teeth. Satisfied with her appearance, she pulled her phone out and checked her messages from Abby.

A: Thanks for the reminder

A: Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend?

A: He wants to talk to me about something

A: What if it’s her?

A: Charlie?

Charlie sighed, feeling only slightly guilty about leaving her sister in the lurch. But whatever issues Abby was facing, whatever conversation Jake wanted to have with her, Charlie was an ocean away and couldn’t really do anything to help. Besides, it couldn’t be a girlfriend. Dad wouldn’t have hidden something like that from her.

C: Sorry, gotta go! Mom’s taking me to one of her book signings, and then we’re going to dinner and a show! Good luck!

Before Abby could start to type back, Charlie shut off her phone and threw it into the purse she had chosen to take with her. Whatever was going on in Texas, Charlie was confident that her sister could handle it.

“…and that’s why I believe that, no matter how dark your content is, your story should always end with a glimmer of hope,” Buttercup smiled from her comfortable seat on the slightly raised stage at the back of the bookstore, and Charlie clapped along with the audience. It looked like hundreds of people had turned out for the event celebrating her mother’s works, each of them clamoring for a look at the notoriously private author who didn’t even have her picture in the backs of her books.

“Alright, it looks like we’ve got time for one more question,” the moderator said, peering out over the audience. “You, in the pink paisley shirt. What is your question?”

The young woman down the row from Charlie stood up and accepted the microphone. “Hi, my name’s Lisa. I was just wondering about the timeline of your books. You say that you’ve been writing since you were a kid, but your first book wasn’t published until 7 years ago. What was it that finally prompted you to publish your book?”

Charlie watched her mother stiffen slightly before turning an almost plastic smile to the audience. “That’s a great question, Lisa, thank you. Unfortunately, that’s just the way this industry goes sometimes. An author can spend years, decades even, revising and editing their work before a publisher will even agree to take a look at it. Besides that, I also had a lot going on in my life that…prevented me from writing as much as I wanted to. But just over a decade ago, I was faced with personal difficulties that forced me to sit and pour my thoughts out onto the page. It took some time after that to organize my thoughts into a comprehensible narrative, but that’s what ended up becoming my first book, The Things We Hold Onto.”

Lisa raised the microphone, probably to try to engage with Buttercup further, but the moderator quickly stepped in. “Thank you so much for your questions. We’ll be taking a five-minute break before the book signing begins. If you’d all like to queue up at the table, that would be wonderful. Thank you.”

The crowd quickly dispersed, and Charlie fought her way through them to stand at the bottom of the stage as her mom stepped down.

“Thanks, Diane,” she shook the moderator’s hand.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied with a wink. “I’m just doing my job. Now, I’m going to go set up the table for the signing, and I’ll see you in five minutes.”

She walked off and Buttercup turned to her with a sigh, hugging her close. “You sure you made the right call, coming to work with me? I’m bored and it’s my writing I’m talking about.”

Charlie giggled. “I’m sure.”

“You’re one weird kid,” Buttercup commented, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s hair. “But I’m so glad you’re mine. I love you.”

Charlie felt her heart beam in her chest. “I love you too.” Charlie watched as her mom guzzled a water bottle, chewing on her bottom lip as she considered her next words. “Mum…what was it that kept you from writing?” Water sputtered from Buttercup’s mouth as she coughed. “Was…was it me?”

Buttercup wiped her mouth, cleared her throat, and tugged her close again. “God, no, babe. Not you. Never you.”

“Then…was it dad?” Charle bit her lip so hard she could almost taste blood. She couldn’t imagine a world where Jake Seresin was anything but supportive of those around him, but she also couldn’t imagine a world where her father had lied to her for her entire life, so, clearly, she didn’t know everything.

Buttercup sighed heavily. “I promised you I would tell you about your dad, and I haven’t forgotten. At dinner, okay? I’ll answer all your questions at dinner.”

Charlie nodded slowly, not meeting her gaze. “Okay.”

“I’ve got to get over there,” Buttercup nodded to the queue. “Dinner. I promise.”

“Okay, mum.”

Buttercup took a few steps and turned back to her. “It wasn’t your father either, babe. Okay?”

Charlie felt the knot in her chest slacken slightly and she brightened. “Okay, mum. Go kill it!”

Buttercup winked and strode off, her head held high.

A few hours later, the queue had been cleared and Buttercup and Charlie sat in a comfortable booth at Café Murano in Covent Gardens. Their glasses of water had barely been placed on the table before Charlie leaned forward.

“Mum?”

Buttercup sighed and placed the menu to the side. “Alright, babe. I’ve made you wait long enough. What do you want to know?”

“If dad didn’t stop you from writing, what did?”

Buttercup traced a finger around the lip of her water glass. “A bunch of things, I suppose. My life with your father was…fast paced. We met, fell in love, and got pregnant with you in the span of what? Three months, give or take? I had been living in New York, getting my Masters in creative writing one minute, and the next I was moving into your dad’s apartment in San Diego. I got so swept up in the whirlwind that my writing kind of fell by the wayside. It’s okay. It happens.”

“So…what made you start writing again?”

Buttercup shrugged. “I moved here with you, and I had no other creative outlet. Bob and Nat were still in the Navy, so I didn’t have them to lean on. I had no friends here; I didn’t know any of my coworkers. It was just me and you, so I would write when you were napping. I just poured everything I was feeling into a word document and, eventually, a narrative started to take shape. It took a while, but I was eventually able to take it to the publishing company I worked for, and they agreed to publish it.”

“Why did you move here? I though you and Uncle Bob grew up in Minnesota?”

“We did,” Buttercup took a swig of water. “I got a job offer here not long after you were born, so I took it when your father and I split up.” Buttercup flagged down a passing waiter. “Could I get a glass of rosé, please? Thank you.”

“Did you split up because of the job offer?” Charlie felt her heart racing in her chest. Every question she’d ever asked (or wanted to ask) her father was battling in her mind, all of them racing to be the first to come out.

Buttercup smiled wryly. “Not exactly. Well…maybe. Kind of. I don’t know, babe. It’s complicated adult stuff.”

“But I’m almost an adult,” Charlie commented, leaning closer. “I turn 12 in a few months.”

Buttercup tilted her head. “You do indeed.” The waiter placed the tall glass of pink wine on the table and Buttercup took a long sip. “Abby, honey…I know why you feel curious about your father. It’s natural to wonder about a man you’ve never met. But…” Another sip disappeared down her throat. “There are just some things that are too complicated to explain. There was a lot going on at the time, and we had gotten together so quickly, and we were juggling parenthood with our jobs, and…” Charlie felt her face flush as her mother’s breathing stuttered, tears welling in her eyes. “Some things…just don’t work out. There are some things in life that you just can’t hold onto, no matter how badly you might want to. It made more sense for us to split up and for you to come with me than for us to keep fighting the way we were.”

Charlie sagged against her side of the booth. So much information, and nothing to do with it. Her mom was clearly just as messed up from the divorce as her dad was, but neither of them were willing to talk it out with their children or with each other. She felt a flash of disappointment in her gut, but she smothered it. She loved her mom and her dad, and she yearned for them to be able to fix things between them, but it was okay that they weren’t willing to do the leg work on their own. That’s what her and Abby were there for. Even if their plan didn’t end with their parents back together, at least they wouldn’t be able to hide their children from each other anymore. That would have to be the main goal.

“Abby?”

Charlie looked up into her mother’s wide eyes. “Yeah mum?”

“I said I’m sorry,” Buttercup bit her lip. “I’ll try to figure out a way to explain it all to you one day, I promise.”

“It’s okay, mum,” Charlie smiled lightly. “I know I sprung it on you. We can talk more when you’re ready.”

Buttercup sighed and squeezed her hand. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Abigail Juliet Floyd, but I’m so glad you’re my girl.”

“And I’m glad you’re my mum.”

Buttercup smiled tearily before picking up her menu. “You know what, babe? What do you say we break the rules and have dessert first?”

“I’d say that sounds awesome.”

Charlie yawned as she crawled into bed that night, ABBA songs still ringing in her ears. Dessert, dinner, and their performance of Mamma Mia had been an awesome time, but it was so late that she wished she could just fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow. But, in an effort to be a responsible sister, she dug her phone out of her purse and turned it on instead, searching for any new messages from her sister across the ocean.

When her search turned up empty, she opened Instagram and found her father’s profile, scanning through the photos of Abby, Jake, Javy and Rooster. She felt a pang of longing to be back in her familiar surroundings with the people she loved most, but the anger and hurt she still felt over her father’s betrayal pushed that pang back.

Still, she studied the most recent photo, a selfie of Abby, Jake and Javy at the high school football field, posted only the previous day. They all looked so happy together, her dad’s arm wrapped around Abby’s shoulders as Javy struck a ridiculous pose in the background. No matter what the outcome of their switch was, it was worth it. Abby was clearly enjoying getting to know their father, and Charlie loved her mother more now than she ever had before. Sure, they might get punished once they were found out, but getting to know their parents was completely worth the potential trouble they were in.

The staccato vibration of her phone pulled her from her musing, Abby’s face lighting up the screen. She mashed the green button with her thumb, holding the phone up to her ear. “Hello?”

“Dad’s getting married!” She pulled the phone away from her ear quickly as Abby shouted down the receiver. “He got engaged to some blond woman who looks like she’s half his age!”

“Abby?” she couldn’t help the yawn that escaped her. “What are you talking about?” Dad? Engaged? Without introducing her (or Abby, in this case) to the woman? Impossible.

“I told you! The blond woman from this morning is wearing a rock the size of my head and hanging off of dad! She said that they’re getting married, and he confirmed it!”

Charlie’s stomach dropped and the cannoli and pizza she’d consumed earlier rose in her throat. “Wh…what? No! It…it’s not possible!”

“Except that it is! He told me it was happening whether I liked it or not!” Charlie’s throat worked to dislodge the tears that were silencing her, but, even if they went away, her mind could think of no words to make the situation better. “Would you say something, please?”

Say what, exactly? Her dad hadn’t been on a date in 12 years, always claiming to be too busy. Between the ranch and parenting his daughter, there weren’t enough hours in the day. Charlie had heard him explain that to Rooster and Javy more times than she could count, so what was this, exactly? He got engaged to someone and never thought that his daughter should be able to meet the woman who would be moving into their home?

Tear after tear traced delicate lines down her face, and she worked to keep her sobs silent, mindful of her aunt, uncle, and mother sleeping in the surrounding rooms.

“What do you want me to say, Abby?” she whispered. “Dad’s getting married, and he didn’t bother to even introduce her to me.”

Abby’s tinny sigh echoed through the receiver. “I know…”

Clutching Abby’s pink bunny close, she trembled as she groaned, “But he loves mom! I know he does! You don’t shut down that often about a person if you don’t care about them!”

“He shut down on me today too,” Abby agreed. “But it’s not like I can just tell him that he loves her. He would never go for that.”

“Can you find something to prove it?” For once, Charlie didn’t care that she sounded desperate. One of the best days of her life was somehow turning into a nightmare, and she needed it to stop. “Something to remind him?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno…a photo? Their marriage license? Anything that might remind him of her?”

“Where would I even find something like that?”

“In the office in the stable.”

Charlie heard Abby rustling around. “I’m there right now, I don’t see anything.”

“In the safe under his desk. Or in the filing cabinet. I don’t know the code to the safe or where he keeps the key to the cabinet though.”

Abby sighed again. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Thanks…” Charlie sighed, wiping her eyes on the pink bunny’s fur. Come to think of it, she had an identical bunny at home, just in purple. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that while I’m having fun with mum.”

“It’s okay. Do…do you think mum still loves dad?”

Charlie rolled her eyes through her tears. “Abby, all her adult books are about a military guy falling in love with the woman of his dreams and the obstacles that keep them apart. She either loves him or she doesn’t know what else to write about.”

That much she knew was true. The whole reason her mother’s latest book hadn’t been turned in for publishing yet was because her mom had no clue how to reunite the two main characters, who were separated by duty to family and country.

“What if you’re wrong?” Abby whispered to her.

“I…” Charlie swallowed hard. “I don’t want to think about that. Find proof. I’ll find proof too. Then we’ll tell them about the switch.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“You too.”

Charlie hit the red button and let her phone slip out of her trembling hand. Her dad was getting married. To a woman she had never met before. Did he not care about how she would feel? Did he not think of her at all when he made the decision to get down on one knee? Did he think of Abby? Or their mother? What if he never thought about them? What if this whole idea was just one terrible bomb waiting to go off in their faces? What if, every time he shut down her questions about her mother, he was actually angry? What if she had misread the situation so terribly that it would have untold consequences when he found out about the switch?

Charlie felt herself begin to tremble more and struggled to take a deep breath.

Water. She needed water. That’s what her dad brought her every time her emotions took over like this. He would bring her a cool glass of water and hold her tight until the panic subsided. She may not be able to have her dad’s strong arms around her, but water she could do.

Stumbling out of bed, she quietly made her way downstairs, willing her legs to stop shaking long enough for her to get that glass of water.

She made it as far as the kitchen island before her legs gave out and she sunk to the floor in the dim light, her tears now flooding her face, her throat unable to even sob against the pressure building up inside her.

“Shhh, Charlie…it’s okay, sweetheart,” a pair of strong arms scooped her up and cradled her against a firm chest. She nuzzled into that chest, allowing her tears to soak into the white cotton t-shirt. A large hand smoothed over her hair and she felt her rescuer sit down on the couch, rocking her slightly. “It’s okay, honey. Let it all out. You’re okay, Charlie. You’re safe.”

Minutes, or perhaps hours later, she hiccupped and wiped her eyes, cradled like an infant in those arms that…were not her father’s, as her destressed mind had thought. She froze, and her rescuer sighed, lifting her slightly to lean her against the back of the couch.

Uncle Bob’s hand never left her back as she settled into a less cramped position, his hair ruffled and his glasses slightly askew. “It’s okay, Charlie,” he whispered. “Whatever’s going on in your brain can’t hurt you. We’ll find a way to fix it and, if we can’t, we’ll find a way to help you cope with it.”

Charlie blinked. He…he was calling her Charlie. He was calling her by her actual name. But…how did he…

“H-how long have you known?” she whispered, her heart settling back into a normal rhythm despite her sudden terror that her uncle would out her and ruin this before they were able to come up with a solid plan.

Bob shrugged in response. “Since the airport.”

“Buffalo or Heathrow?”

He grinned slightly, shrugging again. “Buffalo.”

Charlie groaned. “Tell me we had at least gotten on the plane first?”

“If I did that, I’d be lying.”

Charlie blinked up at him as she shifted to face him, curling her legs beneath her. “B-but…but you haven’t told anyone.”

Bob adjusted his glasses. “No, I haven’t.”

“But…why?”

Bob stared at her, his green eyes gleaming. “Because I trusted you and Abby have a good reason for this. And because your mother deserves to hear it from you, not from me. She’s missed you every day for 12 years. Far be it for me to steal that reunion from her.”

“I’m going to tell her. I swear. I just…Dad’s getting married,” she sniffled. “I don’t know if I can go home and face that right now.”

Bob reached out and gently tilted her head back so he could meet her eyes. “What did I just say? Whatever is happening, we’ll fix it together. And, if we can’t, we’ll find a way to cope with it together. Okay? That’s how this family works.”

Charlie nodded, eyes welling up again. “Thanks, Uncle Bob.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Bob opened his arms and she leaned into the hug, feeling safe and warm for the first time since she’d gotten back from the theatre. “You have to tell her though, Charlie. Tomorrow.”

She found herself nodding. “Tomorrow.”

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#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #as you wish fic #parent trap au #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman fic #glen powell #tgm #hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you

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sixhours · 1 month

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One Day at a Time - Chapter 8 - Beginning

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

The midwife is the first to notice that Anna’s startle reflex is inconsistent. When she suggests the baby might be deaf, Joel wants to write it off as the woman’s usual dour attitude, but as the weeks pass, it becomes clear that something is different. It’s impossible to make enough noise to wake her, she doesn’t turn her head toward their voices, and she’s inconsolable when they’re out of her limited line of sight. They spend several sleepless nights worrying, making loud noises and watching Anna intently for responses that usually don’t come.

There’s nothing to do about it, though, except wait and see…like her pregnancy all over again. One day at a time.

Anna is most content when she’s tucked into the soft cloth wrap, held tight against someone’s chest, where she can feel the soothing purr of speech against her tiny body. They get adept at going about their daily routines with the baby strapped to them like a marsupial in a makeshift pouch. She especially seems to like Joel’s soft flannel shirts and his deep, rumbly voice–he’s the best at getting her to nap.

Or, as Ellie puts it, boring her to sleep .

Ellie spends more time with them, enamored with her baby sister in a way Joel couldn’t have predicted. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, having watched her with Sam all those months ago, but her fierce devotion to this brand-new person in their lives makes him light-headed with pride.

Baby things showed up at their house out of the blue in the days after Anna was born; an antique cradle, bottles, more diapers, and a breast pump contraption that Charlie says makes her feel like a dairy cow. There are enough clothes to outfit a small army and mystery casseroles lining their freezer for weeks.

Tonight he takes one of the casseroles out and sniffs at it warily.

“Not sure about this one, kid,” he says to Anna, strapped to his chest. “Can’t be worse than that tuna surprise thing, though. House smelled for a week.”

The baby makes a soft cooing noise and sticks out her tongue in response.

“Yeah? Well, you didn’t have to eat it,” he mutters, turning on the oven.

“Talking to yourself again?” Charlie murmurs from the couch, snuggled under a throw.

“I’m havin’ a conversation with my daughter,” he says, stroking the baby’s head. “And you’re s’posed to be napping.”

She sits up, bleary-eyed and wan. “Can’t sleep. I miss her.”

“Hear that?” he murmurs. “Mama misses you. Maybe you should wake her up more often. Five times last night wasn’t enough.”

Joel wanders over to the couch and unearths the baby from her wrap to hand her to Charlie, who takes her with a smile and a soft hi sweet girl . Warmth blooms in his chest, followed by sadness; the two often go hand in hand.

Sarah never had this, he thinks, and he mourns what he couldn’t give her; the love of a mother, the delight of a new sibling.

But Anna has it all, in this family cobbled together from spare parts and broken pieces. Like the beginning of a bad joke— a widow, an orphan, and a childless father walk into a bar –where she is the most beautiful punchline he’s ever heard.

~*~

Joel comes home to find Ellie on the couch with the baby in her lap and a book on the cushion next to her, frowning in concentration as she flips through the pages. Anna is nine weeks old and more alert than ever, bright eyes taking in everything, and at the moment she’s fascinated by her big sister’s hands, moving in slow, measured gestures in front of her face.

“Where’s Charlie?”

“Your girlfriend is taking a nap,” Ellie says without looking up from her book.

“She’s not–”

He catches himself before he can finish his sentence and Ellie smirks.

“Caught ya.”

Joel sighs. “What’re you doin’?”

She flips to the book cover to show him; An Introduction to American Sign Language .

“Sam taught me some, but I found this at the library. I figured it can’t hurt to start early.”

His throat tightens and he blinks back tears. God, his kids have turned him into a walking fucking water fountain.

“That’s…a great idea, kiddo,” he says, squeezing her shoulder.

“I know,” she says. “Besides, you can use it, too, when your hearing eventually goes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. He bends down to boop Anna’s nose. “Your sister is somethin’ else, kid. I’m gonna check on your mo–I mean my–our–”

He growls as Ellie looks up at him expectantly, a wry little smirk on her face.

“I’m gonna check on Charlie,” he sighs. “Call me if you need me.”

He hears a whisper at his back.

“What’s the sign for ‘They are so fucked’?”

Ellie’s laughter and Anna’s quiet coos follow him upstairs.

They still haven’t talked about them . They share a bed, they care for Anna, and…that’s about it. The midwife mentioned something about “resuming sexual activities” and “birth control” and maybe even a vasectomy at their final appointment, and it had taken all Joel had not to laugh in her face. He hasn’t had so much as a hard-on since the kid was born, and Charlie is permanently attached to her when she’s not sleeping or eating.

It might have bothered him if he weren’t so sleep-deprived.

In the bedroom, Charlie is buried under the blankets. He doesn’t mean to wake her, but she startles when the door creaks open.

“Anna?”

“Ellie’s got her, it’s just me,” Joel whispers. “Sorry.”

Charlie sits up, rubbing at her eyes, holding her breasts as if testing their weight. “S’okay. She needs to eat soon.”

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, smiles at Charlie’s mussed hair. He’s watched her closely over the last few weeks, hyper-alert for signs of depression, for the grief that he knows will never completely subside. A horrible little voice in the back of his mind insists that it’s only a matter of time before she leaves them.

Sarah’s mom made it four months.

But Charlie seems content if exhausted. They’re both exhausted, even with help. With Sarah he’d had the advantage of youth; with Anna, Joel feels every single one of his fifty-eight years…mostly in his back.

“Did you know Ellie’s teachin’ the baby sign language?” he asks.

“Mmm, she mentioned something about that,” Charlie yawns. “She’s smart, your kid. We’re raising geniuses.”

Joel ducks his head to hide a blush of pride. “They’re gonna leave us in their dust someday.”

We. Us.

He reaches out to cup Charlie’s face in one hand, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. He could say it was all lust until now, but watching her with Anna makes him feel like a lovesick teenager. Charlie leans into his touch, meets his eyes, and his stomach clenches with a kind of pleasant ache he hasn’t felt in weeks.

Maybe he’s going to need to look into that vasectomy after all.

The moment is rudely interrupted by a wail, followed by Ellie’s voice drifting up the stairs.

“Hey, lovebirds! Your spawn needs a diaper change.”

~*~

Joel and Ellie are sprawled on the couch, her tucked into one corner and him on the opposite side, slouched down with Anna on his chest, a movie playing in the background. The baby won’t sleep in the beautiful hand-carved cradle for more than fifteen minutes at a time, preferring instead to slumber on a warm body.

There was a time in Joel’s life when he would have said they were spoiling her, but now, acutely aware of his limited years in a way he’s never been before, he’s decided Anna can fall asleep in his arms until she’s thirty if she wants. There is no such thing as spoiling her as far as he’s concerned.

He’s half asleep, trying to wait out the next hour and a half to let Charlie get some rest, when Ellie’s voice drifts into his consciousness.

“I think I get it now.”

“Get what?” he murmurs, barely able to open his eyes.

“Why you lied to me.”

He’s awake now. His head snaps up to face her. Ellie is curled in a ball with her arms around her knees, watching the baby rise and fall with the rhythm of his breath.

“If it were her…I’d do anything to keep her safe,” she says softly.

Oh.

His first instinct is to lie again, but something about Ellie’s expression and the way she’s watching Anna gives him pause. Between the two of them, they’ve cracked him open. He’s too tired and old to hold secrets.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he rasps. “I shouldn’t’ve done that. It was wrong.”

He meets her eyes, waits until he’s sure that she sees him, because she can’t just hear it–she needs to know it with her whole being, to believe it as deeply as he does.

“But I’m not sorry–I’ll never be sorry–for what I did. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat for you…or her.”

Ellie nods, but she frowns, her voice going small and tight.

“What if she was bit?”

The question drops from her lips like a bomb and Joel instinctively tightens his grip around Anna at the thought.

“Wouldn’t you hate me?” she whispers. “For not…for not being able to save her?��

“Never,” he says roughly. “I could never hate you, Ellie.”

“But…what if she could grow up in a better world? A world where you never had to worry about her…or Charlie…or anyone…getting infected,” Ellie asks softly.

He wants to tell her that none of this would have been possible if she weren’t here–their life in Jackson, Charlie, or Anna. He wants to tell her that she is the catalyst for everything he’s done right in his sorry life.

His girl, who wanted to save the world, had saved him instead.

But words are failing so he swallows his tears and puts an arm out. Ellie slides over, curling into his side, and he’s momentarily stunned by her solidity against him. She’s grown in the months since they returned from Salt Lake City. She’s taller, her face thinning out, more like a young woman than a child.

It happens too damn fast, he thinks, looking down at the sleeping infant on his chest.

He whispers the words into Ellie’s hair when his throat finally unlocks, watery and thick.

“She’s growin' up in a better world because you’re in it.”

~*~

“She’s finally out,” Charlie whispers, backing away from the cradle and collapsing onto the bed on her stomach with a groan. “I don’t know how one tiny human can eat so much.”

“I’ll take her tonight,” he says. “She can have a bottle.”

“You have patrol in the morning.”

“Can’t sleep for shit anyway,” he shrugs. “Did you eat? Caf’s still open, I can grab you something.”

“Mmm. Maybe later. I need about ten hours of sleep and a big glass of wine,” she mutters into the pillow.

“I can offer you six hours of sleep and a beer.”

“I’ll take it,” she yawns, then brightens. “Oh! I found something at the post today.”

She rolls over, digs in the nightstand drawer, then unearths a small black box and tosses it into his lap.

He blinks down at it, unsure if it’s the suggestion or the fatigue that slows his tongue. His heart quickens.

“Are these…?”

“Condoms,” she grins. Then she’s crawling toward him and straddling his lap, much the way she did the first time, and she glances over at the silent cradle. “We have a couple hours…should we see if they’re any good?”

“God yes please,” he breathes, all tiredness suddenly forgotten as her mouth finds his, open and wanting.

There’s laundry scattered around the floor, empty bottles and water glasses on the nightstand, used burp cloths draped over the furniture, and the faint smell of sour milk lingers in the air.

And all of it ceases to matter because she’s holding his face in her hands and kissing him, really kissing him for the first time in weeks. Not a peck on the cheek or a nuzzled brush of her lips to his forehead when she thinks he’s still sleeping, but an honest-to-god kiss with tongue and teeth and bite.

Soon she’s rolled underneath him and he’s supping long, languid kisses from her lips, eliciting sweet little moans and breathy gasps that have him thrusting his aching cock into her bare stomach, seeking relief in friction. Even with the condom to dull the sensations, this will be over before it’s begun if he doesn’t get a fucking grip, so he pulls reluctantly away to explore the rest of her body.

Breastmilk gathers in little pearls on the peaks of her nipples, sweet and thick on his tongue as he teases and sucks his way down her chest. He traces the silvery lines on her lower stomach with his nose, the places where she’s been permanently marked because of their daughter, because of him . The sight of her gently swollen belly and the velvety softness of the stretched skin only makes him want her more.

She whimpers when he tastes her, moans when he sucks at her swollen clit and laps at her folds until she’s writhing and coming. Then she’s pulling on his hair with an urgency he understands and he’s rolling one of the condoms on and sinking into her delicious heat. She’s so close like this, pinned by his hips and chest, pressed underneath him like a flower.

He can’t pull himself away from her mouth, can’t stop kissing her and tasting her and swallowing her cries. Her arms enfold him, rubbing languid strokes up and down the slope of his back, pressing into his ass, urging him deeper. He reaches for her hand and rests their entwined fingers above her head.

Mine , he thinks with every thrust, heat coiling in his gut, crawling up his spine. Mine, mine, mine.

“Yours,” she sighs, arching into him, answering the words he didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud. He presses his forehead against hers and stills, breathing hard.

“Yeah?”

His voice is ragged with emotion. Her palms come up to cup his face.

“All yours,” she whispers, then she kisses him and kisses him and he prays the condom does its damn job because he’s falling over the edge.

~*~

He’s still softening inside her, luxuriating in the feel of her mouth against his, when the baby wails from her cradle.

Charlie groans underneath him. “Already?”

“Well…we got fifteen minutes,” he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“Give yourself credit, it was at least twenty.”

“It’s like a sixth sense,” he mutters, pulling out with a groan. “Surprised Ellie’s not at the damn door, too.”

Charlie snorts a laugh, sitting up and pulling the sheet to her chest.

“I’m comin’, baby girl,” he says. “Hold on, I know…m’right here.”

But Anna can’t hear him, of course. He pokes his head over the cradle and she quiets. “I’ll be right back.”

She protests loudly when he leaves her line of sight again, totally abandoned. He disposes of the condom and washes his hands…now where the hell are his boxers? The din of Anna’s crying in the background has him stumbling over his feet.

Finally, he plucks her up out of the cradle and puts her against his chest.

“Hey, kid, you’re fine,” he rumbles against her.

She growls in response, all attitude, one tiny fist stuffed into her mouth.

“Think she’s hungry,” he murmurs, nuzzling the top of her head. “Want me to get her a bottle so you can sleep?”

“No,” Charlie says, two wet spots blooming on the bedsheet. “You primed the pump. I’m leaking all over myself.”

“Lucky kid,” he grins. “You get the real deal.”

“You just ate, sweet girl,” Charlie sighs as the baby latches. “Where does it all go?”

“Based on the laundry I folded today, I have an idea,” Joel mutters, crawling back into bed. He sits up against the headboard and pulls Charlie into his arms so she’s propped against him. She burrows into his shoulder and closes her eyes as the baby makes greedy little suckling noises. His free arm wraps around them, cupping Anna’s head, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat in his palm.

Maybe it’s the sex that loosens his tongue, or maybe he’s just too tired to worry over the fallout. He takes a deep breath.

“So I know we said…you’d stay until the kid is born…and that was, uh, ten weeks ago.”

“You kicking me out?” Charlie murmurs, playing with the baby’s tiny fingers as she nurses.

“No,” he says quickly. “You can stay as long as you want. I just…don’t want you to feel like you have to…or like we’re expected to be, uh…something we’re–”

“Joel,” she says, soft but firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Heat blooms in his chest.

“Yeah?”

She tilts her head up to look at him, silver eyes shining, and answers him with a long, sweet, lingering kiss that reignites the fire in his lower belly.

He’s definitely gonna need that vasectomy.

#fanfic #fic recs #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #pregnancy #babyfic

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wangxianficfinder · 7 months

Text

In the mood for...

~*~

1. Itmf any fics that feature wwx being nhs's best friend/supporter. Esp if it show cases that in relation to the cultivation world Turning against wwx. Fics like Twelve Moons and a Fortnight, or Truth Will Out (when caught on video)

if you can’t beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 228k, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family)

Come From My Inkstone by magicgenetek (M, 150k, NHS & NMJ, NHS & WWX, WWX & WN, NHS & WN, LWJ & NHS, NHS & NZH, eventual LWJ/WWX/WN/NHS, Crack Treated Seriously, Canon Divergence, NHS Character Study, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Unrequited Crush, pour one out for nhs and wn's crushes on the most clueless man in the world, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Mental Health Issues, Happy Ending, Politics, started as a comedy and then starts ping ponging tonally with bro feels and politics. as you do., discussion of canon typical war crimes, Slow Burn, Polyamory, 3zun's slow burn divorce, WIP)

You'll See Me Again by Anonymous (M, 13k, wangxian, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Adopted WWX, WWXn is a Niè, Protective NHS, time travel, NHS Is A Little Shit, NMJ Lives, Protective NMJ, WWX has an Ugly Duckling Moment, LWJ disagrees because WWX could never be ugly, NHS travels in time and for some reason no one notices, Time Travel Fix-It, WWX is a Little Shit, Oblivious WWX, WIP)

The Yiling Patriarch's Harem Drama by nirejseki (Not Rated, 3k, wangxian, NHS/WWX, WQ/JC/WN, Crack, Accidental Harem)

the years have taught me this: by Tavina (T, 5k, NHS & WWX, Post-Canon, Five Times Something Happened, Grief/Mourning, Friendship, POV NHS, NHS Character Study)

~*~

2. hello!! i have a request for another intf ;3 any fics in which lwj and wwx are already/or become in relationship in the lectures and later stuff happens like in canon (wwx thrown into burial mounds, wwx sacrificing his core etc.) but the relationship between wangxian helps with some things ^^ thanks & @vicleey

Family by Quiet_crash (G, 57k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JC & WWX & JYL, LXC & WWX, JYL & LWJ, Time Travel Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Established Relationship)

~*~

3. Hi!! is there fics where,canon divergence fics where wwx's parents never die and he gets trained by baoshan sanren? thank youuu! @gideonmorningstar

Going on charmingly by scribbet (T, 21k, wangxian, Teenage LWJ, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WWX is BSSR's Disciple, Genius WWX, Petty LWJ, Meddling LXC, What if LWJ didn't have an excuse to instantly write WWX off?, Canon Divergence, JFM Doesn't Adopt WWX, WWX minus canon sense of obligation, but still with an inability to shut up around LWJ, I swear LWJ's inner voice was no quite so snarky when I started this, JZN is unfortunately present but only to lose face, LQR's inconsistent adherence to the Lan clan precepts, writing the effective Lan education you would like to see in the world, Technically pre-relationship, but in the typical Wangxian way of them being in deep but just not acknowledging it yet, POV LWJ) I don't remember if his parents are alive or not, but WWX is a disciple of Baoshan Sanren. The requester might also want to check out the "Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn is Bàoshān Sǎnrén's Disciple" tag for similar fic?

~*~

4. Hey, can you suggest any tooth-rotting wangxian fluff fanfic. It would be even better if it was modern or with a-yuan or if they were rich.

Thank you @mayavsworld

The Art of Communication by mrcformoso (G, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Meet-Cute, Engineering Student WWX, Music Student LWJ, Swimmer WWX, Martial Artist LWJ, POV Outsider, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Communication Issues, But Wanxian Makes it Work, LWJ has limited words, WWX has too many words, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Love Languages, Requited Love)

💖Take Root, Come Home by piecrust (G, 3k, Wangxian, short and sweet)

As You Like It by cosmicmilktea (T, 8k, wangxian, post-canon, food as a metaphor for love, tea, light angst, fluff)

~*~

5. For the next ITMF, does anyone have any obedience curse/Ella Enchanted au recs? It doesn't matter to me who's cursed.

Obedient and Bellicose by thunderwear (T, 20k, Wangxian, Ella Enchanted AU, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, cursed LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good brother LXC, LQR loves his nephews you cant change my mind, LWJ crying, Protective LXC, Pining, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Brief Depictions of Violence, meaning at least one of the people you really want to get stabbed does in fact get stabbed)

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, wangxian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining) Not Ella Enchanted specifically, but I think it was an obedience curse or something similar

obey with true endeavour, lest the wound loses its savior by bogliasco (M, 60k, WIP, WangXian, Curse of Obedience, Self-Harm, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, WWX-centric, Fix-It of Sorts, Consent Issues, Torture)

saturated by antebunny (G, 7k, JC & WWX, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Curse of Obedience, Mind Control, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Consent Issues, Lan bashing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Protective Siblings, it's not really mind though?, there's no mind alteration, bad Lan elders, bewildered brother lxc)

~*~

6. Hello!!! Thank you so much for your work, most of what I read are recs from here!

For the next itmf: what are your best canon setting rule 63/gender swap wangxian recs? @eldritch-bisexual

can always check the F/F comp! There's bound to be what they're looking for there

everything by mimilamp

Even Later, Spring by zeldasayre (E, 7k, wangxian, F/F, Female wangxian, middle-aged wangxian, momji, Domestic, Ghosts, Small Towns, Modern, butch4butch wangxian)

~*~

7. Thank you for all your hard work!! Itmf wangxian fics where Wei Wuxian gets seriously injured/needs medical care/first aid/etc and is rescued, preferably by Lan Wangji.

Insert Coin Now for Extra Life by TriviasFolly (E, 201k, wangxian, modern, ABO, Intersex Omegas, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Marriage contract au, Twitch Streamer WWX, what is a plot?, Excuse to write fluff and smut, Fluff, caring for other while sick, Possessive LWJ, Rare Male Omegas, Pack Dynamics, Sugar Baby vibes, Eventual Smut, Brief mention of lwj/others) link in #10

Sick Bed Reserved In Gusu Lan by scifigeek14 (T, 14k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sick fic, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It) WWX & the Wens get sick & go to CR for treatment

the soft animal of your body by sysrae (T, 15k, wangxian, modern cultivation, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Animal Transformation, Shapeshifting, Getting Together, Confessions)

the universe would turn to a mighty stranger by RavenclawLoki (T, 11k, WangXian, Angst, Eventual Fluff, But first angst, Some mentions of blood, First Kiss, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Set during ep 12)

The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts)

the roots by thelastdboy (E, 30k, wangxian, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, post-canon, post-untamed, MDZS/CQL combination, transmigrator LWJ, dimension travel, time travel, parallel universes, desperation, WWX pov, LWJ pov, heavy angst, mental health issues, giref/mourning, abandonment, depression, suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort, getting together, rogue cultivator WWX, WQ lives, found family, cottagegore, it gets worse before it gets better) sorta

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL) has Jin Ling as the one who steps in! It’s full of family moments!

~*~

8. hi! do you know of post-canon fics where wwx almost dies or badly injured and lwj is scared shitless? happy ending is a must. i've read some and there isn't enough. thanks!!! @aquiver-heart

the soft animal of your body by sysrae (T, 15k, wangxian, modern cultivation, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Animal Transformation, Shapeshifting, Getting Together, Confessions) (link in #7)

~*~

9. Hey, for the next ITMF, please help me find fics where,

A. LWJ wears WWX's colors red and black, it could be because of yiling wei sect colors or just a one off thing.

B. LWJ wears jiang purple colors @imstillthinkingaboutithmm

9A)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) link in #11

9B)

This gif set by @yuziyuanapologist followed by fic by @mondengel

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, wangxian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by sami (E, 65k, wangxian, JC & WWX; JC & LWJ, LWJ & LXC, Canonical Character Death, Mentions of Rape, not explicit but definitely referenced, Time Travel, Not Everyone Dies au, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, WWX/babie tendencies, WQ is a queen in any reality, Healing, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Canon Divergence, Asexual JC, First Time, Getting Together, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, WWX finds new ways to be oblivious, seriously it surprised even us)

~*~

10. Hello, can I ask for some nsfw fic recommendations, I'm in the mood for wangxian fics that contains domestic fluff & s3x (basically wangxian being cute af and then dirty af, or the other way around). Thank you, I love and appreciate you guys so much.

See all this and more for just ten dollars a month! Series by ScarlettStorm (E, 382k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Pining, Porn, like in the writing and also as a plot point, onlyfans au, repressed lwj, sex worker wwx, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, hornt(tm), mental health, therapy is good actually, Nonbinary NHS, Gender Exploration, Hurt/Comfort, past trauma, genderfluid wwx) especially #2 KILF (Knits I'd Like To Fuck in) by ScarlettStorm (E, 168k, wangxian, modern, sex work, fiber arts, 2nd in series)

Just Ask Me To Stay by mrcformoso (M, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, Former JZ/WWX, Minor NieLan, Minor XuanLi, No Powers, Dancer WWX, Musician LWJ, Roommates, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Recovery, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Light Angst, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Domestic Fluff, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, Size Queen WWX, Belly Bulge, Porn With Plot, WWX Has Friends, LWJ Has Friends, Hurt/Comfort, A lot of comfort, Romantic Comedy, Cuter story than the summary makes it out to be, Feel-good) Just get past the first chapter angst

~*~

11. for the next itmf, any time travel fics where either wangxian or only lwj goes back in time?? just some wangxian shenanigans or wwx getting sweep(?) off his feet by an older lwj. thank you <33

Regrets by antebunny (G, 38k, wangxian, miscommunication, misundersandings, time travel fix-it, temporary character death, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort) Both LWJ & WWX travel back in time

A Matter of Time by mrcformoso (E, 44k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation, Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX) Technically what the request asked for (LWJ going back in time & romancing WWX) but mind the tags because LWJ goes back to when they are kids & features dark!LWJ

Take my heart by LadyKG (Not rated, 22k, wangxian, Fix-It, WWX POV, Time Travel, WWX is oblivious but not THAT oblivious thank fuck, JC is done with Wifi's shit, LXC is an angel, but when isn't he lbh, author is biased because of love for characters) lwj time travels back to cloud recesses lectures

💖 From the Future for the Past by friedchickenlord (G, 27k, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, fluff & humor, happy ending, denial, pining, bullying ur younger self is in fact ok) both WWX and LWJ end up time traveling - to different periods of time!

refrain; a musical phrase repeating in a song or instrumental piece Series by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T/G, 51k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Sort Of, Memory Loss, Canon-typical dismemberment, Post-Series, but also mid-series ya feel, Changing Tenses, Protective LWJ, Everybody Lives, Confused WWX, Crack Treated Seriously)

Wangxian's Time-Travelling Shenanigans series by pupeez4eva (M, 18k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, Humor, Love Confessions, PDA, Wangxian being their shameless selves, Nothing will ruin WWX's confession, Not even dozens of very confused disciples, or confused family members because LQR and JC are not amused, time travel at the most inconvenient moment, Everyone is just very confused, Wangxian elope with no explanation and leave everyone else to deal with the aftermath, LXC is a very good big brother, JC is probably going to end up killing WWX, Canon Divergence, Featuring: many horrified bystanders, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, AU of Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now, The many moments that Wangxian could have travelled to, POV Outsider)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 74k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, Happy Ending, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, Módào Zǔshī & The Untamed Combination, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Bad Parent JFM, Bad Parent YZY, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Angst, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Idiots in Love)

How the Yiling Patriarch Became Everyone's Gay Awakening by tinitin (M, 17k, wangxian, JC & WWX, WWX/Other(s), One-Sided Attraction, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Attempt at Humor, YLLZ kink, Crack Treated Seriously, The YLLZ gets sent back in time, Everyone thinks he's too pretty too ignore, WWX suffers because of his future self's obliviousness, LWJ suffers because of WWX's obliviousness, JC suffers, Everyone doesn't think they're gay just because the Yiling Patriarch is pretty, Time Travel Fix-It, Protective JC, OOC YLLZ, Attractive WWX, WIP)

it calls to those Series by Shializaro (T, 7k, WangXian, Time Travel, POV Outsider, POV Alternating, LWJ Has Feelings, Make LWJ Cry Agenda, Good Sibling JC, JC is So Done, Angst and Humor)

I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 57k, WWX/WRH, WWX/JGS, wangxian, JYL/JZX, time travel fix-it, Pining, Marriage of Convenience, Arranged Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign, WQ Lives, Transmigration, Weddings, Sugar Daddy au, Sugar Daddy, Black Widow, Protective Siblings, Family, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Sugar Baby, consort, Politics, Demonic Cultivation, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Canon-typical domestic dysfunction, Canon-Typical Gore, Ballad 39: Tam Lin, YLLZ, Crack Treated Seriously)

The Wild Geese’s Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 66k, wangxian, time travel fix-it)

don’t have to dance by sharksugar (orphan_account) (E, 4k, wangxian, Older Man/Younger Man, Dubious Consent Fantasy, Public Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Incense Burner, Exhibitionism, Public Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Loss of Virginity, Self-Lubrication, No Lube, Dry Sex, Dream Sex, Age Difference)

Catharsis by brannrice (M, 69k, wangxian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, WLLZ WWX, Hurt WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Sad WWX, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, Protective LWJ, wwx learning self care? more likely than you think, Slow Burn, wwx has no time for your shit, he's tired alright let him rest, Oblivious WWX, Pining LWJ, Soft wangxian, Rogue Cultivator WWX, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, WIP)

MingYu by Fino_Al_Cielo (T, 87k, WWX & LWJ, YL WWX, yunmeng siblings, Fix-It of Sorts, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, PTSD, References to Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Trauma)

Without end by barisan (M, 70k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Suicide Attempt, Hurt/Comfort, Depressed WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Yunmeng Jiang bashing, Sentient Resentful energy, Medical inaccuracies)

~*~

12. I’m in the mood for some dubcon “just the tip” Lan Wangji.

~*~

13. Please give me one sentence from a fic you love :) (Mod note, please check all the tags from the fics before reading ^^ ~Mod L)

“I don’t want to be an artist,” Wangji would have said, back then. “I want to make what you do last forever.” 💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, art conservation, museums, pining, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending, misunderstandings, smut, major character injury, hospitalization, hurt/comfort, past incarceration, forgery)

“It's a semi-breve of rest, before the softest of crescendos as Lan Zhan finally closes those spare few inches between them, and presses his lips to Wei Ying's.” Themes and Variations in F# Major by defractum (nyargles) (E, 18k, WangXian, Modern AU, Classical Music, Getting Together, POV Alternating, Long-Distance Friendship) I know nothing about music and that sentence still gets me!

“I will give your pleas the same consideration you gave mine.” Bitter Recompense by mondengel (M, 1k, LXC & LWJ, Angst)

"In the absence of Hanguang-Jun, he is my light," Wei Wuxian responds, then wishes he could take the words back. They feel like too much for this early in the morning." the kite string and the anchor rope by fleurdeliser (M, 38k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, set after the yiling date, Sick Child, the illness never gets worse than it is in the first 1000 words)

"I will die a thousand times, I will die the most painful death you have in store for me, I will die on my knees screaming with no dignity left in me, but please, if there is anything left that is holy in this world, please spare him, let him live. I will do anything, suffer anything, but please, please, save my son, a-Yuan, my a-Yuan." the tragic and entirely true story of the romance between the yiling patriarch and his wife, most renowned doctor of her generation by ravenditefairylights (T, 18k, WangXian, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Canon, but also during canon, Character Study, Canon Temporary Character Death, excessive use of personal headcanons, Baby LSZ, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Oblivious WWX, Rumors, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Heteronormativity, Fake Marriage, Chronic Pain, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining)

~*~

14. For the next ITMF, is there any fic where wwx learns how to cook good food or like, he knows how to cook. Thank you!

Heat It Up! with Wei Ying by justpeace (T, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, coworkers to dating, Getting Together, Food, Chinese Character, Chinese American character, Chinese Food, racism that largely happens offscreen, workplace racism, toxic workplace environment, Workplace Relationship, food as a metaphor for racism, Humor, Happy Ending, Angst and Humor, running bits involving pop culture references, food as a metaphor for flirting, References to Drugs, Alcohol, Asian-American Character) has good cook modern AU WY working for a food magazine

Welcome to the Great Gusu Bake Off! by BlackWiresOnHerHead (G, 39k, modern, Modern, College/University au, The Great British Bake Off au, Humor)

🧡don’t threaten me with a good time by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Great British bake off AU, Script format, Fluff and Crack, Reality TV, Social media)

A Feast for the Eyes by lareine (T, 7k, wangxian, modern, Cooking, Social Media, Humor, Celebrity au, WIP)

~*~

15. Hello! Thank you so much for your hard work!! For the next ITMF I was wondering if there’s any fic from LSZ’s POV not as a teenager but as a kid? Any setting or ship is good! Thank you!!

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, Music, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, CQL Verse) this one is from LSZs perspective, starting when he is a little boy just arrived in cloud recesses, and continuing on with time skips every chapter through post-canon, so it's not all while he's a kid come up but a lot of it is! Bring your tissues!

~*~

16. I’m looking for a fic about wei wuxian who ascends to godhood. I have read Of Destruction and Rebirth and I’m looking for similar fics. If in case you cannot recommend a god story then please recommend an overpowered (OP) or BAMF wwx for me. Thank you! @sri22

🧡 Vow by draechaeli (E, 216k, Canon Divergence, BeliefGod!WWX, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, Pregnancy Kink, Mpreg, minor male lactation, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con because JGS, Mentions Canon Typical Incest, Canon Typical Violence) not quite ascension exactly

A Secret Never Shared by Vrishchika (T, 28k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, frankencanon, Pining, Soft LWJ, Deity WWX, BAMF WWX, Alternate Universe, LSZ is the best boy)

Wuqian, the Local God of Yiling by Grace_ShadowWolf (TaubeLePigeon) (M, 80k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, major character death, canon divergence, angst w/ happy ending, god WWX, Chinese mythology & folklore, pining, temporary character death, WIP)

despite it all by novalotypo (T, 292k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Memory Loss, god of luck! au, Non-Linear Narrative)

~*~

17. A) ITMF WRH lives aus! I'm looking for something like what happened to WN. JGY involved in some positive manner (maybe whumpee WRH and JGY becomes caretaker idk I'll take whatever you can find)

B) In the mood for fics where Wen Ruohan has emotions! Give that man human emotions please. Preferably involving JGY in a non-antagonist light @crypticidentity

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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bugs1nmybrain · 8 months

Text

L Lawliet x Chubby!Reader NSFW

Minors Don't Interact (18+)

Warnings: NSFW, weight/body insecurities, fem-reader, chubby reader as the title suggests, disordered eating habits, reader fat-shames herself, the reader has been attempting to lose weight, unprotected sex, lots of kissing, vanilla?, finger sucking, blowjob, pussy eating, squirting, body worship themes, dom L, the reader comes from a low/lower middle-class background, fingering, L is probably a little out of character (he's just more of a sweetheart than canon L), L might be triggering? He tries to be nice to the reader about eating but may come across as inconsiderate?, Misa is mentioned once, L doesn't really know how to be emotionally supportive but he's trying his best!!!, cheesy ending

I kind of had a hard time getting through this prompt because I struggle a lot with weight and disordered eating. It was meant as a self-affirming fic but the first half of this was triggering for me to write. I hope it's good.

Buying this stupid scale was probably the worst decision you could've made for yourself. In your mind, you assumed that getting one would encourage you to lose weight and that you could document what eating and exercise habits helped you lose more. You were excited, even, but as soon as you stepped on it your excitement turned into hate.

It wasn't like you weren't trying. You've read as many articles as you could on what diets would give you the quickest results. You've also tried exercising plenty. On the worst days, you didn't eat much at all. However, it seemed like no matter what your efforts were, you had little success. It was unfair. You couldn't help but feel envious of girls in the mall who would wear outfits you could never picture yourself in. Being at the beach made you furious as well. It was like you'd never be enough, never like them.

Your phone buzzed with a text from L. He was requesting your company for dinner at his current residence. L, as distant as he seemed, was very fond of you. He was a very busy guy, so the time between you two was limited, but he did indeed try to put in an effort to spend as much time together as he could squeeze in. Meals were often a safe time for him.

You had about an hour to be there, so you tried to prepare a nice outfit to wear. Nothing looked good, though. It was hard finding clothes that looked good on you. You hardly found any clothes that looked proportionately correct on you. It was an endless battle.

Eventually, you gave up and settled with a black turtleneck and jeans. Watari picked you up and drove you to L's. When you arrived, you made your way through the security procedures, though you didn't have to do much as L trusted you enough to waive some of the more complicated screenings.

You walked into a beautiful dining room with a table of well-prepared offerings. A lot of it was typical dinner food, but a good portion was also sweets, as L didn't partake in normal eating habits.

L sat down at the end of the table and caught your eye as you walked in. You were embarrassed, honestly. Before dating him, you weren't used to a finer lifestyle. Coming into a fancy residence like this was beyond you. You felt out of place, but L made you feel at home in the unfamiliar atmosphere. He gave you a gentle smile as you sat down on the chair to his left.

"You look beautiful," he comments with an inviting impression.

"You think so? I thought this was a little plain-looking."

"I suppose it's a casual outfit, but nonetheless, you look lovely in it," he beams.

"Thank you," you blush in response.

"Of course. Are you hungry?"

Urg. You supposed by definition, you were. You hadn't had much to eat today other than your three cups of coffee and a very light breakfast. You hated questions like this. You simply nodded, feeling torn.

"Please, help yourself. I made sure to acquire your favorites."

This was awful, and you felt incredibly uncomfortable. You didn't want to disappoint or sadden him. L clearly put in effort for this, but you were so afraid of gaining weight. There was a lot of food, and you assumed he expected you to be generous with your portions.

You did what you could and took what you thought was enough food to not upset him but also not too much that you felt like a glutton. Even with this, though, you felt like you took too much (in reality, you didn't take enough).

The food was great, meals with L never failed to impress.

"Would you like dessert, love?"

Oh no.

You expected it, given L. He absolutely loved sharing sweets with you and it was one of the ways he knew how to display care for you. The treats were always delicious, and you were grateful, but the fact that a single slice of cake had so many calories drove you nuts. You felt a tad jealous of L. He manages to stay small despite his horrendous diet. It wasn't his fault, he simply had a very different metabolism than you did, but it was unfair. He could eat ten folds of the amount you eat and not gain a thing. When you only spent a day or so eating full meals, you put on weight.

L notices your hesitation and is puzzled about what to say. He's not an idiot and has noticed since he first started dating you that you had a complicated relationship with eating and food. He could tell by the way you poked around at your food and was very light on your portions that you were clearly scared to eat much. He never once found you unattractive and even found your plump features very endearing. He understood why you were insecure, but he only wished he could somehow assure you of your worth.

Knowing you were going to stall, L takes it upon himself to cut you a slice of strawberry cake and places it down in front of you, with a soft, "here."

You smile at him. His small attempts to make you happy were cute, and you did appreciate it. The cake in front of you looked scary, but you wanted to be grateful and make him happy, so you gave up.

"It's tasty isn't it?" He remarks with a mouthful of cake, himself. As a prestige of a background L came from, he had no sense of manners it seemed.

"Mhm."

Again, you were poking around. L felt a little frustrated by this. He wasn't upset about waste, ungratefulness, or anything like that, he was just disheartened that you were so hesitant to nourish yourself. Sure, cake may not be the most nourishing thing, but its mental effects are rewarding. He wanted you to be able to enjoy things like a nice meal without feeling ashamed of yourself. It's why he encouraged you to eat with him often, he wanted to give you a sense of comfort and connection that could come from eating. But every time you seemed unsettled. It made him feel sorry.

"Do you not like it? Would you like a different flavor?"

"Oh, no! It's great, I guess I'm just a bit full," you assure him.

L doubted it, given the amount you put on your plate.

"I'm sorry," you say with guilt.

"I'm not upset with you, love. I suppose I'm just worried for you. I've noticed that when we've had meals together you make your portions rather small. I hardly think that was enough to make you feel "full""

You kind of hated this. Who was he to assume how much you needed to eat? Why did it have to matter?

"I'm trying to lose weight."

"Why?"

"I'm not very happy with myself. I don't feel attractive, and I see other girls, like Misa Amane, who are very small. They get to wear as much or as little as they want and they're always beautiful. I feel like no matter what, I'm always ugly, and fat."

L didn't really know how to handle this, because in his eyes you're beyond beautiful. He didn't really understand why you felt like you weren't. He thought that he always made it apparent to you that he saw you as gorgeous. It was like the meals though. Sometimes no matter how much affirmation he tried to give you, you were never satisfied.

He noticed it when you'd pull down on your shirts to conceal your stomach. When you and he made love, you insisted on keeping the lights completely off. You'd send him pictures of you in very pretty outfits, but when you'd see him in person later that day, you were in something much more conservative. In a way, it broke his heart.

"I know that I can't say anything that will change your mind about this. It makes me sad to know you think of yourself in such a negative way because I've never thought any of those things about you. I suppose my opinion doesn't mean much, but comparing yourself to models like Misa Amane isn't a fair assessment. Those kind of women are paid for being underweight. Having a fuller figure doesn't make you any less attractive and if anything, it makes you incredibly adorable to me. You look like yourself, which is more than beautiful."

In a sense L was right to say he couldn't exactly change your opinion about yourself, but his reassurance right now, in this moment, felt comforting. You did worry that he didn't see you as pretty or somehow was only with you out of pity.

"You know, I'm no model myself," L says, cocking his head to the side. "On the opposite end, I'm underweight and very nimble. I'm also pale and my hair is disheveled. Some have also said my eyes are creepy."

"You're cute though!" You giggle and gush within milliseconds. "Honestly, I don't think I've ever known anyone who looks like you. You're so handsome and pretty and cute and adorable,"-

"So who's to say you aren't those exact same things? Both of us have imperfections. It's abundantly clear you love me for mine, so believe me when I say that yours are just as desirable to me. I love you as you are, Y/N."

His loving words offer you peace of mind at the moment. Sure, you weren't as thin as you wished you were, but knowing he didn't see you less than made you feel a little more content. You glance at him lovingly, and L reaches his hand under the table to find yours.

"I love you," L assures again.

You blush, "I love you too."

L hums and rubs your hand with his thumb. "May I kiss you?"

You giggle at his request, with a complete change of mood to what you felt previously. "Yes, of course."

L leans in to kiss your lips tenderly, holding the side of your neck with the hand that wasn't holding yours. You turn pink and flustered, to much of L's own pleasure. As your kiss starts out light and gentle, you let go of his hand to wrap your arms around his shoulders, closing him into a warmer embrace. Heated tension forms between both of you, but before it can get too heavy L pulls away.

"There's cameras in here."

"Oh," you comment in embarrassment.

"Here," L takes your hand before standing up, encouraging you to as well. "Come this way."

You followed L, with your hand in his.

"The table still has food on it," you say worryingly.

"That's Watari's job. Don't worry about it. Just follow me, alright?"

L guides you up the elevator to a higher floor. When the doors open, you're led to a spacious room that is cleaned and decorated nicely. L closes the door behind you and quickly turns his attention back to you with a soft smile.

"I missed you today while I was working," he says as he begins kissing the nape of your neck.

You smile uncontrollably as you tell him, "I did too. I couldn't wait to see you."

"Mm..that makes me happy to hear."

L kisses your neck lovingly before gesturing you to follow him to the bed. He sits you down and hovers over you as he pulls your lips in for another kiss, this time full of more hunger and adoration. You bring your hands down to his waist band and tug at the button to his jeans, zipping them down.

"Can I see you?" L asks.

"Hm?"

"May I take off your clothes, first?"

"Oh.."you blush hesitantly.

"Here, let me help you."

L pulls your turtleneck over your head and quickly follows with unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them off. You're now only left in your bra and panties, and L can't keep his gaze off of you for a second.

"I'm bloated from eating," you say sheepishly.

"Nonsense," L kisses down your chest and places a hand on your stomach. His fingers sink into your plush skin and you clam up. "Please don't feel self-conscious, love. Allow me the privilege of appreciating your beauty."

L kisses you again and you continue your attempts toward his crotch. You pull his pants down, revealing his arousal through his underwear. Blushing, you grope his cock among the clothing, producing a pleasant hum from his chest. After a couple of strokes, you take his underwear off, dragging them down his legs. His penis stands erect with a flushed pink tip.

"Do you see what you do to me?" he remarks, stroking your face with his fingers, guiding them to your lips. You stick your tongue out, allowing L to slowly insert his fingers into your mouth. His cock twitches in excitement as you suck on his spider-like fingers gently. He takes them out to tuck your hair behind your hair. You assume responsibility to start stroking his bare cock, glancing at it for a bit. His penis is very pretty. Longish, maybe a little over 5 and a half inches, but slender. Not slender in the sense that there's no sense of filling, but it matches the rest of his thin anatomy. It's also pale and flushed pink, with not many veins.

"Mmm.." he moans as you stroke him. You tease his glands a little before taking him in your mouth. You drag your mouth along his shaft, eliciting a sigh from him. You tease and lick along his penis to the point that he needs to reach his hand to cover his mouth in order to conceal his noises. Who would've figured that the deadpan detective L would be such a responsive lover?

"Love, please.." you continue bobbing your mouth on him and look up at him for a moment. Your pretty eyes send a shock through him and he pulls his cock out of your mouth, knowing full well that he'll cum if this keeps going. And he surely was not finished with you.

He kneels in between your legs and kisses the inner flesh of your thick thighs. L pulls your panties down your legs and presses his finger up to his lips, enamored by your beautiful cunt. He presses his fingers at the bottom of your thick thighs and spreads your folds apart. He looks at your wetness for a moment and then proceeds to sink his face into your arousal.

"Mmfph!~"

Your moans escape uncontrollably as L begins sucking on your clit. His mouth produces wet and messy noises as he licks your pussy, following his tongue up and down before continuing to suck on your clitoris. He raises his hand to insert two fingers in your cunt as he eats you out. L makes sure to curl them perfectly, rubbing along your g-spot. The simultaneous stimulation to both areas causes a surprisingly quick build-up.

You grip L's hair, which he takes as a sign to attack your pussy even more intensively. His tongue flicks rapidly up and down your clit and he fingers you faster, causing you to grind on his face. L can feel your orgasm approaching by the way your insides were contracting on his fingers. He hums on your clit, giving it more vibration as you cum on his face with a high-pitched whine. Fluid sprays on L's face unexpectedly, shocking both you and him.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know that would happen. I didn't think I had to use the restroom.."

L smells the fluid on his finger for a bit before commenting, "This doesn't smell like urine to me," and he laughs cockily. "No need to be embarrassed, darling."

L wipes his face off with an article of clothing that was tossed on the floor and comes up to kiss you again. He pulls you to rest on the bed facing him. He reaches behind to grab your ass, squeezing your plump features with his hands.

"You're gorgeous."

You want to thank him, but instead keep kissing his lips with vigor. L moves on top of you and removes your bra. He kisses down your breasts, nipping them with his mouth briefly to then kiss your stomach, groping the plushy flesh. You tense up a little but relax in the notion that he's doing it out of desire, not to insult you. He comes back up to kiss you once again and pushes his pelvis between your thighs.

You tug at his shirt, the only article of clothing separating the two of you. He grunts a little and hesitates. "You know I'm shy about my torso."

"I know, but we're both supposed to be embracing each other right? It's unfair for you to have me all naked and you to be covered."

"Yes, that's correct. I apologize."

L allows you to take his shirt off, exposing his thin figure in its entirety. You kiss his neck, causing him to whimper.

"Y/N, I need you so badly right now.."

"I'm yours. Please.."

L kisses your temple and continues by taking his penis to tease along your folds. He sinks his cock into your warm and soft pussy, and the both of you immediately moan at the pleasure. L begins to thrust into your warmth with a slight build-up. The pace eventually grows into a desperate and starving yearning. He loves you as if he hasn't for ages (he did about three nights ago) and fills you to perfection.

"Y/N..love, you're so perfect..."

You gasp in pleasure as he rubs your g-spot perfectly and grip his back for comfort. You pull him into kiss you as you fuck each other, the both of you filling the room with filthy sounds. It was a good thing the room was sound-proof.

"I love you, L.."

"I know, baby. I love you..you know that right?" He says in your ear, whispering between pants while he rests his forehead on yours. L's eyes are fixated on the way your body moves to his thrusts, and he feels a sense of pride knowing that he's the only one who's able to see you like this.

"Mhm!" L fucks you deeper, his cockhead brushing your cervix. Your warm, wet walls continue to clamp on him and he knows he's not going to last very long. He presses his body closer to yours, relishing in your warm body against his.

"Darling...I'm close.."

"That's ok, please. Inside."

L's hips thrust forward for a little longer, his orgasm building. He finally comes undone and releases his loads inside of you, with a strung-out moan as he does so.

You grab around him and pull him close for comfort as he rests on top of you, cock still inside.

"Thank you.." you say pleasantly, more than happy with the affection you had received.

"Thanking me isn't necessary. You know how much I adore making love with you."

You blush and laugh in response. L eventually pulls out and rests beside you, wrapping his legs around you as he attempts to mimic his sitting position in a cuddle form. The both of you enjoy the presence of each other's bodies and hold each other as close as possible.

"Please never doubt yourself, Y/N. You're more than worthy and more than beautiful."

"Okay. I think I believe you, I'll try to," you hum and bury your face in his chest. "I love you."

"As do I, Y/N."

#l lawliet #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet smut #chubby reader

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