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residenthughes · 30 days

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coming home - connor dewar

pairing: connor dewar x fem! reader

word count: 11k

tags/warning: friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of alcohol/drinking, minor swearing

summary: your entire life has entailed having connor by your side, no matter where the universe carves your paths. back home for the summer leading up to your final year of university, there's much to ponder - even your feelings about your best friend.

notes: this is genuinely a labour of love, the longest fic i've written in a long time 😭 i wanted this to be short and sweet, but it's long and sweet and i don't know how to feel about that lmao. but (!!!) i am really proud/happy about how this has come together and i hope you all enjoy this fic just as much as i loved writing it 😇 this is mostly proofread, but it is 5 in the morning, so I'll return to this soon! (apologizes for any errors towards the end!) more dewey content shall be coming soon, hehe! much love! <333

(also! this is very much in celebration of dewey's first goal as a leaf, teehee! 😁💗⭐️)

Summer’s always your favourite time of the year. Tan lines, midnight drives, fireworks, the beach. So much sweetness is in the breezy summer air and you simply can’t get enough. You wouldn’t admit it, but your favourite part of the season is when one of your closest friends, Connor, comes up from his gruelling hockey season and returns to the slow and laid-back lifestyle of your small town. Having grown up next door neighbours the majority of your lives, you quickly became two peas in a pod, always together with laughter following closeby.

Your friendship is something you’ve always treasured, held in some reclusive and special part of your heart that only houses your fated connection. No matter how mundane your time together may be - Connor strumming his acoustic guitar and you reading as the citrus sunset dips into the horizon - it's all so memorable to you and nothing, as you’ve come to experience, can ever replace his place in your life. However, life is a constant cycle of change and that first dose came when you two were fourteen, too awkward for your own good and growing out of your bodies. Connor was selected to play in a high-level hockey league hours away from your hometown and as your fingertips buried themselves into his tear-soaked t-shirt, you swore nothing could compare to this pain. The absolute tear of your beating heart out of your raw chest that ached with every gasp. You were a mess, undeterred by your futile attempt to appear as nonchalant at your silly age, but the second Connor stood on your porch, luggage in hand and the sadest tinge in his sage eyes, you fell apart.

Despite the sheer anguish you experienced that crisp autumn day, you adjusted. Stayed in contact with your best friend and continued to build up your life in his absence. Completed all your teenage rites of passage - took some extracurriculars, went to prom (you wanted to ask Connor, but ultimately decided against it), graduated high school and started attending university in Calgary - nine hours away from home. So many things changed and some still stayed the same. Connor was still as hockey obsessed and through his diligent efforts, he’s achieved his dreams of playing in the NHL night after night. You were there for draft day and there for his first game, university be damned. As was Connor, in the stands during your high school graduation and any time you needed him, whether that was him sitting on the phone with you until four in the morning or meeting up with you halfway across two countries because he felt like it. There was always something so spectacular about you two, your stories detailed by destiny and hung amongst the stars. A divine creation that despite the odds, of paths that have taken you two elsewhere, always merged because that is simply how it’s meant to be.

And, so it is, your last summer before your final year and here you are, fingertips tapping against the wooden bar as your leg jerks in anticipation of a figure that will come through your hometown bar, Punch & Judy’s doors any minute now.

Your best friend, Charlotte, manages to interweave your antsy fingers in between hers, a nurturing smile across her smooth face. “He’ll get here, don’t worry.”

Your eyebrows quirk, your legs stopping all motion. “Who said anything about worrying?”

She rolls her eyes, unamused. “You know what I mean,”

Then, she goes on to untangle your fingers, leaning her crossed arms against the bar occupied by the usual mellow group of regulars, including your own bunch of friends. “Besides, you know him. Knowing you’re here, he’s tryna get here quicker than a New York minute.”

A funny feeling flips in the pits of your stomach, an immediate flush coating the apples of your cheeks as you clumsily grab at your cider bottle. Connor always poked fun at your inability to enjoy a cold one, resorting to fruity flavours of cider. “He’s a law-abiding citizen, he’ll wait for the greenlight even if it kills him.”

“If you say so,” Charlotte casts you a glance out of the corner of her eye, smugness tugging at the corners of her lips as she takes another swig of her beer. The bell signifying the main door opening sounds in the background. “Oh, look. Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hey there, stranger!”

Suddenly, your attention is elsewhere, eyes pinned to the tall silhouette that struts through the doorway of the LED ridden bar, kind eyes and a kinder smile with his tousled hickory hair and hushed voice finding its way to your eardrums again after so long. It’s like coming home again, watching from afar as close friends fall into endless hugs, your reunion saved for last as you beam a closed mouthed smile, reproduced by your best friend who opens his arms for a hug that solely belongs to you. You fall into him instinctively, inhaling his soft woody scent as you bury yourself in his embrace, the pendulum of your life coming to a pause as your universe centres.

“Get a room, you two!” Connor’s brother, Quinn taunts from over your shoulder, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you as you’re reluctantly reminded of the lame chirps he seems to be full of whenever you and Connor are together.

You ignore him, savouring the moment for what its momentarily worth before Connor’s pulling away, arms loosely wrapped around the circumference of your waist as he peers down at you with those same green eyes you’ve known your entire life.

“Hi.” you breathe, short and sweet.

He simpers, something coy in the lines of his smile as he replies back, “hi.”

It’s a simple greeting, but there’s so much more in those few syllables - the endless gravity of your shared experiences and fondest memories making their way back to each other. Your eyes linger for a minute longer, taking in each other’s presence that’s long been missed due to your busy schedules leading up to your summer break. You part ways and despite how fulfilled you are to have him here and see him after some time, there’s a small knack that nags at you - hollow and wanting as you venture to a booth nearby, squishing up in between Charlotte and another one of your guy friends, Owen Power, who like Connor has been busting his ass in the NHL and friends with you all for longer than you can remember. You all chatter amongst yourselves with Connor’s brother sitting across from you, a discussion brewing as Connor returns shortly after getting a drink at the bar, sliding beside his brother with a beer in hand.

“Come on, Connie. Help me out here, these guys have lost the plot.” His brother argues, an eye roll your response.

Connor looks between your group, a knit in his eyebrows. “What’s the deal?”

“They’re tryna say, get this - that dolphins are more dangerous than damn orcas. Can you believe that?” Quinn attests, expression pinched as he ruffles the curls of his bleached hair sticking out his snapback.

“Hey! We’re well within reason to be arguing with you. You on the other hand? I don’t think so.” Charlotte proclaims, an accusatory finger directed towards Quinn.

“Yeah, not gonna lie, Quinn. You’re severely underestimating how evil dolphins are,” concludes Owen, his hand raised as he pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his sunkissed nose.

Quinn guffaws, jaw slack as his eyes flicker between everyone’s faces in quick succession, clearly in disbelief. “Are you hearing this right now?”

“Look, Q - we’ve been over this,” you start, hands extending as if to make sense of your proposed point. “You’ve been fed dolphin propaganda. We’ve literally shown you so many resources about their heinous crimes. Take it or leave it.”

Quinn groans, elbowing his older brother who wordlessly listens to the ongoing conversation. “Bro! A little help would be nice.”

A brief pause follows his younger brother’s melodrama, Connor weighing out the arguments of a conversation he hadn’t been here for, his eyes flickering over towards yours fleetingly. An unexplained shiver runs down your spine, the action camouflaged poorly as you appear to distract yourself from the sensation, fingernails scratching against the lines of your neck as you look up at the ceiling.

“Hello?!” hollers Quinn.

You swear he loves to hear himself talk.

“They’re right,” Connor concludes, eyes set on you as he speaks before he takes a swig of his beer, focusing back onto his brother. “Personally, I think you’ve been taking one too many trips to Sea World.”

“The promised land of dolphin propaganda.” mentions Charlotte.

“This is ridiculous!” Quinn exclaims, sending a heavy elbow into his older brother’s arm, all of which barely gains any sort of response from him. ��What happened to honour amongst bros, huh? They don’t have that in Minnesota or what?”

Connor scoffs lightly, his smile reading amused as his head turns towards his brother. “That doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you say.”

Quinn mumbles something under his breath, clearly displeased. “I forget you’re my harshest critic.”

Their double act entices the crowd, your circle of friends laughing amongst yourselves as Quinn folds his shoulders with his usual theatrics. No one buys into it, much less Connor who drapes his arm loosely around his brother’s squared shoulders, leaning in with a tickled pink smile that reflects within your own expression.

“You’re just mad I won’t kiss your ass.”

That earns him a shove off Quinn’s shoulders, sending him into a fit of laughter. Everyone chortles along, basking in the merriment of the moment before you’re delving into other non-controversial topics, indulging everyone in the bits and pieces of your lives they’ve missed and just like that, you're four drinks in and so sentimental it hurts. Owen suggests a walk around the town centre, a tradition you cannot help but all agree to as you all shimmy out of your respective booth, bidding Judy at the bar farewell as you file out of the establishment.

The cobalt sky dazzles with stars you’ve forgotten shine so bright here, the midday heat nowhere in sight as a cool breeze pushes you forwards. You linger behind Quinn as he impulsively hops onto Owen’s back, who stumbles at the sudden weight whilst Charlotte laughs at the unfolding scene. Nostalgia warms your heart at the sight, eyes half-closed and posture relaxing as the warm summer night holds you close and kisses your worries goodbye.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, your slow strides matching up with Connor’s as he looks to you, smile small and earnest as he playfully challenges, “Since when did you know about dolphin propaganda?”

You gasp, humour shaping your lips. “Well, you’ve been in my ear most of my life yapping about it, so…”

“Hey, I’m just saying - was I wrong?” the smirk on his face attests to his unwavering confidence and as you catch a whiff of his woody cologne, you roll your eyes in defeat, smile still on your lips.

“Considering you wore a shark tooth to school, I didn’t think so.”

You have to bite back the wide smile that fights to spread across your face, a few snickers here and there escaping before the loose ring around your shoulders closes in, Connor smushing your face inwards against the strength of his bicep. You can’t help but laugh throughout, swatting away his pesky grip that lasts no longer than a few seconds before all you hear is the echoes of your winded chuckles. In an effort to stabilise yourself from the momentary loss of oxygen, your hand seeks Connor’s, holding onto his larger and warmer as your feet hit the pavement in unison.

“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”

You let your head fall to Connor’s shoulder, arm wrapping around his lower back as your steps sync with such ease. A lightness in your limbs and how perceptive you can be to the sounds of downtown - car horns, hushed chatter and the like - let you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be right now than here. Back at home, with your best friends and your partner in crime who you answer in the form of a hum.

Your first few days back in the Pas are slow and uneventful, most of your time spent decompressing from the taxing semester and unpacking your items, all of which you didn’t know just how much you possessed. In an effort to make the most of the sunshine and get out the house for reasons other than your part time job at the local diner, you sign up for community gardening activities and ask the groupchat if anyone wants to come along. Everyone appears to have plans, except for Connor, who in the early hours of the next morning, picks you up from your childhood home and drives into town where for the next few hours, you’re knee deep in dirt under the blaring sun as you plant various kinds of greenery to spotlight the natural beauty of your rustic town.

What is certain, when early afternoon pours in, painting the sky in shades of honey and tangerine, you’re exhausted beyond belief. You have no idea how Connor makes the drive home, yet he does and when you two collapse into the hammock in your family’s backyard, your lips are slack and echoing more yawns than you can contain.

“That was great and all, but that’s knocked me out,” Connor groans, limp body shuffling in the confinements of the cotton hammock hanging off one of the trees in your backyard. The same tree which holds the treehouse you and Connor partially lived in throughout your youth. “That was more tiring than hockey practice.”

You’re tired and easily distracted, your head perched up in a way that puts the treehouse in your direct eye-line. “Remember when we’d watch movies in that treehouse?”

A brief pause follows, occupied by the tranquil chirps and running water from the nearby bird bath. “Yeah, I’d always wanna watch Jaws but you wanted to watch Disney movies.”

You give him a laugh, shuffling yourself in order to get comfortable in the small space. Why did you two think this would work like it did ten years ago? The thought occurs to you, but you brush it off to save yourself additional mental load, making the adjustments to cater to some form of comfortability in the tiny space. Even if that means sacrificing your shared personal space as your body overlaps onto Connor’s strong and firm one.

“Says the guy who knows the all the songs in Lemonande Mouth,” you counter, “And, Let it Shine.”

Without missing a beat, in his sleepy voice, Connor replies with, “kissy kissy, Roxanne, did you miss me?”

Groaning despite the snickers slipping past your lips, you bury your head into Connor’s chest, refusing to hear the rest of his ramblings. “My girl is hotter than your girl, you know it! You know it.”

To get your point across, you unbury your head, wide eyes peering up at your best friend who’s so amused by this all, hair messy and smile stretching from ear to ear. A bright sight. “Can you not?”

“You’re just hating 'cause I sing better than you.” He follows that by sticking his tongue out at you, so mature for his age that you grant him the response of a heavy sigh and an averted gaze, settling back into the peace and serenity of your backyard.

However, the silence doesn’t last long before you’re speaking again.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you observe, fingertips dancing along Connor’s nape as you absently fiddle with the long strands of his hair, silky between your fingers. “You should let me cut it.”

“Name a time and place, and I’ll be there,” he mumbles sleepily against the crown of your head, soothing you further towards a serene sleep. “Unless you fuck it up. Then, I won’t forgive you.”

You give him the satisfaction of a laugh tucked away in your chest, the ghost of a smile dissipating as the aches of a hard work’s start to plunge their teeth into your flesh and bones, body like cement as you sink further into the comfort of the hammock, into the comfort of your calm summer afternoon.

“One of my friends from my team’s supposed to be coming up for a night or two,” Connor croaks, voice hoarse and the gentle breeze of the summer’s day pecking your skin in an act of love. “Think…you’ll all get along with him quite well.”

His point is punctuated by a tired yawn that proves to be contagious as you mirror the action moments after, eyes unbearably heavy as time moves slow like molasses, body further sinking against Connor’s. You don’t even stop yourself from falling asleep, only blinking away the exhausted sting in your eyes to answer your best friend.

“Can’t wait,” you mumble, adjusting your body against Connor as your limbs slot together like puzzle pieces, matched at every curve as slumber envelopes you two in a kind embrace. “It’ll be good - the visit…and the rest of summer.”

Your words trail in a drowsy daze, tone doused in sleepiness as your eyes can no longer keep themselves open, glimpses of hickory branches and pear leaves wishing you peace and serenity as you finally fall asleep.

Your shift at the local diner passes without as much traffic as expected, local patrons ordering their usual with a few tourists dropping by to try the culinary experience of your average but nostalgic diner food. Due to how quiet the establishment is - Mabel, your boss and long-time owner of the diner - lets you off early and with a hug, you scurry back to your family house to get ready for the night's events. After dozing off with Connor in the hammock out back, your mother softly awoke to you with a holler she’s used since the dawn of time.

“Up and at ‘em, kids. Dinner’s ready!” in the distance of your dreams, you hear your mother yell.

With drowsy film still coating your eyes, you and Connor manage to dislodge your limbs from one another, sleepy smiles and croaky chuckles exchanged as you amble inside your house and Connor stays for a filling homemade meal that everyone at the dining table fawns over. Connor hangs back as you venture into the kitchen to wash up, a tradition you two have forged, him washing the dishes and you drying them. Not much dialogue takes place between the two of you and there is no need. For all the instances where you believed the need for conversation, you appreciate this silence so much more - how there’s no urge to talk for the sake of talking and how much comfort there is with simply just being with Connor. After you’ve done the washing up and Connor’s hugged your mother goodbye, fist bumping your father hilariously enough, he’s climbing into his car and wishing you well.

“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up from Mabel’s?” coaxes Connor, the wiggle of his eyebrows offsetting the echoes of titters that leave your lips.

“I’m good, thanks. Need to shower and get ready, anyways,” a gentle gust of wind blows, fallen leaves scraping against the cement of your driveway. “We all know how long that takes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” Connor simpers, says like it’s the easiest thing in the world and like it doesn’t demand for the city of butterflies within you to soar beyond their ability.

You flash a strained smile, giving the top of Connor’s car a pat as your posture straightens and you step away from the vehicle. “Goodbye, Connor.”

“See you soon.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind, taking a little piece of you with him.

It’s when you’re strolling your way back inside the house, halfway up the stairs to your bedroom that your mom gives you a gentle call, beckoning you back down the stairs to find her in the dimly lit living room, mahogany reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose whilst the quiet snores of your father and his baseball game fill in the background noise.

She folds her newspaper, crinkles running up your spine as she addresses you. “So good to have Connie over, makes me miss him more when he’s away.”

Connor is like a son to her, the better part of your childhood glued at the hip whilst your parents cooed and awed at your loyalty to one another. He helps around the house with no complaint nor expectation of compensation, buys her favourite flowers every Mother’s day with an additional heartfelt gift come her birthday. He listens, he jokes and he cares. What more could she ask for?

“Can’t imagine how much more you miss him whilst you’re away.” she comments, throwing her denim clad leg over the other, directing all her attention to you, swaying between two feet with your hands behind your back, sceptical.

“Well, we try to meet up when we can, so it’s not too bad,” your hand goes to scratch the back of your neck, chin jutted as your head leans to the side. “…Is that why you called me down?”

Awkwardness rarely rears its head in your household built upon openness and unconditional love, which is why the unspoken truth your mother struggles to vocalise raises a red flag, your skin prickling as you fiddle with your hands behind your back.

She’s looking at you now, a maternal love in her eyes as she speaks up. “Maybe, I can’t really put my finger on it, really. I did, however, want to say that I hope you guys keep each other in your lives, however that may pan out in the future. There’s a special happiness in your eyes I want you two to be selfish with.”

It’s a small thing, she says. A snowflake amongst the pile of snow in the realms of your mind, but as you lay in bed later on that late afternoon, staring at the gold stars Connor helped hang up in your room, your mind wanders places it never conceptualised. Inserts Connor in places in your life where he hadn’t been previously - opposite you illuminated by a candle-lit dinner, dancing in a kitchen as you prepare breakfast and kiss each other in between, above your bare body as he holds you in the palm of his hand like you are the most precious thing the universe has gifted him. It’s a point in time that despite busying yourself with dipping your toes back into your hobbies - heck, even walking your next door neighbour’s golden retriever to clear your head - it never quite leaves you, awakening something deep and dormant in you that never goes away.

Snapping out of your syrupy daze, you adorn yourself in your finest line dance clothing, slipping on your gingerbread cowboy boots before you’re tying bows in the pigtails of your hair. Your mother yells down the stairs for you and you leave in a flash, kissing her goodbye as she drops you off at Punch and Judy’s, your jewellery clinking together as you walk through the main entrance.

Much like your first night back, the bar is illuminated in dim light and sharp LED lights of varying colours. Cowboy hats dominate the sea of customers, the building crowd of the bar dressed in shades of denim and tired leather cowboy boots. Knowing the others have already arrived, saving a spot at a nearby booth, you decide to make your way to the bar first, ordering your signature berries-flavoured cider, to which Punch (co-owner) makes quick work of, the cold beverage in your hands before you can blink.

“Beer not to your liking, sugar?” A smoky, mellow voice grabs your attention.

You spare a glance at the source of the gravel voice, eyes long lingering as they capture the image of a face that stirs a flip in the pits of your stomach. The man stood beside you braces his muscular arms against the hickory brown of the wooden bar, his sleepy chocolate eyes trained on yours as he takes a swig of his tequila flavoured Desperado beer. Locks of umber messily cascade along his face, unless tucked away in his vintage black cowboy hat that ties together the rugged cowboy look he presents with the sweet addition of his light stubble. To make things worse, he’s stupidly fit, his black t-shirt clinging to the curves of his muscles like second skin. If it were up to you, you’d-

“Like what you see?”

The smug comment snaps you out of your hazy olge, a pout forming upon your lips with an accompanying knit in your eyebrows. You make a point to angrily grab at your pint glass, ingesting a big gulp of the sugary alcohol whilst the rugged cowboy laughs to himself.

Even his laugh is attractive. Sick bastard.

“Coming from a man drinking a Desperado? Funny,” you have to laugh at whatever lame attempt of making conversation this man is pulling, Punch masking his misplaced laughter behind a cough as he polishes a pint glass. “How flirtatious you are.”

You admit, your latter remark is more bark than bite, a quick chirp that refuses to feed his ego yet grab his interest all at the same time. The ruse proves to work in your favour as the sexy cowboy gives another one of his huffed laughs, his body turned towards yours.

“Give me a chance, sugar. Just tryna start the night off right,” he counters, so brazenly confident in himself that you don’t know whether to laugh or shy away from his prying eyes. “Tequila beer and beautiful company - sounds about perfect to me.”

You react in a juxtaposition, eyes rolling and cheeks flushing as you divert your line of sight away from the handsome man flirting with you at your hometown bar. Perhaps, he’s some city folk travelling through the town, fancying himself a good time at Punch & Judy’s weekly hoedown Fridays, a little bit of flirting on the side to inflate his ego and keep his blood pumping. Whatever reason explains his presence, you are not one to complain. Your love life isn't very entertaining to put it mildly, so you're willing yourself not to get swept up in his caramel eyes.

Against the wishes of your quickening heart, you decide to give Mr. Handsome Traveller the time of day, body shifting as you face each other finally. “You don’t quit, don’t you?”

He cocks an eyebrow your way, something sneaky and sugary in the lines of his smile. A brief pause follows his actions, the soft rustic sounds of old town country murmuring from the jukebox nearby filling up in the space between your figures. It’s when he’s about to make yet another cocky comment that your conversation is put on pause.

Connor’s voice calls your name, head turning to find your best friend standing in between you and the Punch & Judy’s cowboy of the night, eyes wide and expectant as they shift back and forth in the middle of your standing figures.

“Dew, forget about Desperados tonight. The lady in bows will have your head otherwise.” Handsome Traveller nods his chin towards you, humour dancing in his smile as he snickers into his half-full glass.

Then, it dawns on you. Dew? One of the handful of nicknames Connor’s adopted over the course of his livelihood. So, they’re acquaintances? Or closer? Your eyes frantically search for social clues to point you in the right direction.

“The lady in bows is my best friend,” Connor explains, a bite to his words as his eyes glare a knowing look at Sexy Cowboy. He then goes on to face you, gaze softening almost immediately as his head tilts in his friends (?) direction. “This is Brandon, or Dewey One.”

Oh. Makes sense, you rationalise. This is Brandon, Connor’s close friend and teammate on his current team out in Minnesota, the one who gets into fights he can’t win on the ice whilst Connor trails nearby picking up his fallen gear. The one he told you a couple of days ago that was coming up to visit. And, of course you were flirting with him.

Of. Course.

“Dewey One?” you ask, minorly deflecting from your embarrassment and still genuinely curious.

Connor inhales, as if to speak but Brandon beats him to it.

“Brandon’s just fine,” he interjects, expression unassuming as Connor’s eyes put his visiting friend underneath a microscope. “Nice to meet you, darling.”

Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose at the sometimes sleazy pet name Brandon casually calls you, except this time round you find it more amusing than cringe-worthy, which is how you find yourself grinning as you two exchange a handshake that testifies to how strong Brandon is. You clear your throat to stop the circus unfolding within you.

“Come on,” Connor gestures over to you to follow suit. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”

You call out an agreement over your shoulder as you go to grab your drink, the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as a close whisper brushes past your ears.

“I ain’t no quitter, sugar.”

The next couple of hours are spent packed into a crimson leather booth that peels at the ends, going from topic to topic over many a pints. Brandon fits so easily into your group, his infectious energy illuminating as he takes up space without regard, his confidence more enticing than suffocating. Everyone seems to be in good spirits as the alcohol keeps flowing and as you sit back, careful eyes watching your friends engage in conversation, you wish for this to be your forever for as long as you'd like for it to be.

A nudge against your shoulder turns your head, greeted by Connor’s sage eyes. “You ready for Judy’s Line Dance?”

His rhetorical question draws a laugh from you. “You say that like I don’t do this every time I come back.”

“Yeah, but if you were ready then, you would’ve brought your cowboy hat,” comments Connor, his veiny hands grasping gently at the ends of your braided pigtails accented with a bow. “What? Wanted to show off your pretty bows?”

He thumbs the ends of your hair, engrossed in the strands and its feel and for some reason, the casual intimacy of the moment inflates something in your chest, a balloon about to burst as you forcibly breathe in and out, clearing your throat afterwards. “They're my favourite accessories.”

Connor huffs, corners of his lips lifting gingerly as he continues his motions with his hands whilst your body remains rigid with the exception of your racing heart and crimsoning cheeks.

Your mother has definitely planted a seed you cannot unroot.

“Yeah, you’re almost always wearing them in your BeReal. posts. They’re real cute.”

For a fact you know so well, Connor’s confession comes as a pleasant surprise, one that shallows your breaths and quickens your pulse. It makes you reflect back on before, when all was platonic and the comment wouldn’t have made you bat an eyelash. Now, your skin tingles and you’re struggling to find the words to encapsulate your affection past your dry mouth. So, like many others in your position, you settle for a safe reply.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” you roll your eyes, brushing off his grasp because you might combat otherwise, projecting your attention ahead of you to come face-to-face with Brandon, who despite the engaging conversation he shares with Owen, his eyes skirt over to you.

You look away, even more flustered than before.

It’s just your luck when you hear Judy’s tap incessantly against an old microphone that you have something else to hold your focus, eyes brimming with glee as she announces the dances for the night and their updated partner songs. Last time you were here, they were still playing their beloved country hits and you danced along thanks to the amounts of alcohol you consumed, but their new playlist of pop hits within the past decade or so, you’re more motivated than ever to tear apart the dance floor.

“If you ain’t shy to do a little two step, please make your way to the dancefloor please.” Judy grins into her mic, tipping her cowboy hat as patrons make their way over to the illuminated space.

Connor makes way for you to exit the booth, your boots hitting the ground as you iron out any kinks in your outfit. Amidst your actions, you catch other movements out of the corner of your eyes, to which you find Connor playing with the ends of your bow this time round. There’s always been something so sweet and tender about him - in the way clouds are amongst a blue sky, in the way laughter spills over so easily in the presence of a found family and in how harmonies make you feel as if you're floating. But, it’s never been like this before, this intense and vivd. In a way that rids you of all thought and scares you beyond your deepest fears all at once. You’re still finding your footing in this new territory, a plain that speaks to the existence of your feelings but has no road nor destination. It’s a simple plain you seek to find some end to, picking up clues along the way that predetermine what the future holds. At the beginning, the animosity scared you pale and grey. Now, the end is what grasps your fear in a fierce chokehold. To pry yourself from the jaws of unhinged anxiety, you allow yourself to relax, to seep into the present and take it for what it's worth because the end is unknown and you’re not there yet. Not by any measure of time, you hope.

“Kick butt out there, rockstar.” His big smile deepens the soft lines of his face, a pure display of pride in his features as he gives you a pat on the back and gives way for you to shine.

It’s small, insignificant in the grand scale of things, but your smile deepens too and you nearly float to the dancefloor, adrenaline rushing through your body as the DJ prepares the upcoming music.

As you settle in line, you feel a light pressure lay upon the crown of your head, eyes darting to find Charlotte in the line next to you, giving you a wink before she faces forwards, thumbs slotted through the loops of her flare jeans. Her straw cowboy hat no longer, you reach up to find said object upon your head and with a chuckle behind your hand, your thumbs hang on your belt loops and let the music guide you.

It’s only when you’ve done your first turn that you realise that Brandon has also decided to join the line dance, huffs of amusement sounding from you as he glides and slides with a confidence dusted with his normal dash of comedy.

When Judy announces it's time for the partner dance, it’s your cue to catch your breath as you plan to evacuate the dancefloor. As mentioned earlier by Charlotte, the pretty sandy brown haired man who’d bought her a drink earlier in the night circles his arms around her waist as she gives him a smitten grin. You beam at the endearing sight, about to make your way towards your booth but are stopped in your tracks as a calloused hand clasps around your wrist.

Brandon’s expression is more sheepish than you’ve ever seen, his eyes distracted as they wander away from you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Who says the night has to end here, sugar?” His voice trembles partially, its edge lost in the coyness lining his smile as he finally looks at you with a dazzle of hope in his eyes.

A momentary pause delays your response, the moment used to turn the cogs in your head and sneak a glance back at your booth, where Connor was last you saw him, eyes trained on you as he simply watches the interaction. Under the weight of his gaze, a creeping sense of embarrassment climbs up your back, scolding the skin. You’re about to give your reply when the music starts up and Brandon speaks again.

“Put this desperado out of his misery and allow me this one dance?”

It’s so cheesy, maybe even idiotic - the words he proposes to you but he’s trying and that’s what appeals to you most, warms your heart and sways your response as you send him a nod that has Brandon cheesing ear to ear, his hand leading the way as you two fall in line.

You haven’t had much experience line dancing with a partner, the closest experience to this being a night you barely remember, happily back sliding with a fifty year old local in your college town bar who wanted to feel young again. Regardless of the fact, there’s no time to mull it over as the music already starts and your fingers are interlocking, matching up with the rest of the duos as you dance, cowboy boots stomping as you make a scene.

In all the commotion of heavy stops and ongoing thumps of Rihanna’s ‘S&M’, Brandon manages to catch your attention, mirroring your movements to a tee.

“You and Connor don’t do this much, do you?” he queries.

“You kidding me? Connie has two left feet, I’d be left for dead if it wasn’t for Charlotte.” You yell over the blaring upbeat country music, arms extended as Brandon glides you further away from his figure.

“Good thing I’m here tonight.” jesters Brandon, and you laugh along because you’re tipsy and having a lot more fun than you imagined.

Despite your familiarity with the dance routine you two execute to a tee, you’re caught off guard when Brandon brings you inwards, bracing you against his hard chest before his arm circles around the circumference of your lower back, holding you steady as he dips your body slightly. Your foot is kicked out, your (Charlotte’s) straw hat’s fallen to the scuffed dancefloor and you’ve just had the wind knocked straight out of you, eyes feverishly searching for answers as the bar falls to a hush.

You’re looking in each other’s eyes now, chest heaving and high off the adrenaline pumping through your veins from all that dancing. All time ceases to exist and it’s just two of you, sharing laboured breaths and looking for any cues for how this will end. It appears as if you’re in your own head at this point, combing through a thousand possibilities all at once to respond however you see fit. Thankfully for you, Brandon breaks the silence.

“One night and one night only.”

The sentence sends shivers down your spine and you’re pretty sure Brandon feels you quiver in his arms as he gives a brief chuckle, hauling you up onto your two feet and bringing you back to reality. You don’t really find their footing after that.

The rest of your time at Punch & Judy’s passes by in a flash, more pints being consumed over your group’s loud chatter as the night stretches on. Charlotte and her blue eyed companion indulge in another dance before he’s whisking her back to the bar and paying for everyone’s next set of drinks - bless his heart. He introduces himself as Jack, a new face in town and as he and the boys exchange pleasantries, the wild eyed non-verbal dialogue you engage in pieces together Charlotte’s sentiment and if it isn’t enough, when Jack makes his departure, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and bides him a coy farewell, a promise to meet in the next coming days on her tongue. One thing is certain, when Jack makes his exit from the bar, the door shutting behind him, you’re yelling and shaking each other’s shoulders in glee, stupidly happy and sharing that with one another.

Your table has their last drinks and before you know it, you’re being squeezed into the back of Owen’s pickup truck, sandwiched between Charlotte and Connor whilst Owen and Brandon sit up front. Over the murmured sounds of slow alternative music, you get bits and pieces of their conversation, the two excitedly talking about their shared love for Legos and the most they’ve splurged on one set. You shake your head with a laugh, going to share your merriment with Charlotte, only to find her soundly asleep, a light snore bypassing her punch pink lips.

“How you holdin’ up, champ?” Connor’s low voice draws you in, a slight head turn in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve seen you dance like that since we were ten and begging our parents to have a sleepover.”

The image is so vivid in your brain, two wide eyed kids that held hands as they begged and pleaded to have a sleepover, only for their polite request to be refused. Taking matters into your own hands, you dragged your parents’ big hands into the living room, where in front of them and an oblivious Connor, turned on MTV and danced to some popular song of the time. Lucky for you, it worked. Unluckily, Connor would hold that over your head forever onwards.

You’re cringing into your hand, face mangled in discomfort as you wish away the reality of you doing that away. “One of us had to convince them. Plus, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Connor laughs behind a fist before his hand falls to his side, a moment of quiet between you two. “You and Brandon seem to be hitting it off.”

A single eyebrow raises to express your confusion, perplexed frown prominent not because of his statement which is completely true, but because there’s an edge to his voice - something unfamiliar and cold in the way he says his words - a tone you’ve yet to hear, even after all these years. Uncertain how to proceed, you choose to be cautious about the matter, selecting your words carefully.

“He’s nice,” you state, because Brandon is but something in you twists uncomfortably, feels the recognizable pangs of embarrassment as you’re subjected to uttering this out loud. Or rather, in front of Connor. A betrayal of some sorts. “You were right about him fitting right in with us.”

There’s a strange shift in the air in the backseat of the car, the once peaceful quiet now becoming increasingly heavy and awkward as your words hang in the air like knives. Connor absorbs your words, stare averted as he watches his fingers fiddle with the lock of the door on the windowsill. You run your palms against the material of your denim shorts because you don’t know what to do with them otherwise.

It’s only when you’ve scratched the back of your neck, eyes stiffly roaming the interior of the car that Connor replies. “Yeah..I guess I just didn’t know how well.”

You’re about to ask him what he means by that, going to press him but Owen’s suddenly shut off the truck, his blinding interior lights turning on and him killing the ignition, alerting you of your arrival. Connor climbs out before your vision reverts back to normal, so you put the matter on pause and softly wake up Charlotte who sheepishly wipes away dried drool at the corner of her lips and climbs out the pick-up with you. You’re about to shut the door behind you, though someone beats you to it.

“I got it.” Brandon’s husky voice sounds from behind you, the slam of the door following.

You send an appreciative smile his way, perhaps a bit of timidity mixed in there too, turning to include Charlotte in any possible conversation to come, only to find her halfway up the porch stairs of Connor’s house.

How is it always the two of you left alone?

“Let’s head in, it’s chilly out here.” suggests Brandon, you falling in line with his request as the beginnings of goosebump dot your arms, the roughness of your skin hitting an all time high as Brandon’s large hand falls to the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs into the cosy and quaint house.

Hums of conversation lead from the back porch of Connor’s house, the presence of your friends known as you wordlessly navigate your way through the halls of Connor’s house, hallways and framed pictures you’ve committed to memory. When you’ve made your way to the kitchen, you find Owen nursing a cool bottled water, hair tousled and cheeks dusted in pink.

“There you two are,” announces Owen, fingers threading through the waves of his brown hair. “Everyone’s out back - apparently, Quinn’s out back too.”

You waste no time beelining for the backyard, the sudden weight of your reality dawning on you the second you stepped through Connor’s doorway, a cold shower of water easing you out of the mirage you’ve impulsively floated in. Once you’re outside, the cool air sinking into your skin, you spying the usual suspects - Quinn, Charlotte and Connor gathered together around a fire Quinn boasts about making. His glee is short lived.

“That boy scouts training finally coming in handy, huh?” Charlotte banters, a suppressed smirk sneaking amongst her features as she takes a seat in one of the camping chairs surrounding the fire.

“You laugh now but when you need someone to tie an impossible knot and survive off the land, don’t come running to me.” responds Quinn, taking a swig of his beer as Charlotte holds her hands up in surrender, laughing regardless.

You’re about to turn on your heels to head back inside, retrieving a beverage of your own, but a familiar call of your name is stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ve got your cider here,” alerts Connor, expression indifferent as he approaches you to hand off a can of your favourite berry cider and a bottle of water. “Blankets are on the chairs too.”

It’s embarrassing how much you want to melt into this man’s arms right now. Nonetheless, for reasons you know all too well, you express your gratitude in a toothy grin that he mirrors with a closed mouth, pulling you down into the camping chair beside his.

Soon enough, Brandon and Owen are sitting round the fire too and your night ends like this, light-hearted discussions under the stars as the heat from the open flame soothes your heavy eyelids closed. Whilst you’re mildly awake, you don’t miss the glances you and Bradon trade over the sandstone fire, loaded questions in his eyes. Had this been any other occasion, any other person not linked to Connor, any other reality where your current feelings didn’t exist for Connor, then there would be no questions asked, blossoms of wine doting both your necks come tomorrow morning. Alias, these were not the conditions and simply lounged in your camping chair, hoping Brandon didn’t look your way every time Connor’s hand would play with the bows in your hair.

Arm hanging out of his shiny porcelain white pick-up truck, Brandon squints as the rays from the blistering sun reflect into his eyes. Having said their goodbyes earlier, Connor and Brandon dab each other up with good-natured smiles before Brandon throws his focus over to you, standing with a bit more awkwardness than you’d like.

“Take care, Lady in bows,” Brandon says, a well-mannered nod sent your way with a closed mouth smile. “Don’t give Dewey a hard time. He’ll come round.”

For a split second, you’re eyeing him as if his face contains all the answers, but when he gives you that knowing look, the same one Charlotte and your mother give you any time Connor’s name is mentioned - you know. Know all too well and blush as a result, head snapping behind you to see if Connor’s within earshot. Thankfully, he’s in the middle of chatting with his brother, hands in his pocket as Quinn points off into the distance. You circle back to Brandon, the apples of his cheeks clear as day as he snickers like he’s been told a secret.

It’s as if this best kept secret brings you infinitely closer, your walls falling as you begin to bare the depth of your sentiment surrounding Connor. There’s no more beating around the bush, so you lower your head as you kick at the rocks at your feet. “You think so?”

You hate how small your voice comes out, meek and questioning everything known to man. It’s unfamiliar and not to mention, uncomfortable in every aspect of the word. Alias, Brandon sees you - catches the vulnerability you’ve shared with him and embraces you with a kindness that ushers a relieved sigh from you as he responds back.

“I’d bet my NASA Space Shuttle lego set on it.” Brandon banters, smirk soft and small.

So, he’s serious. Very serious, it seems because you know how treasured the item is to him. You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thanks, Brandon,” you breath, coyness coating your cheeks as your hands fall behind your back, your fingers tangling. “Don’t go fighting no alligators.”

“We can only hope,” Brandon gives his side-door a smack, rounding up everyone’s attention. “I’m hitting the road, fellas. Enjoy the fair for me, yeah?”

A chorus of agreements go off from behind you before Brandon gives one more salute, speeding off into the canary yellow sun. The small crowd outside Connor’s house disperses and regroups again later on that day, refreshed and ready to attend the local fair held every summer and the highlight of the year.

The fair lives up to its expectations, grand and joyful with a variety of rides ranging from teacups to a catapult-like ride that swings back and forth and then upside down. You’re distracted by all the colours, the sights and sounds that you’re so oblivious to what goes on right before you, until your vision is shrouded in black and your face is submerged in fluff.

Retracting, you blink your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, lips parting as you stare at the massive latte-coloured teddy bear that Connor presents to you, the rest of your friends nearby taking their turns at the darts board way ahead of them.

He must see you struggle to find the words, his grin infectious as he jests, “I think I’ve finally out-conned the concessionaires.”

You must look like an idiot, or a deer in the headlights as Charlotte jokes, disbelief strikingly apparent on your face as you reach for the souvenirs, the fluffy animal so cosy in your arms and melting your heart into a big puddle of goo. “Thank you, Con.”

“Don’t mention it.” a smile plays tenderly on his lips, the sheer kindness he captures in his sage eyes enough to make your pulse race and head spin.

After the thoughtful gesture, your high spirits cannot be tamed as you indulge in every little thing your heart desires - laughing a little harder, smiling a little wider and stuffing your cheeks full of hearty food that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Charlotte basks in your glee, speaking of a glow you radiate as she snaps photos of your stuffed cheeks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she hands you your teddy bear once your food is finished. You don’t reply, exchanging words through your glances as you make your way towards the second bit of rides the boys want to try.

“Wait, isn’t that…?”

As Quinn’s voice trails off into the distance, you find yourself turning in the exact direction where he directs your view, eyes landing on a pair of figures - one being Connor and the other being, Amelia, Connor’s ex-girlfriend from high school and most notably, his last girlfriend. Her waves of blond hair glisten in the sunshine, something like a Renaissance painting. Her smile bright and wide as she greets Connor with an enthusiastic hug, a hug you feel lasts longer than necessary.

They then go on to immerse themselves in conversation, and for the life of you, you can’t look away - pry your jealous eyes away nor dry swallow this bitter pill because she’s still so into him. Hands familiar and all over him, leaning in when she gets the chance and beaming like she’s won the lottery. In all fairness, her life’s been such a tale - excelling academically, incredibly driven in all sports and other extracurricular activities that garnered her attention. And such a kind spirit too, always there to help no questions asked that it made you physically sick that you could foster any ill feelings towards her, because she’s such a light and maybe Connor would see that too. As he did when they were together.

You’re too busy losing yourself in a sea of self pity that you don’t notice Charlotte's attempts to snag your attention nor other things at first, your illegitimate fears getting the best of you but as your posture stoops, your eyes floating everywhere around the busy fair that it pauses on Connor’s figure. Once immersed in conversation, he appears distracted, indifferent somehow as his attention wanders, wanders over to you as his line of sight floats over to you from time to time as the conversation stretches on. At first, you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, feeding into delusions that’ll soothe your pity party, but at some point, he holds your gaze, giving Amelia a pat on the back before he’s jogging over to where your friendship group is, not even uttering a word as he slots himself between you and Owen.

“What was that about?” Quinn just has to ask.

“Oh, Amelia just wanted to catch up,” he sounds distracted, his mind elsewhere but you don’t dare to indulge, your sight directed elsewhere as you grip onto the plush teddy bear as if it were a lifeline. “She says hi, by the way.”

You don’t do much listening after that, tuning out all the colours and sounds of the fair as you ride the highs and lows of what your life has become.

A sense of urgency plagues you from that day forth, a hurriedness in your actions as your anxieties get the better of you, going from lounging around in day old pyjamas covered in crumbs and mystery stains to getting a head start on your master’s personal statement and running every errand you’ve been procrastinating. Your parents swear you’ve become a different person - venturing outside the house before noon to visit the bank to change your address or go get your car serviced. Perhaps seeing Connor with Amelia was the jump start you needed to stop relishing in instant gratification, distracting yourself from facing any sort of music that pertained to the future and all its question marks. You still hang out with the others, more so Charlotte as you spend a few afternoons at the lake with one another, feet dangling into the water as she updates you on her adventures with Jack.

It’s the first time someone’s pursued her with such sincerity and charm that she’s hesitant about his authenticity. And yet from the sounds of it, Jack doesn’t mind one bit and shows his patience as they get to know each other, the smitten man taking your best friend on dates that further solidify their connection. You couldn’t be any happier for your best friend, this kind of treatment a long time coming, all of which you express just to see her blush and dive into the cold lake water to avoid further talks. You chase after her, teasing her mercilessly as the thoughts still linger at the back of your mind - your own sentiment with regards to Connor and what has come from the change of heart.

Emotional anguish and so much fear you’re not sure what to do with yourself. It takes a week of mulling things over, his missing presence due to off-season hockey training for you to make up your mind, peeling into his driveway and hiding your apprehension behind a strained smile as he greets you at the door. You preoccupy every bit of silence with running chatter, because you don’t want to hear yourself think, a multitude of topics discussed over vodka pasta you make together before you’re finding your way into his bedroom, the early evening sky greeting you as he flicks on his buttermilk bedside lamp.

He brings out his guitar, the same one you gifted Connor two years ago at the height of his newly-found hobby and plucks the strings, creating a melody you compel yourself to relax into, somehow ending up sandwiched in between him and the guitar as he directs your fingers to play one of your favourite songs, just because.

Apparently, your shaky hands don’t make for good playing material.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, you cold or something?” notes Connor, his looming presence over your body sending you into overdrive, your skin feverish and mind imploding from overwork.

“This is different.” you annouce, because it is. Unlike times before, it didn’t mean as much to be alone in his bedroom with him, getting glimpses into the life he’s lived and who he is as a person through all his possessions. You could handle the casual intimacy - the soft spoken whispers, the unprovoked kindness, the skin to skin contact that didn’t send your heart into a series of flutters. Now, all you can do is bat an eyelash, many at that, and this you must make known. For the selfish reasons you can think of.

“What d’ya mean?” he mumbles, clearly distracted and known the wiser to his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps rising against your skin as your body grows rigid against his.

So acutely aware of your proximity, of the bursting feelings that thud at the confinement of your chest, your thoughts scatter like glass. “This, Connor. Being like this…with you.”

That strikes a chord with Connor, his motions ceasing altogether as his hands drop from the guitar and you’re forced to face the music. Sink your teeth into this undeniable truth that’s followed you all these years and you’ve been too blind to see. Confront the holy truth that maybe there was more divine work intertwined in your story with Connor, that maybe the universe wrote you two as one heart as opposed to two. That, as the summer days ticked by, the sun seeping into your skin, your love grew for Connor like molasse - slow and thick and palpable that once you were aware of its existence, that’s all that consumed you. Coated in his syrupy love, an endless desire.

You’re facing your best friend in spite of the hellish screams in your mind to play this off as some random mood swing, a joke even, because laughter follows you two everywhere, right? But, you know. Know better than anybody else that Connor knows you, like the back of his hand. Sees right through any charade you may jester him with, so any attempts to divert the conversation are as pointless as anything. Your confession starts and ends here.

A flicker of concern mixes in the dark of his eyes, hands clasped together with a crease in between his eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”

A full body sigh draws out of you, shoulders sagging and back curving, your hands casting aside the acoustic guitar with caution. You’re back to staring at each other, in the silence of the night, caged in between four walls that burn your eyes white as you once again grapple with your innumerable feelings and the finality of it all - this longing.

“Don’t you think,” you croak, question in your eyes as you look up at Connor, stifling any rise in emotion within you. “-this summer has been different?”

His sage eyes cast away, pink lips settling into a pout as he racks his brain for whatever answer you may be looking for. “No? Maybe? I don’t know.”

He adds on, looking back at you as he leans closer without fault. “Is this because it’s your last summer before you graduate?”

Connor’s got a point. When you’re trying to kid yourself into not having romantic feelings for your childhood best friend, your mind wanders to places where it has more control. Plans for after college, what modules you’ll be taking, what societies you want to join, what last things you’d like to cross off your list before you’re forced into full fledged adulthood. It’s a thought that lingers ever so presently at the back of your mind, like background music stuck on loop, but ultimately, Connor has missed his mark and you tell him so.

“Partially, but,” you wet your lips, struggling to find the words again as the burn against your cheeks proves to be insufferable. “This is what’s been on my mind more than anything else.”

Your point is accentuated by your single finger gesturing between the two of you, a poor attempt at best to foster some sort of confession of your romantic feelings. Because it's so scary, lending these thoughts your voice because they become much more real, spoken aloud for his ears to hear and his heart to see. For his heart to feel and what then? What awaits you once your confession reaches his ears? The unknown is scary, chilling to the bone and you wish to shroud yourself from it as long as there’s daylight.

There’s a beat before you hear Connor’s voice again. “What about us?”

Hearing him vocalise those three words makes the moment so real, so vividly intense that it sends chills down your spine and slows your laboured breath, the thump of your heart all you can hear aside from the ticking clock against Connor’s bedside table. It ticks and ticks, signifying the curtain call to your summer long charade.

“Connor, I..” It’s as if the magnitude of your feelings have manifested into some beast, with razor-like fangs and sharp claws that slash at the confinements of your chest, the words of love dying on the tip of your tongue as the moments hangs over your head like a gauntlet. You’ve never been so scared before, driven nearly to tears as your desperate hands grip at the material of your hoodie to ground yourself in some sort of way whilst you try to push yourself. To see this through until the very end and leave the destination unknown.

“We’ve been friends our entire lives. I don’t know anything beyond being with you and I never wanted to, and I feel like that means so much more than it did years ago,” his eyes are on you, undivided attention served on a silver platter that you turn away from, for its sincerity and shine. “Maybe, I did know deep down inside what I know now all those years ago. Like when I cried and begged for you not to leave the Pas. Or when you held my hand any chance you got when we were kids, or anytime you smiled at me really that let me know I always liked you. Maybe, even love you - I don’t know. But, what I do know is that I just couldn’t leave for Calgary without letting you know. Even if that means…”

You don’t have the heart to utter your next words, a dagger to the heart at even the possibility of losing your best friend and partner in crime. Perhaps, it isn’t worth saying - this whole grand love confession because this is a risk you’re not ready to face. However, despite your thundering heart against your bruised chest and however many times you’re second guessing yourself here, the weight lifted from your words is undeniable. An unspoken truth that had been set free, that needed to be set free - whatever the fallout may be.

A snicker snaps you out of your deep seated fears, your scattered daze settling on the view before you, one you had least expected. Connor, eyes cast away from yours as he huffs into his hands, a laugh you’re undecided where it derives from.

“…Are you laughing at me right now?” You feel awful for even asking such a ridiculous question. At the same time, you’ve just been as vulnerable as you’ve ever been in your entire life - some hesitancy is to be expected.

At your question, Connor’s huffs of delight cease and stares at you at alarm, realising his mistake. “God, no. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“You used to rub dirt on me, and now you're proclaiming your love for me,” an airy laugh puffs out of his moving chest, a mixture of disbelief and amusement painted amongst his chiselled features. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

He seems…happy? Relieved? You’re not really sure, but what you at least find peace in is that there’s no sunken look about him, no expression worn that conveys disappointment and hurt because that’s all you’d have to see to know where his heart lies.

“Good or bad?” you ask.

His eyes bounce back to yours, those same olive eyes you’ve spent years looking into, glimmer with a sparkle that you’ve yet to see and robs you of rational thinking as your heartbeat picks up the pace.

“Good,” he whispers, like it’s a secret for just the two of you - one that is small and fragile, but so special and cherished that it makes your heart squeeze. “Because, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Not by a long shot.”

You swear you could cry, burst like a dam and drown in your tears that overflow with such joy and relief because this is it for you. So right and settled, being where you’ve always meant to be - so loved and treasured by the one person who knows you better than yourself, someone who’s seen you at your most awkward and at your worst, and loves you because he has. Because he’s seen it all and wants to spend the remainder of his life doing so, a conscious choice he makes everyday because he loves you and you love him.

You’re unsure how you’ve ended up like this, limbs curled up in your lover’s lap as he cups your cheeks, rough thumb caressing the skin as his love shines through his gaze that blows his iris’ out of view. He looks so beautiful like this, unabashed and vulnerable, secure in love and what destiny holds for you. He looks at you as if you colour his skies and spin his world round and just like that, you lose yourself in him. Thread your fingers through his strands of umber brown and kiss him like you mean it. Kiss him long and hard, and with everything you have because it’s long overdue, so needed that you melt into him, lips overlapping as you taste destiny on his tongue.

The story of you and him, a tale as old as time.

#connor dewar x reader #connor dewar #connor dewar fic #cd24 #minnesota wild #toronto maple leafs #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #connor dewar fluff #dewey 2 #brandon duhaime #dewey 1 #dewey #residenthughes

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justkennadi · 7 months

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“Accidentally” sending Nerd!Armin a thirst trap🤭🥴

Notes: Sorry for slow updates but i’ve been busy with work and school is abt to start soon so it’s probably gonna get worse😭

Cw: nsfw, suggestive texting

- After a few weeks of hanging out and calling late at night of course you guys get comfortable with each other!

- School started getting serious as it was getting closer to mid terms so you and Armin stop calling each other so late.

- You kinda missed it ngl

- And so did he😭

- But you guys just stuck to the new routine of saying good night through text, maybe a “how was your day”.

- One day you just wanted to spice things up!

- Your poor smart boy had his nose in textbooks and notecards every day and you could tell he was just so stressed out from studying all day. He had such a strong work ethic he would forget to take breaks and relax his brain💔

- “Why do you study so much?? You could pass these exams with yo eyes closed!” You exclaimed.

- He just calmly responded with, “How do you think i got so smart to begin with?” And then he’d go back to read his books while you playfully rolled your eyes.

- So anyways you just wanted to cheer him up…

- Sooooo you “accidentally” send him a cute little mirror pic.

- The plan was to play it off like it was meant for your friend as you were “trying out” a new one piece you bought and wanted an opinion.

- Omfg i’m so sorry! You’d texted him. That was meant for someone else 😭😭

- Armin heard his phone go off next to him as he was starting his next group of flash cards.

- When he opened his phone to see the message he never felt his face so hot in his LIFE.

- He damn near got one of those anime nosebleeds.

- He never noticed…how fine you were…

- He was so lucky he met you. That was the moment he realized he had to have you. But not yet of course. He decided to play it off…

- Oh, it’s fine!😅 He replied and floored with a, You look nice…

- You smiled big at his response. You just knew he was blushing like crazy at this pic you sent him.

- Thank you, Min min😘❤️

- You’d spend time apologizing for interrupting

- Armin couldn’t stop stareing at your pic all night. He couldn’t think about anything else but you in that one piece. Armin never really felt this way about anyone before. You made him feel like he was going crazy.

- Yeah, he just had to make you his.

Notes: This has been in my drafts for like months 😭👋🏾 idk where to go from here right now tbh but here’s another continuation of my nerd armin series

#nerd armin #aot x black reader #armin x black reader #black reader #armin attack on titan #armin arlet x reader #armin x reader #armin imagines #nerd armin x black reader #armin x black !fem reader #x black fem reader #aot x reader #aot x poc!reader #nerd armin arlert

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wwbtsdty · 1 year

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What Makes You Sweat | 18+

Summary: You’re really getting tired of how much time your boyfriend spends in the gym when you have so little time together on his days off. So one day you decide to join him to see what really makes him sweat.

Rating: 18+

Genre: idol!au, smut, fluff

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader

Status: Oneshot

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Explicit language, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, smutty smut, sexual tension, big dick!jungkook, unprotected sex(wrap it before ya tap it!), oral sex, cocky!jungkook, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praising, dirty talk, creampie, rough sex, spanking, bondage, squirting, begging, cursing, fingering, biting, did I miss anything haha.

Author’s Note: This has been sitting in my drafts forever, mainly because I was so upset I lost all my edits to it one day. Sooo I’m just gonna release it, with the premise that its extremely rough because I can’t find it in my heart to edit it again. So here it is, take it for what it is.. a quickie, dirty, unedited short story haha.

This is all fictional.

You sigh deeply staring up at the ceiling in boredom, you had tired of playing games on your phone or scrolling social media an hour ago. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, 10:44 PM... he’d been gone for two hours. Just what the hell does he down there for so long?

Surely most people didn’t work out this long every single day, it seemed excessive and it was starting to get on your nerves. You know he promised to keep his washboard abs for ARMY, but surely he didn’t need to work out every damn day to maintain those bad boys.

Grabbing your phone again you sent off a quick text to him.

Did you fall off the treadmill? Are you seriously still working out?

You and Jungkook had been dating for over a year now what he did for so many hours every day in that gym was still a mystery. You had never been tempted to join him before, when he was finished with you for the night you could barely move, let alone go workout. Meanwhile he was the energizer bunny, ready to go again and again until you finally caved and told him to go work off some steam.

The past few days though you’d had to work late because of your bosses stupid mistake. So you weren’t able to get home in time to soothe the bunny, he was always off at the gym so you would pass out on the bed.

Tonight though you’d had to listen to one of your coworkers gossiping about their sex life with their new younger boyfriend. Which of course in turn, got you thinking about how much you happened to miss your boyfriends delicious body, anxiously waiting all day to get home to him.

So here you sat, waiting on his bed, Bam having had long since given up on waiting for his dad and crawling into his crate to go to sleep. Your phone chimed suddenly causing you to practically lunge for it.

I’m just getting started babe, don’t wait up. 😘

Just getting started? What the hell does that mean? What exactly has he been doing for that last two hours?

You groaned, rolling onto your stomach in frustration as you stared at the text on your phone.

Don’t wait up he says! I hardly get to see him anymore, not with working full time and him getting ready for his next comeback, it seemed like their time together was becoming less and less these days—yet all he wants to do is spend time in the gym!

Jumping off the bed you squared your shoulders as you raided the closet for a pair of leggings and a sports bra.

Fine, if he wanted to work out then you were going to join him, sure it was the last thing you felt like doing, but if it meant you could spend time together then so be it!

Jungkook had just finished up running for his cardio workout the last hour, pulling up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat that had accumulated on his face.

Now that cardio was done he could start on weights, he needed to work his lower body today since he did upper body yesterday. Then of course abs as always to finish off the workout.

Taking a swig from his water bottle, his attention diverted as the door swung open, you walked in wearing what he guessed could pass as workout clothes.

But really there wasn’t much there, he sure hoped you didn’t wear that shit in public to workout or else there was going to be a conversation later.

“Hey, what's up? I told you not to wait up, i’ll probably be a while still.” He eyed you suspiciously, you had never come to workout with him. Not that it ever bothered him, it was more of his thing and that was totally fine by him.

“Well... you spend so much time here, I thought I would see what you get up to for once. Maybe you could give me some pointers as well, I should probably workout more anyway. I’ve been stuck at a desk all week.”

You shrugged trying to act nonchalant, but your eyes gave you away as you took in his appearance. It wasn’t fair how beautiful this man was, even coated in sweat--no, not even, of course coated in sweat this man was absolutely sinful. All you could think about was stripping that shirt off his delicious body and raking your nails down his chest.

You bit your lip, rubbing your thighs together for some sort of relief. You weren’t sure just how long you stood there ogling your boyfriend, but it was obviously enough for him to take notice.

“Hmm... you want to work out?” He sauntered up to you, eyes darkening as he crowded you against the wall, hands coming up to rest on either side of your head behind you.

Your held your breathe as you took in the sudden change in his demeanor. This was the man you had come to know all too well every night, the one that bent your body to his will.

“I missed you, feels like I haven’t seen you in weeks,” You whispered, tucking a strand of his hair back behind his ear. He smiled brightly, bunny teeth on display as he cupped your cheek leaning down to kiss your forehead sweetly.

Stepping back, he booped your nose cutely with his finger. “I always miss you.” Sighing sadly, “When this comeback is done I promise we will take a vacation, just the two of us. We can spend every waking moment with each other. We don’t even have to leave the bed.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

God, You loved this man so much. How you had gotten so lucky to land Bangtan’s golden boy, he was anything and everything you could ask for in a boyfriend.

“I was about to start some weights, you wanna start with some cardio?” Just like that your tender moment was gone and Muscle bunny was back. How did he just flip a switch just like that, was it part of being an idol or something?

Huffing loudly, you made your way over to the treadmill he had just vacated, turning it on the lowest setting. You walked as slowly as possible, staring aimlessly at the little television blasting some random entertainment show before you. Behind you sounds of grunting and heavy weights clinking filled your ears as he began his workout again.

It was about 16 minutes later, according to the treadmill, when you had finally reached your breaking point. His grunts and groans were driving you crazy, you could hardly walk for fear the slick coating your core would drip down your legs.

Stopping the treadmill you spun around to find him doing sit-ups on the floor, each time he sat up he gave a soft grunt. You bit your lip as an evil plan hatched in your head.

Two could play this game.

You sashayed over to the rowing machine, plopping down loudly on the seat as you fastened your legs in. Wrapping your fingers around the handle to pull back fiercely, you let out a whisper of a moan. You saw his head swivel around towards you at the noise.

Ha, take some of your own medicine Kookie!

You smirked, continuing to pull on the rowing machine. Arching your back with each tug so your breasts thrust into the air alluringly.

His gaze zeroed in on the way your breasts proudly displayed as you rowed, suddenly his grey sweats felt all too tight. He knew you were purposely trying to rile him up, and it was working. But his competitive nature would never let him give him.

Plus, he was actually enjoying having you here with him for once, and he had to admit seeing you working out made him proud.

Not like you needed to work out, eyeing that perfect ass he loved so much. Having you ride him reverse cowgirl was one of his favorite positions, he loved watching that ass bounce up and down on his dick.

Reaching down to adjust his hardening length, he pulled his gaze from your body to refocus himself. At this rate he was going to lose this game you had decided to play and turn this into a whole other kind of workout.

You had quietly crept over his way once he went back to finishing his sit-up, the slight sway of your hips driving him to distraction once more. He stopped, arms behind his head as he laid back looking up at you suspiciously, “You done already?” He questioned, regarding you as a smirk lifted his lips.

You weren’t going to give in that easily, sure you’d been annoyed he hadn’t come over at your show earlier while rowing. You couldn’t miss him adjusting himself and the tent in his pants though. You were getting to him too. It was time to change tactics.

Throwing your leg over his waist you straddled his stomach, hands splayed out across his chest as you nestled your core above his hardening length. Your fingers sliding slowly down his chest to push yourself back to lay against his knees causing your breasts to jut out towards his face tauntingly. “Nope. Just taking a break…”

His brow raised quizzically, thrusting his hips off the floor bouncing you in the process to signal you should move. “Alright princess, well I just finished sit-ups… so how about you give me some motivation to finish my pushups?”

His hands encircled your waist when you didn't move, hoisting you up into the air like you weighed nothing. He let your body slide painfully slow down his until your feet touched the floor, “Lay down.” His voice held a hint of command forcing you to lay down where he indicated unbidden. You watched as he knelt down at your feet, hands moving to either side of your head, his body hovering above yours.

“Now be a good girl and stay still.”

You bit your lip at his deep voice, his face coming closer before moving past yours, his breathe tickling your ear.

“One.”

His whispered breathe across your ear sent a shot of arousal straight to your core, nipples suddenly standing for attention as he pulled back up.

Just as quickly he was pressing back down, this time you were more composed, your head swiveled around to nip at his earlobe.

“Two…” He groaned, pulling back with narrowed eyes.

The third time he decided to press his body flush against yours, hips rolling into your core for you to feel his now fully hard length.

You moaned loudly, frantically thrusting your hips up as he pushed up just as quickly. You glared up at that cocky bunny smile plastered on his face.

“Three.”

You'd had enough of this game.

You grabbed that taunt ass with both hands as he came down for the fourth push-up, rolling your hips seductively against his.

He growled, letting his body collapse atop yours in response. “Naughty girl. I told you to stay still, you can’t even obey one command? Am I going to have to tie you up so you don’t move?” His voice was pure sin in your ear, hands sliding slowly up your arms causing goosebumps in their wake, bringing them up above your head where he captured your wrists in one hand.

“So, we're done playing already? Just when the game was getting interesting...”

His right hand moved quickly down your stomach to cup your heat without warning. Your eyes flew open in surprise, arching your back sharply as you let out a groan of satisfaction at finally being touched, tugging desperately at his grip on your wrists to break free.

A soft moan escaped his lips, “So wet for me already? Does this pussy want to be filled so badly by my cock?” He trailed wet kisses down your neck, he bite the spot where your neck meets your shoulders quickly laving the tender spot with his tongue.

He sat back on his heels, admiring the way your breasts looked barely confined by your sports bra as your chest rose and fell rapidly. Taking your breasts in each hand to squeeze them together, dipping down to taking one of your nipples and then the other into his mouth through your sports bra, tongue circling it teasingly before biting playfully.

“Jungkook!” you gasped, hips thrusting against his hand in reflex, chasing some kind of friction. You could feel just how embarrassingly slick your panties and leggings had become at this point, providing barely any barrier.

Jungkook smirked, pressing the palm of his hand down hard against your clit through your leggings. "Is this what you wanted baby?"

Nodding frantically, "Yes! Yes! Please!!" You should be embarrassed at the way your hips followed his hand as he pulled back, but you were already past caring.

He released your wrists, sitting back on his heels as you whined at the lack of contact. Palming at his hardened bulge as he motioned to the bench behind you. "Go sit that pretty ass down on that bench."

Jumping up to obey, your body trembled in anticipation as you spread your legs displaying the large wet patch that has formed in the crotch of your leggings.

He quickly shed his shirt as he approached you, dropping to his knees between your thighs.

Your mouth watered as you admired that amazing body, eyes catching a drop of sweat dripping down his chest that you suddenly wanted to catch with your tongue. And those damn grey sweatpants, always showing just enough to drive you crazy. His hard dick filled them out so well now, you could practically feel it inside you already.

He made quick work of your leggings, peeling them down your legs. God you were practically soaking that bench already and he’d barely touched you.Grabbing your thighs to tug you down to the edge of the bench roughly. He admired your beautiful pussy for a minute, the material of your panties sticking to your lips making them practically transparent.

He slid his fingertip down your slit, pressing just the tip inside your pussy the material of your panties creating resistance from going in any further.

"All of this just for me? How long has my poor baby been suffering? If you’d just said you wanted to be fucked we could have ended this game quickly. But now I feel like making you wait… I won after all.” A smirk quirked his lips, leaning down to suck your clit into his mouth over the fabric.

“Fuck Jungkook!!” You squealed at the feeling of his mouth, the material of your underwear aiding the sensation. You slid your hand into Jungkook's hair, the other gripped onto the bench beneath you as you rolled your hips against his mouth.

Without removing his mouth from your clit, he grabbed your flimsy underwear tearing it off your body and flinging the offending material away. His mouth moving over your now bare pussy, tongue delving into your folds greedily.

You sobbed in relief, squeezing your thighs together at the sudden onslaught of pleasure that was almost unbearable.

Jungkooks digs his fingers into your thighs, keeping them open for his onslaught. "Ah Ah, don't hide from me." He quips smartly, sending a sharp smack to your pussy that causes you to jump, a whine escaping you at the stinging sensation as more arousal seeps from your lips.

He begins lapping at your clit teasingly, his fingers massaging your thighs as he enjoyed the whines escaping your lips.

“Kook, stop teasing!”

He takes your clit into his mouth once more, sucking strongly. At the same time slowly inserting one finger, curling it as he begins thrusting in and out of your sloppy cunt, rubbing that sweet spot each time.

You could already feel that familiar knot forming in your stomach and he’s barely touched you. Turned on beyond belief from their game earlier and not seeing him the past few days, or more specifically not seeing his cock.

"Tell me this isn't what you came down here for?" He remarks, pulling his digit from your pussy and bringing it up to his lips to taste you.

You screamed in frustration at the sudden emptiness, leaning up on your elbows as you regarded him between your legs not moving.

"Jungkook!" He just laughed at your situation, removing his finger with a pop from his lips, his tongue prodding his cheek. He reached down palming at his dick which had become so painfully hard. Your gaze followed his hand, jerking his length over his pants a few times in relief. He couldn’t wait to finally feel you wrapped so tightly around his cock, it had been so long, he was tired of using his own hand for relief. It was a poor excuse for that tight pussy he had come to love.

"Fine, okay! I came down to get fucked okay? I couldn't wait for you any longer… Jungkook! Please just fuck me already you idiot! I need to feel you!" you sobbed, throwing your arm over your eyes in embarrassment at your confession. Even after so many years you could feel embarrassment at how badly you wanted him at times.

He smiles all teeth at your confession, "Good girl, that wasn't so hard now was it? Did you really think I thought you wanted to work out? Unless you were referring to this workout." He motioned to himself with a cocky smirk, tongue running along his lower lip.

Before you could make a smart ass remark he plunged two fingers inside your pussy, thrusting them quickly in and out of you.

Shoving your sports bra up to reveal those beautiful pert nipples. Taking one into his mouth, his tongue lavishing attention on it as he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching you out for him.

"So fucking tight. How are you still so fucking tight!" He grunted, slipping a third finger inside of you.

You winced at the slight burn, your body already having forgotten the shape of his dick. As the burn ebbed, a delicious pleasure spreading in its place as your thighs quaked from the sudden orgasm approaching. Your hips thrusting in tandem with his fingers, chasing your high.

"Yes, Yes! Jungkook harder!!" You tugged at his dark locks, forcing his mouth harder against your breast.

He rubbed at your clit with his thumb, curling his fingers to continually hit your spot as he increased his speed. His fingers moving so fast you could barely keep up.

Suddenly you felt that cord snap inside of you, your back arching off the bench as you screamed out from your orgasm. A rush of liquid flooded Jungkook's fingers, spraying his chest as he dove down to taste your release. Tongue fucking your gaping hole as it quivered around his mouth, you tasted so fucking sweet he couldn't get enough of it.He pulled his fingers out to rub your clit as his tongue delved deeply inside of you prolonging your release.

"Ah, Jungkook no more.. please..."

He forced your thighs to wide as you tried closing them from the overstimulation, squirming away from his mouth. Your fingers tangled in his dark locks as you tugged at his head trying to stop him.

"I know you can, don't even think about stopping me."

He continued lapping at your sopping pussy, filling you with two fingers again as he sought that spot inside you.

You could feel the overstimulation already turning to pleasure again, moaning loudly as you thrashed on the bench with your fast approaching second release.

Jungkook sucked your clit into his mouth, fucking his fingers harder inside of you until you felt that damn break once more. "JUNGKOOK!!" you screamed his name loudly, black flashing behind your eyes as you squirted all over his face this time, your thighs shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.

You lay back panting as he removed his fingers, watching your gaping hole quiver at the emptiness. He licked his lips glancing down at your throughly fucked out face with satisfaction.

"Good girl, I knew you would do it." He sat back on his knees, chest glistening with your release. Standing up, he quickly kicked his sweats and briefs off, his cock springing to attention against his stomach. He wrapped his hand around his painfully hard length, sliding his fingers up and down a few times before his eyes caught on something in the corner.

You were so out of it, currently basking in your post release, you hadn't even noticed him move to the corner of the room. It wasn't until you felt something cold wrapping around your wrists that you startled to attention.

"What..?" you questioned, giving a measuring tug of your wrists to find them tied together with something.

"You were very bad tonight, trying to stop me from enjoying my prize earlier." He gave a sharp tug making sure your wrists were secured with the jump rope.

"So now your going to lay there and let me fuck you however I want." He whispered in your ear before standing up, he lifted your body up from the bench forcing you to now lay on your stomach.He eyed that beautiful ass now on display, delivering a harsh smack to your left cheek enjoying the red marring your skin.

You jumped at the sudden stinging of his hand, a new flush of arousal spreading throughout your body.

He knelt down at the end of the bench, adjusting some knobs. You suddenly found your feet leaving the floor at the same time the rest of your body leaned down closer to the floor. You felt incredibly vulnerable suddenly, ass up in the air, pussy quite literally on display for his viewing pleasure. You couldn't see where he was or what he was doing.

"Fuck, you're so perfect."

He eyed your position, having risen one side of the bench to lift your ass up to the perfect height, while the other was lowered for your comfort so you wouldn't be at a weird angle. He could see just how wet you were from this angle, your pussy dripping on the bench as your hole twitched with anticipation.

He ran his index finger through your slick, "Just for me."

You suddenly felt the head of his dick teasing your core causing you to thrust yourself back against him, you wanted to feel him filling you up so badly. But instead he kept teasing you, tapping his dick against your clit as he pressed a hand down against your lower back to hold you in place delivering a shark smack to your ass.

"Stay still." He growled under his breathe, pushing forward until the thick head of his cock sinks inside you, just as quickly pulling it out.

"Jungkook!" You screeched, wriggling against your confines in frustration, you feel a new wave of wetness seeping from your pussy. "Please, Jungkook, please fuck me! I need your cock.."

His fingers spread out across your ass, massaging at the reddened cheeks. "You look so amazing like this, bared just for me, pussy just waiting to be filled." He pulled your cheeks apart, groping as he watched the way your pussy twitched, admiring the mess you made of the bench already. He strokes his cock once before lining it up with your heat, coating it in your cum before suddenly thrusting forward sinking balls deep inside of you.

"Fuck!" you screamed out, suddenly feeling so full as he sunk so deeply inside you. You swear you could feel him all the way to your stomach. You clenched around him inside you, wanting to keep him inside.

He slowly pulled out until just the tip was left inside you, letting you feel every ridge and vein before harshly thrusting back in as your ass jiggled with the motion.

Suddenly his thrusts sped up, hips plunging into you as the bench jerked beneath you at the strength of his motion. Loud moans left your mouth as your body fought to keep up with his pace. Pleasure wracks your body, fighting against the orgasm already approaching.

He watched your ass bounce against his hips as he took your hips in his hand, forcing your body down to meet his thrusts. Your orgasm hits you as soon as he presses his thumb down on your clit, thighs shaking as your body releases for the third time tonight.

Jungkook continued thrusting through your orgasm, chasing his release as you felt him swell even bigger flooding your insides with his cum. He gave a few more lay thrusts as his cum started leaking out between your bodies soaking the bench below. He slowly pulled out from the warmth of your body, cupping your heat to keep his cum inside.

“Don’t let even a drop escape.” He commanded moving your hand to replace his as he went to slid his boxers and work out shorts back on.

You squeezed your legs together trying in vain to keep his cum from running down your legs as you to went to find your underwear and leggings he had thrown haphazardly.

He gave your ass a firm smack once you had finished getting dressed, pushing you towards the door.

“Now be a good girl and let me finish my workout.” He flashed you a cocky grin before heading back over to the weights.

Your jaw dropped at his request, “Seriously?!?”

Remember to like, reblog and follow if you enjoyed! 💋

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kissesfrombangtanatnight · 4 months

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Tribal Chief

❤️❤️Author's Note: For those of you who are unaware, I am a co-author for my sister over on Wattpad so with her permission this story has been requested to post on my Tumblr as well. Oh, and this was inspired by the recent backstage segment between Roman and Nick Aldis. My boy is not playin' with the Tribal Chief. xD Anyways, Enjoy!

I do not own the pictures used in this, credit to the owner(s).

Warnings: not really, other than some vulgar language lol

Since being promoted to the general manager position on Smackdown, you must say that you have made a great impact on the show. Ratings are booming; endorsements are rolling in, and you were not only showing your powerful role as the WWE Women's World Champion but also as a top manager for the business. Sure, it meant more responsibilities, but you were more than up for the challenge, and everyone loved you.

Well, everyone except the Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns, who you've bumped heads with on several occasions since being drafted to Smackdown. The 6'3, tanned Samoan hated that you never acknowledged him and two, you were trying to tell him what to do....no one tells Roman Reigns what to do.

*Live Backstage Segment*

You've been summoned by the arrogant asshole Chief himself as told to you by Paul Heyman. Said that you and his Tribal Chief needed to talk business. You inwardly roll your eyes, knowing that this most likely had to do with tonight's booking. You smooth out your dress and had to admit to yourself you looked too damn good. Although you weren't a face, nor a heel either, the crowd cheered for you as the camera panned to you:

Not bothering to knock, you barge into the Bloodline's locker room, adjusting your championship title on your shoulder. The crowd began booing loudly as the camera switched to Roman sitting on the couch, while Solo stood behind him, Jey and Jimmy sitting across from him on another couch. All conversation stopped when you walked in. You strut over to Roman, standing off to the side as you fold your arms over your slightly exposed chest.

"Good evening gentlemen...I've been summoned." You say in a mocking tone. Roman takes his eyes off of his phone before eying you up and down; eyes roaming over your body a little longer than he'd admit.

You looked so beautiful. So sexy.

"......Leave us." He says in a smooth, yet deep tone.

All four men glance at their Tribal Chief before nodding. They exit quietly leaving you and Roman to yourselves. The tension in the room was apparent as you took your championship and placed it on the table beside you. You cross your beautiful brown leg over the other, noticing how Roman eyes them before subtly licking his lips. He can't help but be amused.

It's been a while since you two have talked being that for about three years, you've been over on Raw. Though Raw is no stranger to random Bloodline attacks on the Raw superstars, which you've witnessed firsthand. Long story short, you used to be in a three-person faction, you being the only woman of the three. Your two members challenged the Usos for their undisputed tag team titles and the Tribal Chief did not like that. He didn't like anyone disrespecting his family and when you did, you were dealt with. Unfortunately, the Usos ambushed your members after a match and put both men on the shelf. They haven't been active for over 6 months now. Hence why WWE decided to push a storyline between you and Roman to further your hate for one another.

"How do you know I wasn't talking to you?" He challenged.

"With all due respect, I wouldn't give a damn if you were." The crowd oh's loudly as Roman lets out a humorless laugh as you give him a coy smile. He straightens up his posture, reminding you of just how big he was compared to you.

"Ha, okay." He rests his elbows on his legs as he rubs his beard. A habit you've come to know of his. His brows furrowed and his face twisted slightly as he sat there thinking. "You booked my cousins, the Usos versus Sami & K.O.?" You sit up slightly as you nod.

"I did."

"And you booked Solo vs LA Knight?" He asks not looking at you. You eye his side profile as you again nod.

"I did." He shakes his head nodding.

"Hm........those are some pretty good ideas, but you know what would've been an even better idea? If you would've run that all by me first." You snort as you look away momentarily.

Just who the hell does he think he is? He thinks just because he and his family are the top superstars in the company, everyone has to bow down and kiss their damn feet?

"You see...I'm the Tribal Chief...the Head of the Table, everything goes through me. And I need you to understand that. Adam Pearce did." He states his voice smoother than silk and deeper than the ocean, but he still don't know who he's dealing with.

"Is that right?" He nods.

"Well Mr. Reigns, sorry to break it to you but, I'm not the Usos, Solo Sikoa nor am I the Wiseman Paul Heyman. Or anyone else in this locker room for that matter. I'm the general manager of Smackdown. Which means...I tell you what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. Which also means, I'M the Head of the Table. And if I'm the Head of the Table....that means, I'm in control of who sits at the table and what you eat and when you eat. I feed you now." You say smartly as the crowd ooo's loudly.

Roman runs an annoyed hand down his face as his face twists in anger. Just who exactly did you think you were talking to? Sure stature-wise, you had nothing on him, but apparently, all that power has gone to your head.

You stand to your feet along with Roman as he is more than annoyed. The corner of his mouth twitched angrily. Oh, you got under his skin. You take your championship and place it back on your shoulder as you smirk at Roman. Damn, he looked sexy as fuck angry.

"Trust...you don't wanna be on my bad side Mr. Reigns." You say as you trace the outline of his belt that sat on his waist like the king he was.

You were both standing so close to each other, you were almost chest to chest. Damn, he smelled good. He lightly bites his lip as you do so, trying not to break character. He couldn't help but find you attractive. All of this confidence you oozed was going straight to his dick. He prayed no one could see the boner building in his pants. You keep this up, he was gonna tell them to cut the cameras, get the hell out, and fucked you silly on this damn couch.

"Wanna know why?" You ask batting your lashes up at the man.

"Why?" He says in almost a deep whisper. You smirk as you tap your manicured nail on his championship.

"Because...I'll make it hard for you." You say as the crowd goes crazy.

You definitely meant that in more ways than one and he seemed to have caught on. You back away slowly as you smile at him innocently.

"Now! If you'll excuse me, I have a show to run. Maybe we can get to know each other a little better. Enjoy the rest of your night Mr. Reigns." The crowd cheers as you strut away.

Roman was going to learn one way or another, you were the authority...not him.

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #wwe smut #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns x black reader

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chimini3 · 4 months

Text

Acouasm

Acouasm (n.) a ringing noise in your head

Synopsis: When your relationship with Kim Taehyung goes public, a walk down the red carpet turns south when you are attacked.

Notes: I had so much to write in this fic but it ended up being sub par and I wanna release it on V’s birthday, so I’ll probably work on another one similar to this situation. I even had another draft but I thought it was too gorey and violent 🥲 Anyways HAPPY BIRTHDAY V! Enjoy reading and thank you so much for liking my past oneshot Saudade.

Word Count: 11.9k

Your relationship with BTS’ Kim Taehyung had a long story.

You came from the same highschool and had been acquainted before, though you hadn’t interacted apart from a few glances in the halls. He was a few years older than you and Korean Arts High School was populated with soon to be popular faces, so you didn’t expect him to remember much about you. However, that didn’t stop you from having a massive crush on him as he seemed to be way different from his fellow BigHit trainee, Jimin.

Taehyung was more reserved and usually kept to a close knit of friends during school hours, though everyone seemed to know him and he knew everyone. He didn’t have any official relationships with anyone during highschool, yet it wasn’t like he was coined a loser. He was oh so much your type, though your crush on him didn’t last long after he graduated.

You knew he debuted in a boy group with his friend Jimin, and that was as far as you knew about his whereabouts. You didn’t have time to worry about him when you were already facing some difficulties in your own life at that time.

You were picked up by a more trustable agency in your third year of highschool. They were adamant on debuting a girl group and you were determined to be a part of that, so you trained harder than you have ever trained, worked harder than you’ve ever worked, and you finally got your pay off when you debuted three years after.

It was 2017 and your debut went smoothly. You weren’t an instant flop, though you weren’t an instant pop either. However, with enough work in producing three albums for your first year, you managed to come through and win the Mama 2017 Best New Artist Award.

Winning an award and enjoying your time performing songs and watching the other idol groups perform in the 2017 Mnet Asian Music Awards also meant that you would make a few new friends during the event. Your group had to switch seats often during the first half, so you had a lot of interactions with other groups. Coincidentally, landing seats right in front of a particularly cheery idol group for the rest of the night.

“Bangtan Sonyeondan! Congratulations!” The woman speaks onto the microphone as the group of boys behind you cheered and gathered into a group hug before they all started making their way out to the stage, and a specific pair of bright eyes catches yours as he passes by. Kim Taehyung.

You didn’t hold back a smile when you realized it was his group who had won a daesang. You clapped your hands even louder to congratulate him as he bows to you and your group and fixes his blonde hair that was held back by a cloth headband.

Later that night when a message from him surprised you. It turns out a director had forwarded your KakaoTalk to him after he asked, and he had made the time to message you despite the fact that they should be celebrating after their win by now.

A few messages at night had turned into friendly calls when no one was around. It was damn obvious that he was interested in you and you couldn’t say that your highschool crush on him had gone away after all these years. He was charming and he understood the struggles of being an idol.

When you and your bandmates would fight then he would drop anything to message or call you to listen to you vent. When he was having a particularly rough time with his schedules, he made sure that you would know and yet still made time to check up on you. Both of you would even be preparing for a comeback at the same time, and yet both of you supported each other through all of it. He was a rock you could lean on and you were an ear for him to rant to.

Soon after, you started hanging out with each other in your free time. It wasn’t a date or anything of the sorts. He just so happens to want to buy something when you would go on errands. He would joke that a popular idol like you shouldn’t be grocery shopping alone despite the fact that he was in fact more popular than you, though you never held jealousy over that fact. You were actually proud of him and his group after you learned of their earlier hardships, and you were even prouder when he would vent to you about their contract problems early 2018.

You two would try new coffee spots together and even watch the new Marvel movies together. Taehyung was certain that Doctor Strange was his favorite Marvel superhero because of his amazing cape, and didn’t hide that fact when he went on an interview in LA that asked him about it. You two even commented on each other’s interviews from time to time since you were both learning English and you two found it helpful to learn from each other.

And don’t start about how you couldn’t take your eyes off of him during Mama 2018, not when you two were on a call the night before he got his hair colored and you sent him a picture of the brightest pink you could see on Google to dare him into changing his hair that same hue. It was a funny joke, yet he called you the night after with the same hue on his hair. You would watch the American movie Trolls together through the call that night and his nickname on KakaoTalk would be changed for the very first time to ‘Poppy Imposter’ alluding to the pink haired Troll in the movie.

After a year of steadily getting closer and calling each other friends, he finally confessed to you. You knew he liked you and he knew that you knew he liked you, yet it still seemed like your heart was palpitating out of your chest. He didn’t kiss you. He simply stated a fact and said that he wanted to court you, and God did you fall for him even harder.

When he asked you out on a first date, he also asked for your parents’ permission. He made sure to make it known that he was serious about you and you were sure that this man couldn’t do anything more to make you fall for him more.

He was such a romantic. He made sure everything was done how it should be. He made sure to pick you up for your date with a bouquet of flowers for you and your mother. He made sure to greet your parents by the front door. He assured your father that he would keep you safe and take you home by your curfew. Despite the fact that you were a full-grown adult and had your own apartment to go home to. He opened the door of his car for you and he pulled the chair of the fancy restaurant for you. He was a true gentleman, and it didn’t take more than five months for you to answer him.

Both your companies knew of your affairs. Taehyung wasn’t exactly quiet about you and you can’t say no to him when he would ask you to go on a late night walk with him whenever you were in the same city. Your companies would help payout any media networks that saw you two in your public dates, though that didn’t stop other idols from gossiping about your relationship. It was getting harder for them to contain you two especially when he went on longer promotion stints outside Korea, and your appearance near his apartment anytime BTS arrived in Korea didn’t go unnoticed. You were two lovers deeply in love, and it got worse during Mama 2019.

“You’re up in ten minutes ladies!” A stage director yells to the hallway over the chaos of staff around us. You and your group were about to enter the dark backstage to prepare for the penultimate performance of the evening, right before BTS.

You had seen your boyfriend and his group leave the artist area earlier, though it seemed like they weren’t going to the waiting rooms directly. You just hoped he could watch your performance on his phone. Despite already seeing each other’s performances during rehearsals.

“Wait! Don’t go up yet! The backstage is still not ready!” Another staff member yelled as an older member tried to make a move to get inside the backstage.

You sigh as the crowded and loud surroundings begin to make you nervous. You could feel sweat gathering on your forehead as a makeup artist tried to dry it down. How long were they going to announce the awards?

The makeup artist by your side leaves to fix up your other members and you take the opportunity to find something in the hallway to keep your attention on. The more you could distract yourself from the chaotic environment the better, so you looked down both sides of the hallway and watched props and staff pass by.

There in the busy and harshly lit hallway was your messy haired boyfriend with a bright red cardigan, that he specifically wore for you to notice him in the crowd of idols, push past the crowd to look for you. His bandmates seemed to get inside their own waiting room to prepare whilst Jimin and Jungkook waited by the door to watch him find his way to you. His overgrown and curled hair was doing nothing to help him find you, though once his eyes met yours at the end of the hallway, you could feel a smile creep onto your cheeks.

“Hey!” Taehyung greets as he walks a few more steps to stand in front of you. He brushes his hair aside and shows you his warm brown eyes, void of any colored contact lenses. His smile was bright as you notice sweat on his forehead.

“Good luck out there. You’re going to kill it, I swear.” Taehyung cheers as you smile at him and nod. He reaches to hold both your hands as you only realize that they were shaking when his gentle and steady ones encapsulates them.

“I should be the one calming you down. You have five songs to do!” You say with a chuckle as he chuckles with you and brings your hands to kiss its knuckles. His lips hover a little longer over your left ring finger, though you don’t notice.

“I perform five songs, but I’m not the popular worldstar that South Korea votes as number one on the most beautiful female artists.” Taehyung says with a shrug as a more boisterous laugh comes out of you.

“Okay, and you talk as if you aren’t internationally known for a handsome face.” You throw back as Taehyung rolls his eye and lets go of one of your hands to throw his hair out his face and show you one nasty pimple that had been growing on his forehead. He had actually been pulling back his dermatologist and facial appointment, so that he could do both of them with you. He wanted to keep your dates ‘unique’ he says.

“Don’t show that around here Tae! You’re going to get exposed!” You scolded as he laughed and shook his head to glance at the even more incriminating position you both were in. Closely standing next to each other with your hands held together and both your eyes shimmering with that profound love. If someone was to take a picture to expose you two then could they send it to him too because he wants to take this moment and make it his phone’s lock screen.

“Taehyung! You have to get ready!”

“Y/N! We can enter the backstage already!”

Both your bandmates say at the same time, though neither of your eyes fall to look away from each other.

“I love you. Be careful in performing and don’t be nervous. You’re amazing and always will be.” Taehyung says as his soft hands grab hold of your jaw to direct your lips to his. The kiss was soft and ended quickly, though the energy and ease it gave you was a pill that made you feel like you could do everything you put your mind to.

“I love you too. Be careful in your performance too. I know you’ll do great already. I might miss the first part of it though, since they won’t let us out immediately after.” You pouted as Taehyung chuckled and pecked a kiss on your forehead whilst rubbing your shoulder to assure you that he didn’t mind.

“I can’t even watch yours live. I have to watch it in the waiting room, but I’ll make sure to cheer for you just as much. We’ll watch the replay later on the TV anyways. My place and some good takeout?” Taehyung proposes as you were always welcome to a night at his place.

“We’ll see if you aren’t blackout drunk from the celebrations.” You chuckled as you were slowly inching away from your lover. You can hear your leader call out to you multiple times already and your manager was coming down the hall, so you really had to close this off.

Thankfully, Taehyung only laughed and let you go. He even waved to you as you disappeared backstage. He wasn’t going to get drunk tonight, perhaps tipsy, but he would much rather remember a night with you than drink. He wasn’t much of an alcohol fan anyways. A glass of wine with you seemed much more his taste.

And that was what ended up happening. The two of you sprawled out on his sofa at six in the morning. Takeout food littered the coffee table along with glasses of wine and a replay of your MMA performances.

After the event, the two of you parted ways to go to separate afterparties for a few hours before you both excused yourselves and got to Taehyung’s apartment. You two had laughed over some funny playbacks that you missed during the event, and you celebrated on your own two ways.

Taehyung had brought you out to his balcony when he saw the sun rising. He felt like a true winner as he watched you bury yourself in his hoodie under a thick blanket on his balcony’s couch. The silence engulfing you two as sleep ate away at your high. Events like the Mnet Asian Music Awards and Melon Music Awards always had your sleeping schedules messed up, though he didn’t mind. How could he mind when the award shows were the reason why he had seen your beauty in the first place.

He thinks that even if you weren’t there in MAMA 2017 then he would have still fallen in love with you some other way. He believes that in different dimensions he still finds a way to find you and love you. He always will, and there was no universe out there that Kim Taehyung existed without you.

“Hey… look at me.” Taehyung breaks the silence as you turn to face him. The sky was only beginning to get lighter, though you were both still enclosed in darkness and the warm lights he had around his balcony.

“I would have never thought that the sophomore I saw in the hallways during break would have me wrapped around their finger in five years time. I would have never thought that the all-rounder of the girl group who won best new artist in MAMA 2017 would have me asking multiple staff members for her number. But what I now know is that I love this sophomore and I love this all-rounder. I love you. I love you so much, and I know for a fact that there is no one else I could love this much. Kim Taehyung in other realities always falls in love with Y/L/N Y/N and I don’t need to be Doctor Strange to know that. So…” Taehyung pauses as he stands up and grabs a box from his sweatpant’s pocket.

You were staring at him in shock and awe as you processed his words whilst trying to process his movements. You two were too young to get married. He knew that and you two had jokingly discussed that, so what the hell was he doing?!

“I’m not proposing. Don’t worry.” Taehyung chuckles as he bends both his knees to crouch on the floor and presents you with a cream box. He opens it to reveal two gorgeous Bvlgari Couple Rings. Both were of the color silver, though one was littered with gems and the other was plain.

Taehyung places the box on the table in front of the couch as he takes the ring littered with gems and softly reaches for your hand just like earlier. He takes your left hand and kisses the knuckle right above your ring finger as he looks up at you with doe eyes. The sun’s rays appeared higher up the horizon now and its soft hues colored his face perfectly.

“I want you to take this promise ring because with this you hold the promise of my heart forever loving yours. All my beauty and imperfections. My tight schedule and long rants. My overly romantic and cringey actions and my eyes that look for you in every crowd.” Taehyung says and a stinging sensation catches up to your eye.

“It will also keep your finger warm until the time I propose to you and marry you, so… will you—“ Taehyung’s slight joking and following question was cut off by your voice cracking. He looked back up to you after eyeing your bare finger and you had tears in your eyes. His eyes immediately fogging as it copies yours.

“Yes. Yes, Tae.” You nod your head to help rid your eyes of tears as Taehyung slips the silver ring through your ring finger and a happy tear slides down his cheek.

“And you, Taehyung. I want you to keep this promise ring until the time I marry you because God knows I’ll save up for a really expensive ring.” You joke as Taehyung laughs boisterously. You reach out for his left hand and take the remaining silver ring.

“I love you so much, baby. I’ve always loved you.” You say as you slid the ring through his fingers and something in your heart locks with security. It was as if life was completed with a simple ring even if it was just a promise ring.

You two had tear stains on your cheeks from happiness and Taehyung immediately stood up, farring you along with him, and brought you in for a deep and passionate kiss on the lips. His lips soft against yours as it held so much love for one another.

When you two parted you simply rested each other’s foreheads against one another as the sun fully rose from slumber. The sun’s light encapsulates the two of you in its beauty and peace. If only someone could take a picture of this moment right now…

Everything changed after these leaks. Both your management team had reached the agreement to put some space between the two of you to avoid any more evidence that could support the strong claim of your relationship. This meant lesser visits to Taehyung’s compromised apartment and lesser events where your group and BTS could have any interactions.

You barely saw Taehyung now and it felt like you had been thrusted back in time to when you were both getting to know each other and only calling and texting each other at night. Back then it felt like the right amount of time to spend with him, but now it felt too little. You missed him and not being able to see each other for months even when you were both in the same city hurts. You felt so close, yet so far.

BTS had also started growing internationally and Taehyung was spending more time abroad. Especially with their Map of The Soul world tour. You had your world tour too, but you two always made the effort to see each other once a month at most. Now, you barely saw each other in three months.

You didn’t understand why they needed you two to be separated after the rumors. There were always rumors in the Kpop world and they had always managed to payout news outlets, so why this ridiculous rule now? It was making you more and more frustrated by each meeting that you asked them to stop.

It all came to a breaking point in late September 2020. It had been ten months and the BTS world tour had ended in September, yet Taehyung and you hadn’t even seen each other since the summer. You were sick and tired of it and your latest comeback failing to reach the charts had stressed you out immensely.

“You know the question I’m about to ask.” You said coldly as your management team didn’t spare you a glance. Your general meeting had ended and though the other members and staff were still in the same room you didn’t stop yourself from speaking your mind.

“And you know what the answer is to it always.” Your lead manager says as you close your eyes to stop any tears from falling down your cheeks.

You were exhausted. You were exhausted from not making it to the charts and feeling as though all your hard work had turned out to be a failure, and you knew that perhaps a small break to be with Taehyung could fix you up nicely. A cuddle and a kiss could boot you right up to start producing and writing songs again. His touch could ease all your sore muscles and his voice humming songs to you could free your ears from the annoying buzz in your ear. A buzz that you think came from the amount of time you spent sampling beats in the studio, and then listening to the same beats during dance practice. Your head was a mess and you could only hear music through a broken filter.

“It’s been ten months…” You say quietly, though the founder of the company abruptly stands up and slaps his hand on the table.

“We can’t risk it!” He sounded angry as his loud voice shushes everyone.

“All of you! We can’t risk it, and you better listen before I put all of you on a dating ban!” He threatens as collective anger boils between all of you girls. You knew that each and every one of you had committed relationships, so there was no way in any universe would you agree to a dating ban.

“What the hell?! You can’t do that so abruptly! What’s really going on? Why is everyone so tense?!” Your leader speaks up as all staff members quiet down and the room is filled with silence. The clock on the wall could be heard ticking and if you really listened in, you would hear your own patience decreasing with each click.

“We’re nearing bankruptcy, okay?! Your album flopped, we’re losing sponsors, and I can’t afford paying out the media for your issue, okay?!” Your boss snaps as he seems to be on the verge of breaking down.

All your group members were at the same amount of shock as you were, though every

“How much time do we have?” Your leader asks as your boss breathes in a heavy sigh.

“6 months at most. We’re reducing staff and we can push for one more studio album. If it doesn’t chart then we’re done. I’m sorry.”

You left the meeting that evening with tears in your eyes and your head feeling agitated. How could they keep this very important news from you and the girls?! This was your job and your future. You had the right to know what was internally happening. Now, all of you had to give your best for the new comeback or else you would be left jobless.

This fury of emotions in you was getting overwhelming and as soon as you arrived in your apartment you called Taehyung for some comfort. Perhaps you could even see each other tonight. A good takeout dinner and a few kisses and cuddles could fix you right up for the new comeback.

��Hey babe, I’m at a shoot right now.” Taehyung answers the phone as you nodded and mentally noted that he would probably be called to hang up on you at any moment.

“Hey…What time do you end?” You asked meekly before you cleared your throat and leaned on your kitchen counter with a glass of water on your other hand.

“Ten or eleven. Why?” Taehyung seemed to be moving on the other side as you sigh. Late dinner would be fine, as long as you were with him, right?

“I was wondering if we could have some dinner at either of our places. I’ve had a bad day and I miss you.” You say truthfully as you closed your eyes and hold the tears that want to push past your eyelids.

“I’m sorry to hear that baby, but I don’t think it would be good for us to see each other right now. Management—“

“Please Tae. I need you.” You interrupted him as a sob coursed through your throat. You felt pathetic for asking for your boyfriend’s attention when you knew how busy the industry is during this time of the year, but you just heard your dreams are in danger and you needed someone you could vent to.

“Baby… I think it would be better if we follow our mana—“

“God! Do you not want to see me?!” This unexpected rage filled you as you began to see red behind the tears that dripped down your cheeks. Your apartment felt too hot. The heat made you agitated. You wanted one thing and the world couldn’t even give you that.

“You know it’s not like that.” Taehyung’s small voice sounded hurt from behind the phone’s speaker, but it enraged you more knowing your hurt was hurting him. You couldn’t do one thing right, couldn’t you? No. How dare he act hurt when you doubt he even fights for you in their meetings. It was always you asking to see him and he would remind you of both your management team’s warnings.

“Really?! Because I’m starting to think that you don’t even want to see me anymore. We haven’t even seen each other since summer! God knows where you’ve been during your tours.” Your last statement was uncalled for. You knew that. Your anger shouldn’t start accusations especially when you know that the man on the other side of the phone was deeply in love with you, but rage makes you do unexplainable things.

You were angry at everything and everyone, and the words that spilled out of your mouth had no further value but the vile that it carries. Taehyung knew that, but he was in the middle of his fifth shoot of the week. He was trying to be as patient as he could be with you, but a nerve had been touched when you questioned his loyalty. How could you question his loyalty when he has done everything in his power to show you how much he was in love with you? He had asked countless times when he could see you, but rejection was always the answer of his managers.

He hated this year just as much as he hated himself for bringing you out to the balcony that night. Not because he regretted giving you his promise ring, but because he wasn’t thinking properly. He should’ve known that neighboring people could see him with you. He should’ve thought about it clearer. He shouldn’t have placed you in that vulnerable situation, and that idea manifested itself to why he was so willing to follow the rules of his managers. He didn’t want to put you in that place again. He didn’t want both your names to go under fire on Twitter again.

“I don’t want to fight with you right now.” Taehyung says dejectedly as the glass on your hand slips to land on the floor. The sound of the glass shattering on the floor and the water spilling on tiles reached Taehyung’s ears as a shock filled him.

“Baby?! What was that sound? Are you okay?” Taehyung sits up straighter from where he was seated in the waiting room with the rest of his band members. All their eyes went to him as he looked panicked whilst on his phone call.

“Yeah, just a glass of water. I’ll talk to you later, V.” Your voice was monotone and the usage of his stage name had caused a frown to rest on Taehyung’s face. It felt strange. It felt as though you were placing a barrier between you and him when you used his stage name. The same barrier an idol had with their fans, but your relationship wasn’t like that. You were the love of his life and the keeper of his promise. Getting called his stage name by you felt cold.

Taehyung turns his phone off after you hang up on him and he leans back on the sofa he sat on. Yoongi sat asleep on his right whilst Jungkook was nearing sleep on his left, though Jimin sat across the room on another sofa with his eyebrow furrowed as if asking the younger for what that was about. However, Jimin was beaten to ask Taehyung about his call as Namjoon pipes in from sitting beside Jimin.

“What was that about?” Namjoon asks as Taehyung sighs. He didn’t want to answer, but now five pairs of eyes were on him and the ears of their makeup artists were pressuring him to answer with something.

“You already know.” Taehyung says in a low voice, though his hyungs nod in understanding.

“I don’t get why you don’t just go see her. You know, I break Sejin’s rules all the time.” Jimin says as he earns a warning shove from Namjoon and a laugh from Hoseok. They all eventually break Sejin’s rules and Taehyung himself even broke his rules earlier into courting you, but he shouldn’t risk it now. Not when your names were out there and any signs that you were dating would be taken as the truth.

“We’ll help you sneak out later, Taehyung ah.” Jin offers as he flashes the younger a playful grin and a wink from his seat in front of the mirror surrounded by makeup artists.

“Sejin will pay you out of everything.”

“You have to be careful though. Our company could buy you out, but hers might not have the funds for it.” Hoseok pipes in as his sudden negative input has everyone turning to him with questioning looks.

“Don’t you guys look at their stocks? It’s been getting lower since last year. It might be the reason why you weren’t protected from the balcony incident.” Hoseok says as he flashes the boys his screen that is filled with stocks.

“No, the balcony incident was because the people who caught us immediately posted it without the help of media outlets. Our management can only protect us to an extent.” Taehyung now speaks as he shakes his head and massages his forehead. They all knew that. If fans capture them then it would pose a larger threat because they were willing to release any media without sending an email and deal to companies.

But what Taehyung did take note from what his hyung said was how your company’s stocks were lowering. You never told him that problem so he thinks it isn’t a major problem, though if his hyung knew about it then the changes must be drastic.

And they were drastic. After you hang up on Taehyung, you have turned your tears into a driving power to get working on some lyrics in your notebook. You didn’t even realize the amount of time that had passed as you spent it hunched over the coffee table writing away. The glass shards still littered the tiles of the kitchen and your mascara still darkened your eyes.

It was already one in the morning and Taehyung carefully got into your apartment building as both his hands held your favorite takeout paper bags with drinks. The boys had in fact helped him sneak out of the dorm that night, and it took him a few minutes and taxi rides to finally get everything he wanted to buy for the night.

He was going to apologize tonight. He was going to tell you the truth of everything on his mind and he would listen to everything you had to say. He wanted to make things right and it starts with giving you a kiss as soon as he enters the door.

The knock from your apartment’s door was the first sound you’d heard in the past few hours. It brought you to consciousness from your endless writing, and when you looked down to see your work everything was only an incomprehensible mess. Dried tear stains littered the pages and the callus on your finger grew thicker from friction.

You pushed yourself up from your spot on the carpet and walked carefully towards your front door. Another soft knock followed after some silence and you wanted to tell the person on the other side that you were coming, though your throat was raw from lack of usage.

“Hey baby.” Taehyung’s figure greets you as you open the door. His freshly trimmed dark hair covered his forehead as his mask was discarded under his chin. His figure was engulfed in a black jacket with its hood unused. A soft smile played on his lips, though it fell as soon as he saw your figure. The smile instead was replaced with a look of worry as you can only imagine what state you looked like.

“I— I’m so sorry I didn’t come any sooner…” Taehyung immediately sets down the paper bags of food by the doorway before approaching you to engulf in a big warm hug. The hug that you had wished for earlier, and finally your emotions were put to ease.

The little droplets of rain left on his jacket and his steady heartbeat got rid of every pain and anger you had in your body and you finally let your eyes close as you hugged him back. His breath on top of your head slowly brings you back to the love and warmth you always knew would come to you.

“Tae, my— my company…”

You both had let everything out through dinner. In the early hours of the day, you both cried and laughed. You catched up with the happenings of each other's lives and you forgave each other.

“You know what would be great right now?” You spoke as Taehyung looked up to you from his place on your lap. His head rested on the valley of your thighs as his Hwarang drama played on the TV in your living room. His eyes bright and a soft smile permanently plastered to his lips.

“What?”

“A cone of ice cream.” You say as you watch his eyes brighten at the idea. So what if he just got his teeth cleaned and they were sensitive to cold food? If you wanted ice cream then he wants it too.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s get some ice cream!” He says as he sits up and turns off the TV.

“Tae, we can’t go out.” You remind him though the brow he raises and smug look on his face just makes a smile break your lips.

“I don’t care. No payouts, no worries. If they know then they’ll know. I’ll get my girl her ice cream!”

You giggle as Taehyung goes into your bedroom and comes out with a large black puffer jacket, a pair of warm socks, and a scarf. He ordered you to stand up as he wrapped the warm jacket over your figure and wrapped your neck up with a scarf. He pulls out a wet wipe to gently wipe your face with any dried tears or mascara before he pulls you towards the front door.

He doesn’t even let you crouch down to tie your own shoes or put your own socks on because he does it for you before he does his own. And soon you were already walking out your apartment building with his hand playing with yours.

You ended up grabbing a cone of your favorite ice cream from an ice cream place that was open 24/7. It was roughly a fifteen minute walk from your place and when he sensed your pace slowing, he took a detour and took you to a riverside road that had benches looking out onto the river.

Light bulbs tied into strings hung from trees and the gentle flow of the river made the place serene. You two sat on a bench and ate your ice cream by the river as silence engulfed you two. A comforting peace hugging you tightly as time seemed nonexistent when you were with him. You leaned your head on his shoulder and basked in the moment. A buzz of restlessness ringing in your ear, though it didn’t matter whenever he was near.

If someone took a picture of you now then you wouldn’t care anymore. As long as you were with him then you would be fine.

Everyone was convinced that the two of you were dating and ever since then you were a bit more shameless to post pictures on your instagram with a few too many similarities to deny that you two weren’t in the same place at the same time.

With the news of your unconfirmed relationship reaching new lengths with more leaked content, you two became somewhat old news. Everyone knew there was something undeniable between you two, though nothing had been confirmed. Your two companies stayed out of it after their first statement that only clarified that both of you weren’t engaged, though it also said that your companies had no rights in your personal engagements.

A month after, your latest comeback had been released and it was a massive pop. It had landed the charts and stayed on the Top 5 even with rising competition and BTS’s unstoppable Dynamite single. And Maybe, just maybe, it could save your company’s decline.

The end of November was the season of awardings and your latest comeback just manages to squeeze into the eligibility period of the criteria. Which meant your hit comeback had actually landed you multiple nominations, and perhaps your first ever Daesang? If that was possible against BTS’s unstoppable year.

It felt as though your struggles through the year were getting set to rest, and whatever happens now was up to the world’s hands.

Arriving in the 2020 Mnet Asian Music Awards felt like a reward. You could finally relax and enjoy the event of your year’s work. In these events you would always remember how it changed your life by letting you and Taehyung meet gazes. How it made you meet your closest friends and interact with fans from different fandoms. It was a celebration whether you left as a winner or not.

Taehyung took his first step out to walk the red carpet as cameras flash all around him. The crowd of fans behind the media outlets raised their phone cameras as cheers roared. His bandmates smiled and waved as they took a spot right in front of the banner backdrop.

They were missing Yoongi that night. The rapper was absent to recover from his long due shoulder surgery that he got in an accident years ago. This small change in their usual order had all the staff and management team on edge. They already had to relearn their choreography and positions for the performance tonight, and the staff were busy all week to find ways on how they would spend Yoongi’s rap parts of the song without him, so it was an understatement to say that everyone was a little tired and on edge for tonight.

The six remaining members all arranged themselves into their familiar order, with Taehyung leading the line and leaving a space for Yoongi before Jin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Jimin, and Hoseok followed in order.

They all stopped at the first spot where semi-popular outlets took pictures of them and their different colored suits. They all had a mix of muted navy, white, and some accents of maroon, a color scheme that stood out from the classic black suit. Taehyung wore navy trousers and a matching suit jacket whilst his undershirt was a satin white. His suit jacket was buttoned up to his chest and had a maroon colored handkerchief in its pocket.

After a few seconds, a director had signed for Taehyung to continue walking along the carpet as the boy group Seventeen, that was ahead of them in the queue, moved towards the part of the carpet where the event hosts would interview them.

Taehyung glanced behind him to make sure his bandmates were following him as he moved further up the queue. They stopped once again with their line still intact and they posed for the more known media outlets.

At the same time, their junior’s Tomorrow X Together arrived and followed them in the queue by taking their previous spot. Their hoobaes dressed in fitting black suits as they arranged themselves in a line and posed for the cameras. The crowd also cheered for them, before they reverted their attention to the short interview held on the members of Seventeen.

Another cue of a director made Taehyung turn to watch the Seventeen walk inside the building. He waited patiently for all members to enter before he followed to occupy the spot they had left. The host, Song Joong Ki, greeted the members as Taehyung was handed two microphones that he passed to his bandmates. He would let his hyung’s take care of the interview answers, though he still smiled to the cameras that flashed and broadcasted the carpet.

“Welcome! Bangtan Sonyeondan!” Song Joong Ki announces as classic questions fall from his lips, though he has lost all of Taehyung’s attention when he saw you enter to lead your group on the queue of the carpet.

Your body clad in a white angelic like satin material dress. It had thick bows as spaghetti straps on your shoulders, though it kept the skin of your collarbone and shoulders exposed. It hugged your torso tightly almost like a corset before it loosened below your waists and made you seem like a doll. Hemline details on your skirt had separated the silky fabric of the bodice and majority of the skirt to the more flowy and scrunched material that gave your dress an airy aura. Your white heels polished to shine as bright as the cameras, and your angel-like makeup made Taehyung feel like he was actually seeing an angel.

He didn’t care if people saw how his mouth stood agape and how his gaze stayed on you for a moment too long. It was the only appropriate reaction to your outfit. Your bandmates also had varying white dresses on, yet you seemed like the star of the show. A true beauty that he was blessed to witness in his lifetime.

“Taehyung ah, stop staring at your girlfriend and move.” Jin had whispered to Taehyung. The space for Yoongi in between them had disappeared as Taehyung snapped his gaze back to his hyung. He could see you posing for pictures on his peripheral vision, though the slight nudge of Jin pushing him along to enter the venue was enough for him to stop watching you.

He could even see Jimin flashing him a smirk as it was quite obvious who had stolen all his attention. Taehyung was shameless as he only smiled and calmly walked towards the small steps leading to the venue.

He wondered how he would celebrate tonight. The Mnet Asian Music Awards always have been an indicator to him that it had been another year since he met the most beautiful angel on Earth. He would always replay the moment he caught your eyes when he received an award, and sometimes, if he was lucky, your eyes would meet and he falls for you deeper than he had the first time you met. Gosh, he hoped one of the cameras had gotten a good picture of you because he can’t wait to make it his homesc—

Bang.

And screaming was all he heard as his head snapped to find out what the commotion was about. Everyone’s handheld cameras had turned to the start of the queue, and the cameras that were on fixed stands to face the carpet in front were left unattended by the camera directors. All their eyes widening at a sight that Taehyung couldn’t see.

Security guards that stood near the venue entrance had run past Taehyung to get to the commotion, though Taehyung couldn’t see through a combination of his hyung’s heads and the bodies of managers and staff that filled the red carpet.

Taehyung was more curious than worried about the commotion. All he knew was that the commotion had taken place at the start of the queue where he stood just a few moments ago. Taehyung watched as all his members tried to raise their necks to see past the crowd.

Namjoon had tapped a staff member to ask what happened, and Taehyung would have intently eavesdropped the conversation if not for the face Jimin had flashed Taehyung as he turned with a worried look. It was a look that knew something.

How did Jimin see through the crowd? They didn’t know.

“What is it?” Taehyung asked as Jimin stopped stretching his neck and stared at him with wide eyes whilst licking his lips as if he was finding the right words to describe the situation he saw.

But Taehyung didn’t need to hear it from him as Jin soon found a gap to see what happened, and the loud ‘woah’ that involuntarily left his throat was enough for all members present to look at him.

However, just like Jimin did after seeing the commotion, their eldest member flashed Taehyung worried eyes before grabbing Taehyung’s wrist as if he could bolt at any moment. These glances and actions were starting to worry Taehyung now. He would understand if the members who saw something happened wouldn’t want the other members to know, but why did it look as if they didn’t want him specifically to know or react.

“What?” Taehyung’s Daegu accent came out as he was getting worried at what was happening.

Then a few gasps came from the crowd that watched and Taehyung finally found a gap to see someone on top of another person at the start of the queue. Right where your group was standing mere seconds ago.

Taehyung tugged at Jin’s grip as he finally saw someone pull the erratically moving person off the floor and the person she had pinned to the floor.

Who was getting attacked? Taehyung didn’t know yet, but something in his stomach told him that his hyungs knew.

The crazy woman was pulled off the floor by a security guard. Taehyung's gaze went from the woman fighting the guard to one of the barriers that separated the general crowd of fans from the photographers, carpet, and artists. The barrier was on the floor as other fans didn’t dare cross it, though he had figured that the loud bang was from the barrier falling to the floor.

Taehyung then let his gaze wander to whoever the woman had pinned to the floor and lo and behold… it was you.

Seeing your messy hair and disoriented figure had blood surging through Taehyung’s body. A different type of adrenaline flowed through him unlike the ones he experiences at concerts. No, this one made him want to fight and flight at the same time.

Taehyung easily pulled away from Jin’s grip as he walked past Jimin before he could block his way. The call of his name from Hoseok and Jungkook fell on deaf ears as he continued his fast strides towards you. His eyes fixed on your figure before it was lost behind a crowd of people.

Taehyung pushed past TXT with little to no problems. He simply murmured an apology and an ‘excuse me’ as he passed through.

A ring of people had circled where you were supposed to be as Taehyung pushed past people in his goal to reach you. It felt as though his body was walking through quicksand at how he had to forcibly get his body past the crowd.

He can feel his suit get wrinkled and his shoes get stepped on. His hair must be ruffled by now and perhaps one of his prop rings had already slipped past a finger, but it didn’t matter. As long as the silver band he had as your promise was fine and he gets to you in the least amount of time then anything else could be replaceable.

With one more push he finally got to the middle of the crowd. The air felt less dense, though Taehyung couldn’t get a proper breath in until he could see that you were okay.

It didn’t take long for your eyes to meet each other though. Your wide blown out eyes reach peace as your eyes meet his, and he would be lying if your eyes didn’t give him just a small bit of ease running through his body.

He immediately took a step towards you as a few gasps were heard followed by a louder bang rang and silenced his surroundings. A disorienting buzz ran through his ears as he turned towards the woman to see her get tackled to the floor by multiple security guards and a gun slipping past her grip.

The bang wasn’t another barrier falling…

She shot a bullet

And he didn’t know where it landed.

Taehyung reached for you to engulf with his body and shield you from the direction the woman was. You immediately collapsed into his grip as you brought your hands to cover your face and bury yourself in Taehyung’s suit.

“Baby, are you okay? Are you hurt? D—did you…” Taehyung couldn’t finish what he wanted to ask you as he opted to skim your body for any obvious injuries.

He wasn't going to admit it but he was looking for a bullet wound under the fabric of your dress, though all he saw was the ruffled satin material as you cried onto his chest. His grip on you tightened as he turned his head back to see proper police men restrain the woman in handcuffs.

“You’re okay now. You’re fine. You’re safe, baby. She’s gone.” Taehyung repeats his words over your hair. A kiss landing on your messy hair. His whispers of comfort placed ease into both your bodies, though you could still hear his heart pumping heavily.

“Tae…” You were breathless as tears uncontrollably dripped down your cheeks. You were just thankful that Taehyung was blocking you from the media. Now that the woman was gone, the media was bound to get an aftermath photo of you so you were just glad they couldn’t see you in the middle of a breakdown.

“Yes baby? Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?” Taehyung asked as he rubbed a hand on the top of your hair to soothe down some loose strands, though the action was more to comfort you than fix up your appearance. He was well aware of the cameras and whispers around you.

“Are— are you hurt? The g-gun…” Your voice shakes as you wipe your tears and look up at him.

The sounds of cameras flashing, managers and staff speaking loudly, and police, was the loud buzzing of your ear. It started right as you were tackled to the ground with a twist of your ankle and your head hitting the not so soft red carpet. It still heavily buzzes in your ear over any other noise, excluding Taehyung’s calming voice which you can hear just as clear as the vibrations of your heart pumping.

“No. No, I’m not hurt, baby. Please answer me now. Are you okay?” Taehyung repeats himself whilst placing emphasis on the word ‘you’. He brings a gentle hand to wipe tears sliding down your cheek as you take in the condition of your body.

“My— my ankle… I think I twisted it when I fell, but I think I’m fine.” You say as the adrenaline wears off and an uncomfortable sting comes to your left ankle. You still stood on your heels effortlessly, though a growing tingle had started to spread from where the heel’s strap held onto your ankle.

“Okay. Thank you for answering.” Taehyung kisses your lips swiftly before he raises a hand to call for attention, and looks towards the direction of the venue. Paramedics and staff that were on standby were already walking down the carpet as your eyes even catch Jimin’s worried eyes skimming over both you and Taehyung. The medics were by your side in no time as the crowd around you disperse.

“She said that she might’ve twisted her ankle.” Taehyung says to the paramedics who nodded, though they didn’t signal him to let go just yet.

“Let’s go to the back to check for further injuries. The media is out of control.” A manager suggested to the paramedics who agreed.

“Can you walk?” Taehyung asks as you merely nodded before you were led to a private space behind the wall of the red carpet. Taehyung continued to support you as you took heavy steps in your heels.

The small space behind the backdrop wasn’t too spacious though it was enough to shield you as the paramedics opened a kit and let you sit down on a small plastic stool. Taehyung stood right beside you. Your fingers intertwine as your fingers meet the cold material of his promise ring, and that’s when it hits you.

“Sh-shit.” Your once dried cheeks had now turned wet again as you looked down to your hand and found all your fingers were bare from any jewelry.

“Shh… You’re fine, baby. You’re getting treated.” Taehyung rubs your head to help soothe you though your sobs start to grow as the paramedics ask you what’s wrong, though you only shook your head to dismiss them.

“Tae… I lost the— the ring. It— It must have fell when I—“

“It’s fine, baby. I can buy you a new one.” Taehyung reassures you, though you were inconsolable.

“Please, say something if this hurts Miss.” The medic speaks as she caresses the skin of your ankle. A yelp leaving your lips as the medics nodded and continued to assess your shin.

From the way your chest heaved with each sob and the way tears fell from your eyes, the medics couldn’t assess you properly though they made the best of the situation and made the decision to take you to the hospital.

“Taehyung, you need to get into the venue. The event is going to be delayed, but groups need to be inside the venue for security checks and safety.” His manager speaks as his head pops from the other side of the backdrop. A wheelchair strolling behind him as the medics explain to you that they were taking you to the hospital.

“What? I can’t leave her right now. Did you see what happened?!” Taehyung didn’t mean to raise his voice, though he couldn’t leave you right now. Perhaps you were physically okay, but that must have been mentally shocking and he wants to be there just to comfort you even if it doesn’t make a big difference.

“Yes, I did see. Everyone saw. And we don't know if there’s another sasaeng out there, so we need you to get in the venue now.” The manager said sternly, though Taehyung continued to ignore the orders.

He instead opted to help guide you to sit comfortably on the wheelchair. His finger grazing over red scratch marks on the skin of your forearm. He hadn’t seen those earlier, though he doubts the paramedics had missed it.

When they exited from behind the backdrop they were met with security guards escorting them to the road where the ambulance was parked. Taehyung walked alongside the wheelchair as the paramedic wheeled you to the ambulance. His manager followed a few paces behind.

You writhed with shame as you thought about all the news that could be written on this night alone and you hadn’t even entered the venue yet. You weren’t sure you could.

Taehyung was held back by his manager before he could enter the ambulance with you. His gaze in question and slight irritation as he was met by the face of their manager once more, though this time his members were walking out the venue in search of him.

“Kim Taehyung don’t go. For her sake. You can see her after, but right now we need you inside for the media's sake.” Their manager says more desperate now as he turns to meet your eyes that were inside the ambulance.

He was all too aware of the eyes watching both of you and he could tell that you were too. You gave him a slight nod as a sign that you’d be fine as he nodded more to himself and took a step back to be with his manager. For your sake, he wasn’t going to be with you right now. Not when the media would be having a frenzy already. For you, your company, and your reputation.

“Come on, get inside.” The manager nudged Taehyung to follow behind him as he kept his gaze down on the floor when a few cameras took pictures of him walking to the entrance.

A shiny piece of jewelry caught his attention as he bent down and found the promise ring he had given you last year. A promise ring that had caused you more tears than he wanted you to have.

“Come on, V.” Jimin says as he reaches out for Taehyung to accompany him in walking to the venue behind the rest of the members that flashed him pitiful looks.

“You did the right thing. She needed you, and you’ll see each other after this.” Jimin reassured, as Taehyung’s eyes began to sting from behind, though he tried to stop the emotions from showing in his eyes.

“They said it was a sasaeng?” Taehyung asked as the security guards opened the door for them and they entered the dark and cold doors of the big venue that the 21st Mnet Asian Music Awards would take place in.

“Apparently. I tried my best to eavesdrop and they said that the motive might’ve been because of your relationship. She was ARMY.” Jimin summarized everything he had heard as they both stopped in a dim hallway to wait for staff to open a door that led to the artist area.

“I still don’t get how she managed to walk past security, staff, and camera directors. How did she even have a gun?!” Taehyung was exasperated as the two ‘95 liners leaned against the padded walls. Taehyung leaned his head on Jimin’s shoulder as Jungkook came up to squeeze his shoulder.

“Is she okay? We heard guns were involved.” Jungkook asked as it was obvious that the rest of his bandmates were listening from behind the maknae.

“Yeah. She’s shaken up. Maybe even have a twisted ankle and a few scratches.” Taehyung says as his eyes zone out on the pattern of the carpet and his fingers play on the ring he held on his finger.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon shows himself from behind Jungkook as Taehyung simply nods.

The night had gone by like a blur. It was obvious to everyone watching that he was not as present as he should have been, though nobody blames him. The views of the event had skyrocketed after news broke out that an artist was attacked and yet the event continued on. Hashtags about the event and incident even went viral prior to the awards finishing because clips of Taehyung running towards you and escorting you to the ambulance had gone viral. It practically happened in front of everybody so it was bound to get posted, and technically no blood or gore had been shown so the content wasn’t blocked as quickly as both your companies and the event organizers wanted them to be.

Taehyung walks through the hospital hallways with paper bags of your favorite takeout food, your favorite drink, some spare clothes of his that you could change to in case your personal assistant didn’t bring good comfy clothes, and a small cake of your favorite flavor. He had made do with how late it was and how your favorite bakery was already closed.

It felt like deja vu once again. However, this time he wasn’t riding the elevator to your apartment but rather riding it to your hospital room.

Your absence from the event was so painstakingly obvious for him and everyone. He was jittery all night, and your group seemed so small when they occupied the stage for their performance. It was obvious that they had done last minute blocking, and the bactrack had been used for your solo parts. They seemed so small when they walked down the artist area and got to the stage to receive the Best Female Group award and the Best Female Group Dance Performance award. Your group wasn’t small in the sense that they had little members, though it felt like something was missing. Your big bubbly smile and your funny yet carefully worded speech was missing, and Taehyung could speak for everyone that your presence was greatly missed.

He had received a text from you as soon as the event ended and when he got his phone back. Your text contained your congratulations for him and his wins and performances. Jimin even showed Taehyung a message you sent that congratulated Jimin and the rest of BTS. It was certainly a good year for them, and you had grown closer towards your boyfriend’s close friend despite only interacting a few times.

You told him that he should probably visit later into the evening since your group would be visiting you after the event, though Taehyung didn’t listen and still went as fast as he could when ordering food.

He arrived at your hospital room at almost two in the morning and from what he could hear, your bandmates were still in your hospital room talking to you.

He knocked on the door and heard the girls quiet down as one of the members opened the door to see Taehyung standing in the middle of the hallway with his PA behind him holding the bag of clothes and box of cake.

“Hey, sorry to intrude on your celebrations but can I come see my girlfriend?” Taehyung says as a smile couldn’t help but creep up his face as his heart swells with pride with how he openly says that you were his girlfriend.

“Yah Y/Nah, your boyfriend is here.” The member smiled brightly as she opened the door wider to show you laying in the hospital bed with wide eyes from Taehyung’s early arrival. Your other bandmates had visibly smiled brighter when Taehyung entered the room.

“Good evening.” Taehyung greets as he places all of the paper bags on a nearby table and bows deeply to your bandmates.

“Congratulations on your wins and performance!”

All of your bandmates greet the same words as they bow just as deep to their sunbaenim.

“You should have told us Kim Taehyung sunbaenim was coming. We should’ve ordered more food for him—“ You leader speaks as you stay silent yet a small smiles lingers on your lips when Taehyung doesn’t let his eyes leave you.

“It’s okay. I brought some takeout to eat, and a cake to celebrate your wins.” Taehyung opens the small cake he had brought as his PA takes his leave and walks out the door.

“Oh V sunbaenim, thank you! We already had some cake, but I’m sure Y/N would love that. She barely ate anything tonight.” One of your members discloses as you send her a warning gaze as her face contorts into a look of apology.

Taehyung’s brown doe eyes met yours once more and this time it held the same worry it had earlier in the evening. You hated that. You hated seeing him worried over you, though at the same time it made you feel so cared for.

“We should probably get going. We need some rest and we can celebrate properly when you’re feeling better Y/N.” Your group’s leader says as they all excused themselves after they bid you well and congratulated Taehyung once more.

You were left in the silence of your hospital room with Taehyung at last. It felt like a decade just to get some time alone ever since the incident, and it felt like a reward to finally be alone together after the stressful night.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Taehyung asks as he comes towards the side of the bed to give you a kiss on your cheek.

“Not in the mood for it.” You say honestly because you really didn’t feel hungry, though Taehyung’s brow raised to doubt your answer.

“Come on, don’t let me eat all of this alone.” He says as your favorite food reaches your nose. The aroma turns the wheel of your appetite as Taehyung moves the table closer to the side of your bed.

“Seriously, Tae…”

“Please baby? Let me food you a few spoonfuls at least? It would help me feel better.” Taehyung asks as you nod willingly.

He opens up a container and grabs a wooden spoon to fill with the right amount of everything before guiding the spoon to your open mouth. The warmth of the food immediately landing in your stomach as a satisfied hum left you. Taehyung smiled at that and took his own bite with a smile.

“How’s your ankle?” He asks.

“It’s twisted, but it should heal well. I’ll be walking around with a brace, but it's not like we have a comeback coming.” You say as you move your leg from under the white blanket and show him the brace that keeps your ankle straight.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be here though. They said that I’m showing symptoms of an acute concussion, so it would be better to keep me under observation. That’s why I’m not really eating food right now. I don’t want to throw it up in case this does happen to be a concussion. ” You shrug as you eye the movie that showed on the TV.

Taehyung took your left hand in his and raised it to meet his lips. His breath grazing over your ring finger as you feel him slide a familiar metal back to its place.

“What— Woah! You found it!” You smile as you check the ring to truly see if it was the same ring he had given you a year ago. The same small dent that you had accidentally struck against the wall had grazed the design and you knew for a fact that it was the same ring you had worn as a promise.

“It’s kinda hard to miss. No wonder everyone saw it when we wore it.” Taehyung chuckles as he kisses your hand again before you pull him closer to you to kiss on the lips.

His usually soft lips still had some remnants of lipstick from the makeup of their performance. However, the surface wasn’t the soft flesh you’ve come to be familiar with. It was bitten and cracked in some places. Some skin was freshly peeled and others were dry and waiting for the time to be peeled. It was a sign that he had bitten them off prematurely as a coping mechanism from anxiety.

“I’m sorry, baby. I— I heard the fan was a sasaeng and I didn’t even try that hard to join you in the ambulance, but I— I didn’t want the media following and— and our companies… It’s not an excuse—“

“Tae, it’s not your fault.” You state sternly with your expression straight. You didn’t know where this reaction was coming from, but you had to shut down all those thoughts.

“She was a sasaeng— an ARMY…” Taehyung was teary eyed as he sat on the side of the bed with his hands wrapped around your waist as your arms rested on his shoulders.

“You can’t control them and you can’t control what our agencies tell us to do. Just like how they told us to keep some distance when we told them about our relationship. We can break what they say sometimes, but eventually we know we have to follow them. Like how we still kept on seeing each other and how you still had to join the event.” You explained as he nodded.

He was tongue tied or perhaps he didn’t have anything more to say. He just wanted to hold you and tell himself he did everything he could to prevent what happened and that at the end of the day you are fine with injuries that could be fixed. He wanted to kiss you and feel your skin against his. He wanted to breathe in your scent and feel your chest move with every inhale and exhale.

So he did just that. He laid beside you and brought your body down with him to embrace. Your skin against his as you both settle in a comfortable position.

“What if we weren’t idols?”

“Don’t say that Tae. We met because we were idols. We met because we wanted to study being idols and you saw me because you are a damn good idol.” You say as Taehyung laughs and kisses your cheeks.

“I know, but like what if we went away for a while. Just the two of us and some place we don’t know.” Taehyung proposes as you tilt your head to think over the idea as you signal him to continue his brewing thought.

“Just for a few days or a week. We deserve it after a long year. Besides, it’s my birthday soon.” Taehyung smiles brighter when he mentions his birthday as if you hadn’t been saving up for his birthday gift already.

“That does sound nice…”

“So it’s settled! New Year’s and my birthday in some place we don’t know! I’ll start planning it tomorrow.” Taehyung smiles as you laugh with him, but really he was planning on replacing your dented ring with a new one.

“Also I brought some clothes. I was wondering if I could sleep here tonight.” Taehyung asks as you smile and land a kiss on his lips.

“I was waiting for you to say that. My parents are visiting early in the morning though, so you better be up by then.” You both chuckle as he kisses you once more.

“Are you comfy in your clothes? I have your favorite sweater in the bag, and a coat in case you ever feel like having ice cream again.”

You chuckle as you slightly nudge his shoulder. This man truly was something else.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY V!

And

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

#bts #bangtan #bts fanfic #kim taehyung #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts oneshot #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung birthday!!!!#birthday boy!!!!#kpop #bts v #bts v oneshot

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planetkiimchi · 2 months

Text

the language of flowers | l.jn

featuring: film director!jeno x artist!reader (no gendered terms), jaemin, chenle and jisung cameos

summary — jeno doesn't speak of his affection in words. instead, he teaches you that the letter "L", in his love language of flowers, is for lavender lozenges, lily of the valleys, lockets and love.

author's note: damn the stars rlly aligned for me to post this one... originally was just gonna let it rot in my drafts but here i am posting it for @strxbrymochi 's bday. happy belated bday ki !! muah ily

You should have been prepared for Jeno to be constantly busy when you started dating him four months ago. But it still comes as a shock to you when Jeno sits you down on a Saturday afternoon, a plate of violet cookies placed in front of you.

"I'm sorry," he begins. The moment the words escape his lips, you know what this is all about. Even so, you keep quiet, allowing him to continue with the apology he's prepared.

"I've been signed on to do a short film, and they want us to do the shooting overseas."

Although you knew it was coming, it still comes as a punch to your gut. Being away from Jeno is hard for you, and you don’t want to let him go.

"Where to?" you ask, the words coming out before you can stop them. It's too late now to tell him to stay, and you curse your brain for being two steps behind your stupid, ever-running mouth.

"London. It's a Victorian era film, they said, about flowers."

You permit yourself a small smile. "You love flowers."

Jeno looks down, nodding once. "Yep."

You reach over, tilting his chin up. "Look at me."

He does, eyes quivering anxiously while he waits for you to speak. You’re always the one talking—rambling—and now that you’re silent, it must scare him. You touch your forehead to his, and you feel him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Don't be sorry. Go, and enjoy yourself. Pour your soul into it. I'll wait for you to come back, okay? Don't forget me when you're busy working with everyone else."

Jeno lifts up his hand, and you press your palm against his, fingers interlocking with his. "Won't forget you," Jeno mumbles. "I couldn't ever forget you."

You grin, kissing his nose. "I know you wouldn't, silly boy."

—

As Jeno wheels his luggage over the smooth airport floor, he turns to look over at you, shuffling your feet and staring at the ground. He leans over, whispering in your ear, "Blue salvia."

Think of me. It's one of the first flowers that Jeno gave you before you started dating, a secret confession you only learnt about when he finally told you what it meant. Now, it serves as encouragement for you, something to accompany you when Jeno can't.

You smile at him, eyes wide and pensive. "Have a safe flight."

Jeno wraps you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. He doesn't know when he'll get to see you again, and he's not sure if he can survive these months without you. But for both of your sakes, he'll try.

"See you later, alligator."

"In a while, crocodile," you reply, the familiar words a promise between the two of you to weather this storm together.

—

Jeno sits in his seat, flipping his phone in his hand as he waits impatiently for the plane to take off. He tries his best not to look at the time, trying not to count down the seconds in his mind, trying not to keep track of how long it's been since he last saw your face.

An announcement starts to play, asking all passengers on the flight to turn their attention to the flight attendants as they begin the safety briefing. Jeno looks at the flight attendant, but doesn't process the words he's hearing, his mind too focused on the thought of you.

He slips his hand into his pocket, his fingers finding purchase. The plastic crinkles in his palm as he draws the object out, realising that it's a sweet. You told him once that you always have to bring sweets when you’re flying, to suck on in order to prevent your ears from getting blocked.

Jeno has packed the mints you asked him to, but they're in his bag. He swiped the lavender lozenges from your stash that morning, a keepsake to remember you by on the trip. As the pilot announces that the plane is taking off, Jeno pops the sweet into his mouth, the taste of sugar and lavender dissolving on his tongue.

He misses you.

—

Jeno is rudely awakened from his sleep by Jaemin shaking his shoulder. "Good morning," the elder says in a singsong voice, and Jeno's eyes spring open. He casts Jaemin a dirty look, but the latter just grins back at him.

Jeno sighs irritably, getting to his feet and hauling himself out of the bed. His heart's not in it—not in this trip, and maybe not even in the film—and Jaemin knows it.

However, it's not like either of them has a choice. Jaemin liked the script for this film, and Jeno did too. He had plenty of ideas for the film. Despite it being a small project, Jeno believes it can turn out much better than people are expecting it to.

The only issue is that it's not in Korea. It's far away from you, and Jeno needs you in more ways than one. You are his source of comfort and his pillar of strength, but most importantly, you are his muse. Without you, he finds himself unable to function, not knowing which step to take next. Because all he wants to do is find the path that leads back to you, even if it's the worst or stupidest decision he could possibly make.

Longing gnaws at him every day, carving a giant you-sized hole in his chest. He snatches his copy of the script off the table, and Jaemin takes a sweeping glance over the room.

"You've surprisingly tidy for someone who looks like he has zero motivation to keep things organised."

"That's because all of my shit is in my suitcase, so I'm prepared to go back at the shortest notice."

Jaemin rolls his eyes at Jeno's retort, clapping his hands together. "Alright, smartass. Get moving so you won't be the last one to arrive again."

Jeno tugs on his shoes, slipping his hands into his coat and taking an umbrella before getting out of the door.

—

Your takeout arrives earlier than expected, and you suddenly recall that you haven’t checked your mailbox in almost a week. Usually, Jeno's the one who does it, collecting mail while waiting for the elevator to arrive. When Jeno had just left, you had made a conscious effort to check the mailbox every day, but now that it's been almost a month, you’re starting to forget again.

You pick up the takeout box and place the food on the table before exiting again and heading downstairs to check the mailbox.

As per usual, the mailbox is full of bills, although usually the number of letters is much fewer. You mindlessly flip through the envelopes, not paying much attention, until one of the letters catches your eye.

It's sealed with wax, which strikes you as odd—who even uses wax to seal envelopes in this day and age?—and you place it on top of the other letters to examine later.

Upstairs, you neatly place the letters on the dining table for you to settle later on. Then, you turn your attention back to the sleek, cream-coloured envelope, intrigued.

You take a closer look at the wax seal, realising that it's a stamp of a flower bouquet. Could it be from Jeno? you wonder.

It doesn't seem very likely, however. Jeno has never been one for dramatic flair, and the simple yet elegant letter practically screams dramatic. There's only one person you knows that's this dramatic, and it's…

"Donghyuck," you breathe out. One of Jeno's college friends, Donghyuck is the definition of dramatic. He loves to exaggerate and make a big fuss out of everything, and it's entertaining to say the least. Donghyuck is also chattier than most, similar to yourself, and the two of you had hit it off when you first met at one of Jeno's college roommate's place.

Donghyuck is essentially your key to Jeno's past. Jeno has been a solitary creature for all the time you’ve known him, and he doesn't talk much about his life before he met you. Besides Jaemin and Donghyuck, Jeno doesn't initiate much interaction with his old friends either. His friends respect that, so you don’t know much about what Jeno was like in the past.

However, Donghyuck is different. He loves to bring up embarrassing memories, inside jokes, and tell people old stories about his friends. You have always loved to listen to Donghyuck talk about Jeno in college, or even his first impression of Jeno when he saw him around in high school.

If it weren't for Donghyuck, you might not even have known about Jeno's friends' whereabouts now, nor have gotten to know about them.

Remembering the letter in your hand, you hurriedly get a hairdryer to heat up the seal, gingerly removing it and opening up the letter.

Dear Jeno and Y/n, you are cordially invited to Lee Donghyuck and Ha Yeon-seok's wedding...

Wait, what? You read the first line again, your heart stopping when you see the word “wedding”. Wedding? It takes you a few seconds to remember that you’re 24 now, which is almost a reasonable age to get married at. Since neither you nor Jeno had dated anyone for a while before you got together, sometimes you forget that other people have been dating for years now.

You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, and continue reading.

The wedding is to be held in London, and it briefly crosses your mind that Yean-seok is half British. Once you’ve processed that information, you do a double take and check the date. It's in six months from now, and you have to get presentable clothes that fit the colour scheme within that time period.

While you’re wondering now to get the clothes in time, your phone dings.

jeno: hey, y/n you: hello jeno: i have... news.

Jeno calls to inform you that, regrettably, there has been a complication with some of the scenes. For one scene in particular, they had arranged for a horse carriage to be used during the filming. However, due to a miscommunication, the horse has been sold to someone else instead.

The screenwriter insists on having the horse be a specific breed for stylistic reasons, but the budget for the project makes it infeasible for the team to find a suitable horse in a short span of time.

Jaemin wants to postpone the project so he can discuss the details with the screenwriter, and clarify everything to ensure there will be no more hiccups in the production. The rest of the team will either fly back to Korea, or stay in London, whichever is more convenient for them. Since editing can be done remotely, there is little incentive for them to all have to renew their visas.

However, Jaemin has asked Jeno to stay in London so all of the important members of the team can be physically present, to ensure everybody is on the same page.

When you ask Jeno when he will return, he shrugs and says, "In two months, or half a year—I have no clue."

Although you’re upset and annoyed with his lack of a reaction, you understand that Jeno is upset too. He's suppressing his emotions, which is a bad habit of his. But you aren’t going to lash out and make him feel more demoralised, so you just mutter a quick "love you" and hang up.

After hanging up, you belatedly realise you haven’t told him about the wedding invitation yet. Still reeling from his indifferent attitude, you decide to tell him after both of you have cooled down.

—

Days turn into weeks, that turn into months, and somehow you haven’t been able to address the issue of Donghyuck's wedding. You have been through your closet countless times, and after rummaging and filtering through both of your clothes, you’ve prepared a suitable ensemble for both of them.

You’ve sent an RSVP to Donghyuck to let him know that you and Jeno would be attending, and an excited Donghyuck had sent you a video of Yeon-seok and himself clapping happily.

You have also booked a flight for a week before the date of the wedding, to give yourself time to adjust to the time difference, and you plan to stay after the wedding to spend time with your and Jeno's friends as well.

Despite having settled almost everything, you’ve left one very important detail out—you haven’t discussed it with Jeno yet.

Jeno knows that there's a wedding, of course. Donghyuck had announced it in the group chat when he and Yeon-seok first got engaged, and Yeon-seok had sent an update once the details of the wedding were confirmed.

When Jeno told you about the wedding, you told him about the invitation, and you both laughed over how excessive it was.

But if you said any more about the wedding, you’d have to bring up the elephant in the room and ask if Jeno would still be working on "Chamomile Tea" during the time period, if he'd be busy, or if he'd return to Korea before that. And that, even after all the time that had passed, remained a sore spot for both of you.

So even as the date loomed closer, your conversations with Jeno never went too far in the direction of the wedding. Instead, you tiptoed around the upcoming event like shattered glass was sprinkled over it, and you didn't know what the consequences of stepping on it would be.

Arriving in London is a dream. It always has been, since you learnt that their universities look like castles and their winter consists of dreary, rainy mornings that are perfect for staying in and cuddling while cheesy rom-coms play on the TV. But it's never been your dream to land in London alone, with no one to pick you up from the airport, standing starstruck in the middle of the polished floors while people hurry by.

Some lady you don't recognise waves at you. When you frown, squinting to see if it's a familiar face, the lady walks up to you and grins, "Hi! I'm Soyeon."

You cock your head in contusion.

"I'm the screenwriter for 'Chamomile Tea', the short film Jaemin's overseeing. He wasn't able to come because he's busy trying to keep Jeno out of trouble, he said."

You let out a short laugh. That does, in fact, sound like Jaemin's job most of the time. Soyeon hands you a ticket, folding your fingers around it before you can protest.

"Jeno wanted all three of us to go to an art museum to get inspiration, but I've already finished my part for this project. All that's left for me is to give input, not come up with more ideas. Jaemin suggested that I give my ticket to you, so here it is." Taking a closer look at the ticket, you realise that it's an exhibition meant to celebrate the changing of season from summer to autumn.

"Leaves turning brown," you read aloud. "Petals fall and colours fade, yet many are enraptured by the cooling season that is autumn. Artist Hwang Yeji explores textures, colours and more in this vibrant display."

Soyeon smiles encouragingly at you. "I've known Jeno only for a few months, and he's always been extremely cold towards everyone, but his face lights up whenever he receives a text from you. And when you order takeout for him? That's the only time I see him enjoy his meals."

Your lips tremble as Soyeon continues, "Jeno's mind is a complex place. I'd hate for all that creative potential to be wasted just because he's busy moping. That's why I offered to pick you up instead of Jaemin—I was interested to know who could be the only one to make Jeno truly smile."

You close the distance between yourself and Soyeon, wrapping your arms around the latter. Even if you have only just met her, Soyeon seems so sweet and genuine. Her honest words caught you off guard, but you are touched that she dared to say them.

Soyeon pats your hair comfortingly. "Let me know if you need any more help."

You discreetly blink back tears, ignoring the stinging sensation in your nose, and force a smile. "Thanks, Soyeon."

"You're very welcome."

—

You climb out of the taxi with a sunflower in hand and your suitcase in the other. The exhibition is held in a building with windows as wide as you are tall, the stained glass illuminated by the sunlight.

The lady at the entrance scans your ticket and waves you through with a smile, and you return it before heading on inside.

Panels upon panels of stained glass line the corridors, angled in a way that pictures of light are projected on the ground, weaving between the paintings, casting an angelic glow on each artwork.

Jaemin catches your eye before you can get stuck at any of the paintings, and shushes you with a finger on his lips as you speed up.

"Hi, jagiya," he says lowly, wrapping you in a quick hug. "Jeno's busy and I didn't tell him you were coming, so the rest is up to you. I'll leave the two of you alone, okay? Call me if you need me."

You nod, squeezing his shoulder gratefully.

—

You tuck your sunflower behind your back and wheel your suitcase to the side, silently approaching Jeno. He's completely absorbed in studying the details of the painting, so you gently rest your chin on his shoulder.

"Hey, baby." Jeno turns, coming face-to-face with you. Your noses touch, and from the corners of your eyes, you see Jeno's cheeks flush red-hot. You raise your hand to cool his cheek, but he grabs your wrist first, eyes locked on your face. His pupils dart from side to side, scouring your face as if he's afraid you’re just a figment of his imagination.

You stay in that position, Jeno’s fingers curled around your wrist, until he's convinced that you’re real, at which point his face floods with exhaustion and relief.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nuzzling into the space between your chin and collarbone. His hands come to rest naturally around your waist, and his hand brushes against the sunflower.

He moves back suddenly, surprised, and you awkwardly manoeuvre your arms around him. This allows you to present the sunflower you bought at a nearby florist to your boyfriend, and you’re delighted by the grin spreading across his lips.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks.

"No, but you've given me red camellias, and I think that’s basically the same thìng."

Jeno chuckles. "Basically.”

Jeno reaches for your suitcase, holding tightly onto the sunflower you’ve just given him. He turns to you, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "Well? I'll take you back to her hotel."

You frown, pulling back in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"Aren't you tired?"

You wave his concern off flippantly. "I'll be just fine. I'll crash later, and the jetlag will hit me like a truck, but I've already allocated a week for getting used to it."

Jeno snorts. "As expected."

You wave your ticket. "Hey, Soyeon's already passed up her chance to see this exhibition so I could go, okay? I'm not planning to waste it."

Jeno nods hastily in an attempt to placate you. "Okay! Let's go then."

He trails behind you obediently until you see a piece that catches your fancy, stopping to take a look. The painting depicts several lilies of the valley in a vase. Behind the vase, there are two mountains painted in grey, but the small patch of grass that the lilies sit on is several vibrant shades of green.

You stay in front of that painting for a while, impressed by the details and texture on the canvas. A shutter sound catches your attention, and you blink a few times before turning to see Jeno holding up his camera and smiling sheepishly.

He rubs the back of his neck and says, "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. You looked too good standing there, I just had to get a shot of you."

"It's okay." You look back at the canvas, eyebrows knitting together.

"Don't you think the art style looks familiar?"

"I don't know much about paintings, so I can't say... " Jeno's reply dies on his lips, and he, too, stares at the painting with interest. "You're right, it does look familiar."

The two of you hum in concentration, Jeno resting his chin on top of your head while you wrack your brain for an answer. You tilt your head this way and that, and then it hits you.

"Park Jisung," you say at the same time Jeno does. "How did you–"

Jeno points at a small square of text. "It says right here. Park Jisung, 24, oil on canvas." You mentally slap your forehead. How could you forget that museums put up a description of each artwork and its artist? You must be too tired from the flight.

"That's right, " you say. "That's why it looks so familiar. Contrasting colours was one of the most defining aspects of his style."

You met Jisung at a kids' art camp when you were in university, and the two of you had learnt a lot from each other while teaching the kids. You were surprised to find out that he was two years your senior in a different university, despite being the same age as you.

You lost contact with him after that, and were very, very shocked to see him at Jeno's college reunion. Although you don't speak much to Jisung now, the things you learnt from him at that one camp will stick with you forever.

"That kid's insane," Jeno muses. "He skipped a year in elementary, lived with hyungs he barely knew in university, and did side jobs because he hadn't gotten a scholarship to pay for his tuition fees, unlike Yeon-seok."

You shrug. "Maybe not 'insane'. Just determined."

Jeno nods. "And he's not much of a kid anymore, is he?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Not anymore."

—

As you wander around with Jeno, stopping at paintings to admire them, a sense of melancholy threatens to overwhelm you, slipping between your eyelids like a mass of black water, a receding wave preparing to crash upon the shore of your eyelashes.

You blink back thoughts of insecurity, trying to focus on the artworks and not your feelings, but it’s no use. You can’t escape from the thoughts running wild in your head, and it gets the better of you, a lone tear managing to get past your barriers, trailing slowly down your cheek.

You subtly wipe it away, but Jeno notices immediately, and he stops short.

He turns towards you, concern emanating off his being, and it offers you some comfort. He holds you carefully, like he’s not sure if you’ll break apart in his hands. His body shields you from anything else in the museum, encasing you in a bubble of protection and silence.

You breathe in deeply; once, then twice. You feel the heat behind your eyes slowly fading to a simple stinging sensation, one that doesn’t make you feel completely helpless.

Jeno’s hands tighten around you, and you instinctively lean in towards him. He doesn’t speak, allowing you to unravel the spool of thread wrapped around your lungs, prying apart the anxiety that prevents you from breathing.

When you can think straight again, you look at Jeno, and he knows.

Without words, understanding passes between you, and Jeno knows everything that’s running through your mind.

He nudges you, gently. Are you okay? his eyebrows ask, raising so high they almost disappear into his fringe.

You can lie about a lot of things, like why you came to the museum in the first place or how you feel staring at the art on the walls or whether you’re okay right now, but you don’t. Because you know that regardless of what you say, Jeno will see right through you like you’re a ghost. You’ll never understand if it’s because it’s you, or if everyone’s feelings are transparent to him. You don’t think you care.

It’s enough to just stand there, weightless. You’re completely supported by Jeno, whose embrace is so tight it’s practically lifting you off the ground, and you;re not complaining.

If he could lift your burdens off your mind the same way he’s lifting your feet from the ground right now, he would. And you would want him to.

“I feel like my art’s worth nothing if it can’t be shown to the world.” You speak slowly, uncertainly, knowing you might cry if you let everything out too quickly. Jeno wants to stop you before you get caught up in the flow of you words, but he knows it’s better if you let it all out.

Opening a bottle of carbonated soda that’s just been shaken is dangerous, but if he leaves it alone, the bottle might just explode.

“I know I don’t make art to be seen. I make it for myself. But at the same time, can any artist say that their craft is not made for the eyes of man? We all long for approval and praise, and that is partly what we make art for.”

Your lips tremble, and Jeno finds himself forced to stare at your quivering eyelashes and the sheen of tears you’re barely holding back. Still, you steel yourself, digging your heels into the ground to steady yourself.

“I wonder, sometimes. If my art isn’t seen, is it even art anymore?”

That’s the minefield, the question Jeno can’t answer without speaking baseless comfort. He has no answer to it, only empty words that he knows will fail to put you at ease.

You, however, don’t expect an answer. You look curiously at Jeno, waiting for a response, but the response doesn’t have to be a satisfactory answer.

Jeno leans in, tucking your head between his chin and his collarbone, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

He holds you there until you’ve stopped trembling. Then, one hand still firmly in yours, he takes you back to the hotel, sitting on the edge of your single bed while you sit and stare into nothingness.

When you make no move to get changed, he stands, and brings you to the bathroom. He peels the clothes from your body, helping to scrub your skin until it’s a rosy shade of pink, then wraps you in a towel and moves your arms to dry your body.

After he’s showered, the two of you sit on the bed, Jeno on top of the covers, while you’re tucked underneath them. Jeno has no change of clothes, no money, only his phone and both of your tickets to the museum.

In his street clothes, he refuses to get under the blanket and dirty the bed, but you are content with his presence.

You lie on the bed with your arms wrapped around Jeno’s waist, and when the shock has faded, you cry yourself to sleep.

Jeno is there throughout it, a beaming light in the whirlwind of emotions you’re experiencing, a constant presence that grounds you. He allows you to breathe between sobs, until they slowly fade away and your eyes close, motionless.

The next day, you find a wreath of galaxes on your bedside table, along with a glass of water, and it feels like a great weight has finally been removed from your shoulders.

The day of Donghyuck’s wedding comes earlier than you were expecting. Between taking you out to dinner and going on bike rides around the city, Jeno has kept you busy. Busy enough to forget your troubles, or at least for you to be able to cope with them in a relatively healthy manner.

You hear three knocks on the door, and as you go to open it, you see Jeno standing there, in the emerald green tuxedo you picked for him and the matching tie. His shirt is a pale green, so pale it can be mistaken for white, and gel gives his hair a wet gleam.

He smiles innocently, and it outshines all the charm his outfit has.

You fell in love with all of Jeno, after all, not just his appearance.

Your sage green dress flows past your ankles, and it would drag on the floor if you weren't wearing heels. They’re tall, but even with them on, you are still only the same height as Jeno. He grins at you, and carries you, bridal-style, into the lift lobby.

“Leave some room for the grooms later, stop trying to one-up them,” you joke, but Jeno only hoists you up into a more comfortable position.

“No can do,” Jeno says cheekily.

You don't pursue it.

—

A surprise awaits you in the car. As you open the door to the passenger side, you find that it’s filled—and so is the driver’s seat. Your heart skips a beat, thinking you must’ve gone to the wrong car, but the sight of the driver’s face makes you do a double take.

“Jisung?”

Jisung offers you a shy grin. “Yep, it’s me.”

“Is it really you? I thought… I never thought I’d see you again! How–” your words come out from your mouth before you can think them through, your rapid-fire Korean faltering in your confusion.

“Donghyuck and I are friends, remember?” You don't really, but if Jeno and Jisung are friends from college, it makes sense that Donghyuck would know them both too.

You clap a hand over your mouth, mind reeling. “So… you were invited to the wedding too?”

Jisung nods. Then, he gestures towards the lady in the driver’s seat. “I also have to introduce her to you. Y/n, meet Yeji. Yeji, Y/n.”

Yeji offers her hand for you to shake, and you take it, wondering where you’ve heard the name before. Yeji, Yeji, Yeji… Ah. You’ve got it. “Hwang Yeji?”

She’s the artist who organised the exhibition Soyeon had given you tickets to view. It was there, at the museum, that you saw Jisung’s art. If she really is Hwang Yeji, then everything will make sense.

Yeji nods. “Pleasure to meet you.”

She picks up a small bouquet of pink peonies, orange tulips and heather, presenting it to you. “Jisung showed me a few of your pieces, mostly older ones,” she says by way of explanation. “They had the potential to become something more. I heard from Jeno that you’d seen my exhibition, so I know you probably like flowers, and you know that I like them too. So this bouquet is an invitation for you to work with me some time, for us to perhaps collaborate on another exhibition in future.”

You are taken aback by the sudden offer, but you’re not an idiot. You remember the way you had collapsed into Jeno the week before, scared that you would never be able to get your art out there. Now, your chance is right in front of you.

You take it.

Gratefully receiving the bouquet, you don’t miss the symbolism of the flowers, the goodwill the arrangement holds. You know it is intentional.

“Thank you for your offer. I look forward to working with you.”

Yeji shakes your hand heartily, and you and Jeno get into the backseat.

After settling in, you rest the bouquet on your lap, and you turn to see Jeno holding a white rose. You frown, wondering where he could’ve conjured it from, and lock eyes with Jisung in the driver’s mirror. You raise your eyebrows in question, and he shrugs innocently.

You roll your eyes at the conspirators, but turn your attention back to Jeno. Jeno carefully slips the white rose into the side of the bouquet, managing to prevent it from looking uneven. You play with the petals of the rose, its symbolism clear in your head.

Used to congratulate people on career successes, your mind supplies helpfully. The only career success you can think of right now is also the most recent one, Yeji’s offer to you. But there’s no way Jeno could have known that Yeji would put that offer out. Unless…

“Did you know?” You ask, tone accusing. You doesn’t have to finish the question; Jeno understands what you’re talking about.

“No, I didn’t know if Yeji would offer to work with you for an exhibition. Jisung only told me that he had shown Yeji your art, and I had faith in your abilities. I knew that after witnessing the extent of your talents, Yeji would have something good to offer you, career-wise.”

You can’t argue with that. The logic is sound, and the flowers are cohesively pretty. You continue to play with the petals, a small smile dancing on your lips.

The smile doesn’t escape Jeno’s attention, and he smiles too.

—

It starts to drizzle as soon as you reach the wedding place. Jeno is quick to procure a clear umbrella, holding it for both of you. He knows you wouldn’t want to get your clothes wet.

Jaemin is there too, one hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers, standing by the side. Donghyuck’s wedding is a loud, chaotic one, with many guests you don't recognise all talking with each other. Jaemin hovers at the vague edge of the crowd, as much of an introvert as Jeno, and you tug Jeno over.

“Hi, jagiya.” Jaemin envelopes you in a warm hug, and he smells like home.

Jeno opens his hands for a hug too, but Jaemin only laughs and swats his hand away. Jeno slings one hand over Jaemin’s shoulder, and you snatch his umbrella away, going off to find Donghyuck.

The two men stand side by side, Jaemin still holding the umbrella, watching you disappear into the hordes of people.

—

The rain gets heavier, and you try to occupy as little space as possible, not letting a single part of your body protrude from under the umbrella. Droplets of rain splash onto your shoes and your face, and you wipes them from your face with the back of your hand.

Jisung stands beside Donghyuck and Yeon-seok, with Chenle, Jaemin’s old roommate, and a couple of other men you can’t remember the names of. Donghyuck and Yeon-seok’s roommates from university, you think, because you remember seeing them at the reunion.

You congratulate the grooms, and move to stand next to Yeji and Jisung. The small circle are the only people that have gotten a chance to speak with Donghyuck and Yeon-seok, and by the looks of it, their conversation isn’t going to end anytime soon.

Yeji makes small talk with you, and you laugh about a few shared experiences, before you notice the crowd starting to disperse, and the officiator announces that the wedding is beginning.

You move back to where Jeno is, and he leaves Jaemin with his umbrella, ducking under your umbrella to join you.

The wedding is simple and sweet, and there are tears all around as the two bridegrooms say their vows.

“...to love and to cherish, until death does us part.” Jeno’s fingers suddenly falter, and the golden locket he’s been fidgeting with throughout the wedding slips through his fingers. He lunges to catch it, and you finally notice what he’s been doing with his hands.

Resting one hand on his left knee to calm him down, you nuzzle into his neck, and nudge his hand open with your index finger.

“What’re you holding?” you ask under your breath.

“Nothing.” You briefly register the officiator allowing Yeon-seok and Donghyuck to kiss, and you look up at them just in time.

“Open your hand,” you command.

Obediently, Jeno uncurls his fingers, and you take the locket from him. You fumble with the clasp, but it springs open, and there’s a picture inside. Squinting, you realise that it’s a picture of you and Jeno, taken when you weren’t paying attention. Your hand is shielding your eyes from the sun, and Jeno’s firm hand is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

Your grip on Jeno’s knee tightens.

“How long have you been carrying this around for?” You ask, voice slightly hoarse.

Jeno looks away. “Since we took the picture. It’s been, what, two years?”

You feel your throat seizing up, and you force yourself to take a few deep breaths. Jeno has been carrying the locket around for two years. Almost the same length of time that you’ve been dating for. He’s loved you enough for the whole span of that time to carry a picture of you around wherever he goes.

You can’t breathe. “You’ve been carrying this around for two years?”

Jeno shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, like a soldier going off to war,” he quips. Somehow, you’ve switched to Korean, but you don't quite register it. It just feels right, better, to speak in your native language.

It fits, the same way your body fits into the cracks of Jeno’s body, the way his arms wrap around you and fit into every nook and cranny of yours. Your scars line up against each other’s, and Jeno is the puzzle piece that makes you whole.

“So you love me.” It might seem strange, after all they’ve been through, to doubt it. But it hasn’t been long, and you hate to give yourself away, to love somebody else. Every day, you wonder if you’ve crossed the line from like to love, or if you’ve fallen out of like with each other.

“Yes.” You never knew one word could turn your world upside down. The rain has eased, but it feels like there’s water rushing in your ears, heart pounding.

Then, “Are you okay?”

You hear it from your other side, your left side, and you see Yeji there, concern in her eyes. You turn your attention back to the proceedings, and see Donghyuck taking the wedding bouquet from Yeon-seok, preparing to toss it in the air.

“Yes,” you say, determinedly. Jeno guides your hand to tilt the umbrella backwards, giving both of you a better view of the grooms, and the water continues to flow off the umbrella.

Neither of them makes a move to take it, leaving the more eager guests to rush towards Donghyuck, surrounding him. He turns his back towards them, Yeon-seok moderating the crowd, and tosses the bouquet into the air.

It arcs towards the middle of the crowd, and a lone carnation falls out. Jeno reflexively reaches out for it before it can fall on the soaked grass, and he tucks the yellow carnation behind your ear.

His face is right next to yours, his breathing fast and rapid, and you hear the pulsing of his heart when you place a hand on his chest.

Jeno leans his forehead on yours, the umbrella creating a bubble of silence and tranquility amidst the loud cheers and celebration outside of it. A tear rolls down his cheek, and he smiles, the tear caught on the upside of his upper lip.

You watch as he licks it away, and brush the pad of your thumb against the trail of the tear.

“Are you crying?” you ask softly.

“No,” Jeno says, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “It’s just the rain.”

You wrap your arm around his neck, nose bridge aligned with his, waiting quietly.

“I know you don’t want to get married now,” Jeno says. “But please, take this carnation as a promise that I will never let you have your heart broken.”

You have heard false promises fall from Jeno’s lips before. You’ve faced his broken promises, seen through his lies, accepted his empty praise. This time, however, it’s different. You know it in your heart, can hear the dogged beating of his heart, refusing to hurt you again.

You smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll take that promise.”

—

floriography

violet: a declaration to always be true

blue salvia / azure blue sage: harbours sentiments of missing and thinking of someone.

peppermint: warmth of feeling

lavender: purity, devotion, serenity, grace and calmness.

sunflower: adoration and loyalty, long life and lasting happiness.

chrysanthemum: longevity, fidelity, joy and optimism.

red camellia: you’re a flame in my heart.

galaxes: encouragement.

pink peonies: good luck, prosperity and success

orange tulips: joy, enthusiasm and excitement

heather: admiration and support

white roses: symbolises innocence and purity. used to congratulate people on career successes.

carnations: symbolise pride and love for someone in a supportive way. used to tailor bouquets to one’s favourite colour due to their ease of dyeing.

#nct #nct dream #k-labels #🪁 — my works #💐 — the language of flowers #jeno #nct fic #nct dream fic #jeno x reader #jeno x y/n #nct dream x reader

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slutforsilverfoxes · 6 months

Text

Prejudice & Pride

[A/N: Me: has a terrible interaction with a tech. Me immediately after escaping from said interaction: starts drafting Hotch feat. praise kink bc he Would Not Stand For This 🥺 It’s consequently more fluff than my other kinktober posts, pls indulge me]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gender neutral reader (praise kink)

🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤

Aaron can’t help the smile that graces his face when he walks in to find his apartment smelling like your newest candle obsession, bought on a whim during a recent excursion to the mall because it sniffs like your cologne. He spots the key he had given you on the hook by the door, the smile on his face widening when he drops his own set of keys beside it. “Honey?” he calls out into the dimly lit space. “We caught a tailwind, so I’m back early.”

“Living room,” you answer, tone void of your usual excitement to have him home with you.

“Hey,” he croons upon entering the living room, noting a half-empty bottle of moscato on the table by the melting candle and your body bundled up on the couch. “Rough day?”

With a sniffle, you part with your wine glass and look up at him with a pout that tugs at his heartstrings. “Fucking shit day. I’m so happy you’re home,” you sigh, reaching your hands up toward him.

Aaron takes the hint, shedding his suit jacket and loosening his tie before lifting you into his arms and settling on the couch with you in his lap. His hands immediately go to work, one softly scratching along your spine, the other carding through your hair.

“Baby,” you whisper, tracing his lips with your index finger before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I know you found the missing kiddos, but are you okay? Cases with kids are always hard on you.”

“Oh, angel,” he sighs, pausing his soothing patterns to give you an affectionate squeeze. “I’m glad they’re home safe with their parents.”

“You’re so good at what you do, Aaron,” you say, voice wavering with awe and a hint of sadness, if he’s not mistaken. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

He brushes a strand of hair off your forehead before tilting your chin up until your gaze meets his. “Did someone make you feel like you’re not?”

“See?” you ask, bottom lip trembling. “You’re a damn good profiler.”

“Tell me what happened.”

You launch into a blow by blow recounting of your no good, very bad day from only getting to down two sips of your coffee before being pulled into a case to working with a technician who made you feel downright incompetent. “-and the thing is, the thing is, I was alone in the OR with my patient- anesthetized okay?”

“I’m following,” Aaron says with a nod, swiping at the errant tears of frustration running down your heated cheeks.

“So clearly I know what I’m doing, right?”

“Of course you do,” he’s quick to affirm, lips tugging into a frown at the doubt blanketing your words.

“And he was fine. Stable throughout, no issues in recovery or anything. And she was kind of nice to me afterwards? I don’t know,” you sigh, voice dropping low while you distract yourself playing with his tie. “I just felt really stupid about every little decision I made. Maybe I’m not cut out for this field.”

“Excuse me?”

You balk at the subtle growl in Aaron’s voice, looking up at him meekly. “Aar, I-”

“I know you didn’t work your ass off to get into this program, spend sleepless days and nights studying, and rack up hours upon hours of experience at the hospital just to let one technician’s shitty attitude dissuade you from following your dreams.”

Overcome with emotion, tears pool in your eyes again and you shake your head at his much needed tough love.

“This-” He cups your face in his large hands before continuing, “This is your passion, baby. You were meant to do this, to help and heal those who need it most. And you are not going to let others’ bitterness stand in your way. Am I clear?”

Managing to muster up a smile, you nod and respond, “Clear, Unit Chief Hotchner, sir.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. You have your Hotch frown on,” you tease, swiping your thumb across his downturned bottom lip.

His frown deepens at your playful ribbing, and he rises abruptly so that you’re forced to wrap your legs around his waist and cling to him while he strides purposefully down the hallway towards the master bedroom. “You don’t understand how serious I am about this,” he accuses, and you dot his neck with kisses while assuring, “No, no, I definitely do, and I appreciate you for it.”

“But your confidence is still shaken,” he intuits, and he can feel the sigh that rattles through you in response. “Well that simply won’t do, sweetheart.”

__________

“Say it,” Aaron growls out, a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead onto your flushed chest when his hips meet yours again.

You let out a pitiful moan, raking your nails down his back at the overwhelming sensation of fullness.

“Say. It.” He repeats the command, each word punctuated with a harsh thrust that has you seeing stars.

“I’m smart,” you rasp out, thighs quaking in their elevated position. Aaron has you nearly folded in half, knees practically pressed to your chest while he rails you like he can imbue confidence into you with his cock alone.

“And?” he prompts with another gasp-inducing drive of his hips.

“I’m good at what I do?” you offer quietly, somehow succeeding in looking sheepish while he splits you in half.

He pinches your nipple harshly and you cry out, now meeting his fiery gaze with one of your own. “Was that a question or a statement?”

“I’m good at what I do,” you amend, tugging on his hair as he fucks you without abandon.

“That’s it, baby,” he croons, bending down to swipe his lips across yours. You whimper into his mouth, the change in angle somehow helping him drive even deeper into your spent body. He nibbles on your bottom lip before pulling back with a satisfied grin. “You’re brilliant, aren’t you, my little doctor?” Tucking your chin between his thumb and index finger, he moves your head into a nod. “You’re only dumb when you’re drunk on my cock.”

A moan falls past your parted lips at that, and Aaron laughs low in his throat. “Poor thing,” he tuts, “I’m amazed you can string full sentences together right now.”

“Can’t,” you cry in response. “Need you. Need you to fill me up, Daddy, please.”

He takes your ankles in his hands and wraps your legs around his torso, stalling his movements with his hips flush to yours. “You want Daddy to be nice to you?”

Driving your heels into his lower back, you moan, “Oh god, yes.”

“Are you going to be nice to yourself, little one?” Desperate for release, you sniffle and nod diligently. Aaron sucks a bruising kiss into the sensitive skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder and growls out, “Promise?”

“Promise,” you answer immediately, breathless.

“Did so well for me, baby, so well,” he praises, his hand moving between your bodies to expertly take you over the edge, and you cling to him like your life depends on it as fireworks explode behind your closed eyelids. “My good little love. So smart, so beautiful, so perfect.”

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loversj0y · 9 months

Text

our young nation

wilbur soot x gn! reader (note: pronouns are gn but reader is afab)

TWs: WAR, DEPICTIONS OF WOUNDS, BIRTH, PREGNANCY, ONE LINE ABT PERIODS, TALKS OF ILLNESS, MENTIONS OF DYING, SEMI-REALISTIC APPROACH TO WAR

word count: 10.7k

note: this has not been edited at all. i dont know a lot about war, but i do know hamilton and mockingjay, so. theres that. there's a playlist for this fic as well if you want to listen to what i listened to (also if this formats weirdly lmk and ill post it on ao3). have fun reading :) title is taken from dear theodosia from hamilton fic playlist

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @melunnek

Doing new things was never easy. There were always some hiccups, some strifes, some things that just kept new things from working out just as perfectly as you’d hoped. Not all these hiccups were bad per se, but they were there. Occam’s razor be damned, sometimes things are harder than they are easier.

Those hiccups might be the death of one Wilbur Soot. Mostly because, in this case, the things occurring lean far more toward the “strife” category than the “hiccup” category.

Literally.

The newness of his formed country was refreshing, L’Manburg was already growing to become a beautiful nation, just from the camaraderie seen within its walls. But the beauty of their forming country was contrasted by the growing issues of war and hardships afflicting his citizens.

So yes, war was hard. New things were hard, but they were often necessary and they often brought new, better things.

And then, of course, there was the flickering candle light in the middle of the destitute tunnel that categorized war: Love.

You weren’t originally planning to be involved in the war at all. When Wilbur had come to your door, asking about volunteering for the war, you’d politely turned him down. You made it very clear how much you supported the war efforts, and how, though you couldn’t fight, you’d be willing to help out the war efforts in any way you could.

Wilbur gave you a charming smile and let you know that your support was greatly appreciated.

Which was how you became his aid. For the leader of the rebellion, he was rather disorganized, in a literal sense, seen in the numerous papers and half-finished rations littering his desk, as well as a figurative sense, with the desk becoming a mirror image of his own mind. You helped clear the scatter, in both senses. When he’d pass out writing his pages and pages on new injustices committed by the Greater SMP, you’d be there to save his place and clear the desk.

Eventually, you were able to do far more than just clear the desk; you were able to clear his mind.

It started in conversations, when he’d ask questions aloud to himself without realizing you were in the room.

“… and the infractions pushed upon us by the members of the Greater SMP have found my people destitute, destroyed, and… deprived? No, not deprived-“

“Disregarded?” You spoke up from your place standing next to him, where you’d been carefully sorting through old unfinished drafts of his own works.

“Disregarded?” He looked up at you, giving you a flash of a smile, “Do you feel disregarded by the Greater SMP, Y/N?”

You flushed a bit under his gaze. You hadn’t actually meant to offer the word, but it had slipped out before you could stop it, “Yes.”

His smile underwent a simple change, one you’d noticed after observing his speeches and public appearances. His smile went from congressional — purely political and for show — to harboring a sense of community. It was the smile he used when he asked for volunteers. It was the smile he used when he asked people for their grievances. It was the smile he used when he listened to his citizens. It was a smile that could make you feel safe, make you feel heard. “How so? In what ways do you feel disregarded by the Greater SMP, Y/N?” He asked. It was subtle, the way he tried to say people’s names as often as possible when he spoke to them. There was something in it you recognized; a urge to get the person on your good side and the need to be liked.

You honestly couldn’t place the words that escaped you next. You had never been particularly political, but there was something about Wilbur Soot that demanded elegance and intelligence, and you felt yourself falling into line with easy compliance.

“Well, I feel disregarded in the way they command us. They have hurt our people numerous times without giving a second thought, yet they praise kindness and claim to want a peaceful end to this fighting. I feel disregarded in the fact that they claim to understand us, yet they have never spoken to me, let alone the majority of our citizens. I feel disregarded because they don’t even know my name, yet they have burned down my land. I feel disregarded because they refuse to listen to our grievances,” you took a breath as you continued, setting down the pages you’d been shuffling through. “I feel disregarded because even before the war, they did not respect us. I feel disregarded in the ways that they would bring us into their conflicts while they sat there. And most of all, I feel disregarded in the ways they have hurt my people without a care in the world, as if our lives do not matter.”

There was a moment of silence when you’d finished, and you looked back to see the leader of the rebellion giving you a look that you had never seen before upon his face: adoration. His smile fell into something softer, one that you’d seen only in short bursts, reserved for quiet moments Wilbur shared with himself in dark nights alone when he’d finished a piece he was proud of.

“Well, then,” he smiled at you genuinely, and it was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen. “Disregarded, it is.”

From there, you went from being his aid to his advisor, helping him hone his perfectly crafted speeches. You helped clear his mind. His air of regality as leader of the rebellion kept people from feeling comfortable reaching him, yet you shared none of that sense of bravado. You didn’t want to. People came to you, told you about how they felt as citizens, and it was the biggest help to Wilbur, who no longer felt like he was grasping at straws to make sure his citizens were being heard.

Throughout it all, the best thing you offered Wilbur was not your mind, but rather your company.

There were a lot of long nights that Wilbur was used to braving alone, and yet now, you were there to provide him companionship and cure the thoughts that plagued his mind about the future of the war. Wilbur loved watching your mind work on these nights. He would throw up a question into the air, something simple and philosophical, and he would watch as you’d chip away at the question and his subsequent arguments to your own positions. In any other case, it’d have been annoying, but for the both of you, it was akin to mental exercises, a game the two of you shared to keep sharp. It made for a kind distraction over the sounds of silence that plagued empty battlefields still wet with blood.

These nights were also some of the only nights you’d be able to get Wilbur to take care of himself. Usually, it was after a glass of wine softened him up enough for you to convince him to finish his rations. He had a habit of leaving half, just in case someone else needed something, and he’d been hungrier before so he was sure he could brave it. These were the nights when he’d finally let his wounds show.

Every battle, regardless of how bad off he was, he would hide any wounds that he couldn’t personally classify as fatal. And he would continue hiding them until they faded, though they never fully did. He always cared so much about appearances, how he needed to look pristine and confident to keep morales high.

But he didn’t care about that with you. With you, he cared about wit and vulnerability, despite the two having always fallen on opposite doorsteps in his persona. So he’d take off his uniform, leaving him in a simple white undershirt and the slightly baggy black pants he wore underneath. It was the biggest form of physical vulnerability he’d allowed himself in years, and you never overstepped. You’d ignore the bruises and scars littering his arms and faintly poking out from the collar of his undershirt.

But veiled ignorance could only last so long, and your own care for the man overtook any sense of social conventions.

“Wilbur,” you looked at him abruptly. You’d been sharing a bottle of wine like you often ended up doing these nights that neither of you could sleep. With each sip, you feel your mind grow anxious at what you’d noticed. Right when he’d taken this uniform shirt off, you quickly noticed the slash in his bicep, crusted with blood and dirt. And while you planned to ignore it like usual, usually he’d at least have cleaned the wound before, and you couldn’t ignore how clearly unattended this wound was. “Did you visit the medic after today’s battle?”

Wilbur snorted into his glass of wine as he took another sip, “No. No, I did not.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he started simply, “they had far more pressing matters.”

You didn’t see the battles. You’d be on the sidelines, with prepared speeches for Wilbur to give in case of any major developments. You always had to be ready, but it came at the consequence of never knowing what truly happened on the battlefield. Wilbur never liked to recount it either, only sharing essential information to save you from hearing about the ways your people were injured.

But tonight, you wanted to know. His safety was something that concerned you, and if it was so bad that he would threaten his safety, you needed to know. “What was it like today?” You asked quietly, standing as you spoke.

He watched you as you flitted around the room, pacing the floorboards languidly. “I told you. We lost, but we were able to leave a-“

“No, I know what you told me. ‘The battle was lost, but there were effects put into motion that will be able to help us in the long run.’ I know that. I meant- the- the other stuff, those ‘more pressing matters’ that the nurses had. Stuff like that.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word ‘casualties’ so casually, as if it was not one of your neighbor’s lives your were pushing into a single word.

He frowned, “I don’t- I really don’t think-“

“Tell me, Wilbur. I need to know.”

Wilbur sighed slowly, nodding, “Everyone was injured. Some of us less so than others. It… it was Eret. Eret betrayed us, so they knew where we were, they knew we’d be unprepared. It’s better that it’s now, so early in the war, that the traitor is gone now, but… it was at a heavy expense. All of my friends, the ones I dragged into this, they- some of them are still there, in the infirmary. Tubbo nearly died. He-“ Wilbur took in a breath, shuddering, “They said he’ll be okay, but if he was hit any higher, they would’ve punctured his rib, and we would’ve lost him. And- I- We almost lost my brother. Tommy, he-“ there were tears in Wilbur’s eyes as he recounted it, “he took a knife straight to the shoulder. For me. He pushed me out of the way. And it was so close, if he’d been a second earlier, it would’ve gone through his heart.” Wilbur was crying now. It was the first time you’d seen him this vulnerable, this affected by what he’d seen. The horrors that plagued his vision every time he’d close his eyes, yet he closes his eyes now, as he speaks, as if he would find some epiphany lying behind them and not the images of his brother and his brother’s best friend clinging to life.

“I- I couldn’t visit the medic after that. For this?” He gestured to the slash on his arm, “It felt unworthy of their attention when so many had nearly lost it all.”

He was still crying, his eyes pressed tightly together as if doing so would click some button to erase the memories of what he’d seen on the battlefield. You moved forward, pressing his head into your stomach and wrapping your arms around him gently. He cried against you, soft and shuddering as if his body was still afraid to acknowledge or speak about what he’d seen.

“I- I watched someone die. Someone on our side, I-“ he sobbed softly, “I held him as his breathing faded. His last words, he-“ Wilbur buried his face further against you, “He told me ‘Wilbur, make it worth it. If this is it for me, do not let it be in vain. Free our country and win.’” Wilbur panted quietly as he let the final words of a fellow solider fade into the quiet of the night. “I just- I can’t let him down. I let a man die for my cause. His blood is on my hands. And Y/N… it doesn’t look good right now. I know I said Eret’s betrayal is good for the future since the traitor is gone, but I- I don’t know what he knows. He could guide them back here tomorrow and slaughter us all in our sleep. So I- I don’t know what to do. I can’t let our people down, they- they didn’t ask for this. I keep- I keep wondering if I just should’ve kept quiet. If we could’ve been happy just living under SMP’s rule.” His admission did not escape him easily, echos of gasping sobs filling the room as he clung onto the fabric of your shirt. Neither of you spoke at first, letting his tears slow to a near stop in order to help him preserve the fragility of his mind.

“Wilbur,” you spoke softly once you felt the moment was right, “No one was happy before. You cannot fault yourself for giving us a chance. I know you feel responsible for the bloodshed, and I know how it makes you feel like you’re clinging onto some shadow of death that follows you. But if you were the only one who wanted freedom for our country, there would be no rebellion. You’d just be another man standing on the end of a street, searching for someone to listen to you. We support this cause because we not only believe in the importance of our freedom, but because we believe in you, Wilbur. We cannot have our leader be made a martyr because where would that leave us? This cause would fall apart without you. And I know you are afraid, but we are all afraid. You are allowed to be afraid of uncertainty. Your people are putting their lives on the line’s because the believe the end, even their ends, will justify the means. You cannot consider falling back onto your fears now. I’m so sorry for what you saw. I know how horrifying it must’ve been. But that man let you hold him as he died, you brought him comfort in those final moments because you promised a better future for his family, his people. You have inspired people, Wilbur. You inspired me. You took a single thought, an idea, and you turned it into something real, something tangible, a cause that we not only believe in, but one that we fight for, and we will continue to fight for.” You let out a soft sigh, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the crown of his head, “Wilbur, I know you feel like the world is crumbling around you because of how scary everything is right now. But you are not alone. If your world is crumbling, it is crumbling for me too?” you sighed once more, “this is all just a long winded way for me to ask, Wilbur, please, will you let me patch your wound?”

He didn’t reply to any specific part of your response, just giving a curt nod and lowering his arms. You both knew that you didn’t just mean the wound on his arm, but that you were attempting to reach out and help him patch the rifts in his mind.

You grabbed the spare first aid kit, returning to your place in front of him as you set down the kit.

“It’s really not that bad,” he sighed, and you rolled your eyes.

“Wilbur, I have always trusted your judgement for everything, but I think we have finally found the exception,” you chuckled softly, gently taking his arm in your hands to inspect the wound. It definitely wasn’t a pretty sight, but it could certainly be worse.

“Really? This marks the exception? Not the hundreds of times I’ve asked you if something sounds right or if people would agree with something I’ve said?”

You nodded, taking a cotton ball and soaking it in alcohol, “Yep, this is it. Uncertainty is not having bad judgement, it’s just the acknowledgement that you can’t do things alone. Which is true, none of us can.” You smiled lightly, pressing the cotton to his arm to clean the wound.

He hissed softly in pain as you cleaned the wound, speaking only once you’d finished, “I can’t,” he spoke quietly. “I can’t do things alone. I’m very grateful to have you.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you reached for a salve to spread onto his wound. “I’m grateful as well. You keep me stable with all this craziness going on.”

He watched as you opened the salve, getting a generous amount onto your fingers to lightly spread over the slash, “I can say the same. I would’ve fallen into disarray by now without you.”

Your flush darkened, and you started to wrap his arm quietly. You didn’t speak until you’d finished wrapping his arm completely.

“There,” you spoke softly, tying off the bandage, “Now, you won’t get an infection and fall ill. Goodness knows we don’t have the medicine for preventable illness anyways,” you chuckled, trying to make light of things.

Wilbur smiled as well, but he seemed a bit further in thought. You grabbed the kit once more and went to return it to its place, but Wilbur’s hand wrapped lightly around your wrist and kept you from turning.

“Wilbur?” you asked softly.

“I-” he had a flush on his cheek, and there was a beat of waiting before he finally looked up at you. He had a look filled with adoration and appreciation. But there was something else in his gaze, something softer. More warm. Something you would come to know as love.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly, his thumb lightly caressing where it rested on your wrist.

You had to refrain from gaping at him as you processed his question. You had always found the rebel attractive, but you’d never considered the legitimacy of pursuing a relationship with a man who seemed far out of your league. With bated breath you nodded, and he leaned up to pull you into him.

The kiss felt far more gentle than it should have. For all the desperation and wanting that lived within it, the kiss was soft and slow, familiarizing one another with each crack in our lips. It didn’t develop further, there was no rapid increasing of intensity, the kiss remained as gentle as the glow from the candles around the room until you pulled away slowly.

You both stared at one another for a long moment, attempting to memorize each freckle and blemish that adored war-torn faces. He was the one to speak up first.

“Y/N? Would you stay with me? Just for tonight?”

You nodded your agreement, and you both shared a mutual understanding in the lie he allowed spill from his lips.

As the war continued, you found yourself making a permanent residence in Wilbur’s bed and home. The war was taking longer than anyone expected, a double-edged sword in the how our troops still lived, yet so did Greater SMP’s. Morale was low for everyone, but you kept your spirits high in fire-warmed rooms in Wilbur’s arms.

“Do you think our people need something to boost their spirits?” He’d asked one day, your head resting on his chest and a hand loosely playing with your hair.

“Hm,” you thought, looking up at him, “I think it would be good, yeah. What are you thinking? A festival?”

He hummed, and as you inspected his face, you noticed the nerves lining his expression. It wasn’t an uncommon sight these days, his worries about the war leeching into every moment of the day. But usually, the anxiousness was far more faded by this time of night, even if it never fully left his gaze.

“Not a festival,” he spoke, shifting and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small black box, speaking softer, “I was thinking a wedding.”

You sat up, gasping softly, “Will-”

“I was going to wait until after the war,” he spoke, sitting up across from you. “But I’m terrified that I won’t get to. I’d rather die knowing you were mine than knowing I never got to at least ask you.”

“Wilbur,” you grabbed onto both of his cheeks, pulling him into a deep and loving kiss. You understood where his fears came from, and you would be lying if you didn’t admit that you shared in the same sentiment. Every day that the troops returned, your heart waited to beat in fear until you saw his face. You didn’t want to wait either.

You pulled away, wrapping arms tightly around his neck as you rested your forehead against his.

“Is that a yes, then?” He asked, a grin ghosting over his lips.

You laughed, holding onto him tighter, “Yes, Wilbur, absolutely.”

He laughed as well, his arms coming to wrap tightly around you. He kissed the side of your head as he spoke, “We- it probably won’t get to be a big wedding because we’re so low on resources, but if you want something big, we can absolutely have a second ceremony after, and-”

“Wilbur, our wedding could be in a mud field in our pajamas with a chicken, and I would still be satisfied. All that matters to me is being able to call you mine forever.”

He gave you a grin like you hung the stars in the sky before pulling you in for a loving kiss and putting a small ring onto your finger.

The wedding planning went over quickly. You weren’t planning anything fancy whatsoever, but it still needed to be enough of an event for your people to have time to relax. Everyone wanted to help out as well. Once you woke up the next morning after Wilbur’s proposal, it seemed as if the whole country knew already, with people coming to congratulate you and Wilbur as you both walked through town. Just the sense of community in everyone’s offering to help out with the wedding seemed to brighten everyone throughout the country.

You and Wilbur actually had two ceremonies. The first one was for the two of you and your families, a small dinner and ceremony to allow you to have an intimate and private wedding. It was gorgeous, and so incredibly worth it. The second one was the ceremony for the people. It wasn’t a lavish affair, though your wedding attire was some of the most beautiful things either of you had seen in months. It was a subdued wedding, but it was making the most out of what you had. Lots of fresh cut flowers from the countryside, Niki baked a cake, and a real, full meal made for everyone.

You felt tense in your fancy wedding outfit. Even if it wasn’t the height of luxury, it felt more stiff than anything else you’d worn in months. But there was a point to all of it. It was an event, something for people to care about. Something to get on their minds instead of residual fear about the next battle. You were glad for private affair you’d been able to have the night before, because this felt more like playing the role of the Leader’s Partner rather than actually being his partner.

“Hey,” you heard softly from behind you, turning as you watched Wilbur sneak in. He paused when he saw you, staring in awe. “You look so lovely,” he smiled, walking over to you and taking your hands in his.

“I could say the same about you,” you smiled, pulling him forward for a short kiss. “You ready to get betrothed a second time?”

He laughed, holding you a bit closer, “I am. I’d marry you every day if I could.”

You smiled shyly up at him, moving to wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly, “I love you so much.”

He kissed the top of your head, smiling, “I love you too, darling.”

You sighed and relaxed into the hug, letting your eyes slip shut. You moved your hands down to his sides, frowning when you felt a small box in his pocket.

“Wilbur,” you started, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small box of cigarettes, “What are you doing with these?”

He frowned, a shameful look on his face, “I haven’t smoked any, don’t worry. I’m just- I’m anxious, so I got them in case.”

You nodded, biting your lip with a frown, “If you’re anxious, you know you can come to me.”

“I know, I know, I just-” he sighed, “I’m anxious about you, is the thing.”

You frowned, setting the cigarettes down on the table behind you, “What do you mean?”

He sighed, sitting down on a small stool across from you, “I’m nervous that when word travels about the marriage, they’ll look down on the legitimacy of our country. I think it’s good, I think they’ll think we’re less concerned than we really are, however… I’m worried I’m placing a target on your back.”

You nodded softly, “Wilbur, I’ve had a target on my back since I chose to stand with our country,” you moved forward, giving him a gentle kiss, “I understand the concern, and I know the risks. But I’m not letting those risks outweigh the joy of being married to you. If they go for me, I can handle it. I know I’m not much of a fighter, but I can hold my own. Plus, they won’t kill me. If I’m valuable to you, they wouldn’t dare.”

He took your hand in his again, squeezing it gently, “thank you, darling,” he sighed, holding you close. “I won’t let them take you anyways. You’re too precious to me.”

You chuckled softly, lightly pressing your forehead against his. “Let’s go get married, then. The best fuck you we can give them is our love.”

He grinned and chuckled, nodding softly, “Let’s go get married.”

The wedding was a bright affair. The actual marriage part was quick and sweet, vows that you had both prepared together, nothing as genuine as the words spoken the night before. It was sweet regardless, promises of loving each other in the darkest of times that rang true in an audience of war-stricken dreamers. The best part of the wedding was the reception. Everyone was up, dancing and singing along to the music being shared, and the entire tarp over the field was covered in the most beautiful lights and flowers. You had a proper first dance with Wilbur before the dancing became more lively. You spent most of the night sitting with Wilbur and watching your people dance and laugh and drink.

“It’s gorgeous, don’t you think?” You smiled, looking over at him.

He nodded, “It is. I’m glad to see everyone smiling and happy.” “And drunk.”

He laughed, leaning his head on your shoulder, “Yeah, that too.”

You smiled, holding his hand quietly. You stared at the ring on your finger. It was simple, but it was absolutely gorgeous. A simple gold band with a small chiselled diamond in the centre. The diamond was crafted from a piece that had chipped off of Wilbur’s sword when he taught you the basics of parrying hits. The engagement ring lay below it, a thinner silver ring with a small emerald that you recognized as coming from one of Wilbur’s ventures to a further village. The rings weren’t lavish, but you preferred them more like this. They were far more meaningful like this. Symbols of your love both in their meaning and their crafting.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked him softly.

“Of course, darling.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. “In our vows, we both mentioned honesty, so I want you to be honest with me right now. I know this isn’t the place to ask, but… what do you think our chances of winning are?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, “I don’t think it matters how big or small our chances are. I think what matters is that we have a chance. If we didn’t, we would’ve failed a long time ago.”

You nodded softly, “You see it, though? The future where we win?”

He looked over at you, a wide smile on his face, “I see it as clearly as I see you now. I see our fields free from the blood they currently harbor. Instead, they’re filled with flowers that grew up from the bloodshed. Crimson turned crimson. The kids run around, free of fear of an incoming bomb. My brother runs with them, and he no longer acts so grown up; he’s allowed to be a kid again. I see a memorial for those we lost, for all that was sacrificed. I see our citizens in parades, every year for our independence, they sing and dance, just like this. It’s like… the war is the night, the cold and harsh conditions that brutalize us and break us down into nothing more than human. But independence? It’s warm. It’s laying in the sun in a field with you. It’s our flag waving high on a summer day. It’s the laughter of children, it’s the joy of the future. It’s us. Our future. A memory garden adorned with flowers and the knowledge that we will never return to the Great War because we not only survived, but we persisted.”

“It’s daylight,” you smiled, and he gave you a grin so bright it felt like basking in it.

“It’s daylight.”

The weeks after the wedding remained lively for the most part. The morale boost helped the troops improve, and the battles didn’t seem as tough. There was an underlying fear that the SMP troops were holding back for some reason, but for the most part, everything seemed to be going good.

Until one morning.

Winter had begun, and with it, hardships improved. Illness was rampant, and while no one had fallen fatally ill yet, everyone was afraid.

Wilbur didn’t expect you to be next on the list of ill.

He was in the living room when you woke up that day. You stood slowly, but as you stood, you were hit with a wave of nausea and vertigo. You nearly collapsed before making it to the trash to throw up the contents of your empty stomach. You leaned over the trash and within moments, Wilbur was at your side, keeping your hair out of your face and rubbing your back.

“Darling? Are you alright?”

You coughed weakly, spitting into the trash, “Do I seem okay, Wilbur?” You huffed, before sighing. “Sorry, I just- I hate throwing up.”

He nodded softly, “It’s alright, I get it, here,” he carefully helped you up back into bed before rushing to grab some water. He handed you the glass, and you drank it quickly, sighing softly.

“Did something happen?” He asked, moving to your side to wrap an arm around you.

“No, I just stood up and- yeah,” you sighed, leaning your head against him, “You shouldn’t be close, I may be sick.”

He frowned, kissing the top of your head, “I’ll be alright. I’m going to call for the doctor, okay?”

You nodded softly, and he was rushing to get the doctor within seconds. They came back a few minutes later, and the doctor was quick to check over you.

“Your temperature is a bit high,” they hummed, “But other than that and the throwing up, I’m not seeing any other major symptoms. It could be stress. I would take it easy for the next few days, see if it improves. If nothing’s changed in a week, we can check for more, alright?”

You nodded softly, sighing quietly. Wilbur grabbed your hand gently before walking the doctor out, sharing hushed words.

When he returned, he got back into bed next to you, “They don’t think it’s anything serious. They said it’s likely just a mild fever, not like the flu going around out there.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, “I’ll be alright.”

“You will be,” he nodded, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t stay to watch you too much this week, but I can get Niki, if you want.”

“Wilbur, I don’t think I need to be watched,” you chuckled.

“I know you don’t need it,” he hummed, “but I want someone to be here with you. I don’t want you to collapse and have no one be here for you.”

You sighed softly, nodding, “Okay. If you don’t need her for anything this week, then I don’t mind. I like spending time with Niki.”

He smiled, squeezing your hand gently, “Alright. I’ll let her know.”

The same thing happened throughout the week. Wilbur would help you in the morning when the nausea hit, and then Niki would swap out with him when he had to go help out his people. The nausea usually lasted the whole day, but the vertigo and lightheadedness only seemed to last in the morning. You managed to eat small meals, and with Niki’s baking, she brought you a lot of small snacks.

It was one of these days that you had a theory. The final day of the week, there was a major battle, so Niki would spend the whole day with you while Wilbur went out to fight. It was nerve wracking knowing that he would be out there and you were stuck in your bedroom, but you figured it wasn’t that much different from the other days, you supposed.

“Niki,” you spoke up from your place on the bed. She was sat across from you, working on a small knitting project. The troops had just head out for the battle.

“Yeah, Y/N?” she asked, looking up at you.

“Did a doctor stay behind? Or did all of them head out?”

She thought for a moment, “There’s two here with us. One for the ill, and one preparing things for when the others return.”

You nodded, staying quiet for a moment, “Could you call one of them here for a moment?”

She frowned, concern lacing her brow, “Yeah, of course, but, why? Are you not feeling well again?”

“It’s not that,” you bit your lip quietly, looking away for a moment, “Can you keep a secret, Niki?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

You fiddled with your fingers for a moment, trying to think of the best way to phrase your next statement, “I… skipped this month.”

She gave you a look of confusion, before her eyes widened as realization hit, “Oh. Oh! Do you think-?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t want to get my hopes up yet. And I don’t want to get Wilbur’s hopes up either, just in case. But… I think so.”

She gave you a grin, nodding quickly as she stood, “I’ll go grab one of the doctors, I’ll be right back!”

She rushed out, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. You were nervous about the implications. You wanted to start a family with Wilbur, of course, but neither of you were planning for it to happen yet. You’d agreed to wait until after the war. War is no place to raise a child.

The doctor came in, and she gave you a gentle smile. Niki waited outside as you spoke with the doctor, and you did a quick exam.

“Well,” the doctor gave you a soft smile, “I think your theory may be correct, Y/N.”

“You think?”

“Well, I know. You’re correct. You’re pregnant.”

She had a soft grin on her face as she confirmed your theory, as if it was not news that changed the entire trajectory of your future.

“Thank you, Doctor,” you gave her a soft smile right back, trying to let your worries ease into the back of your mind until Wilbur returned.

“Of course. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. For the next few months, just try to relax. I know it’ll be tough given our circumstances, but you have the support of the entire country holding you up, alright?”

You nodded silently.

“I’ll do another exam in a month to make sure everything is going well, and we can arrange for monthly visits. If you have any questions just let me know, and so other than that, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you smiled softly, and she left soon after.

Niki returned, a subdued smile on her face, “So?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

She grinned, rushing to your side and taking your hand in hers, “Oh, that’s lovely! Wilbur’s going to be so excited, are you going to tell him tonight?”

“I think so,” you smiled softly, “I imagine it’d be hard to keep it from him.”

It was hard to keep it from him. But not through your own admission, rather because news of the doctor visiting your home traveled quick among those who’d stayed behind. That night, Wilbur rushed in to see you.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” He called out, rushing up to see you and hold you in a tight hug. He looked worse for wear, his hair a ruffled mess and his cheeks stained with dirt.

“Yes, love, I’m alright, why?” You hugged him back tightly, nerves and knowledge filling your chest.

“I- I heard a doctor came in today,” he pulled away to inspect your face, holding your cheeks gently, “Did something happen?”

“No, no,” you smiled softly, “I’m okay, I’m good, actually. We figured everything out, and I’m going to be okay.”

He let out a breath of relief, pressing his forehead to yours gently, “Darling, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you chuckled softly, “How was the fight?”

He tensed, and you frowned.

“It was… it wasn’t good,” he sighed, and your heart dropped, “We ambushed them like we planned, but they were stronger. We didn’t get to take out as many of them as we wanted to before they noticed us, so we were outnumbered.”

You nodded softly, “Were you successful in stealing supplies, though?”

He nodded, and the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Not as much as we wanted to, but enough to make it hurt.”

“That’s good,” you smiled back at him, “Are you injured? Did you see the medic?”

He shook his head, “a few scratches and a burn from a flaming arrow, but it’s not bad. It’s on my shoulder.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, “Go take a bath, and I’ll wrap it. And then, I have something important to talk to you about.”

He tilted his head, “What is it?”

“Nope, not yet. Go clean up first,” you chuckled softly, “That takes priority.”

He rolled his eyes, grin falling on his face easily, “Alright, alright. I’ll be right back.”

You nodded and watched as he went to go clean up. You could have told him then, but it was more for your sake than his that you wanted to wait. You had to get your mind together first, especially now knowing he was okay.

He returned not long after, face and hands scrubbed clean of dirt and soot. He was wearing a white tank top with his sleep pants, and he had the med kit in his hand as he sat down next to you.

You hissed softly as you saw the burn, gently taking his arm in your hand, “Wilbur, this is worse than you described.”

He waved it off, sighing, “It just got irritated from the water. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

You gave him a look of disbelief as you stared at the burn. It was bright red and angry, skin slightly charred and bubbled. There was a slight cut in the middle of it from where the arrow must’ve passed through. You sighed sofly, grabbing the disinfectant.

“Hold onto my arm, this is going to sting,” you told him softly, and he did as you said. Once you passed the disinfectant over the burn, he hissed in pain, squeezing your shoulder. You continued cleaning the wound until it was satisfactory, You grabbed the burn cream and delicately spread it over the wound, and slowly, his pained noises lessened.

“I’m not going to wrap it just yet, it needs to breathe for a while, okay?”

He nodded, sighing and pulling his hand away, “Will I be able to cover it tomorrow?”

You frowned, “You shouldn’t. But I know you will, so I’ll wrap it tomorrow.”

He nodded again, grabbing the med kit and returning it to its space in your bathroom.

“So,” he said, sitting down in front of you, “You said you have something important to share?”

“Yeah, so,” you sighed softly, taking his hand gently, “It’s about the doctor visit. I had the doctor come over today because I wanted to talk to her about us starting a family.”

He nodded, eyebrows furrowing slightly, “Okay. I thought we were planning to wait, though?”

You nodded, “I know, but… would you… be upset if we didn’t?”

He chuckled, “Not at all, darling,” he smiled, “it wouldn’t be ideal, but that’s more due to my own selfishness. I want to be here for every second of it, and I don’t know if I can right now. But I wouldn’t be upset about it. Do you… want to?”

You bit your lip, taking his hand and placing it over your stomach. “Wilbur,” you looked up at him, “I don’t know if we have much of a choice anymore.”

He gave you a concerned look, frowning, “Why not? Did- did something happen? If you’re not able to, we could always look into adoption, or-”

“No, Will,” you chuckled softly, shaking your head, “It’s not like that. It’s, uh, it’s the opposite, actually.” You gave him a soft grin.

He looked confused for a moment longer before a wide grin crossed his face, “Wait. Do you- do you mean?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I had a theory with all the sickness in the morning. So, I talked to the doctor, and… I think our family will be coming a lot sooner than we’d planned for.”

He grinned, tears springing to his eyes, “You’re serious? You’re-”

“Pregnant. Yeah.” You were grinning as well, and finally getting to tell him felt like the first breath of air after diving into the deep end.

“Oh, darling,” he spoke, pulling you into a tight hug, “Oh, I- we’re going to have a kid.”

You nodded, chuckling through the tears of joy that hit your cheeks. “Yeah, we’re going to have a kid.”

He grinned, holding you tightly, “Fundy’s going to have a sibling! Darling, this is amazing. I know we wanted to wait, but I don’t care. I have so much more to fight for now. So much more to come home for.”

You kissed him, holding onto him like a lifeline, “The war’s not done. But this. This is why we fight. As long as you’re home at the end of the day, that’s all that matters to me.”

He grinned at you, “I love you so much. I am so lucky to have you. We’re so lucky, even if it’s just being alive right now. This is all we need.”

You smiled lovingly at him, “We are so fucking lucky. And I am so excited for this. They’re blessed to have you as their father.”

“They’re blessed to have you as well,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

That night, neither of you went to sleep concerned over a failed fight. Instead, you dreamt of the bright future you’d be bringing your child into.

Family and close friends were the first to know. You told them two days later, during an impromptu family meeting that Wilbur had called. Everyone was incredibly elated, though Tommy’s excitement probably took the cake, as he was practically screaming his congratulations.

The rest of country learned fairly soon after. About a month later, even though you’d only slightly began showing and could certain continue to hide it for a while, neither of you wanted to. It was a joy to share with the country, and the celebration that followed was bright and lively, a night-long glimpse into a wonderful future.

It wasn’t always easy, though. Wilbur hated how he couldn’t stay by your side, taking care of your every need. You hated how lonely some nights were, when the battles lasted longer than usual or they had to prepare for a midnight ambush. The worst part of those nights was the fear, overwhelming and keeping you stationary in Wilbur’s office or your bedroom. Not knowing if your husband would return hurt more than anything else in the world.

You were six months in when he came home exhausted in early morning light. He didn’t speak to you at first, giving you a kiss before going to wash up. You waited anxiously for him to return, and when he did, he returned shirtless with a med kit in hand. He sat down in front of you with a sigh, turning around so you could see the large gash running down his shoulder.

“Wilbur,” you gasped softly, “this is really long.”

“It’s not that deep. Didn’t even realize it was there until I went to wash up.” He sighed.

You frowned, starting to patch him up quickly.

He spoke to distract himself, “Do you think we’re going to have a girl or a boy?”

You shrugged softly, “I’m not sure. They could be nonbinary as well.”

“True,” he hummed, “if they do come out as nonbinary, we’ll let them choose their own name. But we do still need to choose a name.”

“That’s true,” you hummed, carefully disinfecting his wound, “We should prepare for both.”

“I agree,” he responded, though his words came out through a clenched jaw.

“So what are you thinking, then?”

“Hm, I’m not sure about for a boy. But I do have a name picked out for a girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” you smiled, starting to carefully apply the salve to the wound, “What is it?”

“Tallulah,” he smiled softly, “What do you think?”

“That’s gorgeous. I love it.” You set the rest of the salve down, picking up the bandages.

“I’ve always loved it. I’m really glad you like it as well.”

You directed him to hold his arm up so you could wrap his wound, “It’s beautiful. What about a boy?”

He hummed, “I’m not sure.”

“We could always do Wilbur Jr.”

He snorted, shaking his head, “God, no. I’d sooner name them after Tommy.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I mean, Thomas would be a good middle name.”

“It would, actually,” he smiled softly. “For a boy, though… Julius could be nice. Or maybe Cornelius.”

You hummed, “Those have a good ring to it. Julius Thomas Soot. Cornelius Thomas Soot.”

“They do. We can think more about it, I suppose. We have time.”

“We do have time,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of his shoulder as you finished the bandage.

He turned, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head on your chest, pressing a kiss to the baby bump. You moved a hand to gently play with his hair.

“It was bad today?” You asked softly.

He sighed, “Bad would be an understatement.”

You nodded softly, kissing the top of his head.

“Do you think we’re bad people? For bringing a kid into this?” He asked softly.

You frowned, “No. I don’t.”

He nodded, holding you a bit tighter. After a moment, he spoke softly, “I’m really scared for them.”

You brushed through his hair with your hand, “Why?”

“I’m going to be honest, it… it doesn’t look good right now. They keep getting stronger and smarter, and I don’t know how to fight them. I’m scared we’re bringing our child into a failing country, and I’m scared I can’t protect you or them if worse comes to worse.”

“I understand. I’m scared too. But, love… we can’t really do anything now. We just have to try to give this child the best life we can, no matter the circumstances. Even if they’re the worst case scenario.”

He sighed, nodding, “I know. I just… I feel like I fucked up with Fundy. I was too young at the time, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes. And if I’m focused on fighting a war, I won’t be able to be there for them, the same way I wasn’t there for Fundy. I’m scared of being a bad father again.”

“I don’t think you will be,” you spoke softly, “and you’re not alone this time. You have me. They won’t be alone if you’re not there. I��ll be here.”

He nodded softly, looking up at you, “Thank you. I’m sorry, I’m just…” He trailed off.

“I get it. I’m scared too. I’ve never done this before. I have no clue what I’m doing. Not to mention I’m terrified of giving birth. But I’m scared of making mistakes because I didn’t know until I met you if I would ever have a kid. I’m glad I am, don’t get me wrong, but I never expected to be ready for something like this. Honestly, I still don’t know if I’m ready. I’m terrified, Wilbur. But I have you. I’m not alone.”

He smiled, leaning up to kiss you gently, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, darling,” you spoke softly, kissing him back gently, “Let’s get some rest, now, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded softly. With how exhausted he was, it didn’t take long before he fell asleep, leaving you alone with thoughts of uncertainty until sleep took over.

As you entered the last month of the pregnancy, things were starting to look up.

Kind of.

While the recent battles had been lost, Wilbur had a plan.

“Darling, I think I’ve figured it out,” he grinned, standing from his desk and walking to the couch you sat on.

“What is it?” You smiled, looking up at him.

“I’ve figured out how we win. Tubbo’s been spying for us, as you know, and he brought me this document yesterday, and I couldn’t see the significance! I was being an idiot, but I knew it didn’t make sense for them to have an entire document detailing how they make their uniforms.” He grinned, and you tilted your head.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a cypher. Darling, it was a code! And I- I figured it out. I know their plans.” He had a manic look in his eye, and you couldn’t help but perk up at the excitement in his tone.

“Love, have you slept?”

“Barely, I couldn’t sleep much because I kept thinking about this stupid fucking document. But darling, we know everything now. We know exactly where they’re going to be and when. We can win, we- we can do this.”

You grinned, but the anxiety still filled your chest at the idea, “You’re sure about this?”

“I- I mean, I think. I figured out the code, and it all makes sense.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to think of the most likely possibility. That they knew. That this was a fake document.

“Darling, I thought you’d be more excited,” he frowned, catching onto your anxiety.

“No, no, I am, just… Wilbur, what if they did it on purpose? What if they let him get a document planted just to feed you incorrect information?”

He nodded, thinking quietly. “I trust in it. And I think it may be a risk we have to take.”

You gaped at him, “Wilbur, you could be marching our troops directly into a trap.”

“I know, I know, but,” he sighed, “I have a good feeling about this, I promise. Honestly, I don’t think we have any other choice. Without this, we have nothing.”

You nodded softly, “... you trust it? That- that this isn’t a plant?”

“Yes.”

“And how certain are you?”

He bit his lip, “Mostly certain. It’s the best chance we’ll have, and we have to move fast, their plans start tomorrow.”

You nodded, pulling him in for a tight hug, “Okay. If-if you’re sure. I trust you.”

He hugged you back tightly, and you tried not to think about the fact that he hugged you like it may be the last time, “I love you so much, darling. Don’t worry, okay? This time tomorrow, we’ll be free people.”

You nodded, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling of his arms around you, “I love you too.” You pulled him in for a loving kiss, sighing softly.

“Go rally your troops.”

Wilbur did just that. He left shortly and brought the plan to all the generals, all the soldiers, everyone he could. He was buzzing with excitement when he returned that night, holding you close as he lied with you in bed, one hand gently resting over your belly.

“We’re leaving before the sun is up,” he told you softly.

“Will you be back when I wake up?”

He shook his head, “No. But we’ll be back for dinner for sure.”

You smiled softly, holding him closer, “We’ll have a celebratory dinner. Extra special.”

“Oh?” He chuckled, “Extra special?”

“Absolutely. Because we won’t just be celebrating the win. We’ll be celebrating your new role as President.”

He flushed softly, “You think?”

You nodded, “I’ve heard the people speak. They trust you, Wilbur. And I know you’ll make a great president. You’ll create a great place for our child to grow up in.”

“Thank you,” he smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your belly, then your cheek.

“Plus,” you hummed, “President Soot does have a good ring to it.”

He smirked, blushing once more, “Oh? You think so?”

“I know so, Mr. President,” you grinned as he leaned up, lips hovering above yours.

“That does sound nice. Though I may be biased,” he pecked your lips gently, a smirk still ghosting on his lips.

“How so?”

“Well, I think any words that escape your lips are just as gorgeous as the lips they escape from,” he spoke softly, pulling you into a languid and loving kiss. You kissed him back just as passionately, letting the intensity quell your fears about his return tomorrow.

Wilbur was gone when you woke up the next morning, which you expected. What you didn’t expect was for lunchtime to have been such a bleak affair. You expected much more liveliness from your people, especially given how much Wilbur believed in the plan. But the streets were quiet. There were only hushed words as you walked through town to find a meal, and it seemed as if many people were directing those hushed words towards you.

“Did something happen?” You asked the merchant after you finished your meal.

She gave you a frown, a tense look appearing on her brow, “You haven’t heard?” You felt your heart sinking as you shook your head.

She sighed, looking down for a moment before looking back up at you, “I’m sorry, uh…” she took a deep breath before speaking, “one of the generals was supposed to come back to check in at noon. They haven’t returned.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but you nodded quietly, “Well, that- that doesn’t mean anything specific yet. Have we heard anything at all from the battlefield?”

She shook her head solemnly, and you nodded once more.

“Alright, well, ah, thank- thank you,” you stuttered out, before rushing away to find the basecamp quarters. You started feeling a pain as you walked, but you didn’t allow yourself to focus on it as you ripped open the tarp to the camp, finding the entire place… empty. It felt like a ghosttown.

You swallowed down the bile that rose in your throat, rushing back home. The pain continued as you walked, and your legs shook stubbornly as you trekked home. You couldn’t tell if the pain was even real, or if it was a side effect of the desperation and doom that filled your heart. As you reached your home, you collapsed against the front door, holding onto the door frame as a groan of pain escaped you. Before you knew it, the ground was rushing up to meet you.

When you woke, you weren’t on the ground. You found yourself in an uncomfortable cot, pain wracking through your body as you failed to sit up.

“Hey, take it easy, it’s okay, you’re okay,” the doctor spoke, coming to help you sit up. You were sweating, and she carefully placed a cold wet cloth to the top of your forehead.

“What’s- what’s going on? Where’s Wilbur?” You stifled a groan as you spoke.

“He’s not back yet, none of the troops are. And you’re okay, you passed out when your water broke. You’re going into labor.”

“Fuck,” you hissed out, panting softly. You noticed now the dressing gown you wore, your original clothes laying folded in a pile in the corner.

“Take some deep breaths for me, you’re doing great, okay?” She instructed, and you nodded, taking a moment to just focus on your breathing.

“What- what time is it?” You asked in between breaths.

“It’s about to be seven.” She told you, turning as she sorted through medical supplies.

Wilbur should’ve been back by now. You didn’t know if you could do this without him.

“Your contractions are coming in about every five minutes, and they’re lasting about a minute. You’re not quite there yet, so you have time, alright?”

You bit your lip and nodded, placing a hand over your belly as you prayed to any god that would listen that your husband would be returning to you in one piece, in time for him to meet his child. You’d never felt so alone at such a worse time. You had no midwife, no friends, no husband, just your doctor to guide you through this.

It was another hour before it was time. You didn’t want it to be, you wanted Wilbur.

“You’re dilated,” the doctor informed you, grim as you shared a thought on the lack of troops returning, “I’m sorry, but you’re going to start pushing.”

You shook your head, “No, I- I need to wait, please.”

“I’m sorry, I know.” She took your hand in hers, “We still have time, but you need to start.”

As much as you wanted to argue, you knew you couldn’t.

The sound of you yelling in pain during the next contraction was masked with another sound.

Yelling, first.

Then, the singing.

And finally, cheering.

It was only a minute later when heard the sound grow, of your people, cheering and singing in the streets outside. It was two minutes later when a medic rushed in, a smile on their face.

“They’re back!” They announced, before rushing to tell whoever they could.

You fought through another contraction as your heart lifted, panic filling you.

“Wilbur,” you spoke weakly, “Wilbur, please, please, find- find Wilbur.”

The doctor looked at you in concern, biting her lip for a moment.

“Okay. Okay, yes, hold on, let me- I’ll go try to find him, just hold on.”

You nodded rapidly as the doctor rushed out, going to find Wilbur. You gripped the sides of the cot as you groaned in pain, trying desperately to focus on your breathing.

When she returned, she was alone, “I-I couldn’t find him, but they’re saying he’s alive, don’t worry, okay?”

You let out a breath of relief, head falling back for a moment as you relaxed just as much as you could. She guided you through a few more contractions before you heard the most beautiful sound.

“Darling?!” You heard Wilbur yell, and you heard his voice get closer with each word, “Excuse me, please, hold on, Y/N!” He ripped open the door, gasping in relief once he saw you.

“Darling, oh my god,” he rushed in, coming in quickly to hold your hand tightly and place his other hand on your cheek. You leaned into his touch as he turned to the doctor, “How far along are they?”

“Breached,” the doctor informed, “Should be any minute now.”

He nodded, and you looked at him, “Will, I was so- fuck- I was so worried.”

He cooed, brushing your hair back, “It’s okay, I’m alright, I’m here now. Darling,” he grinned, eyes filled with tears as you squeezed his hand and groaned in pain.

“Darling,” he spoke again once the moment had passed, “We- we did it. We won. We’re free.”

You gasped, pulling him into you, “Oh, my god,” you couldn’t fight the tears that fell from your cheeks, “We won?”

He nodded quickly, kissing the top of your head, “We won.”

You let out a sob of relief and joy, but it was quickly masked by another yell of pain.

“You’ve got this, darling, I’m here, we’re free, you can do this,” he told you, holding you close.

“It’s a girl,” the doctor spoke softly. Wilbur was with you on the cot now, and you both were exhausted for different reasons, but both with joyous outcomes. She brought your daughter over to you, the newborn swaddled carefully.

You gasped quietly when you saw her, taking her gently in your arms as you leaned against Wilbur. You looked up at him, tears in both of your eyes. He kissed you gently before looking back down at your daughter.

“Tallulah Soot,” he spoke softly, “Welcome to the free nation of L’Manburg.”

You chuckled, though it was slightly muffled from your tears. “The first citizen to be born under a free rule,” you spoke softly, a finger gently stroking her cheek, “Because we won.”

“We won,” Wilbur parroted, disbelief clouding his voice.

She woke both of you up early with her cries. You held her in your arms as the early morning light poured in slowly, and as you rocked her, Wilbur sat next to you, an arm around your shoulder.

Her cries softened, and as her big eyes stared up at you, you decided to tell her a story.

“Now, Ms. Lulah,” you spoke softly, “You won’t know this for a few years. But you were born during a very special time. Your father was amazing, he commanded a whole army of people.”

Wilbur chuckled softly, kissing your head, “You were born to two amazing people. One a commander, and one his political advisor who won his heart with their wit and brevity behind closed doors.”

You chuckled, smiling warmly, “Yes, even though he was a disorganized wreck when I met him. Every year, Ms. Lulah, there will be a parade on your birthday. Do you know why?”

Wilbur smiled fondly, “I don’t think she does.”

“Well, then I’ll tell her,” you hummed softly. You looked up, staring out in an empty field, filled with beautiful red flowers as the morning light softly reflected on dew drops that slept on grass. “Because, you, Ms. Lulah, were born on the day your father and our people fought to ensure your freedom. More importantly, you were born on the day they won.”

She let out a soft giggle – the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard – and you grinned lovingly, staring out at that field once more, that never again, would harbor the same bloodshed. As the sun poured in, you could see in your mind, her running in that field, picking those red flowers, and never once knowing of the same hardships that allowed crimson blood to pour on your land.

All she would know is the daylight.

#mar writes #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #lovejoy #dsmp x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot #mcyt x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #mcytumblr #mcyt wilbur #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #lmanbur #lmanbur x reader #lmanburg #our young nation #oyn au

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highpri3stess · 2 years

Text

When They are in love with you - Jujutsu Kaisen Males Headcanon

Character(s): Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Nanami Kento, Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna Ryomen

Warning(s): no pronouns mentioned, gn!reader, fluff, sfw.

Join my Taglist: @obitohno @mastermindenoshimaalicia @happygoluckyalexis @yuujispinkhair @suyacho @suguju

Monica's notes: I'm very ill and bedridden today, so I decided to complete my drafts. I love love so much.

Gojo Satoru:

You know how you get butterflies in your belly whenever you see the person you're in love with? Well, Satoru has a whole damn zoo instead when you as much as breathe near his direction.

Satoru DOES get nervous around you, but he hides it in his usual way of smiling and making jest.

Unlike everyone else he plays around with, you'll will never be the butt of the joke though, he would never embarrass you.

You lighten up his mood by just being around him. Satoru might be pissed off about the higher ups, but the moment you step into the room, he feels the weight of the world dropping off his shoulders.

He feels like he can trust you with anything. His secrets, his life, his heart because he knows with the way you are, you would take care of it like it is yours.

Can't stand seeing you sad or angry; what hurts you, hurts him! Satoru always tries to listen to your problems and gives you good advice with a sprinkle of comedic relief (Contrary to popular belief, I think Satoru is a good listener)

Satoru will go to any lengths to keep you safe, even if it meant having to bend more rules than he usually does.

Geto Suguru:

He will put the entire world in your hands just to see the light in your eyes sparkle.

Suguru treats you so gently, compared to the rest of his followers, he always makes sure to ask you about how things are going on in your life.

Suguru finds it quite frustrating that you had to be a non-sorcerer and part of the people he wants to destroy. Often times, he's conflicted when you are in his line of thoughts, would he be able to discard you when you are no longer useful to his goal?

Why did you have to be so kind and understanding even when he's trying to put some distance between the two of you? Don't you know you're making him fall even harder?

He holds your hands gently in his palms and rubs the skin with his thumbs while looking at you with loving eyes.

Keeps all your offerrings made to him in a special place, like a box or a room and nobody gets to see or touch it.

Suguru wants you by his side in the new world he will create. It's a risk he's willing to take despite the opposition that he might face.

Nanami Kento:

His love for you makes him feel so alive and dead inside at the same time.

On one hand, he is honoured to be in love with you, being able to feel something so deep for you is a blessing. But on the other hand, he knows it is inevitable one of you will eventually die in this line of work before you are aware of his feelings.

He's always bringing something edible for you whenever he knows you two are meeting up. Pastries, sweets, anything you like, he will always deliever it to you, a small smile gracing his lips while he watches you eat.

He will circle an arm around your waist whenever you two are walking together just to touch you. Gojo teased him about it a lot.

Kento is shy when talking to you. It's almost embarrassing how his voice falters like a school boy while looking at your face.

He memorized things you like and things you don't like. Always listens and knows what to tell you to make you feel better.

Kento would give up everything he has going on in his life at the drop of a hat, just to be with you for the rest of his life.

Toji Fushiguro:

Your face is burned into his memory, there's no way he can forget you when his heart beats against his chest by just hearing your voice

He knows it's bad for him to be distracted by you. His line of work needs focus and cruelty, yet, thinking of you wrapping your arms around him and thanking god he was still alive has his heart palpitating.

Toji doesn't want you to get hurt. A saint like you hellbent on not letting a condemned sinner like him go is bound to attract trouble and he's worried one day he won't be there in time to save you.

Sometimes, when work is easy, he relishes in your warm embrace as you cuddle him. He loves draping his arms over you and pressing you against his chest.

He never thought he would love again after his first wife died. He's done a horrible thing by marrying a woman he didn't love and taking her lastname before abandoning her, so he feels undeserving of your tender love.

He thinks of you as the thin thread that keeps his humanity alive. The fact that a monster like him is still capable of reciprocating love even after life treated him like shit is enough to prove he is still a human being.

Toji knows he's far from perfect, and he wishes you met him before he spiralled down into greed, but he knows that without any of that, he would never have met you in the first place.

Sukuna Ryomen:

There are two conflicting feelings in his heart. He loves you, he really does and that attraction towards you infuriates the living hell out of him.

Who are you to capture the king of curses' heart? Who are you to have the heart of the disgraced one in your palms?

Sukuna will try to deny he loves you. He would ignore you and try to push you away, only for him to come running back to you and making you stay with him.

His anger dissapates when he knows you are near. He would never even dream of hurting you no matter how cruel he is with other people.

You are the apple of his eye, anyone who tries to use you to get to him will pay dearly for it. He's the only to hold you and craddle you on his lap, no one else!

Sukuna has seen and even caused his fair share of carnage and war. But nothing makes his heart skip like seeing you peacefully sleeping right next to him.

Sukuna will set the whole world on fire for you to be with him forever and ever, both in life and in death.

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00-hawkboi-00 · 9 months

Text

Make a Mercy Out of Me

Part Two

Pairing; König x m!reader

Word count; ~5.8k

Warnings(?); ...the google translate is abundant in this one. But I did add some translations this time!

A/n: this took me. so. long. Three drafts later, writing each section separately then again for coherency sake.. my hands hurt. Hopefully this was worth the wait! <3

('reader' during the second portion of this chapter^^)

(I think I should mention that this was originally an OC but I figured more people would enjoy it if I made it x reader. So while the appearance is left anonymous, backstory n shit is pretty solid.)

--- "empty note" ---

"Good." The voice rumbles from behind you. You huff an irritated breath and shake your head.

The man grabs your other hand and forces it behind your back. The familiar sound of metal clinking together ignites your fight or flight and you begin to struggle. Panic surges through you and you tug, hard. The rough movement pulls on your fractured arm and you bite down harshly on your tongue to stifle a shout.

The man tightens his hold on you, gloved fingers digging into the flesh of your forearms.

"Shit- fuck, damn you, asshole-" You seeth but stop moving.

The sound of several sets of footsteps echoing through the corridor you had just come from lets you know that he's not alone. The men you'd heard talking earlier at the front desk were indeed with him.

When you got out of this, and you would, you were going to have a word or two with your handler.. consequences be damned.

You're dragged backward by the grip on your arms, stumbling a bit as you're forced to follow. The man brings you a little way deeper back into the hall you'd just escaped, your sliver of freedom slamming shut in front of you with a dull click.

The footsteps get closer and soon enough another man is creeping into your peripheral. The tall man walks until he's standing a few feet away from you. You match his glare with a harsh one of your own, not succumbing to that piercing blue.

"Good job," he says to the man restraining you, stare unwavering. "We're taking him with us. Let's go."

The man turns until you're facing back down the way you had come, then begins ushering you forward. Three other people are watching you as you're pushed down the hall. One covered head to toe in black, a skull mask layered on a fabric base obscuring his face. Another sports a, surprisingly, neat mohawk and babyface that makes his scowl just that little bit less threatening. The last is a darker-skinned man, his eyes on the man who seems to be in charge as opposed to you.

The big one holding you continues walking without faltering for even a second. The skull-faced man and the baby take the front charge, leading you two through the halls. The other lags behind to join the leader, the two herding you from the back.

Having three people out of your range of sight made your hair stand on end–but the position in which you had been forced into left you powerless to put a stop to it. So, going against every fiber in your body, you complied. Allowing them to think they were in full control would benefit you in the end, you just had to bide your time.

The journey to the front office is a lot shorter than it had seemed when you were stumbling blindly through the building. The woman who's usually at the front desk is uncharacteristically absent when they drag you through the front door.

Your breath is still coming out hot and heavy within the confines of your cloth mask, the sudden influx of humid air hitting you and the sun beating down on you only adds to the already fuzzy feeling clouding your mind. Sweat slicks your skin, making your hair stick and your clothes rub uncomfortably.

It's a good thing the residence you'd chosen was on the outskirts of the town as it prevented too much attention from being brought to the group of six well-built men. It also meant you had a clear shot at running, you just needed to wait for the perfect opportunity.

You're herded off the streets and into the soggy plains beyond the city. Just a little more, just a little closer.. and you could make your escape.

Your legs are shaky and the pain in your shoulder and thigh have become nothing but a throbbing afterthought. Which would be concerning, if you weren't more focused on keeping yourself conscious enough to make a run for it.

Your movements begin to slow, sluggishly moving one foot in front of the other. The heavy, noisy thumps of your footfalls and your labored breathing are all that you can hear. When you begin faltering too much, the man behind you shoves you forward–forcing you to stagger like a newborn fawn to regain your balance and pick up your pace.

After what feels like forever you spot a beige-colored van in the distance. The two men taking the lead arrive first and you see the shorter one speak a few words before nudging the taller's arm with his. As you approach, the two behind you move to the front and you feel as though some weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Now about a yard from the vehicle, the grip on you loosens–but you don't run. Not yet. Keeping your head low, you glance up at each of the four men within your line of sight. Flickering from one to another you gauge their positions, who would be the fastest, and who would notice first?

The hold falls away completely, but the man remains hovering behind you. You don't move. The five communicate in small, clipped words. None of which have any meaning to you, so you file them as unimportant and focus on making an escape route.

It would be foolish to just charge and hope for the best. You had no weapons on you, your duffle was back in your room, and each of the men had a visible gun or two strapped to their hip. There was also no way of telling what other weapons they possessed that were simply not within sight.

So you wait. Wait for the man behind you to take a step back. Wait for the shortest of the crew to hop into the backseat farthest from you. Wait for the second to open up the back portion of the van. Wait for the leader to capture the skull-faced man's attention.

Then you make a break for it. A shift in your weight from one foot to the other could be easily misread as you simply being tired. After all, you had been on your feet all morning. Another shift and the man watching you would grow a bit suspicious, but not enough to act.

Launching yourself away with a forceful kick to the ground to gain as much distance as you could with that first step would quickly turn that suspicion into action. His gloved fingers just barely graze your forearms as you dart away.

For a second you think you're going to get away. For a moment you're hopeful. Heavy footsteps pound behind you, but you've always been quick–surely, surely you can get away. Even injured, that giant could never catch up to you.

You shouldn't have been so focused on him. Should've been listening for the other footfalls stampeding behind you. More importantly, the quick, light steps rushing at you.

In the end, you only make it a few yards before the blunt end of something heavy rams into your skull from behind. Your world is forced into darkness, though of course not before you get a mouthful of mud.

You wake up in a daze. The ground is moving beneath you and you can't see shit. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears and your mouth is beyond dry.

You don't last long. And soon enough you're succumbing to that void once again. Though this time it's from blood loss and not being whacked in the head by the stock of a rifle.

The next, and final, time you come to is by force. Deft fingers dig into the meat of your thigh and your eyes snap open with a cut-off gasp. You're met with a blindingly bright white light, blinking a few times in quick succession to adjust. The fingers disappear, as does the sharp, stinging pain–now replaced with a renewed burn.

You recognize the man looming over you as the leader from before, and you grimace in distaste. Thankfully, as reinforced by the rubbing of stiff cloth over your cheeks, they hadn't removed your mask. You almost sigh in relief, at least you weren't going to lose your job–then you remember where you are and how you got here, which puts a hard stop to that thought.

"You've had us chasing your tail for a while, kiddo." He rumbles in a deep, British accent. It was the first time he had directly spoken to you and that has you on edge. Why him? And not one of his little helpers?

Your eyes flick around the room you're in. There's nothing but white, concrete walls–stained with questionable shades of brown near the baseboards–, an overhead lamp, and a well-worn roll-up door to your left. Some sort of storage unit. What remains is you, the man in front of you, and the chair you're tied to.

Having both arms restrained behind you pulls uncomfortably at your fractured arm and stab wound. You're also bound to the chair by the thick rope looping around your waist and legs. All the movement of your attempted escape and transport from the city to wherever the hell you were now had irritated your injuries–blood soaking through the makeshift bandages and staining your clothes to the point the original color was no longer recognizable.

A sharp clicking sound has you snapping your head up, yanking you out of your thoughts. You feel the tiniest bit of shame crawl up your spine when you realize the noise had come from the blue-eyed man. Grabbing your attention like one would do a well-trained mutt.

You grit your teeth and huff, glare burning holes into the other man's retinas. He raises one brunette eyebrow and you resist the temptation to wipe that arrogant look off his face with a few choice words.

"Did you hear any of what I jus' said?" You don't give him the satisfaction of a response, but the little puff of air from his nose indicates he knows damn well you did not.

"Listen close, kid," he leans forward a bit by the waist, bucket hat shadowing the upper portion of his face. "'Cause I'm not too keen on repeating myself."

When you don't reply, he continues.

"You're going to tell me everything I want to know, got it?" Silence.

You needed to get out of here. Needed an escape. But what were you supposed to do with a most likely fractured arm, a recently relocated shoulder, and a stab wound–all on the same arm, mind you. The gouge in your thigh was really just an added bonus. A nice little ribbon to tie it all together.

"Well ya' certainly aren't the chatty type." He sighs. "Very well, then. But I do expect an answer."

Part of you wished you hadn't been so adamant about going solo–then you remember the last time you worked with someone, and that thought is quickly ushered out the window. Being on your own was kind of your.. thing. You don't mesh well with others. Everyone knew that–your handler, your other sectionmates, hell even the execs all the way up the food chain were aware of this tidbit. It's what made you good at your job, and everyone made sure to steer clear of you because of this. Except for Nina, the damn stubborn bastard.

"What's your name?"

You didn't really.. have a name anymore. Myš, Maus, Mouse. Really, it didn't make much of a difference to you. You had lost the privilege of having a birth name a long.. long ass time ago. Too long to care about it. Even before your section had given you the title–a bit of an inside joke, a little jest on your height–of Myš, you had only been referred to by letter and number. Like branding on cattle.

"Alright-" he takes a step back, standing up to his full height. "Fair. What about who ya' work for? Your cause?"

You tilt your head up to follow him as he moves, never once breaking eye contact.

Did he really think you were that stupid? That you'd just up and give the name of the organization that had basically raised you? Had taken you in when no one else had cared to? You try not to think about the fact you don't actually know who you work for. There isn't a name to it–you just do your job. Taking out corrupt scumbags and cleaning up messes.

"Do ya' even have a cause? Or are ya' jus' killing rich folks for the 'ell of it?"

You didn't have one, not really. Morals and red tape pretty much flew out the window the second you were upgraded from hatchling to predator. You had a job, and you did it. It's what made you better than the rest. Your first solo mission had impressed even your handler, and isn't that a wild thought?

A few more unanswered questions and the man is beginning to get frustrated. Even his attempts to poke at you until you snap fall short. Which only makes him all the more annoyed.

"Are ya' bloody mute or something?" He asks, entirely fed up with your bullshit by now. "Or do you' think you'll get out of this by playing the long game?"

It's not like you'd get out by blabbing your mouth. Besides, you were pretty certain you were a dead man if you gave him what he wanted.

"Look, kid," the way he stares you down makes your skin crawl. "No one is coming for you. No one. No one's gonna save ya'. You're stuck here, with me. So either answer my questions, or I'll have to resort to other methods."

You know no one's coming. You knew that the second your jerk of a handler hung up on you.

Still, his words unintentionally rip open a fresh wound and you let out a small snort. He perks up at the sound; as if he's finally found that loose thread he's been searching for and is planning on pulling on it until you break.

"The big one." You cut him off when he opens his mouth again. You'd rather not hear what other nonsense he has to spout and, if you were being honest, he was a little boring. "Bring him."

Your voice is hoarse, rough, and pitched low. The man hesitates, then sighs. He doesn't reply verbally, but the way he walks away in defeat lets you know you've won this round.

One down, four more to go.

From the moment the two hulking figures, both masked, had walked into your peripheral, you knew you were in for a treat. The man with the skull face took his place perched against the wall across from you, the other, much larger man pulled out a metal folding chair to place in front of you. Backward with the backrest facing you, he sat with his thighs on either side of it–practically straddling the damn thing as he stared you down.

"So," the one in front of you began, folding his arms over the back of the chair. "Shall we begin?"

His voice was surprisingly more high-pitched than you'd anticipated. Earlier today–or what you assume was, you didn't really have a great grasp of time at the moment–when you were half unconscious and high as hell on adrenaline, his tone had been a lot deeper. Or, maybe not deep, exactly, just more.. rumbly, thicker. Now it still holds that same Germanic–Austrian maybe?–accent, only a lot more hoarse and almost.. pitchy? No, that wasn't it. You didn't know how to describe it.

You'd be the last to admit it was.. intriguing. Yes. Intriguing. That was the word–that's all it was.

You shift in your seat–or as much as your current position allows at least–and clear your throat. Seconds tick by, and he says nothing. Discomfort begins to trickle in, weaving its way through your nerves and up your spine. Settling heavily at the base of your neck.

Electric blue-grey bores into your own dull gaze. You break away from it after a tense second or two, unable to hold it for much longer. Instead, your eyes flick to the other man behind him and to the left. That menacing amber is no better and soon enough you're dropping his gaze too.

You settle for finding a place on the cloth of his hood, in between those gunmetal hues. Not exactly avoiding eye contact, but not initiating it either. Silence lulls on, an uncomfortable weight in the air.

It makes you want to squirm, makes you want to fill the empty void between you and the two towering figures. You were never one to shy away from the quiet–if anything you often found yourself basking in it. The majority of your missions were done solo, so time to yourself wasn't something you really lacked. It was comforting, like a sweet escape from the hellscape that was your home base. Nice. That's how you'd describe the solitary you often found yourself in.

This silence, though, puts you on edge. It just wasn't… 'nice'. There was nothing to seek comfort in. No crevices of wood and metal to squeeze yourself into, no damp, mildewy grass to welcome you home. This quiet was cold, distant. It stalked around you, judgment in the false pretense of analysis. It watched, it leered at you. Picking you apart, cleaning the meat from your skeleton, and sucking the marrow from your bones.

The rubber sole of your worn boot scuffs against the floor, unconsciously bracing yourself for.. something. Anything. Anything was better than this. Whatever this was.

It made you want to open your mouth. Made you want to break that vow of silence you'd unintentionally taken the moment that brunette Brit had spoken to you. Your skin crawled, fingers twitching as they itched to remove the filthy mask that obscured your identity. That chained you to a life of adrenaline rushes, stale corner store food, and blood-stained clothes.

You couldn't, sadly. No matter how badly you'd like to. It was your safety net, no matter how much you hated it. It kept you anonymous, kept you guarded from the prying eyes of strangers. Kept your expressions in check–like the way your teeth were currently trying to gnaw a hole through the soft flesh of your cheek.

His eyes search you. You notice. They inspect every part of your bloodied, muddy form. From your matted hair to the peeling, makeshift bandage on your arm, and further still. Down, down, down. Following your exposed torso down to your rope-bound legs, lingering over the crimson mess of your injured thigh then back up again.

If you felt uncomfortable before, now you were on fire. And not in a good way.

You needed something. Needed to get him to talk. Needed to get one of them to do something. So, pulling on the frayed memory of the language, you finally speak. They better treasure this damn victory for the rest of their pathetic lives–which, hopefully, wouldn't be much longer.

"Du sprichst Deutsch, ja?" (You speak German, yes?) Your voice comes out weak, scratchy from dehydration. You clear it once more and wait.

A small, barely even noticeable, tilt of the man's head is the only evidence that he even heard you. That's all the confirmation you need to dig your claws in and pull.

"Wie heißt du?" (What's your name?)

Eventually, after a few more terse moments of silence, he opens his mouth for the third time since you two had met.

"Du zuerst." (You first.)

His voice, no matter how dead-sounding, is the sweet reprieve you've been searching for–a pleasant salve for the aching burn in your chest. You almost sigh in relief at the sound of it. You don't, that's one more hit your ego definitely cannot take. But the point is you almost do, and that fact leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

You don't exactly.. want to give yours first–nothing is tethering him to his word. Nothing holding him hostage until he does the same, as he implies he will. What you want doesn't matter at the moment. What matters is survival.

And, well, if you want to get further into his head, you might as well.

"They call me.." you drawl, noting the way the man's gloved fingers twitch where they rest against the arm guard covering his forearm. "..Maus." (Mouse.)

"Maus?" He says. You can hear the disbelief, maybe even the slight humor in his tone when he repeats it. Even the man behind him–who you'd almost completely forgotten about–gives a small snort.

You clench and unclench your jaw a few times, fighting back the irritation that nags at the base of your skull.

"Your turn." Is all you say in response. It's not like it's even your real name–though after over a decade of use, it pretty much has welded itself to you. Stuck on you, just like this damn feculent cloth.

"König." He says it with a certain air of confidence, and you almost scoff at that. Typical. You're not surprised–a self-assured, military bulk of a man like him. You have half a mind to tease him about it. Then you remember where you are, who he is, and you refrain.

You look from König to his–most likely–equally egotistical friend and raise a brow.

"And…?"

He frowns. Or, at least you think he does. His eyebrows pull together a bit, and those slanted eyes narrow in the slightest.

"C'mon, König." Ah, another Brit. "Stop toying with the poor guy and do your damn job."

König grumbles something unintelligible under his breath followed by an honorific in German before redirecting his attention to you.

"Now that we have finally got your name," he sighs. "There are other more.. pressing questions that need answer."

"Which are?"

He gives you a pointed look. It doesn't take long before you groan in defeat and tip your head back, recognition hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"Nein." You grit out, leveling the other man with a glare. "That wasn't me."

"Then who was it, Maus?" The skull-faced Brit speaks up again, the way he pronounces the word grates on your nerves. You'd simplified it, mainly for the Austrian's sake, and he'd still managed to mispronounce it.

Fucking Brits.

"Just 'Mouse'." You shoot him a dirty look before shifting your focus back to König–who, while still very intimidating, was a lot less so now that he was speaking.

"I do not know who was behind it."

"How do we know you are telling the truth?"

"Fucking-" you whisper out a few more silent curses in your native tongue. After getting it out of your system, you answer;

"Why the fuck would I hit myself with it? Seems a bit counterintuitive, no?"

"Maybe your timing is jus' shite."

"Or, maybe," you're on the verge of losing your patience, and it hasn't even been five minutes. "It was not me."

"Then who was it?" König leans his head forward a bit, those ice-cold blue hues piercing into your very soul. "What were you even doing there? With that dreary old lady?"

Your eyes shift from one hulking brute to the other, seeing their goddamn fixation on this minute event, you decide fuck it and give in.

"I am certain you are both familiar with the drill, yes?" That blank stare gets you nowhere. "You are given a target, you go after said target? That is what I was up to–I was receiving, uh, intel on a target."

"Intel?" The Brit.

"Sometimes it is coords, sometimes it's other minuscule bits of information. Like a fucked up puzzle."

"And this time?" König asks.

"A name."

More of that stiff silence follows your admittance, but it's not like the suffocating type from earlier. It's speculative, calculating. Probably wondering just whose name you had received.

Now that you thought about it–you hadn't exactly had the privilege of indulging in that information as of yet. Too busy getting blown up, chased, stabbed, then chased again. And now you are here.

"A name?" The Brit repeats at the same time König questions; "Who?"

You're quiet for a moment, trying to decide if you want to divulge the little tidbit that you aren't entirely sure who. As if that would help with their nonexistent faith in you.

"That's classifi-"

König launches himself off the chair, metal scraping unpleasantly against concrete. You only barely manage to suppress a flinch, muscles seizing up into something that leaves you with more likeness to a marble statue than a human being.

He looms over you, now standing at his full height. Those paralyzing grey-blues tear into you with an untapped store of anger; made all the more intense with those shadows engulfing all but his irises and bright sclera.

König leans down a fraction, just so as to keep your focus solely on him and him only. A heavy hand comes down to grip your shoulder, gloved thumb finding the exact point of your stab wound–digging in with practiced precision. It burns, holy fuck it burns. A flame licking up the length of your arm, cauterizing your nerve endings and forcing a low, garbled whine from your throat. You don't look away–finding it nearly impossible to break away from the penetrating stare. A traitorous part of your brain whispers you don't want to.

"Sie haben nur so viele Gliedmaßen, Maus."(You only have so many limbs, Mouse.) He grumbles out–that same, deep rumble that sends you back in time to your first meeting. "Nichts davon ist nötig, um zu sprechen. Ich schlage vor, Sie wählen Ihre nächsten Worte mit Bedacht." (None of which are needed to speak. I suggest you choose your next words wisely.)

You swallow thickly, and the next breath that leaves you is shakier than you'd like–equal parts fear and something.. something you'd rather not put a name to. It's like the skull-faced Brit isn't even there anymore, only just the two of you. Heavy, strained silence lulls between you both; neither seeming to have any intention of breaking it. A thread dangles in before you, barely out of reach–and you want nothing more than to pull it. To pounce like the predator to your namesake would. To keep pulling and pulling and pulling until the man looming over you fell apart at the seams. Crumbling at your feet. To see how far you could push him until he broke.

"Moje vrecká." You finally cave in, clearing–for the third fucking time in ten minutes–your throat once more when your voice comes out more affected than you find acceptable. Then you repeat yourself, louder this time for the both of them–now finally remembering the voyeur only a few meters away. "My pockets."

König doesn't look away, but he does cock his head slightly to the side.

"The lady." Your voice is still less than ideal, hoarse and vaguely hinting at something more primal. It's better than it was, though, and you pin the roughness of it on your extreme dehydration at the moment. "From the city square. She was- was carrying something for me. A message. I slipped it in my pockets when collecting her–frankly quite an excessive amount of–items."

"What did it say?" Ah, so the Brit hadn't completely vanished during the course of whatever the fuck just happened.

"I don't know."

"Was meinst du mit.. "I don't know"?" (What do you mean by..) The pressure against your wound increases.

"I mean," you stress, already feeling yourself coming back to your senses. Which, admittedly, didn't mean much at the moment. "I do not know. I never got the chance to read it over. After that damn explosion, then getting stabbed, then you lot chasing me down. I did not exactly have time to sit by a fire n' get myself a good look, now did I?"

"And we're jus' supposed to believe you?"

You spare a glance over to the damn Brit–who was increasingly rising in his place on your I-never-want-to-hear-you-speak-again list; quite the lengthy list, you might add. With a huff and barely restrained roll of your eyes, you reiterate;

"My damn pockets." You grit out. "Check them. That is all the proof you will need."

Skull-face gives a curt nod to König when the latter looks back at him–the hand on your bandaged shoulder disappears. You track every movement the man makes when he reaches in to explore pocket number one. Every hesitation, every crinkle of distaste in his limited expression. Payback's a bitch, after all. Now it's your turn to make him squirm.

"Aye." You drawl when his trembling(?) fingers skirt over the grimy fabric of your waist on their journey over to investigate the other pocket. "A little too close there, you think?"

"Hält's Maul." (Shut up.) The words come out a muffled rumble, and it takes everything in you not to make another comment.

After a little more fumbling König pulls out a crumpled, tattered piece of folded paper. It has yellowed at the edges and is covered in an excessive amount of dried mud and water stains. Though no matter how much horror the poor scrap has been through, your handlers' impeccable penmanship should be legible enough.

You find yourself leaning up in the slightest as König unravels it, also curious to see who–or what–your target is. There's a hitch of his breath, a stall of his movements–and all signs point to the unfavorable.

"Was?" (What?) Those ridged grey-blues seize you again, searching. Was it König? Or one of his associates? Maybe someone the man knew?

König wordlessly flips the paper around to face you–one would assume he'd show his friend first..–your stomach drops when you read over the red ink you're so familiar with.

Or rather, the lack thereof.

"Nie." (No.) You breathe. Because, really, what else is there to say? "Nie, nie, nie-"

"That is not– that is not possible–" That chill creeps up your spine again, but it's worse than before. Worse than the stagnant silence from earlier. It consumes you, floods your system with ice-cold water–fills your lungs, and crystalizes in your trachea. "She wouldn't–"

But she would, wouldn't she? After all, she'd practically left you to die back when you were bleeding out in that hotel room. Told you that getting the target was more important, not a care in the world for your safety. Then again, there was no target, was there? Not really. It had all been a ploy. A reason to push you overseas–away from everything you've ever known, everything that brought you comfort–and get you isolated.

No one would look for you. No one probably even knew you were here. Not your old sectionmates, not Nina–no one. You were entirely on your own. Again. But, really, when has it ever been any different?

It was all a farce, a plot to get rid of you–and you had free-fallen right into that snake pit. All of your own volition. The freezing spikes of betrayal quickly melt into white-hot rage.

"That conniving piece of shit-" you grit out, not a thought in your mind except her. Probably sitting in that shitty office chair, squeaky springs and all, with that smug fucking look on her face. Not grinning, no, she didn't smile. At this point, you were convinced she simply couldn't. She'd accomplished her mission, she'd gotten rid of you. Disposed of you like last week's leftovers. There was nothing left for her to worry about anymore–for all she knew you could be dead. "Idem ju spáliť, kurva ju koža zaživa. Bude si želať, aby ma nikdy neprevalcovala, nikdy ma ani nestretla."

She's going to wish she had never been born. There was going to be nothing left when you were done with her. "I am going to fucking kill her."

"..who?" You jerk your head up at the noise, tunnel vision widening to encompass the two men you had entirely forgotten about–you hadn't even realized you'd hunched over as far as the bindings would allow, fists clenched so tight it was a surprise your tendons hadn't snapped.

"My fucking–" you cut yourself off, seething behind your mask. It didn't matter how pent-up you were, spilling your life story to these lunatics wouldn't solve shit. If anything it would only worsen your situation. "She left me."

The confusion in their eyes only doubles. "She fucking- abandoned me. Left me with nothing. Left me to die. Left me with you."

They share a glance, and if you were any less absorbed in your own mind at the moment, you probably could've deciphered it for what it was. A golden ticket. A weak point. Something to poke and prod at–an advantage. You don't notice, though, and it's a damn shame.

"She, this person, is the one who sent you here? The one who gives you your targets?" The Brit inquires.

"Fucking obviously." You snarl. Wasn't that clear? You were only here because of her. Because you'd trusted her to pull you out if things went sideways–or maybe not trust. Never trust. You'd never held any sort of feeling like that for another. No. It was an obligation. She was supposed to follow through, keep you alive, that was her damn job.

"And what now?" Skull-face.

"You wanted to know what I was after?"

"...are you going to tell us?"

"Release me."

"What?" Collective disbelief.

"Let me go, and I will.. I will help you."

"You?" König scoffs. "Help us?"

"Ja," you meet those grey-blue hues once more, and grin beneath your mask–it's not pleasant. A twisted thing, really, and if they could see it they probably wouldn't want your help at all. Not that they seemed much interested anyhow, but you could fix that.

"I have resources. I have… leverage. I can be useful." You tilt your head a little to the right, focusing entirely on the man in front of you. He seemed the most malleable at the moment. Perfect. "Release me, König. And I could make the world bleed."

The ball was in his court now, but you had a feeling he wouldn't deny you. A slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes, and you know you've hit home. Hook, line, and fucking sinker.

___

One | Masterlist | Next

~~~

@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog

(if anyone else wants to be added, let me know in the comments!)

#call of duty #cod x male reader #könig cod #könig x male reader #male reader #call of duty x male reader #reader insert #x reader #call of duty x reader #könig x reader #könig #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #tehe #gay #mlm

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the-ghost-bird · 6 months

Text

Rant over Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer:

Note: I wrote this while drunk months ago and my drunk self accidentally saved this as a draft instead of posting it. Against my better judgement, here's how bad I was obsessing over Annihilation, with the correction of the horrenous whiskey induced spelling mistakes. Spoilers ahead (obviously)

I was thinking back to the book, trying to figure out what about it hit me like a damn train, even after years and multiple rereads.

And i think part of it is just.... idk, there's something about the calmness of the biologist when she realizes she's contaminated from the spore inhalation. There's something about how she accepts it and the changes after it that just speaks to me. It's not a morbid acceptance, it doesn't come across as just her choosing to accept it for the saking of keeping her emotions in control. This acceptance of hers is less morbid and more like a... relief.

She just accepts it, and as she and nature merges, there's this feeling that Area X is not as dangerous to her as it is to everyone else because she's meant to be there. She is this reminder that nature and human are not separate, and we see it from the way she's always been so deeply connected to nature, more than anything else society could provide to her.

Her career choice isn't just an interest to her but an excuse to be connected to nature as much as she can, like a person who chooses to become a surgeon not because they want to help people but because it gives them an excuse to cut them open. I mean for fuck sakes, she kept getting removed from any research projects she would work on because she would just hyperfixate on the environment surrounding her and get lost instead of doing her actual job.

The biologist has always belonged to Area X. She's always felt like an entity that transcended humanity and connected to the lifecycles around her. That's why the husband highlights in his journal that he would've understood her better when he volunteered for the 11th expedition.

So when she inhales those spores, and remains calm, and accepts her changes all so easily, it gives the impression that now that feeling of hers, that feeling that she's meant to be in the remote, in the wild- all of that isn't a feeling anymore, it's physical, it's real, it's irreversible and you can't ignore it or brush it off or undermine it.

She transcends and becomes Area X, and it's what she always wanted, what she was always meant to become, what she's always been.

#ngl drunk me was projecting so hard onto the biologist #yes i soberly know the biologist was an unreliable narrator and the mentioned 'calmness' could have simply not been mentioned in her journa #yknow since the book itself is her journal #but fuck let a bitch be delusional and project a lil bit #annihilation #jeff vandermeer #southern reach #southern reach trilogy #L speaks

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apollosgiftofprophecy · 3 months

Note

i love thinking about apollos anatolian origins 😵‍💫

It stews in the back of my head too :3

There was this really good podcast on Spotify I found about Ancient Greece, and I listened to his Apollo episode first (because I honestly can't stomach the ones who paint him as 'terrible assaulter'/'epitome of the patriarchy'. Can't stand it. Seriously, there was this so-called 'feminist' mythology podcast i found and I Noped out of there as fast as I could - she didn't even mention Eros's involvement in the Daphne myth! She immediately went 'Apollo: the man who doesn't know the meaning of No' and I was like I'M OUTTA HERE.)

(It's very hard to find good Apollo content out there when you have educated yourself on what he's actually like :( )

(At least you immediately know those people didn't do their research shrug)

Thankfully, this one had a really good, really in-depth discussion about Apollo; his origins, his domains, his myths, ect!

COMPLETELY FREE OF BIAS TOO! HE JUST GIVES YOU THE FACTS, THE SYMBOLISM OF THE MYTHS, HOW THE CULTURE INFLUENCED THEM, ECT!

On my first (and only rn) listen I was like "damn i need to take notes on this sometime" that's how in-depth it is!

Here's the episode link if anybody is interested, btw!

What's cool is that he said that before Apollo came along, oracles and the like weren't as common in Greece - they existed, because Gaea was a thing - however, when he was imported in (possibly also with Leto! She has Anatolian origins too!), oracles became more of a thing as Apollo's popularity skyrocketed!

If you look at the number of Oracles Apollo had, you'd also notice that a lot of them are in Anatolia (Turkey today)!. Didyma, Miletus, Claros, ect ect! I think this just adds to the theory that Apollo's main origins come from Anatolia! When he moved to Greece, oracles came with him!

Which is so cool because in my drafts I currently have a picture of a webchart I made of Apollo's (many) domains, and I narrowed down the ones I think are his Big Ones - and Prophecy is one of them.

Very cool that Prophecy has always been part of him <3

Also, Apollo has many cities he is the patron of in Anatolia - Troy is obvious, but the island of Tenedos was his too (his son Tenes founded the city there), and he was the patron of Miletus (the city where he met Branchus btw for my Branchus fans out there)!

And going to Leto real quick, her migration from Anatolia religion to Greece's is probably represented in the Hymn to Apollo! Sometimes myths about wandering from place to place were meant to symbolize the importation of a god (Aphrodite floating ashore of Cythera, for example), and Leto...well, she was doing a lot more than the typical wandering in the hymn, but it still fits!

Some versions say she was guided to Delos by wolves from Hyperborea, others say Boreas helped her escape Python, still others claim a rooster was present when she finally was able to give birth and thus became her sacred animal (also she apparently gave birth to Apollo as a wolf? I don't quite remember which version says that but it's something I've heard XD).

Also Delos was very self-conscious about Apollo being born on it because it was afraid he would judge it for not being up to typical island standards XD

Moving to Apaliunas now! He's a Hittite god, but I haven't been able to find out of what :( The main piece of evidence we have of his relation with Apollo is Troy - Apaliunas was the god of Wilusa, who has been found out to be another name for Troy! There was a treaty signed between Wilusa and another city, and the representative of Wilusa's name was commonly translated to "Of Ilios" - and Ilios was another name for Illium, aka Troy.

(Fun fact: The son Apollo had with Ourea was named Ileus, after Troy! They are but a footnote in mythology but I made them Important in my Troy fic XD)

Plus, Apaliunas's name was connected to the Hittite reflex of Apeljōn, which scholars have theorized to be an early form of Apollo's name - remember Apollon? :D

Apollo also has connections to various other deities - the Italian Etruscan god Apulu (Aplu), the Celtic god Grannus, his Egyptian equivalent is Horus and his Phoenician one is Resheph! He's also been identified with Baldur from Norse mythology.

Apollo be wearing that trenchcoat, and he is wearing it well XD

#the oracle speaks #ramblings of an oracle #apollo #apollo deity #greek myths #greek history #greek myth #greek gods #greek mythology #ancient greece

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britcision · 1 year

Text

Eeeeh it was WIP Wednesday… and I’m thirsty for attention, so have a snippet from chapter two of Danny Fenton, Dead and Loving it!

(And I had to check I could paste obscene amounts of words from my notes into tumblr, since I’m not writing this in drafts for now - I lost too many sections to not hitting ‘save’ before putting my phone down)

Prompt and First chapter! (I guess I cannot make neat links on mobile, woe is me)

And the fic on AO3

@welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith

@someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones

@starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost

@akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159

@littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife

@serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf

————————

“Hang on a second, does that mean your ghost writer friend is also an actual ghost?” Because yeah, he had googled book collectors around Gotham and came up blank.

Danny took a moment to work out what he meant, then perked up and nodded.

“Oh, yeah! That’s his actual name too, I’m not sure he was ever a living person, and I wasn’t kidding when I said he had every book ever written. A lotta first editions too. I think he’s a spirit of literature?”

Jason took a quick peek around to see if any giant and possibly book shaped palaces had appeared.

Place was covered in floating islands and purple doors, there was a chance.

“Could we… could you introduce me?” Cuz he wasn’t gonna actually ask if Jane Austen was a ghost, not on his first day.

He had some damn self control. Even if the pit was fucking purring in the back of his head and this whole weird place felt more like home than anywhere he’d been before.

Flying beside him, Danny nodded cheerfully and shot him a thumbs up.

“Oh hell yeah, he needs more friends. Probably not today though, he’s not really around this part of the Zone, and we wanna make it to the Far Frozen and back before New Years. Next time,” he added before Jason could even begin to feel disappointed.

He’d known the odds of heading right there weren’t great. Fuck, he wouldn’t have wanted to; it was just hard to remember they were here to get the pit out when it was filling him with a buzzing, humming contentment down to his toes.

Part of him wanted to be a whole lot more suspicious. Did not like how easy it was to trust Danny, to relax into this undead realm.

But it was usually the pit that nagged at him not to trust anyone. And the pit was in heaven, and Jason had spent so long fighting that constant suspicion.

If things went as well as he hoped… well, he wasn’t gonna be going easy on any of the assholes fucking with his turf.

But being able to talk to the bats without the pit’s constant paranoia… yeah, he did a little hope he’d be a bit tighter lipped.

Feelings just kept spilling out of him around Danny, apparently literally if what the kid told him about his core was to be believed.

Jason could feel enough of Danny’s emotions in return to know the kid wasn’t lying. Hopefully that was what made him trust him.

Today, he nodded and looked around.

“So, the Far Frozen. Called that because it’s far?” He asked casually, definitely not letting on any concerns.

Flying hadn’t been hard so far, but he had no idea how long this was going to work. He couldn’t even tell if it was using a muscle, but it was sure as shit one he hadn’t used before.

Danny snickered and shrugged, clearly not even a little concerned.

“Well, I opened the portal pretty close in this case, but yeah, it’s far from the more populated areas of the zone. The yetis like it, it means they can keep to themselves.”

This was kind of the problem with Danny, Jason was coming to realise.

He’d told Jason where in the zone they were going, and why. They needed to see a guy called Frostbite, because he knew the most about ghost biology.

He’d probably know what to do about Jason’s pit problem, and what Danny and Jason could do to deal with the pits themselves. Fun, exciting, Jason was 1000% up for that.

Fucking yetis had not come up.

“The what?” He asked, striving for nonchalance and wondering again if he shouldn’t have shot someone a text before leaving.

And potentially never being seen again.

Danny hesitated for a moment, brows furrowing.

There was definitely more snow ahead than there had been behind.

“I totally mentioned the yetis?” Danny said carefully, like that would somehow make it true.

Jason stifled a snicker.

“You did not mention yetis. You mentioned ghosts.”

“Yeah, they’re ghost yetis.”

“That doesn’t actually make it any better, y’know? The yeti part is still kinda important.”

Not that Jason would be hugely surprised to find an alive yeti at some point. The world had a habit of saving up its weirdest bullshit to dish out onto him.

At least he wasn’t Constantine.

Danny pulled a face and shrugged, turning so he was flying backwards.

“Well, I mentioned it now? They’re yetis. So is Frostbite, but he’s like, bigger. And their leader. I mentioned that part, right?” Danny asked hopefully.

It was pretty clearly a fair question.

Jason nodded, scanning through what he’d been told so far.

“Yeah, and that they had the ghost hospital? I guess it’s a good thing as ghosts we’re not gonna feel the cold,” Jason added idly, glancing at their increasingly frosty surroundings.

He could feel the temperature dipping, sure, but nothing serious. They hadn’t even grabbed coats.

Danny stopped flying so quickly that Jason actually overshot him and had to turn, coming back to rejoin his guide. Who looked guilty.

Jason pulled on his best deadpan face.

“Let me guess. You definitely mentioned it?” He asked dryly.

Danny groaned and slapped himself in the face, then dragged his hand slowly free.

“Okay this one’s totally not my fault? I mean. I don’t need a coat there? And usually if anyone else comes with me, we have the Spectre Speeder, and it always has coats, so it’s not like we pack?”

He gave Jason a sheepish smile, half wincing like he expected a punch.

Jason did consider it, but not seriously.

“Okay, focus up Danny. What do we need to do? How cold am I gonna get?” Cuz the longer they were sitting still, the more the chill was creeping in.

Danny let out another lingering groan then closed his eyes, calculating.

“Okay… so I can call Frostbite when we get a bit closer, and he can come meet us, and he’ll have some spare coats? And I don’t think you can technically freeze to death anymore, but you don’t have a core? So I dunno.”

Jason took a deep breath of his own, fighting a half smile. Good to know he wasn’t the only one with a bad habit of rushing in.

But even he tried to be ready for everything.

“Great. Love this plan. Especially the part where I probably can’t freeze to death,” Jason snarked.

Danny squinted at him.

“Look, it’s better than my other plan, which is I freeze you solid in my ghost ice and tow you the rest of the way. You wanna show up walking and talking or in an iceberg?”

The fact that he seemed to be serious probably should have concerned Jason more, but he was having fun.

Just imagine, Jason Todd as the responsible one in a superhero team up. Dickie would be so proud.

It’d be just like his old Robin days, except that suit was thermally regulated out the ass.

“Ooh, frozen wastes or frozen in iceberg, I’m definitely seeing the difference. Let’s just get moving so you can call your buddy before I turn into a popsicle.”

Danny stuck his tongue out at Jason, but did indeed get moving again.

“Hey, both of those are still better than our last option,” he snarked back, and maybe Jason was imagining it but they were kinda going faster.

Lucky for Jason, apparently it was willpower that made you fly in the Ghost Zone, and being a stubborn bitch had always been his stock in trade.

“Oh gee, what’s the last option? Shoot ourselves from a catapult? Build a snowman and have it carry us? Or do we close our eyes real tight and wish ourselves there?” Jason asked as sweetly as he could.

Made Danny laugh anyway, before his expression became deadly serious.

“You’re literally wishing your way there right now, smartass, but no. The last option is we call my regent and he stops time and you spend the next eighty relative years of your life listening to lectures about why I need to be fully crowned.”

Which did sound pretty last-resort-y, in Jason’s opinion. And raised an important question.

“Why are you so against being fully crowned? You seem pretty in touch with all the king shit.” Certainly willing enough to talk about it, although now that Jason thought about it, mostly to complain.

Danny pulled another reluctant face.

“Just cuz I know I can’t get out of it doesn’t mean I gotta give myself up right away. The last king was a bloodthirsty tyrant, in an enchanted sleep for thousands of years. Do you have any idea how much paperwork that stacked up?”

Danny let out a shudder that had nothing to do with the increasing cold. Thinking to the amount of report forms he’d be facing if B found out about this particular jaunt, Jason joined him.

“Yeah, okay, that sounds like it sucks,” he agreed, and Danny shot him a relieved grin.

“Right? Like, I want to live my actual life first. Do something more than struggle through college and fight ghosts. Everything worked just fine while the other guy was in prison, so what’s the rush?”

They flew in silence for a moment, Jason struggling with an entirely unexpected lump in his throat.

Danny broke it, drifting closer until their shoulders bumped.

“Sorry man. Didn’t think.”

There was a perfect snappy comeback in there about it not being the first time, but Jason didn’t have it in him. He managed a nod and gentle bump back.

It was getting cold enough now that the moisture on his cheeks stung.

From condensation. Or air resistance or something.

The Ghost Zone had high humidity, explained all of the snow.

They continued in silence for a while, then Danny sighed and slowed to a stop once more. Jason copied a little more reluctantly, brushing trails of ice from his face.

“Okay so this is gonna be just, stupid loud?” Danny said with a slightly strained cheerfulness, like they’d never stopped bantering. “You’ll probably wanna put your hands over your ears.”

Jason complied, wondering just how literal the “call” part of Danny calling ahead was gonna be. Stupid loud implied it wouldn’t be on a cellphone.

He’d not had any messages since leaving Gotham actually, and it had been a couple of hours. He should probably check…

He clapped his hands back over his ears just in time as Danny sucked in a huge breath and bellowed like a thunderstorm.

“HEY FROSTY! PHANTOM INCOMING, BROUGHT A FRIEND. HE NEEDS A COAT!”

And then Danny gave Jason a cheery grin and nodded in the direction they’d been travelling as he cautiously removed his hands.

“He can’t get quite that loud, so we’ll have to get closer before we can hear him. Might as well keep going, right?”

Jason took another moment just to stare at the ghost. It was beginning to actually kick in that… yeah. Danny wasn’t human.

And Jason knew plenty of metahumans, people with powers. He knew Black Canary, so what the line should be is a bit fuzzy.

But.

Danny’s not fully human, not anymore. So what the hell was Jason?

The exact same asshole he was yesterday, obviously. Just with… well, his baggage compartment had already been overstuffed.

Even the thought of getting to dump the pit baggage meant that even if he was now a zombie or a ghost or whatever that was still a net loss unless he had to eat people.

Which, again, what the fuck was his life?

He almost laughed, but didn’t want to try explaining that thought process to anyone else, even if the odds were pretty good Danny’s life… existence was at least a little fucked.

He gave a smile instead, nodding and following Danny’s lead off into the frost.

Doing absolutely nothing to reassure him, Jason was no longer sure it was reflections off the ice now catching the corner of his eye.

The longer they were in the Ghost Zone, the more he kept thinking he saw stars passing across the black of Danny’s suit.

***

Frostbite did in fact come to meet them, and did in fact bring Jason a coat. The fact that said coat REALLY looked like it came from a yeti…

Well, Danny had long decided never to ask, and Jason was following his lead today. His new friend was all wrapped up again, and wasn’t even shivering anymore!

Yeah. Danny fucked up.

And he also felt a little bad even after Jason told him it was fine, a damnably cocky smirk on his lips. It felt like he’d been holding onto that “Not the first thing you’ve conveniently forgotten” line for a while.

Which, to be fair, they’d met twice ever, so how the fuck would Jason know?

Just because it was accurate didn’t mean he had to say it.

They’d had to make quite a trek back to the depths of the Far Frozen along with Frostbite since the yeti had come to meet them, but they’d made good use of the time.

Frostbite still understood more about ghost biology and even specifically halfa biology than Danny himself did, and he’d immediately seen something was up with Jason.

Reassuring him that Jason wasn’t actually fading and that his core just hadn’t formed yet hadn’t taken long; apparently, yetis could smell core formation.

Delightful fucked up information Danny wished he’d never learned, but at least he’d been right.

Surrounded by the ambient ectoplasm of the Ghost Zone, Jason’s core was already coming along in fits and bounds. Something which had alarmed Jason to hear too, but hey.

About half of his ghost problems were probably related to that slow forming core, and the other half…

Yeah. Frostbite had a Lot of questions about the Lazarus Pits. And Jason had basically nothing by way of answers beyond what he’d already told Danny.

Which, aww, he’d really been putting everything he had on the table, which was nice. The longer they spent together, the more Danny figured Jason hadn’t been honest with anyone in a while.

He kept getting this surprised look on his face, these moments where he stopped like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. Like he thought he should be more careful.

Danny could relate. Frostbite was weirdly easy to share things with, even if Danny couldn’t get him to stop calling him Great One.

The second Danny had protested, Jason got a real sneaky grin on his face that Danny wasn’t sure he liked. He knew a Bastard Little Brother face from his mirror.

Jason being older than him? Meant nothing.

For now though, they’d made it to the medical center and Jason was looking at the scanning pods with a sceptical but weirdly unsurprised eye.

Danny still hadn’t stopped making Star Trek jokes when he saw them, but. Robin. What the fuck did Batman have access to?

Frostbite gave them both a very proud smile, patting the tube fondly.

“With this, we shall determine how much corrupted ectoplasm is within you, and how best to separate your mind from its affects. Already some of it is being purged by contact with our Saviour, but for it not to be gone already shows there is a deeper problem,” the yeti explained happily.

Jason shot Danny another shit eating grin at “saviour” and Danny bit back a groan, making himself smile at Frostbite instead.

Insistent and slightly patronising hero worship aside, he really did like the guy. He always wanted to help, and usually could, which was a nice change.

“Yeah, about that? Do we know what I’m doing that’d change his corruption?” Because it’s not that he didn’t want to help too, but it might be easier if he knew how.

Frostbite gave Danny a cheerful pat next, sending the smaller ghost stumbling a little.

“Oh, some of it will happen merely from your presence, Great One. As the King of the realm, you have far more ectoplasm and it is far stronger, which will help Jason’s ectoplasm to heal on its own. But we must find the root for the problem to be solved.”

Jason chuckled and shook his head, stripping back out of the thick yeti coat.

“There’s always a catch, right? Is this gonna hurt?” It sounded like he expected the answer to be yes, and even Frostbite looked suddenly concerned.

“You should not feel anything at all, young Jason. Perhaps the feelings from your contaminated source will become stronger, but they are not negative at present?” It came out as a question, mostly tied to that concern.

And Danny could kinda see why; from everything Jason told them, he was usually only swamped by rage. Neither of his auras felt angry now, but the pit’s had jumped to betrayal pretty consistently every time it spiked.

Needing to be told that something wasn’t going to hurt him sort of pointed where those feelings might have come from.

Danny nudged closer on impulse, letting his own trust-reassurance-done this before wash gently over Jason’s aura.

#dp x dc #danny fenton dead and loving it #woe for my formatting is lost #the wiki says frostbite should do yoda voice #i have not seen anyone else doing him yoda voice??#does anyone care if frostbite does not yoda voice?

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shyvioletcat · 8 months

Text

ROWAELIN MONTH: DAY 12

~ Meet Ugly / Meet Cute ~

Thank you so much for your patience with this one. I know it was eagerly awaited so I won’t keep you any longer.

The Sweetest Promise Masterlist

~~~~~

Aelin’s stomach grumbled, a reminder she should have eaten dinner at least an hour ago. But she was on a roll and she didn’t want to lose this flow, her empty stomach be damned. She had found a journal article on ‘hidden composers throughout history’ and she was busy dissecting it for her thesis. Four years ago at the age of twenty she had moved to Doranelle so she could study music at the city’s top university with a world renown music program. Aelin had loved just about every minute of it.

She was in her final year and was working hard on her thesis that would round out her entire course of study. The title of her thesis was The Female Impact on Classical Music. It was all that Aelin could think about, either awake or asleep. Researching, drafting and just trying to figure out how to use words took up most of her time these days. Then at night she woke up from dreams in a panic as she edited in her sleep. For the first three years of her course she had managed to work at a diner just outside campus in between and after classes, but it quickly became apparent that it wouldn’t last. Aelin didn’t know if she was in burnout or if the shift in brain function was just too much for her, either way once the new semester started it had only been weeks before she was handing in her notice. After that she had lived off her meagre savings until she figured out what she would do next.

Her savings were almost depleted and although she could go to her parents for help, she was determined to do this whole move to another continent for college and be self-sufficient thing by herself. Running back to mum and dad was too much for her pride to bear. They would give her whatever she needed and do it gladly. Aelin just didn’t want to feel like she had failed.

That was where Kaltain came in, a woman about Aelin’s age who lived across the hall. They had been passing pleasantries for months and weren’t quite friends but definitely more than acquaintances. One evening Aelin had been coming and Kaltain had been going, both stopping as they saw to the locks on their doors for different reasons.

“Date night?” Aelin had asked, noting the dress and the makeup and the heels. Aelin was a little jealous, she hadn’t been out in ages. She always loved an excuse to dress up.

Kaltain nodded. “Noodles? Again?”

Aelin sighed, looking down to where the five pack bundle of instant noodles could be seen poking out of her shopping bag. “I’m a girl on a budget, what can I say?”

Then Kaltain stopped, giving Aelin a curious look. “Did you know I’m being paid to go on this date?”

“Okay?” Aelin had no idea what she meant or why she was handing over this information.

“The amount of money I get from a single date is enough to feed me for a week and I don’t mean on shitty noodles.”

Kaltain went on to explain her situation. She’d set herself up with a reputable sugar baby website and app. People paid her for her time a few nights a week and all she had to do was turn up, smile and make conversation. If anything beyond that was requested she had the power to decline or approve, and there were various kinds of contracts supplied by the admin. It all sounded intriguing, but Aelin still held her reservations.

“And you don’t have to sleep with them?”

Kaltain shrugged a delicate shoulder. “That is entirely up to you. When I first started I just did a string of first dates until I got used to the whole process. And then when I got the hang of things or I liked a particular client, I changed things up.”

“Hmm,” Aelin hummed, considering everything she had just learned. As she crossed her arms the plastic rustled like a little reminder of what her alternative might be.

“If you want any help with your profile,” Kaltain sang over her shoulder leaving Aelin to decide on her own.

So, Aelin eventually deferred to Kaltain’s advice and taken the plunge. She spent days working on her profile and then it was a few more on top of that to publish it. What had held her back were all the assumptions that went with gaining the title of a ‘sugar baby’. If it got out, what would people think of her? What were the men coming into that situation expecting? Kaltain had assured her more than once that she didn’t actually have to sleep with the men and that she was in total control of what happened. Aelin could just take on the suggestion of going on a continuous string of first dates. That was what kept her resolve up and Aelin had hit post, connotations be damned.

That had been more than a week ago and she was still caught in a gut twisting anxiety of the unknown. Honestly, she found it a little insulting that it had taken her this long to get a hit. Humility had never been her strong suit, she knew she was beautiful and that alone should be a massive draw card. Maybe she’d have to ask for a very small loan from her parents with how things were going, one week for rent and groceries, that was all she would need.

Her stomach grumbled again, and Aelin was more than a little sad that this might just be her second helping of noodles for the day. Lunch and dinner, lucky her. She straightened, stretching her arms above her head to decompress her back. Her tiny kitchen was waiting for her when the phone beside her knee lit up. Aelin assumed that it was just some social media notification—but it wasn’t.

You’ve got a request, Sugar

“Oh, holy gods,” Aelin whispered, lifting her phone to her face. This was it, this meant someone wanted her company. For money.

Aelin unlocked her phone and opened the app just to see who this person might be. The first piece of information she was given was a name, Rowan Whitethorn. Not a bad start. She tapped through to his profile, he was a lawyer, lived in the city, his age was left blank—a little odd but apparently that was a subject some of the clients could get a bit touchy about. The final piece to the puzzle was his photo. Aelin touched the icon to make it bigger and—

“Oh.”

It was terrible quality. Like whoever this Rowan Whitethorn was had cropped his photo from a much smaller one. All she could distinguish was silver hair and his general facial features if she squinted. She grimaced and not at all pleased with her prospects. This looked likely to be some old guy wanting a pretty face to keep him company. It was only the hollow feeling in her stomach that prompted her to open the chat.

>> Hi, Rowan. How are you?

<< Great. How are you, Celaena?

>> Not too bad

<< Good to hear

Aelin was filing through small talk topics when the ellipses appeared, showing that this Rowan was typing away. She watched the tiny animation stop and start at least three times before a message finally appeared.

>> I’m just going to be direct. I need a date for a charity gala tomorrow night. I expect you saw that I’m a lawyer, I’m trying to land a client and a date is essential for that. It won’t be much more than following me around and smiling, and I’m willing to increase your proposed fee due to the last minute nature.

More dots and Aelin waited.

>> I understand if you decline. This was a last ditch effort for me.

<< Procrastinate, did you?

>> Seems that way.

For a moment Aelin sat on her bed and contemplated her options. This didn’t seem too bad. If she said yes she would be arm candy for some desperate old guy who couldn’t get a date on his own. It could be worse, so much worse. As far as a first round as a sugar baby went, this might just be a very easy introduction.

<< A charity gala? You said you’d let me charge for last minute inconvenience, what about wardrobe? I’m sorry but I’ve left all my ballgowns on another continent.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

>> Whatever you need. Say yes and I’ll transfer the funds right away.

Because now it was up to Aelin, she was the one with the power. She could ghost him or even go as far as blocking him, and never have to hear from Rowan Whitethorn again. Or, she could help an old codger out and get paid for it. It might be painfully boring, but at least she could get decent groceries and a pretty dress.

<< I suppose it’s a date, Mr Whitethorn

Aelin went back to her profile and confirmed the request. Her starting rate only sat at $350 because she had no reviews or anything yet, so she was hoping for maybe another hundred dollars or so for the “last minute fee” and for the dress. She waited, impatiently, for whatever notification was supposed to come next. Maybe he’d chicken out, or find someone better. Aelin doubted it, she was an absolute steal, she was beautiful and cheap.

The heralding ping echoed around the room and Aelin saw a tiny red bubble up in the menu corner. She followed the notification and it took her to the money page.

Please check your bank account for receiving of money transfer.

Heart pounding, Aelin did just that. She opened her banking app and there it was. $500

“Desperation did have a price,” Aelin said to herself with a smile.

Feeling accomplished and positively loaded, she decided that she could treat herself and order in tonight. And considering she had classes tomorrow she didn’t really have time to buy a dress for herself. There was another option, right across the hall. It might be wrong of her to pocket the dress money, but she assumed in the line of sugar baby work there were some blurred lines with minor ethics in this kind of trade. What the mysterious Mr Rowan Whitethorn didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Nearly 24 hours later was waiting outside her building in a dress she had borrowed from Kaltain, made up to the nines. She’d chosen a deep green velvet number. It hugged her curves, but not in an indecent way, and the draping cowl neckline showed just enough cleavage to spark the imagination. Aelin had swept her hair to the side in an old Hollywood style with red lips to match. She looked stunning and she’d made sure to take a few photos to add to her profile.

It wasn’t long before her Uber turned up, courtesy of her benefactor and it was just a short ride from her university recommended apartment building to the hotel the gala was being held at. Aelin got out of the car, the bright lights of the hotel brightening the street in the dark. Rowan had said he would meet her inside so she didn’t bother searching for her grey headed date out here. There were more people milling around inside and she caught glimpses of the room decked out for the gala. From what she could see, it looked amazing, and she was very interested to see what kind of desserts she’d be able to find.

Aelin sighed and waited, she couldn’t get in without an invitation. All the other guests showed either a fancy paper one or something on their phones. The large foyer started to empty and there was a fleeting sinking feeling in her gut that she might be getting stood up. At least Aelin was already paid for her troubles.

She watched the front doors, ignoring anyone who didn’t fit Rowan’s very blurry description. Plenty of handsome men and pretty women walked through the foyer and into the gala, as time dragged on Aelin got impatient enough that she checked her phone for any updates five times. She was about to send a message politely demanding to know where he was when movement at the doors caught her eye.

The man had his head down as he fixed his jacket cuff, his silver hair keeping her attention. When he looked up he damn near took her breath away. He was devastatingly handsome, his face on the rugged side of classically handsome with those sharp cheekbones. Like her, he was dressed for a party so it was easy to assume he was a fellow guest. The way his broad shoulders filled out his jacket was downright criminal, because holy gods this was a fine specimen of a man. The stranger paused to look around the room and then pine green eyes landed on her.

Aelin straightened as his gaze dipped over her and she was now damning the situation she found herself in. How was she supposed to flirt with this man when she was meant to be escorting a lonely lawyer around?

Unknowing about her internal crisis this god amongst men started walking over towards her, and Aelin tried not to cry over the fact that she would have to turn him down. Because despite his silver hair, he wasn’t old. In fact if Aelin had to hazard a guess he’d be 30—if that. His silver hair…

What if… no.

Aelin warred with herself, could this be him? Could this incredibly hot and not old man be her desperate lawyer? Was this the right guy?

He got closer and closer, not deterred by anything and he stopped right in front of her. “Celaena?”

Blinking twice, Aelin had to force her mind to jump start. “Rowan Whitethorn?”

When he nodded, the relief that went through her almost had her swaying in her heels. He wasn’t old. “I thought you might have stood me up.”

A boyish kind of embarrassment lit up his face. “I got distracted by work. That’s not unusual.”

“I see,” Aelin said. A desperate workaholic it was then.

Then just like that, he tugged at the hem of his jacket becoming a polished business man. Rowan extended his arm, the music and the lights of the gala beckoning. “Shall we?”

Aelin slipped her phone back into her sleek, black clutch and took up Rowan’s offer. “Lead the way.”

If this man and this party were to be her introduction into the world of being a sugar baby, Aelin wasn’t at all disappointed.

~~~~~

The evening was a complete success and full of surprises. Rowan didn’t know what to expect when it came to his date, but she was utterly charming and stunningly beautiful, and she managed to play the part perfectly. She smiled and chatted away, making up for Rowan’s lack of social finesse. What she was very good at was managing to steer conversations away from getting too personal. They knew next to nothing about each other, things could have gotten awkward very rapidly if not for her quick and distracting wit.

It was hard not to be drawn to her, to be enchanted by her. The dress she wore… it had nearly stunned him into silence. It was sexy, but also reserved enough that it wasn’t the wrong side of indecent. If that exact shade of green wasn’t already his favourite colour, after tonight it sure as hell would be. Celaena had a classic beauty, and she moved and spoke with admirable confidence. The unique hue of her eyes was startling and it was hard to look away.

On top of all that Celeana also had a wicked sense of humour and he was at risk losing his hard bastard reputation just from the sheer amount of times he’d found himself laughing at something she had said. She was a life saver. Having her there not only allowed him entry to the event, but also let him do all the elbow rubbing he possibly could with the directing manager of Forest Fae Toys and Games with the added bonus of some harmless flirting. She knew how to play the game and it was a relief that Rowan didn’t have to do all the work. He was in with a shot now thanks to his contracted help. This woman was well worth the money.

That thought was jarring and highlighted the ridiculous fact that Rowan had to resort to such lengths. But at the same time it had been so easy and Celaena had been more than lovely company. If he was being honest with himself, he’d like to see her again, and not necessarily in a paid for capacity. It was unfortunate that they had to meet under these circumstances, it just made things awkward for him going forward.

The uncomfortable truth of it was that Rowan was lonely. He’d forgotten how nice it was to spend time with a pretty woman outside the capacity of work. And it was almost like they had skipped a step here. Because of the pretence and expectations they had glossed over all the tension that came with being strangers. There were just less expectations and that made Rowan feel like he could relax. Socialising had never been something he’d been good at,, and it seemed Aelin had more than enough to make up for the skills he was lacking. He would very much like to see her again, but from what he understood, that decision was entirely up to her.

“I have one question before I go,” Aelin said when they were out on the street and waiting for the car he had ordered for her. Once they had left the gala they’d moved a healthy distance apart and even though it was silly for Rowan to miss her closeness, he did.

“What is it?” Rowan asked, curious as to what mischief that she was up to.

She raised a hand gesturing at his hair. “Is this a fashion choice?”

That was not what he was expecting, Celaena had surprised him again and it made him let out a soft chuckle. “Genetic. Runs in the family.”

She laughed, and shook her head. “Your profile picture was so bad that I thought you were some old guy who couldn’t get a date.”

“Well,” Rowan said, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck, “that’s only half true.”

She laughed again and the sound of it went straight to his gut. Her bright eyes stayed on the top of his head while she said. “Well, Rowan Whitethorn. My bank account thanks you.”

“You’ve saved me in more ways than one,” Rowan admitted.

The car pulled up and Celaena and the driver swapped confirmations before she turned back to him. “Goodnight then, Mr Whitethorn.”

He didn’t know why she called him that, but he didn’t exactly hate it. “You have a good night as well.”

Celaena flashed him one last smile before she ducked into the car. Seated inside, she leant forward and gave him a final wave and then she was gone. Rowan went back into the hotel foyer to use the elevator to get to the underground parking lot. His silver sedan was waiting for him, the colour now making him smirk. Climbing into the driver’s seat he was more than ready to call it a night.

Not bothering to plug his phone in, Rowan turned on the radio and then immediately tuned it out to fuzzy background noise. He was too busy thinking about Celaena to listen to the music or the words. It was unfair that they had to meet like this, it really didn’t give them a chance for anything more. And Rowan had specified he was only after a one time thing. He’d damned himself from the start.

Rowan was home before he knew, the streets of the city not all that busy this late at night. Tapping the dongle on his keys he pushed the button for his penthouse apartment. He had never bought it for pretentious reasons, he had loved the view if provided over the rest of the city—all the way out to the ruins that skirted the northern edges of it. His tie was the first thing to go, and then his jacket, next he was fishing his phone out of his trouser pocket and froze.

There was a notification on his screen, and if he had connected his phone like he usually did he might have pulled over wherever he was to tend to it. It had some from Sweet as Sugar and it kept up with the habit of being direct and succinct.

Celaena would like to spend more time with you. Yes or no?

Rowan unlocked his phone and he didn’t know if he’d ever replied to message that fast in his life. He even managed to accidentally scroll up in his efforts to send it a reply because his thumb had slipped in his eagerness. Because he very much had his one resounding answer.

Yes.

~~~~~

Posting from my phone so it might get another edit. @rowaelinscourt

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