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kiwisbell · 2 days

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helen ; chapter five

be seeing you

Si vis pacem, para bellum. Or, the choice.

series masterlist | my masterlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), john wick AU, hitman!joel, husband!joel, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship, sacrilege in the name of romance, flashbacks, graphic violence, guns, blood + injuries, tess cameo, childhood/religious trauma, criminal underworld, secrecy/lies, betrayal, ANGST, bamf miller bros, smut, fingering, joel is an emotional munch, shower sex, unprotected PIV, handjob, male whimpering, conflicting emotions, orgasms aplenty, Big Angst and Big Sad but also Big Epiphanies, ambiguous ending, i'm getting emotional writing these tags, it feels so final, the typical alcohol/smoking/profanity, dividers by @/saradika word count: ~ 9.3k a/n: hi, friends. i can't believe we're already at the end of the main story, and tbh if i think about it too much i'll probably cry. i want to thank @cavillscurls for beta reading this chapter as always and giving me the guidance and support i need. we'll have an epilogue after this chapter, so there's still more to look forward to, but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy and thank you so so much for reading. xoxo prev | next

Her eyes are so sad, you think, stepping back to take in the full scope of the canvas. It’s doused in paint from corner to corner, still wet to the touch, the woman and her lover intertwined so thoroughly that it’s difficult to tell where they both end. It’s in shades of glum blue and flecks of angry red and brown where his eye watches you. But it’s her eyes that cannot lift to meet yours. It’s her lashes that fan across her cheeks as she casts her gaze toward the bottom edge where the canvas is wrapped taut around the wood.

The sun will soon rise, but you haven’t slept. The contours of the sky are washed in a haze of greys and pale blues and light pink and the air smells warm, heavy—a storm about to roll in. The clouds on the horizon are thick with a blackening rage. You sit in the alcove by the window and put your temple to the cool glass. You yawn. Joel does not come back.

“Do you think it's true,” you asked him one night, your head on his chest, hand on his heart, “that art makes nothing happen?”

Joel, drawing shapes on your back, dozing off in the golden light of the sunrise, frowned. “Someone tell you that?”

“It's something my art teacher used to say,” you told him. “No matter how much it moves people, it doesn't do anything.”

“Your art teacher sounds like a fuckin’ downer.”

You laughed, hiking your thigh up over his hip and playfully biting his jaw. “So it's bullshit?”

“I think,” said Joel, tucking his chin to kiss the top of your head, “that your art makes people feel. It brings ‘em together. It's important because it's yours.”

You propped your head up on his chest and threaded your fingers through his too-long hair, overdue for a trim. A curl draped over his forehead, his beard patchy and soft under the pads of your fingers. “Sometimes I wonder why you chose me,” you said. “I wonder why the universe brought you to me.”

Joel shook his head, guiding his rough, callused fingers up your arm, curling them around your wrist, gently prodding your veins. “Wasn't the universe,” he said quietly. “Wasn’t a choice. I was yours the second I saw you. So, I guess it's your fault.”

You just rolled your eyes and kissed him, mouth to smiling mouth.

Your paintings may be yours, made with life and energy and colour, but when they are finished, they don’t move. They are stagnant as a heavy rock beneath a cliffside, washed over and over again by the cresting waves, its salt stolen for the water, eternal damnation to a fate of non-movement. And sometimes an artist will walk under the cliff, shove their easel into the fleshy ground the way a man erects his country’s flag in the earth he has stolen, and paint the rock. The artist is moved by the breathtaking colours of the shore and the way the wind flutters through the grass. But the rock does not budge. It never will.

Your art will never erupt from the boundaries of the canvas and tell you what it means. The lovers in your painting will not tear open their mouths like the seams holding a wound together. They will not tell you what they want, need, crave. They are you, and that is what you hate—because dimpled flesh and lustful fingers and the press of his mouth to her throat cannot tell you what you’re supposed to do.

You had become complacent in his love for you. You had let him press his worn hands to your body and pull your soul out through his mouth and you had been a wife, while all the time there was a stranger who occupied his heart, a spirit in an abandoned body. All the time, he'd been haunted. And although you had loved him, your love had not been enough to exorcise the guilt and trauma, pecking at him, an eagle at his liver.

Crossing the room and sitting back down in front of the easel, you press your fingers to the corner of the canvas. The paint is cool to the touch, and you leave behind fingerprints where your signature should be. Pulling your hand back, you examine the accumulation of colour, the blues and reds swirling into the deep purple of a bruise, the bodies on a canvas that may only ever mean something to you, and you wonder, Is this all I am? A cautionary tale, a love lost? A fucking footnote at the end of a clause that reads: “See, for example, the one who never loved deeply enough to make it count”?

You bring your hand to your face to wipe away the tears beneath your eyes and blink hard at the sting, realising you’ve smeared paint across your cheekbones.

In the bathroom, you scrub furiously, the cloying scent of it clinging to your throat and your tear ducts, washing away the evidence of their entwined bodies, their love, your pain.

Once, you tried to get Joel to paint. You sat behind him on your bench, your legs bracketing his hips, your paintbrush in his hand.

“I don’t know where to start,” he said.

Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. “There’s no rulebook.”

He tried to turn his head and kiss you, but you nipped his ear in reproach. “Remember when you took me out driving at the airstrip because you wanted me to feel the road? Think of this like feeling the canvas. Go on, cowboy. Make nothing happen.”

Joel’s painting still hangs over your shared bed. The intruders never found it, or never cared enough to destroy it. It’s a candle, just a candle, its lines imprecise, the paint unevenly applied in places, the shine of the flame more orange than yellow. But it’s a painting, so the candle always burns. He titled it Love.

The pain still sits low in your chest, pulling down your heart as if tied to it by a string. But Joel is still out there, fighting his way back to you, the way he always has, always will. You look down at your left hand, clutching the edge of the marble vanity, and decide to clean your wedding ring.

“I’m sorry, brother,” says Tommy, turning the gun on Joel.

“What the fuck are you doing?” growls Joel, struggling against his bonds. The clip rattles faintly in his brother’s hand as a tremor courses through him.

“He’s following my orders,” says Cabrera, clapping his hand down on Tommy’s shoulder. “Fascinating what a man will do when he must consider his family’s well-being.”

Joel sucks on his teeth, his eyes not once leaving his brother.

“It's my son,” Tommy says through his teeth. “It's Maria. If I don't do this—”

“Yeah? You gonna kill me, Tommy? Is that why your hand’s shakin’?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” his brother snaps. “You think I want to do this? I gotta save my family, Joel. You know what that's like.”

“All I’ve done for you,” says Joel, his hands curling into fists behind his back, “and you put a bullet in my head?”

“Not just your head, Joel,” says Cabrera. “When we're done with you, we’ll take your pretty girl as payment for my son’s life.”

Joel growls like a dog, blood roaring in his ears. “Kill me yourself, you goddamned coward. Kill me yourself and don’t you mention my wife again, or I swear to Christ—”

“You take His name in vain a lot for a nonbeliever,” says Cabrera, pulling his sleeves through his coat and setting his teeth as he looks toward Tommy once more. “Do it.”

“Yeah, brother,” Joel says darkly, “do it.”

Tommy nods once, planting his foot and pivoting. Five distinct sounds of handguns cocking echo throughout the warehouse as Tommy points the barrel between Manuel Cabrera’s eyes.

“Now that I’ve got a gun to your head,” he says evenly, “you can go ahead and pull that contract.”

Joel at last twists his wrists free of the ropes that bind them and shucks down the sleeves of his jacket to rub the raw skin. Not one soul does a goddamn thing to stop him as he rises to his feet. His chest heaves, his open lungs coarse and wet with a brittle rage, his exposed heart throbbing red, transparent as the stained glass windows of the church.

God does not tolerate anger, said the Sisters, again and again, bringing down the whip across his back. Sinew and bone and skin peeling back to lay bare some tender part of him they sought to rot out. Put your energy into His worship.

Slowly, Cabrera lifts his hands, sneering. “Your wife,” he warns, “and your unborn son—”

“Are family,” says Tommy. “Just like my brother. Now tell your guys to put down their guns and I won't kill you where you stand.”

Joel joins Tommy at his side. “Took you long enough,” he says under his breath.

“Got held up,” he says. “Your wife’s a good artist.”

“Yeah, whatever. You bring me a gun?”

“I’m sure you can find one yourself.”

“Jesus, Tommy. I’m too old for this.” Joel turns to Cabrera and glares at the same stubborn arrogance that once gleamed in his son’s eye. “You pull the contract, and I’ll leave for good.”

Cabrera’s laugh weans out in the air like rings of smoke. “You think you can really leave, Joel? You think that there won't be consequences for what you've done to my son?”

“Yeah,” says Joel, “I think I’ll take my chances.”

“And you?” Cabrera’s lip curls up at Tommy, whose gun no longer wavers in his grasp. “I promised your wife and child security. You’re willing to throw that away?”

“My wife and child are safe because I don’t take deals from men like you,” says Tommy. “You trusted a Miller to turn on his own blood, Manuel. That was stupid. Now pull the contract.”

“So this is your great suicide mission.” Cabrera smiles, a man who knows he has lost or a man who still expects not to. “A man who has seen Hell does not willingly descend back into its depths—not unless he likes the taste.”

Joel feels the corner of his mouth twitch, a wound on his cheek reopening. “Maybe I do,” he says plainly. “Maybe it’ll taste even better when I take you down with me.”

The gleam in Cabrera’s eye shifts as his gaze flickers behind Tommy. Night has since descended, and yet the predator’s eye glints in anticipation of the hunt. Joel turns and shoves his brother out of the way—just as the shot rings out.

He hears Tommy’s breath punch out of him as they both hit the concrete hard. Joel tears the handgun from his brother’s grasp and puts a bullet between each of the two men behind them. He rolls behind one of the hulking bodies and holds up his weight as a shield against the incoming bullets. Tommy takes the dead man’s gun and fires at the remaining three assailants. Only one shot misses, but Joel sends his brother a look anyway and finishes the job.

“Rusty,” grunts Tommy, pushing himself to his feet.

Joel grimaces as he accepts his brother’s outstretched hand, his wrists bleeding from the relentless rub of the ropes. “He ran,” he says, grinding his teeth. “Goddamn coward. Just like his son.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, by the way,” says Tommy, giving Joel the dead man’s gun and snatching back his own. “Saved your ass.”

“And he got away.” Joel kicks his chair, and the clattering echo of metal reverberates like a choir off the cavernous walls. His hands flex, open, closed, open, closed, until they make tight fists and he can see nothing but red and the silver moon mocking him through the broken windows high above.

“Joel…”

For a moment, he hears the young boy his brother once was, whispering across their shared bedroom to him in the middle of the night when they were both meant to be asleep.

Joel… Are we going to be okay?

“I gotta finish it, Tommy,” he says quietly, his hands shaking loose. Parts of him bite and sting, touched by new and old wounds alike, and he wants to come crawling home to you. He wants to curl into your side and wash away the blood in your cleansing pool, daisy and honeysuckle, some faraway field where you are the warden, where he knocks on the door to be let in, to be gathered, covered in white, buried, unearthed.

“Was he right?” asks Tommy. “Do you… enjoy this?”

Joel casts his eyes toward the ground, his trembling hand, the gleaming band on his ring finger, his skin speckled with blood but the metal pristine. “I don’t know,” he says.

This is who you are, Cabrera would tell him. The Sisters: Your place is here, under God, under His word. And God Himself, silent as the air, the ringing in his ears only ever quieted by the soft brush of your knuckle across his cheek, the whisper of My Joel in his ear.

“Think hard on it,” says Tommy, “because you may like it, but you’ve gotta consider if your revenge is worth more than what you’ve already got. And if you choose wrong, Joel, you’re gonna lose no matter what.”

A figure leans stone-still against the wall by the hotel room door, the gleam of a blade in the soft light the only indication that it is not a mere shadow.

“Hey, kid,” says the apparition.

Joel nods in greeting. “Tess. Could get in trouble with that knife out in the open.”

“You expect me to keep your girl safe with just my fists?”

“You make it sound like you couldn’t.” Tess snorts, and Joel places fifteen gold coins in her waiting palm. “I appreciate you doing this.”

Tess peels away from the wall. “You and your brother are paying me good money to babysit a door. I think I can live without the thanks.”

“Still,” he says, “you did us a solid.”

Tess, who itches at the prospect of gratitude as much as any other gun-for-hire, shrugs. “Everyone’s saying you’re coming back. That true?”

“Just visiting,” says Joel. “On my way out soon.”

Tess flips one of the coins and turns it over and over across her knuckles, evidence of a restless energy that’s always made Joel’s eye twitch. “One way or another, huh?” she says.

“One way or another.” He shakes her hand and watches her retreat down the hall, still twirling the godforsaken coin, before he turns toward the door. Joel presses his forehead briefly to the cool wood and turns the key to seek the field that awaits him.

A key rustles in the door and Joel steps through, closing it gently behind him. Judging by the quiet click of the lock, he expects you to be asleep, but you jolt upright from your seat in the alcove and cross the room toward him.

He meets you halfway, his right hand flexing at his side. You inspect him: the gash on his cheek, the bruise on his jaw, the blood splattered on his white shirt. He makes no footfalls as he walks but you can hear every stride like thunder between your ears. You feel his hand at the back of your neck, cool from the night air, rough as the underside of a shark’s belly.

The moment coils taut between you as your hand reaches up to grab the lapel of his jacket, and he smells of iron, cologne, Joel, some paint. Maybe that smell is you, stuck underneath your fingernails, embedded in your blood. Maybe this is a mistake, maybe you could never help but fall, maybe it never mattered anyway, and you’re already snipping the final thread, unwinding the spool, and kissing Joel Miller like it’s the first time.

He let out a small groan, tasting the first drop of water in a drought, steadying you with his arm around your waist, his hand cradling your head. He’s gentle, exploratory, careful not to jostle, to shock you out of it. You feel his heartbeat thud, strong, calm, steady behind his clothing and skin and muscle, and your body caves.

It’s coming home, you realise, your arms snaking around his neck, fingers tousling the messy curls on his head. It's the warm press of his hand to your spine where it begins to curve inward. It's a soft mouth, a plush lower lip, made for slow mornings and black coffee, for the aching release of a thumb pressing deep into a muscle knot, a wound. Old aches soothed in the space where bodies meet, beginning to colour the slate-grey world.

It’s the exchange of gasping breaths when you pull apart, his mouth still vaguely chasing yours, opposite charge.

You hold him tighter, swallowing the lump in your throat, your hands squeezing his shoulders. "Are you…"

Joel inclines his head. "Yeah."

"Did he..."

"Yeah."

Need pulses. Supernova. Bright as the moment of obliteration. "Can you—"

He nods vigorously. "Yeah."

Joel’s kisses are like raindrops: velvet-soft to the touch—his hands bringing the hem of your shirt up over your head, his fingertips scorching, branding, grazing the supple swells of your breasts—before the crescendo roars in your ears and he loses himself to the storm. He always does.

There is nothing reserved about the way he shows his love. Lightning crackles across your skin where he touches you, baring you to him, his lips making a map of you, mouthing at your jaw, your throat. You hear yourself hum at the press of his lips to the spot beneath your ear, detaching from your own body, absconding with the pleasure of being close to him and leaving the fucking world behind.

Joel staggers forward so he can press you to the wall and begins to sink to his knees. Your breath catches as he pulls down your ratty bottoms, your cotton panties, his mouth burning into your hips and your belly and the ring on your finger.

“Joel,” you say brokenly as he clutches your fingers. Tears prickle, pressure building behind your nose, and he shakes his head, unfurling your palm like a bud in bloom and kissing its heel. Wordlessly, you watch him, your eyes shuttering, blood singing.

Don't hurt me again.

He understands even though the words cannot come alive on your tongue. He squeezes your hips, his thumbs dumpling your flesh, his forehead falling to your belly.

“I’m yours,” he says. “I’m whatever you want.”

Your legs haven't forgotten the way they part so easily for him, one thigh on his shoulder, opening the core of you to his waiting mouth. His lips part, his tongue wetting them, glistening, and your stomach tightens at the sight of his eyes so black.

You could easily cower. His hands are stained with blood. His knuckles are split. But your terror has become an arid thing, no kindling to burn, no oil to ignite. Watching him now, as eager to please as he always has been or maybe more so, on his knees like a supplicant, the hairs on your arms do not rise in apprehension. Your body does not squirm in fear. You see a broad horizon, the sun outside spilling its golden blood over the city, and you see all of him in a way you never did before.

He’s Joel, who grew up in darkness, lashed and beaten for not believing in a false god. He’s a man who has lied and killed and yet he is no liar, no killer. He holds you as he always has, your body liquid in his hands, your mouth proclaiming the word he will follow. You're the truth he's always told.

It still unsettles you to see the dark eclipse that warm brown, to watch his desire consume the hypnotic shapes in his irises, and wonder if that cavernous black was the last thing so many men saw before he snuffed out their lives. But there's nothing of the death shudder in the way you guide your fingers through his hair and beg him—

“Please.”

He brings his mouth to your core and parts your folds with his thumbs, slowly gliding his warm, wet tongue through your slit. You die a hundred little deaths in the split-second of that first touch, that first agony.

You sigh, your head thudding against the wall as he licks through you, his hands holding your hips in place, keeping you from writhing. Joel flicks his tongue over the sensitive pearl of your clit, the pleasure searing, and you tug at his curls to push him away even as you cry out, More, please, please. God, I need more.

He obeys you as easily as breathing, though you suspect he can barely hear your pleas, opening his mouth and flattening his hot tongue to your clit. You gasp, your core pulling taut, your eyes locking with his as the muscle undulates over, over, and over again.

“Oh,” you whimper, your hips bucking to meet his face. He groans, his mouth working your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking. You cry out, your leg kicking, the sounds of the world muffled in his stifling closeness. Your thighs begin to ache, tensing and relaxing a hundred times over in the throes of his attention.

And his fingers are gliding across your hip, seeking the warmth between your legs. You gasp his name, your hips flexing, as he collects your wetness on two fingers.

“Let me in, baby,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit. It relaxes you enough to welcome the press of his fingers inside you, sinking to the knuckle, curling up against the spot he would know in his sleep.

You whine, your body keening toward him, tugging his face back toward your pussy. He obliges with a quiet moan, and you think he needs this just as badly.

The obscene squelch of his fingers inside you rings in your ears as he licks and sucks at your clit, his free hand grabbing desperately at your ass to keep you fixed to him. You’re crying, “Yesyesyes, Joel, please—fuck, that's it,” the pleasure stuck in the grooves of your brain. Absentmindedly, you reach for his hand and clasp it tight, your engagement ring digging into his palm. He holds you with the same fervour as he coaxes you higher, his face buried in your pussy. He grunts and groans like it's his own pleasure he seeks, his battered knuckles stinging.

“Joel… Joel, oh, I’m…”

He knows, of course, from the telltale squeeze of your thighs around his head, the relentless crushing of his fingers in your own, your body tightening for him, cavitating, unwinding—

You come with a shout, your throat raw, writhing in his grasp as he keeps sucking, keeps licking, rubbing, pressing. You're dizzy by the time your head lolls to the side, your muscles twitching, eyes glazed, and Joel is there, pulling his fingers out just to place them on his tongue and swallow you down.

Your breath rattles through your lungs. Joel presses his lips to your inner thigh, beard soaked in your arousal, moustache glistening. His mouth soothes your sore muscles and your eyes begin to droop.

“You need a shower,” you say, your tongue like lead in your mouth. You gently pass your thumb over a cut on his cheek and frown. “You're all bloody.”

He nuzzles his face against your thigh, inhaling you. “I know.”

“You were gone so long.” Your voice quivers, pressure prickling behind the bridge of your nose. “I thought…”

Joel rises to his feet, his hands cradling your face. “I’m all right,” he says. “I’m here, and I’m safe, and I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together so the sob will not escape. Tracing his face with your fingers, broken in places, healing in others, you see the echo of a boy who didn't know his place in the world. You see the haunt of days gone by. A ghost still occupies the cage of his ribs.

“I think you should tell the little boy that still lives here,” you say, putting your hand on his chest. “Tell him he’s alive. Tell him that he made it.”

Joel lowers his head, watching the way your fingers splay over his heart. He puts his hand on yours and pushes, and you feel the strong thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat.

“He knows.”

You lean forward and put your mouth to his temple. “Shower, Joel,” comes your whisper in his ear.

He nods, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you into the bathroom. The water hits you both true, scalding, the drain circled with red. He’s naked, his back to you as he sets his hair and lets his wounds bleed what they need to.

You lift your hands and trail them down his broad shoulders, your forehead dropping between his shoulder blades where your name is inked into his back. Joel’s muscles idly flex, his palm flat against the shower wall. His body shudders when you press your lips to the name on his back.

Wordlessly, you bring your arms around him, caressing his side, careful of the new bruises. Your other hand drops to his steel-hard cock and you begin to slowly stroke him. The noise that wrenches free from his throat is half pleasure, half agony, his hips bucking into your fist. You bump your nose against his back, your years-old sign to Just relax, and Joel hides his face in his bicep as you work your hand over him.

“G—fuck,” he grunts. “Goddamn… honey, I—”

You squeeze him at the base and twist your hand up and down the length of him, the weight warm and heavy, your thumb coaxing out a bead of precum. Your cheek is warm on his back, your arm struggling to reach around the width of him, your chest humming at the sound of his gruff moans.

“Let me…” He cuts himself off as you speed up your strokes, and you can feel his abdomen tense. “Fuck, let me make you feel good. Shit… let me…”

“Joel,” you say, “for once, stop trying to be my hero.”

His head falls back and you press your lips to his throat, nibbling the sensitive spot behind his ear: the old scar, that tiny circle, that hairless patch. He groans your name, and you’re smiling despite yourself, your mouth curling against his warm, tender skin.

“Inside me,” you whisper, the pace of your fingers over his length slowing to a crawl. “Remind me how it feels.”

He turns his head to look into your eyes, his lashes dewy, blinking hard to flick away the water, brow furrowed. His moustache bristles as his lips part in a question he does not (or maybe cannot) articulate, and you’re fractured into pieces by the intricate curve of his nose, the freckles on his jaw, the silver strands in his beard. A rough hand cups the back of your neck and another takes you by the waist, and you’re flattened to the wall, your hand braced on the glass next to you as he kisses you deeply.

Consuming, heady, warm—you give in, your hands avoiding the delicate skin of his wrists where he’s been bound, helpless. Sighing softly into his mouth, you let his kiss humble the part of you that still needs the walls you’ve built from the marrow of your anger. It circles the drain, lead-filled paint, as you remember under his hands how it feels to live.

You reach between your bodies, your leg wrapping around his waist, and slide the head of his cock through your weeping slit. Joel sucks in air through his teeth, the water lashing his back like a whip, and he surges forward, grasping you by the waist and sinking his cock into your tight hole.

You cry out his name, burying your face in his throat and baring your teeth. Your name leaves his mouth in kind, an apparition, sounds you barely recognise anymore. As you take him inside you, the memory of who you were with him pounds at your ribcage, begging to be let out. And you covet them, selfish as you are now for fucking him this way, needy and impatient, your fingers tugging his wet locks.

You see no point in scooping out the marrow; there is still sweetness stuck to the bones of your old life with him. Instead, you coat your teeth in this, the slow drag of his cock, the depths he reaches so easily, so knowingly. His fingers prod the bruised flesh of your hurt and yet you still guide him inside. You still pull his hair and kiss his throat where his Adam’s apple bobs and you still let him hold you close enough to splinter.

He’s grabbing fistfuls of your ass and sucking on your throat, his thrusts sloppy as he tries to hold back, to make you come first, but you tighten, clenching down on him, making his groans pitch up into whines.

“Joel,” you gasp, your needy fingers prickling his scalp where you pull his hair. His teeth graze your throat and you want him to bite, you want him to sink in deep, you want his jaws to latch onto your skin. You want him never to leave again.

He comes hard. His hips buck, pushing so deep he disappears into your body, and you see the blues, browns, reds of your painting as he empties all he has left inside you.

Panting, he drops his head to your breast, his open mouth still scattering weak, worn kisses over your skin. Your lungs expand under his palms, fingers stuck in the grooves between your ribs, his body an offshoot of yours, not the other way around. In the ringing afterlife of your pleasure, you vaguely feel him mouthing words you cannot hear. You run your fingers through his hair and enjoy the battering of the scorching water as it melts you both into one.

Later, in the sticky, humid silence of the bathroom, steam still swirling around your heads, fogging the glass, you trim Joel’s hair.

"Do you ever get scared?" you ask him, the shhhick of the scissors gliding across a chunk of his hair. "Do you ever go out on a job and think to yourself, What if I slip? What if this is it?"

Joel huffs. "It's not so much about myself as making sure the other guy goes down first."

“I think I’d be scared.” You twirl a lock of hair around your finger and let it fall over his forehead. “I don’t think I’d be able to look into someone’s eyes and take their life.”

He casts his eyes to his lap, flicking off some hair from his thigh. “One time, I thought it was over. I wasn’t quite seventeen yet, runnin’ drugs for some gangster. He sent me to El Sauzal to discreetly transport a couple kilos out of the city; someone had snitched and he didn’t want any rival gangs to find his stash. But the people there, they… They didn’t know any better. There were mothers, kids. Innocent people, y’know? Just strays. I decided I’d come back for ‘em.”

Your stomach twists. “What happened?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “I was too late. By the time I got back, the whole goddamn city was on fire. The people were either dead in the streets or close to it. They didn’t do anythin’ wrong. They didn’t ask for any of it. But they were weaker, slower. I couldn’t walk ten feet without seein’ some kid wrapped up his mother’s arms, burned to a fucking crisp. So, I came back with weapons, marched into the gang’s territory, and I killed ‘em all.”

Days ago, you’d be afraid of the man whose back warms your belly where you stand just behind him. You would hesitate to reach out and put your hand on his shoulder the way you do now. But you curl your fingers over the muscled curve of his arm and his head falls back against you, spidering open, his gooey molten centre bared for you.

Joel. Just Joel.

“Did you see the painting?” you ask him quietly.

“I see everything you do,” he says. “It's beautiful, baby.”

You drop your gaze from his face in the mirror and set down the scissors on the vanity. “I can't pretend to understand what you've been through, Joel, and that makes things even harder. All I've ever wanted is to love you, to take your pain, and all this time there's been so much I never even knew about. And I’m sorry.”

Joel’s hand comes to cover yours, clasping your fingers. They’re warm, rough, but you do not sense the phantom blood. “If I’d told you from the beginning,” he says, “maybe I never would've hurt you in the first place. All those years I thought I was protecting you from myself, I was hurting you—the one thing I swore I would never fuckin’ do.”

“Joel…”

“Baby, don't apologise to me,” he says firmly, putting his lips to your knuckles. “Never apologise to me. And don't you let me off easy.”

“Have I ever?” you say with a halfhearted smile.

“Yeah,” he says, “the day you let me marry you.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. Wedding planning was hell on earth for you.”

“Just because I didn't like the photographer—”

“You didn't not like the photographer, Joel. You wanted to draw and quarter the photographer.”

He huffs like an angry dog, frowning at you in the mirror. “He kept puttin’ his goddamn hands on you.”

You laugh, brushing your thumb over the patch in his beard to indicate you're finished. “He was posing us, cowboy.”

Joel rises to his feet and closes the scissors away inside the drawer. “Posin’ you, sure.”

“He was afraid to touch you. Probably thought you’d take off his hand. And the pictures turned out great.”

“Yeah,” he says, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Way the sunlight caught in your hair, your eyes… I don't know. Beautiful.”

He was so shy the first time you kissed him. Cheeks flushed, eyes cast toward the ground, the wind ruffling his curls where it blew over the water. He was made in an artist’s image, you thought that night, the details pored over like paperwork, the sparkle in his eyes something the painter covets. But the portrait has never wilted in the years you've known him. It's grown older, sure, but it is not old. He's still shy sometimes; he still looks down when he smiles, and he still turns his cheek when you tell him he's beautiful.

“Do you…” He rubs his palms over his thighs, looking up at you through his lashes. “Do you wish you could go back?”

It's your turn to sit. You drop into his chair, your arms curling over the back of the seat, and watch him on his journey to his knees. “I don't know, Joel,” you tell him. “I think about that day and part of me wants the magic of it back. I want the breeze and the sun and the white canopy and I want you sliding this ring on my finger. But knowing what I know now…”

“You wouldn't have married me,” he says like it's the only answer. His eyes are wet and sad and they sparkle so bright in the day.

“I wish I’d known,” you say plainly, bringing his hand to your cheek and resting it over the cool wedding band. “I wish you would have told me everything. I wish you didn't make me question your love, even for a second. I wish you could have spared me all this anger I have—all this pain.”

He’s stone-still, a figure in a portrait, and you brush your fingers across his cheek. “But killing isn't what you are, Joel. It’s what you do. And I’m so tired of being angry.”

You say it fiercely, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, your throat tightening. You swipe your thumbs under your eyes and meet your husband’s eye. “I love you more than my anger and my hurt have room for. And if I can love you this hard, if I can feel all this pain and still be that same girl who fell for the guy from the restaurant, then I can let myself get hurt all over again.”

Joel shakes his head, cupping your face in his hands as his eyes brim with tears. “Oh, baby…”

“I know it's never been an easy marriage,” you say, your voice breaking, “and I’m always travelling, and I know that I can get snippy and we bicker, but I wouldn't go back to that day, Joel, because I wouldn't change anything. Even if I have to feel all of this again, I wouldn't take it all back.”

His inhale shudders through him and your heart lurches out of your chest. “I don’t deserve that,” he whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek, catching a tear that falls. “I’ve hurt you too much to ever be worthy of what you've given me, sweetheart. I ain't a good man, or even a decent one. But fuck, if I can be good for you, I’ll pray to whatever God they want me to. I’ll scrape my knees and put my hands together and fake it ‘til I’m someone you want. I swear it, baby.”

“Joel.” You gently pry his hands away. “The life you've lived, the things you've been through… I can't change any of it. I can't be what you need all the time, and fuck, I want to be. I do, Joel. But this life is something you have to figure out yourself. Nobody should force you to believe in something that's only ever caused you pain.”

He never told you about the tattoo; you had to find it yourself. Shucking the hem of his shirt up over his head, two weeks separating the last time you’d been able to indulge in his body, you trailed your fingers up his back and paused at the sound of him hissing through his teeth.

“Easy, cowboy,” you cooed. “Are you all right?”

Wordlessly, he turned, taking your hand and lifting it to the reddish skin around the black ink. You gasped, your fingers jolting backward as if struck by a feeler of lightning.

“Joel,” you said tremulously, “please don't tell me you were drunk and this was an impulse decision.”

“Guys in the Marines would get tattoos that meant somethin’ to them. Easier to carry around with you when you're away.” Joel met your gaze again, your tearful eyes, and brought your knuckles to his mouth. “Tell me you want it gone, and it's gone.”

You shook your head, a laugh snaking past the lump in your throat. “Selfishly, I think it’s very sexy.”

He chuckled, kissing the breath from your lungs.

The memory is heavy in your stomach. It's something you'll have to roll around in your mouth a thousand times before the taste begins to dissolve.

“I need time, Joel,” you tell him. “I need to wrap my head around things. I… I can't be the girl you want right now.”

Joel brushes his thumb over your chin. “You have always been the girl I want,” he says. “If you need time, you have it. If you need a warm body, you have it. I’m whoever you want me to be. And if it ain't a husband, then… then that's okay. But I can’t promise you that I won't stop tryin’ to get my wife back. That’s not who I am.”

You sniffle, twirling the ring on his finger. “You’ll get sick of it. The waiting.”

He smiles so softly that you can feel a bud begin to bloom in the core of you, nourished by the way he keeps his hand on your thigh, absently rubbing the sore muscles there. “I waited my whole life for someone like you to come along—someone who could give me the purpose I’d been lookin’ for. I can wait another lifetime. I can wait a thousand.”

“You’ll resent me. You’ll start to hate me.” You don't know why it comes pouring out of you, but the gates are brittle wood and they snapped in the torrent. “I’m an angry drunk. I smell like paint half the time. I travel for work.”

Joel just studies your face, some inexplicable calm etching out the agony. “You take your coffee with milk and sugar and you can't stand it black, but you make it that way for me anyway. You sleep until noon when you're jet lagged and I sit up in bed just to watch you dream. You lie in my arms on the couch at home and ask me about my day even when you're noddin’ off. You dreamed about love when you were a little girl, the way it happens in books. You told me in your wedding vows that you'd found it with me. You think I could resent a girl like that?”

He smiles like it hurts and heals all at once, like it's a foregone conclusion, like you were meant to be loved by him.

“Time doesn't mean a goddamn thing. I know the girl I see in front of me now. Time won't change how much I love her.”

Flipping through the list of potential venues, Joel tucked into your side, you said, “We’ll have an outdoor ceremony. No churches.”

“Baby, I won't burst into flames if I step inside a church.” Joel playfully flicked his tongue over your nipple, obscured by his T-shirt. “Tommy, on the other hand… things he's done…”

You laughed, gently pushing at his head. “No churches,” you said again. “I don't care how much more we’ll have to pay or travel to get around it. You're my husband. You're my comfort, and I want to be what's comfortable for you. Understood?”

He looked up at you, his lips parted as if on the precipice of speech. You beamed, bringing his face to yours and kissing him deeply.

“But if the wind knocks over the gazebo, you're not getting your dick inside me on our wedding night,” you said against his mouth. Joel shook his head, yanking you on top of him and tearing the shirt from your body. Your binder landed with a flutter of loose pages to the floor.

“You didn't kill Cabrera.”

Joel lowers his eyes. “No. He got away.”

“So there's still a contract on your head.”

“For now.”

“So,” you say with a sigh, crossing the room and digging through your bag, “you have to go.”

“I have to go,” he echoes, following you like a shadow. “No matter what… I’m finishing it. Tonight.”

You pull the switchblade from your bag, open Joel’s fist, and place the cool wood hilt in his palm.

“Goddammit, Tommy,” he says under his breath. “He shouldn't have…”

“But he did,” you say. “He said I should be the one to have it. I think it should be yours.”

He curls his fingers over the hilt and flicks open the blade. It's light, but it seems to weigh him down. You rest your hand over his.

“Do what you need to do.”

He drops his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, soaking in this final breath exchanged between your silent bodies, dipping his fingers in the sanctified waters and coming out unscalded.

Bill calls Joel not a moment after he steps onto the street outside the Continental.

“That's a heavy price on your head.”

“Yeah, Bill, I know.” He breathes in the cool air, like cigarette smoke, his nostrils stinging. Trash and a new, fresh breeze carried into the city. Nothing that stays here ever thrives. “Stayed alive so far.”

“So I hear,” grunts the Manager, “and leaving behind a hell of a lot of cleanup.”

“I won't stick you with the check,” says Joel. “It's my business.”

“I don't conduct business inside this hotel,” says Bill, “which is why I won't tell you that a certain helicopter at a certain helipad is refuelling as we speak.”

Joel smirks, flicking out his cuff to check the time. “Any reason why you aren't tellin’ me this?”

“I like you, Joel. Despite myself.”

Silent, he waits for more.

“Besides,” Bill continues, “we live and die by honour. And you've saved my ass more than once.”

Joel snorts. “Which time are you thankin’ me for?”

“Just take my goddamn advice and leave this world. For good this time.”

“I will,” says Joel. “One way or another. Thanks, Bill.”

High above the ground, sitting in the alcove by the window, you watch storm clouds gather over the city, darkening the sky, the sun, and your Joel, so far away, slouching calmly toward whatever end he will choose.

It's raining.

The first time you kissed him, a downpour suddenly swept up the both of you and you'd scrambled underneath a bridge by the water. You both laughed until your ribs were sore, holding hands as you ran, a soaking wet playbill above each of your heads for cover.

“At least the show was good,” you shouted over the roar of the rainfall.

Joel was mesmerised into stillness by the colours of the traffic lights in your eyes, how they shifted over the planes of your face. Starting to think like an artist, you'd tease, and he'd lean into it, a planet circling its sun.

“It was all right,” he said, taking the playbill from your hand. “You could catch a cold. We should get a cab.”

“Always my hero.” You grinned up at him, your eyes scanning his face in that particular way they did, as if ingesting the sight of him to later put the lines to a canvas. “Did you have a good time, Joel? I mean, really. You won't offend me.”

He grimaced. “I, uh… well, see, I’m not the best judge, and… I guess—”

“Joel.”

There was a gleam in your eyes that could have been amusement or could have been hunger. He doesn't remember. He only saw you tilt your chin and lower your eyes to his mouth, to that one place the Sisters always called vulgar, obscene, a place meant only for His word—

“Can I kiss you, Joel Miller, or will you keep being all heroic?”

It was soft, gentle, exploratory. Your mouth opened his like a wound, setting the scorching blade of your lips to the gash, staunching the blood. You healed and burned him, one hand on his back beneath his jacket, the other cupping his face. It reminded him of the statue that lived in the theatre underneath the church where all the boys and girls trained. An angel cast in white marble, cradling the face of Saint Eustace. The statue was chipped where his eye was meant to be.

He remembers the way he shuddered when you touched him like that. He remembers the chill that started in his feet and crept up his spine. Something like coming alive, settling back into his own body—no longer a spirit haunting the shell of a home but a man.

You pulled back, but Joel curled his hand around the back of your neck and kissed you again, deeper, maybe a little too eager, too inexperienced—but you gasped, fingers curling in his hair, your body curving into his. Your noses bumped when you separated, and he remembers laughing.

The rain is nothing like that night. It's the lash of a whip across his face, seeping colour from the world instead of infusing it with light and movement. The water by the docks slaps against the concrete and boats rock and groan against their mooring. The lights of the city are distant now.

Joel steps out of the car.

He marches toward his target, cocking the pistol in his hand, and calls out a name. It gets lost in the roll of thunder across the sky and lodges in his chest.

Cabrera waits on the landing pad, looking wraithlike in a long black coat and a pair of leather gloves. His pilot fuels the helicopter nearby. Neither of them hear Joel’s voice in the air. The rising sun is what gives him away—or maybe the gunshot, as he lifts his arm and pulls the trigger.

It does not pierce flesh. It ricochets off one of the rotor blades. He had aimed slightly to the left.

The pilot scampers off into hiding, but the slash of the bullet through the rainfall is enough to get the attention Joel wants. Cabrera reaches inside the lining of his jacket and fires a single shot. Joel can feel it tear through skin and muscle, but it doesn't hurt.

“Joel,” greets Cabrera.

“Manuel.”

His chest heaves, his jacket soaked through, the cold sinking bone-deep.

“Let's finish this.”

The glimmer in those depthless black eyes is the panther at the hunt, relentless in its hunger, licking its chops at the sight of a challenge. For all the coward’s blood in his veins, it still pulses at the prospect of winning.

“Like men,” says Cabrera, tossing his gun aside at the same time Joel does. “With honour. No more guns.”

And it's laughable: the thought that there is any honour left in a world like this. A world where children are beaten and lashed and trained to hold a weapon too big for their hands. A world that burns villages, butchers families, and still claims that without rules, we live with the animals.

A world as unruly as this cannot be ruled. He never truly considered it until he saw the sad gleam in your eye, felt the empathetic touch of your hand on his face, and began to realise that maybe he should be furious.

But because he already knows he's going to win, Joel lets his opponent land the first blow.

The blood is tangy, near-sweet, as he swipes his forearm over his mouth and smears crimson on his shirtsleeve. It tingles faintly on his lips and crackles, warm as the melt from a late-winter snow. He feels it settle in the grooves of his palms, the hairs of his beard. He’s drowning in it.

Cabrera hits hard, but he’s slow. He’ll take five punches in the time it takes to wind up for one. Joel brings his arm up to block the next and delivers a blow to the sternum with his knee as his opponent’s guard drops. Wide open, Cabrera stumbles a few steps back, choking down the telltale wheeze of being winded. Joel marches forward, relentless in his crusade, grasping him by the scruff of his neck, teeth bared like a mad wild dog, and bears his skull down on the side of the railing. Around them, the wind howls and lashes at his clothes, but he still hears the pained scream as if it were poured into his ears.

Cabrera drops to his knees, and Joel grabs him again, bashing his head repeatedly against the steel bar, the lapel of an Italian leather coat bunching between his fingers, tainted by rainwater and the fist of the man who's come to take his life.

And fuck, Joel wants to make it last.

But there's a knife in his opponent’s hand, conjured from the darkness of his coat pocket, and Joel must release him to avoid the lethal slash of the blade. Blinking blood and lashing rain from his eyes, the man lunges with a snarl, and Joel recovers from his lost victory, stopping him with his fingers curled around his opponent’s wrist. He brings his hand to the crook of Cabrera’s elbow and uses his leverage to snap the bone.

Yowling, Cabrera drops to his haunches, the knife clattering to the ground. Joel, chest heaving, stands over him, flexing his fingers as he readies his fist for the killing blow.

His name leaves Cabrera’s bloodied mouth, accompanied by a mouthful of crimson-tainted saliva spat on the ground at Joel’s feet.

“Joel…” He lifts his head, cradling his broken arm, and sneers. There’s a chilling glow of satisfaction in it. “Did you get your perfect life, Joel? Do you really think you’ve won? It won’t ever stop. Not after you’ve killed me, not after you’ve killed all of them. Is that what you’re going to do? Kill them all?”

He could. He has done far worse. He has spilled blood for gold coins and superficial alliances and someone else's revenge. He has stalked, stolen, lied, killed, and he could finish this now, so easily, with the flick of a blade.

But the song of death does not call to him now.

For so long he had trudged, unmoored, through heavy crimson blood. Like pulling at the seams of velvet, he'd sewn more lives into the sea of red and he never looked behind him to see the souls trying to pull him down at the ankles. He didn't know purpose until he saw the way the candlelight flickered in your eyes, until he tilted his head to the side and realised your smile was a new kind of beautiful from each angle.

The rain sticks to his lashes and he thinks of an old song of prayer the Sisters used to chant. He remembers curling his fingers around one of the rosaries that hung from the large cross in the cathedral and wincing in anticipation. He thought he would burn—that the metal would leave a red stain on his palm. It never did.

Maybe that's why he never believed. Surely, if there was a God, Joel Miller would have burned by now.

He thinks of shopping for furniture and date nights and lazy mornings, tangled in bedsheets. Your mouth, smiling against his, whispering I love you across the breakfast table. Dancing—or swaying, more like—under the kitchen light. Loving easily, never feeling as if he must grab hold of the cross and burn himself upon it just to feel.

Joel turns the switchblade in his hand, lurches forward, and plunges the knife into Cabrera’s chest.

There is no noise but a faint gurgle from his mouth, his hand weakly rising to grasp the hilt. Joel drops to his knees and fishes Cabrera’s cell phone from his pocket.

“The blade is stuck in your aorta,” he says. “If you pull it out, you’ll bleed out and die.” He puts the rain-slick screen in front of Cabrera’s face. “Pull the contract.”

A few feeble taps are all it takes, and Joel Miller is no longer a target. His name glares back at him on the screen, from two million to nothing, not the boogeyman any longer but something akin to a civilian. Joel tosses the phone into the water and turns to leave.

“See you in hell, Joel,” Cabrera chokes, still grasping the shiny wooden hilt of the blade.

He barely hauls himself into the car, which chokes to a rumbling start. There's blood seeping through his shirt where Cabrera shot him, and his fingers shake as they pull away from the wound, the red so bright, so alive. Joel grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut.

If there’s a God, he thinks, I hope you fucking hear me now.

Tell me that we don’t get what we deserve. Because there is nothing I deserve in this world if I cannot keep what I’ve found.

His fingers trembling, smearing blood across the screen, he makes a call.

And your voice on the line, soft, sticky with sleep, whispering his name—just his name: Joel?—is what wrenches the first sob from his throat.

Joel, you say, like it means something, like it's precious. A jewel pressed from dusty black coal. Come back to me. Come home.

So he does.

#fic: helen #kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou fic #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #john wick au

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wonuwrites · 2 days

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hiii, if it's not a problem, can I request seventeen's reaction to their s/o being adored by cats? like, every time they go on a walk, there's at least one kitty that comes to them and wants to be petted

love your work!!! 😊

Ahhh not a problem at all! This sounds SO freaking cute I'm so excited to write it <33

Warnings: it's gonna be cute af, cats lmao

p.s: bc im writing about cats I wanna show off my babies ~ the Tuxedo is Shadow and White Cat is Stewie.

ღ S Coups:

omg Seungcheol would get heart eyes everytime a stray cat came up to you and rubbed up against you. You both would be doing your daily late night walk and an orange tabby would run straight to you you would drop Seungcheol's hand just to give the tabby some attention. Even though Seungcheol would fake pout everytime you chose a cat over his hand, he found it so precious how soft you were with cats and vice versa.

ღ Jeonghan:

When you first told Jeonghan cats loved you, he thought you were all talk. He didn't realize how true it was until one came up to you after one of your dates and just rubbed up on you. He jokingly called you a Disney Princess and it honestly was the best and most real compliment you have ever received. Whenever a cat ever came up to you, he would laugh in disbelief but he would love the fact that animals loved you just as much as he did.

ღ Joshua:

The majority of Jisoo's camera roll was with you and cats. You often would joke with each other that if you had to choose between cats vs him, you would choose cats. While that was not true in the slightest, Jisoo still would "respect" his place. There would be times where he would have to be voice of reason when you would want to take a new kitten or cat home which would be bittersweet but you would know he was right.

ღ Jun:

As a cat as well, Jun would completely understand why cats loved you. You were so calm and cute so it just makes sense. When cats would walk up to you, he swore he fell in love with you even more especially as you would crouch down and coo at them. He found it to be such a green flag that you were so good with animals.

ღ Hoshi:

Tell me why he'd be jealous of a cat? Not actually "jealous jealous" but would be like "yah, get your own partner. (y/n) is mine." He found it amusing whenever it happened because not only was the cats completely enamored by you but you also were. You would coo and would make up "back stories" about each cat that came up to you. If you ever saw the same cat twice, Soonyoung would be like "Oh yeah, it's Frederick the Third who really loves mischief and belly rubs" which would make you laugh because he remembered the back story. He would never admit it, but finding cats on your evening walks was the highlight of his day.

ღ Wonwoo:

tbh, the cats would be coming up to BOTH of you constantly. Something about Wonwoo and you just radiated such peace that cats just knew. You both found it a bit comical but also super wholesome that it happened as often as it did. If it ever happened when you weren't together, you both would either take a picture or FaceTime the other. Honestly, it would always make you both talk about adopting a cat together one day. Both of you would always get excited about the thoughts of making future plans like that together <3

ღ Woozi:

Similarly to Jeonghan, Jihoon would have some doubts about your claims of being a "cat magnet." He knocked the first few times as a "coincidence" but after awhile, he realized you were right. He found it so precious and would smirk when he would see an adorable four legged friend stretch before running up to both of you. He'd find it precious seeing you smile wide as you stared at a skittish cat that got nervous when Jihoon crouched down next to you too look at the kitten that decided to walk up to you. You would softly tell the kitten that Jihoon's muscles were all for show and he was a softie which would cause him to scoff and make mental note to show you how much "for show" they were later on.

ღ DK:

Seokmin would find it hilarious when you would just be walking and a cat would just be following close behind you begging for your attention with 'meows' and purrs. You would just give him a look of "I told you so," before playing with the kitten that so desperately wanted your attention. He found it so precious that he would film it and send it to both the 97 group chat and Seventeen group chats. His friends would be so jealous at your talents with cats and would ask you constantly for tips on how to get random cats to love you which would just make Seokmin feel so proud lol.

ღ Mingyu:

Mingyu was shocked when he realized it was not just cats and him that were obsessed with you. Whenever you both went on a walk together animals would ALWAYS come up to you. It could be cats, dogs, or even a crow. You would always mimic the noises of the animals and the animals would just act so happy that you were communicating with them. Honestly, it made him fall more in love with you.

ღ Minghao:

You know his infamous giggle? The bestest giggle in this whole wide world? Well it would star when you both would hear meows from behind you and noticed your charms worked on a grey long haired cutie. You would coo at the kitty and Minghao would coo at you. He found this sight to be the cutest thing EVER. He would take pictures and would even name the cats with you. For instance, this gray kitty y'all just found was named "Jinkies."

ღ Seungkwan:

Seungkwan would be flabbergasted that his partner was some character from a Disney movie. He would find it absolutely precious when he would see cats run up and look at you when you went on walks with each other. He often would find it funny because half the time you would get 'tired' of this talent you had. Sometimes you wanted to just enjoy time with him and when a cat came up, you just had to pet the kitty and ignore your busy man. It would make you feel guilty but he would always reassure you that it was okay.

ღ Vernon:

The first time it happened, he thought it was a freak occurrence. As did you. In fact, it was with Hansol when you realized you were the cat whisperer. It would be weird if a cat did NOT come up to you when you both on your nights. He would laugh if you got sulky because you didn't see an four legged friend on your walk. He would tease you that you were "losing your touch" which would cause you to roll your eyes and playfully push him.

ღ Dino:

Chan swore you had catnip or tuna in your pockets because there was just no way. So before your went on a walk, you emptied both of your pockets to prove him wrong. When he was satisfied you both left and ironically three damn cats showed up on your walk. He would be so flabbergasted and would laugh his infamous laugh. You would tell him it's a sign and you both should get a furbaby child soon which he would agree.

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deoidesign · 22 hours

Text

I hate posting on social media.

But I do it anyways.

Every time I post something, it risks people getting mad at me. Of getting big, too big, and coming back around to hurt me. It's happened before. It'll happen again.

And yet I post anyways.

Because I think a lot of people feel very much alone. And I think that the power of art is that it can, for a moment, make someone feel less alone.

When I look at art I can feel the artist behind it, saying "I made this, and I wanted you to see it. And I want you to see yourself in it too. And I want you to know I love you." And I feel a connection in the humanity of every stroke they made. Through millennia and cultures and lifestyles, no matter what, there is always the artist behind the work, and I know I'm not alone.

Every time I share something my art transforms, entirely against my will. While I'm working it's reflective, relaxing, explorative. I'm learning while I draw, about myself and the things around me and how I see things.

And then I post.

And now it's in someone else's hands. They see it, and everything I tried to put into it is irrelevant. It only matters what someone gets out of it.

This transformation is magical, but it is also extremely vulnerable.

And it's scary!

But I share anyways.

Because I made this. And I wanted you to see it. And I want you to see yourself in it too.

And I want you to know I love you.

#i know this is kinda funny when you look at my art and it's the vampire yaoi #but im actually so serious about this!!!#everything is meant for connection #even if it's a silly meme that took 5 minutes #it made me laugh while i was making it #and i wanted to make you laugh too #because i love you #i want you to enjoy my silly story #i want you to be maybe a little confused #maybe a little reflected #maybe a little inspired #because i love you!#and i want you to feel seen #to feel heard #to FEEL!!!#my god i want you to feel something #and so i create!#and i put all of me into it as much as i can #all my little weird bits and undesireable parts as well despite my wishes #and i hope that maybe by making myself vulnerable #you can see all my pieces and perhaps youll recognize that we're made of the same stuff #and maybe youll know its okay to be yourself #with all your bits and pieces #that you struggle to love.#well i love them.#i love you.#and i want you to love you too #anyways #I'm just thinking.#i'll probably delete this later

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fandomnerd9602 · 16 hours

Text

Square Dance: Two Step

Country!Wanda x Male!Reader

It all started when your best friend Pietro ‘Piet’ Maximoff invited you to leave the city for a week. He saw how much city life and work was wearing you down, how much you needed a detox from all of the stress and anxiety.

He picked you up in his pick up truck from your apartment on a Sunday morning. Piet was a track star in college, full ride, and your best friend / roommate. Now he works as a mechanic in his home town. He never really talked about home but he loved it.

“I promise, pal” your Southern accented friend told you, “you’re gonna love it. I’m taking you to the best watering hole in the area tonight.”

“Are you still trying to get me to settle down?” You laughed.

“I just wanna see my bud happy. A little tail can help that” he gives you a playful wink.

First things first he helped you drop off your stuff at the guest room in his modest two story homestead. “Sorry I can’t give you the master bedroom” he chuckled, “my traveling sister came back to town, she called dibs”

“I don’t mind.” You said with a shrug, “your sis deserves it” You never met Piet’s sister but you did know about their constant teasing due to having seen their text exchanges.

“Come on, bud” he said practically pulling you out the door. “Let’s live a little!”

You and Piet made your way to the local watering hole and dance hall. Didn’t take long for Piet to make the rounds and chat up a couple people.

“Does Crystal approve of you being here?” you asked your pal with a laugh.

“Speak of the angel and she’ll appear” he responded as his longtime girlfriend made her way towards the two of you. Didn’t take long for Piet and her to go to the dance floor.

The band took to the small stage a second later. The announcer made his way to the microphone.

“Evening fellas, ladies, please give a nice warm applause to our guest singer the Good Witch, Scarlett.”

And with that introduction, the most beautiful woman you had ever seen made her way to the microphone. Her confidence, the sort of kind way she carried herself, it made your heart beat fast.

“Howdy everyone” she said with a southern twang. “Glad to see so many familiar faces in the audience…”

Her eyes locked with yours. Her eyes looked at you with pure adoration. A small smile made its way across her face.

“And so new faces too” she gave you a little wink, “so let’s start shall we?”

Her keyboardist began playing a simple melody:

(Can Love Stand the Test - Don Henley & Bonnie Raitt)

Did I lose your love a long time ago

Or did I just wear it out? Baby, I don't know

Seems like anymore we're not on the same page

In the same book, or on the same stage

We say the words, but they feel all wrong

Like a happy blues, like a sad love song

How two people can bow and scrape

For every shred of tenderness

Can love stand the test

Of times that surround us

Memories that astound us

Joy and happiness

Can love stand the test?

Her eyes were locked on you. Did she feel some sort of connection to you, as you could feel with her? You hadn’t spoken a word and yet it was like you knew her somehow.

We said forever, for always, for good

But the years were not impressed

Can love stand the test

Of time that surrounds us

Moments that astound us?

Can love stand the test

Of time that surrounds us

Moments that astound us?

Joy and happiness

The audience cheered as the song ended. The mystery singer offered a humble little bow. “Alright” she said with a giggle, “who’s ready for a little square dancing, huh?” The crowd cheered and began asking for their own partners as the singer got off the stage and began making her own way towards you. Everyone else faded away, it was like it was only you and her in that entire watering hole.

“Howdy there” she flashed a gentle smile at you

“H-Howdy” you managed to answer back.

“You’re not from around here are ya?” her twang just made your heart flutter.

“No. I’m in town for a couple days”

“Well City Boy” she gave a little twirl in her hips, “do you wanna dance?”

“I-I got like two left feet” you said with a little embarrassment. She only giggled in response and took your hands.

“Don’t worry” she reassured you, “just follow my lead”

You and this amazing gal danced a couple square dances together that night. Time seemed to blur, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper into what felt like love. You could spend an eternity on that dance floor with her and it wouldn’t feel like enough time with her.

The way she smiled those pearly whites at you. The way her reddish brown hair bounced. The way she looked at you with those emerald green eyes that made your heart beat practically out of your chest. You didn’t think it was possible to feel this way about someone so fast.

Sadly the song came to an end. She offered you a quick bow and a tip of her own hat to you. “Ya know” she smiled at you, “you sure can dance, city boy”

“You’re not too bad yourself, ma’am” you complimented her back.

“How long you in town for?” She drew a little closer to you.

“A week, maybe a little longer”

“That’s an awful long time” she wrapped her arms around your neck, yours wrapped around her waist.

“M-my name’s Y/N”

She offered a gentle, sincere smile, “my name’s-”

“Wanda?” Piet spoke up, staring in shock at you and the gal before you. She gave a slightly embarrassed tip of the hat to Piet.

“Hey bro” Wanda said to Piet

“I see you met my bud Y/N” Piet said.

“He’s a great dancer” she answered back, giving you a gentle smile.

Part of you was horrified. Another part of you was on cloud nine. Your life was supposed to be structured, not on a whim. And yet here you were. Not only had you fallen in love on your first night out of the city, you had fallen for your best friend’s sister.

To Be Continued…

Tags: @lifespectator @aloneodi @deafeningsharkslimeempath @iamnicodemus @holiday-house-of-m @family-house-of-m @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff imagine #country Wanda #country girl #country girl x reader #country x city #male reader #wanda maximoff x male reader #x male reader #x male y/n

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rubyuji · 2 days

Text

The Chase (Jeon Wonwoo) ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

“I won’t get tired of the chase when it comes to you because I know that once I win your heart, I will give you more than the world has to offer” ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

Genre: Angst (Not much), Fluff, Romance

AU: Chaebol!au

Pairing(s): CEO!Wonwoo x Afab Fashion Designer!Reader

Warnings: None except the shitty ex-boyfriend

Synopsis: After going through the most traumatizing relationship ever with your ex, you vowed never to open your heart to just anyone and simply accepted the fact that maybe you truly were just unlucky in love. That was until Jeon Wonwoo made it his life’s mission to prove to you that you weren’t unlucky, you just ended up with the wrong people.

Note: I don’t know why this took me so long finish, I started writing it during new year’s and still ended up finishing it in April ;; This is based off a true story (The shitty ex) and I wrote it to make myself feel better. Remember, never settle for less because you’re always deserving of more. Happy reading! And as always, don’t forget to like + reblog.

WC: 10.4k (and it took me 4 months)

Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, you had finally had enough. It had been a week since your ‘boyfriend’ decided just to get up and ghost you, and now here he was when you finally thought he’d completely leave your life? Not only that but breaking up with you over text for that matter.

He couldn’t even call you to tell you shit, and he came back just to end things between you both.

“He’s so full of shit like I’m gonna take his fucking excuse of being busy like I always do. I’m tired of waiting for this guy, all talk that’s what he is. He wanted me first and now he’s the one initiating the breakup? The audacity he has to do all this when I put in all the work to make this relationship work.” You run a hand through your hair in exasperation as your friend Jennie eyes you worriedly.

“I told you, you deserve better Y/n. Never trust a guy who has to make up for his face with his ‘personality’, What’s the point? You gave him a chance because you pitied him. This guy should be embarrassed for even breaking up with someone in your league, you can do way better,” Rosé says.

Your ex wasn’t the most favorable person among your girlfriends, or your circle of friends in general, but love truly is blind.

You land on the couch beside Jennie, the movie on the big screen in your theater long forgotten as it was paused momentarily because your ex had decided to return at the worst possible time.

“He’s an ass, end of story. He never deserved you to begin with and I could see it coming ever since we met him, what guy uses him being busy as an excuse? If you truly loved your girlfriend, you’d spend every waking minute with her and spoil her with attention. You don’t even ask for much!” Jisoo shouts.

Lisa slaps your friend’s leg in an attempt to calm her down as you all laugh.

The girls knew that you were well aware of your worth, but this guy was persistent so you gave him a chance, but he ended up hurting you either way.

It was such nonsense for him to break up with you when you were nothing but good to him, hell, you were the whole package and he still couldn’t see where he wasted such an opportunity.

“Y/n, he never deserved you at all. You’re the full package when it comes to a partner. Like, you don’t even ask for that much assurance and give him all his freedom, and not only that, you’re so patient and understanding. You have your way with words, as well as a personality as pretty as your face for fucks sake. He wasted such a creative and unique person, he’ll get his karma soon enough,” Jennie says softly from beside you.

You were fully aware of the treatment you give your friends and can vouch for how much of a good person you are, but this guy broke up with you because one of your friends had decided to call him out on his shit treatment towards you? If he had worries about that he could’ve talked to you about it.

“Your ex is full of shit just saying, so how about we forget about it and get ready to go to Mingyu’s housewarming party tonight? I’m sure there will be guys flocking toward you from every direction, so stop crying over a guy who never deserved you.” Lisa dragged you and the girls into your walk-in to get ready.

Who did your ex think he was, anyway? He was probably some shitty lesson for you to vow to be more picky now with whom you let into your heart.

Since you were the one who was heartbroken in the midst of all this, your friends had taken extra time to help you look your best.

Jennie had grabbed a long black strapless dress that had a slit that ran until your mid-thigh, and Rosé helped with your makeup, opting for a subtle smokey eye and a deep red lip.

You decided to let the girls get ready and offered to do your hair with Jisoo in the bathroom, the two of you breaking into a friendly chat.

“I will never understand what you saw in that guy Y/n, you have so many guys chasing after you and yet you decided to give Junseo a chance. He wasn’t exactly the best-looking and even had a shitty personality. He only seemed good at first when he was pursuing you but he got shittier, anyone could see that only you were putting the effort in for the relationship to work,” Jisoo sighed.

You finished curling your hair and laughed at your friend’s words. Even you, yourself, couldn’t understand why you gave him that chance when he treated you like absolute garbage, he kept leaving you and coming back at his convenience, using the excuse of being busy as always.

He started becoming inconsistent, he couldn’t even give you the bare minimum and broke up with you just because he couldn’t handle communicating with you.

Because he couldn’t admit his mistakes? It wasn’t worth it in your opinion, and you had already detached like it was nothing. The relationship itself was comical.

“Well, he doesn’t count as a boyfriend to be completely honest. I don’t see him as one, like even as a person he isn’t all that, he is a good friend to everyone else but this guy isn’t all that in reality no matter how hard you look. He talks about me as if I’m just a random girl to his friends, Mingyu can vouch for me on that because he overheard him at the bar. Honestly never again,” you grimace at the memory.

Mingyu had called you up at two in the morning, and you wondered why on earth he’d be calling you at that hour.

Sure, your best friend was a bit of a party animal, so you weren’t exactly a stranger to a few drunk speed dials from him, but Mingyu sounded quite frustrated over the phone.

“Your asshole of a boyfriend, if you can even call him that, is at the bar we’re at right now. This dude talked about you as if you were some random chick. Honestly, if Hao hadn’t held me back, I would’ve punched the shithead square in the fucking face. Y/n, you should break up with him, you don’t deserve this disrespect at all.” You could hear Dokyeom telling Mingyu to let it go because they’d just go and find another bar.

Frankly, your boyfriend was pissing them off at that exact moment because they had all overheard his conversation from the table beside theirs.

“Gyu, I can’t believe he left after an argument we had, and this is what I come back to? You know what, never mind, I’ll deal with it myself. Don’t worry ok? You guys enjoy your night, I’ll talk to him as soon as possible” You reply quietly.

Mingyu starts to worry and asks if you need him to come over, but you assure him that you’ll be fine and that you’ll call Jeonghan to come over instead.

“I’m sure Jeonghan hyung will understand, so you rest up there. I’m sorry he’s a shitty person Y/n, you need someone who will take care of you just as well as we do, someone who’s just as good as you even. I’ll come over tomorrow to check up on you, ok? I’ll try not to drink as much knowing you’ll be worried about me driving with a hangover,” Mingyu tells you.

You tell him to take care and enjoy his night once again, and not to worry about you before you hang up. You debated texting Jeonghan, who was probably on his way to your penthouse already, so you decided to leave it to Mingyu.

You needed more time to do something about the current situation. It was all so confusing and you didn’t know how to feel, but thankfully you had friends who were practically angels on this godforsaken planet.

What you couldn’t fathom was that you gave this guy all the freedom he needed, hell, you stretched your patience and your ability to understand to its limit because of him, and yet he throws your name around as if you’re just some random girl he decided to hook up with? You don’t deserve that kind of disrespect, especially when you were a woman of class, and the person supporting him and his family without asking for anything in return.

When Jeonghan arrived at your place, you were ready to bawl and cry over how rocky your relationship had been since the beginning. The man had entered your home with a tub of ice cream and a bottle of your favorite aged wine that he always kept for you in case of emergencies.

Mingyu had described your dilemma enough for you, saving Jeonghan the explanation and the confusion as to why you needed him in the dead of night, but you knew well enough that if they also needed you, you’d be there in a heartbeat.

Jeonghan had sat you down in your living room, the lights in the penthouse out completely as you both bask in the darkness and the dim city lights that seep through the window. He takes a sip from his glass and eyes you with worry, before pulling you closer to his side.

“Your boyfriend is an asshole and you deserve better, and I know you’re tired of people telling you that, but this guy has completely proved time and time again that he is undeserving of your love. I know it will be easier said than done but you need to break up with this guy, he’s been hurting you Y/n and he’s acting like it’s completely ok just because you make excuses for him? God, I hate seeing you in this position as one of your best friends” Jeonghan mutters from beside you.

You take a sip of your wine and nod. This guy wasn’t the most well-liked individual in your circle, and you were starting to see the reality of things.

He’s been neglecting your needs and you as a whole, only using his having a girlfriend as something to brag about. Not only that, but he also had the privilege to date you, and he’s suddenly acting as if you’re some lowly girl chasing after his tail.

A highly respected chaebol and someone whose family and community as a whole consist of only the most elite, Yoon Jeonghan, son of Yoon Holdings. and Kim Mingyu, son of Kim Legal Group are some important names to note.

Your inner circle was full of powerful people, and they would hire a hitman on your behalf if you weren’t so patient, so this guy should be afraid to hurt you.

“Look, he doesn’t know the full extent of how much he hurt you and he’s acting like everything is ok just because you’re understanding and kind. He lost a very special and unique individual, hell, he lost the heir to one of the biggest fashion companies in the world. You shouldn’t have settled for someone who’s not even close to your league, like, you have models pining after you for fucks sake Y/n. I have a whole line of friends ready to treat you right,” your friend laughs.

“He’s not the most ideal guy, and I get it now. I guess I only liked how he treated me and made me feel special in a way, especially when he’s known me for so long, but you’re right Han. I need to gather the courage to break up with him because I can’t wallow in self-pity any longer, I own one of the biggest fashion companies in the world and I let this guy deter me from my goals. I need to start focusing on myself now,” you say with newfound confidence before laying your head on Jeonghan’s shoulder.

You were worth so much more, and you deserved to be valued as much as your friends valued you.

A week of healing and detachment led you to your current position now, a freshly single woman who was ready to start focusing on herself and herself only.

If a man wanted a place in your life, he was going to have to earn it and he should prove himself worthy of your attention. You are no longer going to settle when your ex practically gave you less than the bare minimum.

“You know what, you have the right to find someone else who’s in your league. I know you’re not in the mind to be in a relationship right now, but I hope at least one of the guys you meet tonight will try to pursue you with genuine intentions. You deserve someone willing to show you how much you mean to them, someone who’s not afraid to show and express their love for you.” Jisoo fixes your hair and you nod in agreement.

You were in no rush to find something new after being in such a draining position, but you also wouldn’t mind entertaining more notable suitors that had actual potential in your future because your boyfriend had always been in a questionable position, to begin with.

You didn’t mean to judge him, but you were a notable figure and he was quite unsure of his career path, which isn’t a bad thing, but your ex was careless and didn’t seem to care which way he was heading.

On your end, you had started to learn the ropes of fashion at a young age, and now you were ready to take over your family legacy. You should at least give him something as a reminder of the kind of woman he lost.

“Are you guys ready? Because it’s our turn to do our hair,” Jennie peeks into the bathroom. You and Jisoo chuckle in unison and nod as you head to your shoes and bags closet.

Jisoo picks a small all-black YSL clutch and a pair of classic black Louboutin heels before handing the items in your direction. You take the shoes and give your friend a knowing look as she winks at you.

“I think a pair of Vivienne Westwood earrings would look gorgeous with the outfit, pair that with the matching necklace and you’re all set. God Y/n, you’re such a stunner and your ex wanted to break up? That’s his biggest loss ever,” your friend helps you put the necklace on as you finish up your earrings.

You were much more excited about Mingyu’s housewarming party, especially because it was at the house that you had helped him pick while he was house hunting.

Being a fashion designer and someone who works in such a creative industry, your friends always ask for your input knowing you have an eye for things that they would like.

It was a no-brainer decision for one of your best friends to take you house hunting with him because whatever you liked, Mingyu also had a knack for. Your ex didn’t count though, but when it came to everything else, your best friend was your other half.

“I’m just excited to see Mingyu and everyone else, it’s been way too long since we all had a proper hangout. Everyone’s been so busy ever since we started uni, and some of the others graduating ahead even, so thank God for him moving homes, because we probably wouldn’t have any other chance to reunite” you laugh softly.

The girls had already finished dolling themselves up and you all headed to the parking garage. You had a hard time picking between which cars to choose from, but you decided on your black Ferrari convertible as a reward for yourself.

Slipping into the driver’s seat, you motioned for them to get in, Jennie immediately calling shotgun and causing the other three to groan in unison.

Driving to Mingyu’s place was a breeze because he lived right in Hannam-Dong, your favorite area, and one of the reasons why you convinced your best friend to get his current home.

There was no way Mingyu was gonna say no to you anyway, you both always just looked out for each other like that because he was like a brother to you and you were like a sister to him.

You even contributed to at least half of Mingyu’s choices when he was choosing and decorating his current living space. Yes, your friend had taken you to every furniture shopping trip and had even called you over during renovations he was making.

Pulling into the gate, security stops you and asks who you’re there for and what house number. “House nine, Kim Mingyu,” you smile softly. The guard lets you in and tells you and the girls to have a good night as you drive toward Mingyu’s place.

“You’re already so familiar with the area, Mingyu did bring you around the whole time so it makes sense. God, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you two were dating,” Lisa joked.

You roll your eyes and let out a snort. Never in a million years would you ever think of dating Mingyu, he was your best friend and that’s all you two ever will be.

Besides, you found his other friends more appealing, but you were also too shy to approach them knowing Mingyu would never let you live it down. It was just the dynamic you both settled on because you both had gone through more than enough together.

“I would never date Mingyu, we’re too close to date and we grew up together. If you were to ask me, I’d have my bets on any of his other friends,” you parked in Mingyu’s designated parking spot that he had put especially for you (he had insisted since you would be coming over quite often anyway).

“Should’ve gone for them instead of your ex then,” Lisa laughed and you all got out of the car, ready to head inside.

Jisoo’s mouth had dropped as she stared in awe at Mingyu’s estate. “Mingyu chose the right person for advice, Y/n this place is beautiful. You do have an eye for amazing things,” your friend says. You shook your head and thanked her with a bashful smile.

The estate was beautiful, it was modern with wide windows and a black and white exterior. The gate was wide open and you could see people inside the house mingling as you all made your way in.

You then see the homeowner himself at the door, seemingly waiting for your arrival. Mingyu had a goofy smile on his face as Jungkook waved at you from beside him, he was practically Mingyu’s twin because he was around Mingyu just as much as you were.

“You’re finally here, he wouldn’t stop whining about you and honestly thank God. Mingyu finally shut up and insisted we come down to greet you once he saw your car pull up into the driveway,” Jungkook hugs you as he says that and you turn to Mingyu himself who looks just as happy to see you.

“He’s joking, now you guys come in. You’re looking quite better Y/n, did something happen?” Mingyu quips. You shrug your shoulders and casually mention that your ex had broken up with you through text after ghosting you for a week.

Jungkook turns to you as if you had dropped a bomb on them and Mingyu’s jaw falls slack at your revelation. You laughed awkwardly and tried to slip away after seeing Jeonghan out of the corner of your eye, but you were immediately stopped by the two of them.

“OK first, I’m proud of you that you finally broke up with his ass, he’s honestly one of the worst creatures to ever walk this earth, but second, how are you coping? You came all the way here, I’m worried about you. Aren’t you supposed to be crying and sobbing?” Mingyu mutters.

He was genuinely so concerned at how you were able to get to his party as if nothing was completely wrong.

“Not worth crying and moping over, and besides, I’m completely ok, I promise. Still open to love and finding someone eventually though,” You held Mingyu’s hand and squeezed it as a sign of assurance, but your tall friend still looked concerned.

“Gyu, don’t worry. I had the girls with me and I have you guys, you still have guests to entertain, now go. I’ll let you know if I need anything, I promise” You ushered him to the entrance of his house as he threw you one last worried glance, before tending to his other guests that had arrived.

As you and the girls head towards the living room, where most of the guests mingled, you are completely unaware of the man who had been eyeing you ever since you had stepped foot into the home.

He stares at you full of wonder, in awe at how you glowed around your friends. Was it the lighting or were you just an angel in disguise?

“Hey Won, if you’re that into her, you should just go talk to her you know? Take the opportunity while it lasts, seeing as almost every guy here has their eye on her” Soonyoung, more known as Hoshi by his friends, chuckled from beside him, as he nudged his shoulder.

“Yeah no, I’ll stick to just admiring Y/n from afar. She has a boyfriend after all” Wonwoo says, but his face forms into a soft smile after seeing you interact with Dokyeom from across the room.

He wasn’t looking for anyone to be with before he met you, truthfully speaking, given how busy he is now that he runs his family’s business but you were just naturally radiant, it was hard not to notice your beauty and overwhelming presence whenever you were around. Wonwoo did want to approach you, but he didn’t know how when so many people would be around you at once.

The two of you had met on several different occasions, but you were always around Mingyu when it came to these things.

Wonwoo only really knew you as Mingyu’s childhood best friend, but seeing how you both interacted and based on how the media portrayed you, you seemed like quite the catch and Wonwoo couldn’t deny the small crush he had started to develop towards you, but you also had a boyfriend.

“You’re going to regret that you know, he just broke up with her today so you’re free to pursue her as you like. Just take your time with her, because I know she’ll open her heart eventually…” Mingyu appeared behind them and Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at him. Your boyfriend? How could he ever break up with someone like you?

“He had a shitty ass reason from what Jennie told me, basically he broke up with her because he said he was too busy or something. I think we’re all aware that this guy is just full of shit, after all, Y/n was the serious one and she put her utmost effort into the relationship, it’s unfair on her when there are way better people out there. People like you,” Mingyu continued while nudging Wonwoo’s shoulder.

“Yikes? Won, you should pursue her and treat her the way she deserves. Take your time with Y/n, we all know she’ll open up either way when you show her that she’s truly deserving of only the best.” Jihoon grins widely.

Wonwoo was starting to deliberate within himself, he had a huge opportunity right in front of him to pursue you, and either way, it was a way to get to know you better and to see if you would give him the chance.

Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t the type to chase someone but for you? You had him wrapped around your pretty little fingers and he wouldn’t mind following you through the ends of the earth if he had to. If you gave him a chance, he’d prove to you that you only deserve to be treated with only the best and nothing less.

“Y/n was such a trooper for settling for the barest of the minimum, she’s the biggest green flag through and through, and this guy chose to abuse it. I think you’re the person for her Won, you’re willing to go after her, aren’t you? Now go and ask her out, Dokyeom’s telling her to walk over.” Mingyu looked like a madman because his smile was so wide, but he didn’t want to miss the opportunity to set the two of his closest friends up with each other.

You both deserved only the best, and Mingyu must admit that you were a perfect match. He’d always wanted Wonwoo for you, but your ex had to ruin it all by stealing you away.

Wonwoo turned to the side and sure enough, you were making your way toward Mingyu and the others. Wonwoo’s breath was caught in his throat as he saw you coming closer. God, you looked so beautiful, it was hard not to stare.

Once you were in front of them, you greeted them kindly, your tone soft and sweet, but still with a hint of elegance. The guys only shared knowing glances and they urged Wonwoo to talk to you teasingly.

“Y/n, is it ok if we have a moment alone? I need to ask you something and I’d feel like it would be too much pressure to put you on the spot in front of everyone,” You looked at Wonwoo and nodded, surprised at his demeanor.

You were so used to the serious side of the man that seeing him all shy and flustered only made you smile at him.

Wonwoo led you to the second floor, and you immediately knew where he was taking you. You know Mingyu’s house like the back of your hand, so it was no surprise when Wonwoo opened up the garden on the second floor.

It was perfectly private since the second floor was off-limits for other guests, and everyone was led straight to the rooftop or was on the ground floor.

“Now that we have a bit more privacy, I heard from Mingyu and his big mouth that your ex had broken up with you. How are you coping?” Wonwoo motioned for you to sit next to him on the bench.

You took a seat next to him and let out a soft chuckle, this was the first time you were ever alone with Wonwoo, outside of a formal setting and without the company of others.

“Doing fine, I mean, I detached from the whole situation emotionally so it’s nothing. Left me quite drained, but I won’t let a hiccup like this stop me from finding someone else, I’m just not in the state to be in another relationship right now…” You reply and stare at the city from below.

The view was gorgeous, but you couldn’t deny that the man next to you was just as good-looking.

“I know you’re not in the state to commit to something else as you’re healing right now, but I’d like to ask you if you’re willing to let me court you. I don’t want to pressure you, and it’s completely up to you, but I wanted to open up the possibility because I’ve been admiring you for a while Y/n. I only want to show you that you deserve only the best,” Wonwoo proposes.

Your mouth is slightly agape at his proposal, you are just in complete shock at how someone like Wonwoo had openly confessed that he’d be willing to pursue you because he admired you.

It was a bold move and it was a risk knowing you’d just been broken up with, but he was willing to take it either way.

“Courting huh? You surprise me Jeon Wonwoo. I’ll accept your proposal, but I have to let you know that it won’t be as easy because of the trauma from my last relationship,” you look down and fidget with your hands.

You were okay with being pursued and courted, but you’re still shaken up from the events of your last relationship, so you’re taking it easy.

“I won’t get tired of the chase when it comes to you because I know that once I win your heart, I will give you more than the world has to offer,” Wonwoo chuckles before wrapping his jacket around you.

He was truly a gentleman, and what did you have to lose? The man was trusted by your friends and most especially Mingyu, your friend who was like a brother to you.

“I admire your courage and patience, but going after me won’t be so easy now…” You chuckle lightly.

You thought Wonwoo would laugh along but the man truly was serious about you, which was a surprise. People these days were only up for casual dating, but you were someone who preferred something long-term and serious, especially when work and business took up most of your life.

“Believe me, I know how you feel because I’m equally as busy, but I’m willing to work around that. You’re an amazing woman, seeing how secure you are in yourself only makes you all the more attractive. I want someone who shares my work ethic and dreams. Seeing your character, and hearing all the good things about you. I can truly say you are everything I could ever ask for,” Wonwoo continued.

You never got flustered or embarrassed, but hearing someone acknowledge your hard work, especially from a person like Wonwoo, you couldn’t help but blush at his confession.

The media has always highlighted your endless milestones, but no one ever brought up the grueling hours you’ve spent working towards a goal. Wonwoo truly was one of a kind, which only made you want to give him a chance even more.

The two of you hear a glass door slide and hear a familiar voice let out a hearty laugh. “There you two are, come down because I’m going to say a few words before the house gets trashed,” Mingyu stood by the door and smiled at the two of you.

Since that night, Jeon Wonwoo proved that he was serious about his word, because the morning after Mingyu’s party, you had received a bouquet arrangement of baby’s breaths and camellias, along with a note.

It read, ‘Just because. Have a good day, I’ll visit your place later since your secretary told me you had a full schedule today. See you later beautiful :)’.

“Is that from Wonwoo? Look at him already treating you better than your shitty ex-boyfriend,” Jennie laughs after walking into the kitchen.

You chuckle and place the flowers in a vase that you filled with water. It was unique, usually, people would send roses since it was romantic, but this was sweet of Wonwoo because he isn’t like everyone else.

“By the way, baby’s breath flowers mean ‘everlasting love’, and camellias mean ‘you’re a flame in my heart’. This man is already gaining my approval because he knows the flower language and put in the effort to arrange that, and have it delivered, between his busy schedule. I can’t wait to see what else he has in mind,” you hand Jennie a mug of coffee you were making and roll your eyes playfully.

It was cheesy, but you had to admit that it was also admirable. This was your first time receiving flowers from someone from a romantic perspective.

You had received flowers from Mingyu, Seungcheol, and even Jihoon, in the past, but they were all friendly gestures or formalities at one of Mingyu’s events. This time, it felt different as you feel a sense of giddiness bloom in your chest.

“He’s coming over tonight, I wonder what else he has planned,” you wonder aloud. Just as you said that sentence, the other girls had walked into the kitchen, and Jisoo immediately asked who you were referring to.

“Wonwoo sent her flowers and said he’d come over to see her, crazy right? This guy just started courting Y/n and is already proving himself worthy,” Jennie replies.

Rosé raises a brow and Lisa’s brows knit. This was a first from any of the guys you’ve ever been with, and Wonwoo hadn’t even taken you out on a proper date yet, but it was a lot coming from someone who was now taking over one of the biggest companies in the country. The man was bound to be busy almost every minute of his entire life right now.

It was a no-brainer that Wonwoo had a lot of responsibilities but given his dating history, or lack thereof, this was a whole new thing for him.

A man who is serious about what he wants is one of the hottest things ever to you, so he was gaining your favor faster than you thought.

“Stop being a bare minimum enjoyer, I can’t wait to see what he’s going to bring to the table for you though. I need this guy to treat you the way you deserve to be treated because you settled for shit men and that isn’t who you are, you need someone serious and emotionally intelligent,” Rosé huffs.

Your friends continue to talk amongst themselves as you get started on your breakfast, your mind still on Wonwoo.

You never paid much mind to Mingyu’s friends, but you slowly warmed up to the twelve men, getting particularly close to Jeonghan, Jihoon, and Seungcheol, specifically, but Wonwoo? You could barely remember your last exchange with the man except for the one from the night before.

They all had their charm and you wouldn’t mind hanging out with any of them at all, but Wonwoo was one of the busier members of the group so you never got the chance to see him as much due to schedules clashing.

You couldn’t lie though, you thought the man was attractive for being so hardworking but still finding the time to go to every dinner or event he was invited to, especially when it came to their friend group in particular.

You had missed a few here and there because you were either too burned out from working, or had too much on your schedule that day, but you always managed to hear that Wonwoo had made it.

“Hey Y/n, we’ll be leaving in an hour or two so you can mentally prepare yourself for your night with Wonwoo. No weird shit ok? I know he’s hot and all but have some self-control and save it for when you’re officially together,” Jennie jokes from behind you as she gives you a back hug.

You let out a giggle and nod softly, immediately catching your friend’s drift.

“Yeah don’t worry, I promise I have it all under control ok Jen? Now let me finish cooking our food so I can at least send you guys off with a thank you for being the best,” you say softly.

The girls smile at you, their expressions teasing in a way. You could only roll your eyes at them. For the first time, your friends supported a guy. It was new and completely unexpected, especially when your close-knit group of friends consisted of maneaters.

After breakfast, your friends had finally left you alone in your penthouse with nothing to do until Wonwoo came over that evening, so you decided to tend to some important emails and other matters.

Hence, you no longer had anything else to think about. You couldn’t help but think though, how could someone like Wonwoo ask you out? Let alone court you. Jeon Wonwoo was someone you least expected to have the time for something like courtship.

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that you both were some of the busiest people in the industry, especially with your family brand making a name overseas and his company taking the whole country by storm.

You both always had packed schedules, but Wonwoo was willing to fit you into his somehow, which you admired. Your friends always say that a man is never too busy for someone he truly loves.

“He’s already so sweet, I’m already getting sick just thinking about him,” you say to yourself.

You couldn’t help but feel all giddy, even after the traumatic experience with your ex, you felt happy to give someone a chance because they promised to make up for what you had gone through.

Despite your giddy feelings, the emotional trauma had started to creep up on you. Jumping into something new almost immediately wasn’t the wisest idea on your part, but Wonwoo was one of Mingyu’s closest friends as well, so Mingyu wouldn’t push the idea if it wasn’t good for you.

“I shouldn’t put too much effort into how I look tonight, after all, we are just having dinner here, but I wonder what he’s got planned,” you get up from the couch and make your way into your room. Even if you were just going to meet at your own home, you still had to look presentable at least.

Walking into your closet, you decide to pull out another one of your favorite black dresses. It wasn’t too out there, but it was pretty enough to wear for dinner at home. The dress ended at the knees and had puffy sleeves, with the waist having a corset-like design.

This dress was your pride and joy because you had designed this when you were still in your first year of high school, with only one piece existing in the entire world.

“You know what, maybe I should call Mingyu. He could calm my nerves and tell me what Wonwoo is like…” you sigh softly.

Whenever you did feel your nerves catching up to you, you always turned to call your puppy of a best friend to help you get over your thoughts, and since the guy was also one of his closest friends, Mingyu could help alleviate any worries you have.

You opted to call him because he would probably take forever to lecture you either way. You grab your phone and dial Mingyu’s number, the man probably had nothing better to do right now because his family was going to be over that night as well and he talked to you yesterday about wanting to cook for them in his new home.

“Hey, you’re calling me. Don’t tell me you’re nervous about your date with Wonwoo tonight?” You can hear the smirk in Mingyu’s tone.

If he was here, you’d already land him a smack on his shoulder and a good eye roll, but you were in your penthouse across the city.

“I’m not stupid, I just need to hear more about what he’s like. Besides, I also maybe do want to get intel on his side because you’re his other best friend you know,” you chuckle playfully. Mingyu wasn’t a snitch obviously, but he could at least tell you what he gathered from the guy.

“Yeah I know, look, Wonwoo’s just as nervous as you are. It’s his first time being with a woman who wasn’t exactly chosen by his parents if you catch my drift. Just relax, he’s harmless and is pretty good at conversations, he’s not that awkward once he opens up a bit,” you hear shuffling on Mingyu’s end.

“Are you seriously preparing meals right now?” You laugh. You hear Mingyu laugh as he switches over to Facetime before he sets his phone somewhere on the counter.

“You already know, it’s their first time here so I want to make it special and meaningful,” Mingyu smiles.

Your best friend was the biggest green flag you have ever met. Ever since you were kids, you could already tell that his parents had raised him to be the gentleman he is today, and if you weren’t best friends, you would be dating him at this point. But you were already beyond that point because he just really felt like the brother you never had.

“Anyways, as I’m preparing meals, I’m also here to yap about how Wonwoo also knows how to treat someone right. I wouldn’t want anyone else for either of you, so this is all part of my plan,” Mingyu starts gathering plates as you set your phone on the vanity.

“You think you’re some kind of mastermind aren’t you?” You giggle. You would never doubt Mingyu, and if he was desperate enough to get you and Wonwoo together, it just means he’s giving you the treatment you truly deserve.

“You only deserve the best, besides, you’re a woman of class Y/n, don’t get it twisted now. Let me remind you that your family owns one of the biggest fashion companies in all of Korea right now, and your circle only consists of some of the most powerful people in the country.” Mingyu points out.

You hum at his words, had you forgotten who you were because of a guy who was never truly worth your time?

“Thanks for the reminder as always Gyu. I think we could call up Cheol to do a background check on him, and we can get Soonyoung to hire a hitman if possible. I’ll also make sure to call you if I need to sue someone,” you close the lid of your eyeliner and hear Mingyu huff as he holds back another laugh.

The guys were overprotective of you, and you couldn’t blame them for their dislike towards your ex, it was justified now that you truly think about it.

Your ex couldn’t even walk into a gathering with your friends without Dino and Seungkwan giving him side eyes and the dirtiest looks known to man.

“Anyways, Wonwoo doesn’t exactly know how to cook, so he asked me to make your favorite. I made your pasta the way you liked it, just so you know,” Mingyu picks up his phone again and you shake your head as he shows you the various food laid out on the counter.

“I wish I was there, tell Auntie and Uncle that I said hi, and tell your sister that I miss her,” Mingyu pouts. “What about me?” You hold back a smile, ever so clingy.

“We saw each other yesterday, you’ll live. I practically see you almost every day you goof,” you reply.

“Kay whatever, anyways, I’m guessing Wonwoo is on his way so I’ll leave you to it. You look great, don’t give him a heart attack,” you laugh as Mingyu hangs up the call. Your best friend always knew what to say, and you were always grateful to him in every way possible.

You spray on a bit of your favorite perfume and head out into the living room, seeing that the sun is already setting and casting a soft glow into the room.

You smile to yourself, you loved the view from your penthouse, but your sorry excuse of an ex was also a reminder that you chose the place while thinking of him and the life you could’ve had together.

“Stop thinking about him, he’s not worth your fucking time anymore. You have to focus on yourself now, and you’re gonna make it right,” you mutter to yourself softly.

After thirty minutes of pacing around your living room, you hear the buzzer of your doorbell and flinch at the sound. ‘Wonwoo’s here,’ you think, as you make your way to the door to greet your guest, or date, for that matter.

You see Wonwoo through the camera and immediately let out a breath, accompanied by a smile, upon seeing his appearance, as you unlock the door to your home. He looked a bit tired when you went to get him at the door but in a split second, he looked like he was hit with adrenaline upon seeing you.

“Hey, gorgeous, sorry if our first date isn’t exactly the most ideal right now. I’ll take you out somewhere better next time,” Wonwoo says softly before throwing you a smile.

God, he was so damn charming and this was only the first date? And he promised to do even better for the next date?

Wonwoo was already exceeding your expectations by planning another date, making it to your house on time for dinner, and even going out of his way to ask Mingyu to cook your favorite food.

You felt like you could finally depend on someone and moments like that aren’t exactly something you had the luxury of enjoying.

“I’m fine with whatever really, but if you insist, I’ll have to take you up on it,” you say and lead Wonwoo over to the kitchen.

You notice how he takes in the interior carefully, studying every detail of your place of residence. You smile at his action, his observant behavior is endearing to you.

“Your penthouse is beautiful by the way,” You turn to Wonwoo as he places the food on the island in the kitchen. “Thank you, I kind of want to make a few renovations though.” You reply in a gentle voice.

Almost every corner had reminded you of your ex, and you hated how your living space didn’t correspond to your taste anymore.

“Seeing Mingyu’s place, I’d like to be around when you do your renovations. I figured the penthouse was lacking in your personality, but still beautiful like the owner,” Wonwoo keeps his gaze trained on you. You burn under it and start helping him plate the food.

The action of plating the food together and chatting about each other’s lives felt so domestic and natural to you. If you were honest, you wish you were dating Wonwoo and never even met your ex.

You hated comparing your ex to Wonwoo, but the treatment was vastly different, even from the first time he had asked you out. Your ex had asked you out quite casually since he was a friend of a friend, whilst Wonwoo had really taken the time to consider your feelings and had given you time to think.

After dinner, you decided to take Wonwoo on a tour around your penthouse, the two of you easily conversing and feeling more comfortable with each other.

“You still manage to game in between your busy schedule? That’s so crazy,” you smile.

Wonwoo shrugs as the two of you make your way back to the living room, he finds your demeanor cute, and his heart continues to beat even harder for you.

“OK then, what do you do in your downtime little Ms. fashion designer?” He jokes. Wonwoo loved hearing about you or anything to do with you, he adored you that much, and he treasured every moment with you.

“I like niche hobbies, you know? I’ve always loved making handmade things, so beaded jewelry, crocheting, painting, and doing art. I also dabble in writing, reading, photography, and I dance,” you list all your hobbies down, not thinking much of it since no one had ever really asked about them besides your friends.

“Your hobbies are just as gorgeous as you are,” Wonwoo looks at you with a lovesick smile. He felt himself fall for you even harder, he was in too deep and he wouldn’t mind waiting years for you if he had to.

You felt your cheeks heat up and reply with a chuckle. It was only the first date and this man had already managed to make you blush, smile, and make you feel taken care of in just a matter of a few hours. You appreciated the way he treated you so carefully, and you were willing to give him a chance to be a part of your life now.

A few months had gone by in a blur with Wonwoo, and there was never a dull moment with him. From his daily words of affirmation, endless compliments, and a lot more dates he managed to fit into his schedule.

He never forced anything on you, and he was patient with you through and through. You couldn’t have been any more grateful for him for waiting on you for so long.

“Are you attending fashion week next week? I heard from Mingyu that you were offered a spot for your collection debut, that’s amazing Y/n,” Wonwoo smiles from the kitchen island.

You wave your hand dismissively, you felt shy whenever it came to these things, but seeing as Wonwoo was constantly up to date on your endeavors, much like you were with his, you couldn’t avoid it and decided to enjoy the thoughtfulness. He was just perfect, and with each passing day, you admittedly started falling for him just as hard.

“I am, do you want to go with me?” You replied. Wonwoo hums, eyes still on you and with a loving expression on his face.

“I’d be honored to go with you gorgeous, but I wouldn’t want to be crossing any lines with you. You do know that right?” Wonwoo replies.

He had always been so thoughtful, you wondered if the Gods above had finally decided to end your streak of failed relationships.

“Yes, Won. I hope you also know that in no way are you crossing lines by being with me, I mean, you’ve been nothing but amazing to me. Having you by my side is a breath of fresh air, I am always grateful to have you around,” You walk over and give Wonwoo a soft peck on the cheek.

“Great, I’ll ask my secretary to clear my schedule for next week then. Just so I can spend as much time with you as I can, you need all the support you can get since it is your official debut at such a huge event,” Wonwoo circles his arms around your waist and you rest your arms around his neck.

Though you were in a courting stage and weren’t exactly official, you and Wonwoo never shied away from small acts of affection, which slowly uncovered the reciprocated feelings that were starting to bloom on your end.

It was like Wonwoo fit into your life so effortlessly, he was the most supportive, loving, and soft-spoken person in the entire world. He was everything you could’ve ever wanted and he never got mad or raised his voice at you. He truly was perfect, perfect to the point that everyone had been itching for you to finally give him an answer, and you were going to eventually.

Soon enough, a week after that conversation had taken place, you were in Paris with Wonwoo, Mingyu, and a few of your other friends from your close inner circle for fashion week.

You all had arrived in France at around ten in the evening, deciding to go for a small dinner before you all became too swamped with work for the next few days.

“You two have been so cozy lately, it’s so adorable,” Mingyu comments during the dinner. Jennie hums from beside him, and Seungkwan chuckles as he notices you freeze up.

You regain your composure and throw Mingyu a stiff smile, seeing the mischievous glint in your best friend’s eyes.

“I’m just doing my best to treat her the best I can, she deserves the world, and I would give her more if I could. I don’t mind waiting an eternity if I have to, because I know it will be worth the wait to finally have her in my arms and to be able to call her mine,” Wonwoo suddenly spoke up.

You choke on your wine as the rest of your friends either have their jaws dropped or squealed with a newfound giddiness.

You look over at Wonwoo, and the man is staring at you, sincerity sparkling in your eyes. Wonwoo didn’t care about anyone else at that moment, you were the only woman he wanted, and he would do everything in his power to call you his.

He’s been made aware of your continuous strain of failed relationships, and he was determined to break that pattern because you were a woman of value who deserved every good thing the world had to offer.

Back at your hotel, you were suddenly restless after the dinner. A feeling of unease had crept up on you, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your official debut at fashion week, or the fact that you were going to be facing hundreds of people tomorrow. You were always good at handling crowds, but with an event like Fashion Week, you had no idea what to expect.

“Hey, you’re pacing. What’s going on? Is something on your mind?” Wonwoo had walked out of the bedroom and noticed you pacing around nonstop in the living room. You shake your head at him, brushing off your anxiety, and telling him you were fine when you weren’t.

“You’re not ok, I can tell. Sit down and let’s unpack if you’re up for it, or we can just cuddle. The choice is yours,” Wonwoo brings you into his arms, and you bask in his warmth and comfort.

You felt so vulnerable and wanted to just rest in someone’s arms, so when Wonwoo picked you up and brought you over to the couch, you welcomed the gesture.

“You never fail to make me feel better Won, thank you for always being the best. I feel so bad for being vulnerable right now, but you constantly take care of me so well. I swear it’s just nothing and it’s just my nerves getting the best of me because of tomorrow,” Wonwoo held you tighter, and you never felt so safe in someone’s arms before.

“They’re going to love you out there, you’ve already gotten this far on your own, building your company up higher and higher. You deserve everything Y/n, and we’ll be by your side the entire time to support you. Breathe in and breathe out, the crowds won’t be a bother since we’ll make sure you get there in one piece, ok?” You nod into Wonwoo’s chest and feel his steady breathing.

It felt so nice being so close to him, and you finally decided that it was time to give him an answer and make things official between you both. “Won, could I tell you something?” You look up at him. Wonwoo nods and smiles softly as he runs a hand through your hair.

“Anything you need pretty girl, I’m all ears,” You swore you felt your heart melt. He just looked at you with so much adoration and love in his eyes, you didn’t understand what you did to deserve someone like him.

“I think I’m ready to make things official between us, I had a whole other thing planned out in how I would give you my answer, but that backfired and I couldn’t hold it in any longer,” You were yapping at this point, but Wonwoo let you go on your tangent like usual with a huge grin on his face.

“You don’t understand how happy I am to hear those words coming from you, thank you for giving me the chance to treat you right, gorgeous. Any answer from you would make me happy either way and now I get to officially call you my girlfriend,” Wonwoo plants a chaste kiss on your lips and pulls away to see you looking like a blushing mess.

Loving Wonwoo was so easy, being with him was easy, and you both effortlessly fit into each other’s lives. Maybe you weren’t the problem, but the people you had been with were just the wrong ones.

When the next day rolled around, you were already awake in bed, wrapped in not only the comforter but also in Wonwoo’s arms.

You turned to face him and watched his sleeping form, you couldn’t comprehend that he was finally yours, and suddenly every moment spent with him over the past few months had started coming back to you.

The flowers were always the most memorable. Wonwoo would constantly buy you flowers, whether they meant something or not, he would always have them on hand during a date or when he simply visited you throughout the week.

“You don’t have to get me flowers all the time you know? I love and appreciate the gesture but I hate to see you spend so much,” You giggle. Wonwoo shakes his head dismissively and pretends to shush you, causing you to laugh at his actions.

“I want to, and besides, why make money when I can’t spend it on you? You deserve it. You work so hard every day and it’s my token of appreciation for the most outstanding woman I could ever be with,” Wonwoo replies proudly. Always the charmer, Jeon Wonwoo.

The next most memorable thing was just Wonwoo’s endless effort to take care of you and make you feel loved in every way possible.

Since Wonwoo is the caretaker type, he would meticulously plan out dates, ask your secretary for your schedule ahead of time, and even ask you what you felt like doing that day just so you could be happy. It was something you never thought would ever be possible in your years of dating.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” You hear Wonwoo’s morning voice and it snaps you out of your daze.

Wonwoo was there, arms around your waist, and looking soft as ever. You run a hand through his hair and hold him close to you.

“I was just thinking about how amazing the past few months with you had been, you always do so much for me, and I always appreciate the effort. Thank you Wonwoo,” You kiss him and Wonwoo responds with just as much need. He cups your face and you instantly melt into the touch of his hand.

“I will continue to treat you as such, and I hope you do not expect any less. You’re the reason I keep going these days, and being with you is something I will forever thank the stars for doing. I can’t wait to spend all these years with you, Y/n,” Wonwoo pulls away and takes in your features.

You chuckle and sit up in bed before taking your phone from the nightstand. You check the time and in moments, you realize you still need to get ready.

“Won, I’m gonna go get ready. We leave for the venue in an hour or two for final adjustments, and I still need my hair and wardrobe done before we leave,” You practically jump out of bed and Wonwoo laughs at how frantic you are. Always the perfectionist, but he found you endearing in every way possible.

Wonwoo watches as you get your hair and makeup done, his own not taking as much time, so he decided to watch you get yours done.

“You’re staring, Mr. Jeon,” You notice him from behind you. Wonwoo shakes his head and continues to watch you. You are the most beautiful woman in his eyes without a single doubt.

At the venue, there were already a lot of people lined up and getting ready for the fashion show. The press was there taking pictures of the celebrities, and you noticed Mingyu, Jeonghan, and Minghao eating up the attention.

Crowds were going wild at how gorgeous your friends looked, but you and Wonwoo decided to catch up with them after the show since you still had to go backstage.

“Will you be fine with Yerin, love? I don’t wanna disturb your work so I’ll be heading out to join the others. If you need me, just ask her to call me and I’ll be here for you,” Wonwoo smiles. He knows how much focus you’ll be putting on the show, so he decided not to delay you any longer.

“I’ll be ok, love. Thank you, again. You guys just sit back and enjoy the show, and I’ll be right with you guys,” You smile warmly.

Wonwoo nods and makes his way out to find Mingyu, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Seungkwan, who are already seated near each other.

“Wonwoo! Over here! Can you believe it? Y/n’s finally officially debuting overseas, she deserves it so much,” Wonwoo slips into the seat beside Mingyu, and takes notice of your friends Jennie, Lisa, Jisoo, and Rosé sitting behind them.

“She’s been working so hard lately, she really does deserve it,” Wonwoo replies proudly. Soonyoung and Vernon joined them shortly after, along with Joshua and Seokmin, and the show was finally about to begin.

The models walked down, all in pieces Wonwoo had seen in your sketchbook, and now they were finally coming to life. From the shoes to the bags, all the way down to the accessories, he could recognize your designs from anywhere because it was just so you. He took videos because he proudly wanted to show you that he is always going to be your number one supporter.

The show had gone by in a breeze, and you came out from behind the models, looking like one of them even, before bowing as the audience clapped for you. Wonwoo could see the sparkle in your eyes, and the way you were glowing with happiness. You look like an angel.

All your close circle of friends had then gathered, and you walked towards them. They showered you with words of congratulations, how proud they were of you, and you thanked your friends for their endless support. Out of nowhere though, as Lisa was hugging you to congratulate you, your eyes fell on Wonwoo, who was holding a beautiful bouquet of roses.

Mingyu laughed as he pushed the man toward you, and you felt shy upon seeing his appearance. Wonwoo looked so dashing while wearing a full collection of your clothes, and he was handing you your favorite flowers like a prince. You wish you were dreaming because everything felt so surreal at that moment.

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thesassypadawan · 2 days

Text

Repair Kit (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. A verily simple, straight forward job…except when it comes to a pair of dumbasses. Who have no problem texting you in the middle of the night when they overdo it practicing…or when your new boyfriend accidentally gets out drunk. And tells you some things.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s a slight hint of smuttiness. Some drunk dumbasses and a booty grabbing Hayden.

Notes: Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

A little something for @ittybitty-rt ! It was truly a pleasure to write this! I had a lot of fun with it! Hope you like it! ❤️

- It was 2am when your phone goes off. You only know this because it was glaring at you from the lock screen. Along with an interesting message from a certain ‘hello there’ saying gentleman… ‘Vader Repair Kit’. Bring. Hayden’s trailer. Now.’

- “Oh, what the hell now,” you grumble. Begrudgingly rolling out of your nice, cozy bed; you hurriedly throw on the first thing you can find. Grabbing the requested ‘kit’ on your way out.

- This was your job; well, to a certain degree. You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. Normally, during the DAY, you can be found fixing up beaten knuckles…soothing minor burns…maybe even stitching up a wound or two. Pretty much you just keep everyone happy and healthy.

- Simple enough. Except when it comes to a particular pair of grown ass men who act like stupid teens the moment they’re together. Who see absolutely no problem with texting you in the middle of the night. About the most moronic things…aka usually practicing after hours and completely overdoing it.

- However though, that wasn’t the case tonight…

- Before you can even knock, the door flies open. Revealing ‘Dumbass #1’ in all his grinning glory. “D-Darling, you look stunning.”

- Stunning…they must have fucked up good. “Shove the sweet talk, Ewan. Who did what this time?”

- Rubbing the back of his neck, the ‘jedi master’ laughs nervously. The smell of alcohol VERY noticeable on his breath. “Well, y-you see-”

- “Meee, I did!” A familiar voice calls out drunkenly.

- Shooting Ewan a look, you push your way inside. To find…

- ‘Dumbass #2’ sitting on the bed; big, goofy smile on his face. Arms flung wide open. “There’s my angel!”

- Staring blankly, you let out a heavy sigh. “Seriously? Don’t make me regret agreeing to date you.”

- Not paying any mind to the whines of ‘how mean’…or the ungodly adorable pout…you immediately get to work. Pulling out various rehydration items and whatever can possibly lessen the inevitable hangover from your ‘kit’. “All right, dark lord, you know the drill. Just like when you overheat in the Vader suit. Drink and take what I give you. And you’ll be sort of good as new.”

- Right as you’re about to hand him a bottle of what you both so affectionately call ‘blue milk’ and some aspirin. Those arms you’ve been avoiding wind around your hips and… “Heh-heh, booty.” …unceremoniously pull you down onto their owner’s lap.

- “Hay, what the…stop!” You squeak, face all flushed while trying to wiggle out of his hold.

- “No!” He giggles excitedly, squeezing your plush posterior like crazy. “Booty!”

- You hear the sound of Ewan clearing his throat behind you, a slight smirk in his voice. “You h-have this under control. I’ll l-leave you two love birds b-be.” Followed by the trailer door closing. Bastard…so much for being your only hope.

- Barely a second afterwards, Hayden has his face buried in the side of your neck. Nipping and sucking your sensitive skin. Hands still kneading greedily. “He right, ya know. We that…because I loves you.”

- Did he really just say that? You haven’t…he hasn’t… “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying,” you mutter. Scratching the back of his head, doing your best to ignore the awakening beast pressing into your stomach.

- Pulling away, not before giving your collarbone a gentle bite, Hay looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. Whining a bit while not so subtly grinding. “Maaaybe, but don’t mean it not true. I loves my angel. Wanna shows her.”

- Forcing back a soft moan, it takes everything you have to not cave. Sure, you’d love nothing more than to do so; to just tear it up like nobody’s business. But right now…right now he needed you in a whole different way.

- Despite his protests, you untangle yourself and slide out of his lap. “How about this?” You coo, sitting besides him and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You drink your ‘blue milk’ and get some rest. And…you can show me as much as you want in the morning. Okay?”

- “Fine,” he huffs, resting his head on your shoulder. “You numb me?”

- Although this isn’t exactly how you pictured the two of you saying it, you can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too.”

- “Good, because I no give up booty,” Hayden mumbles. Giving aforementioned booty one last good pinch before dozing off.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

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ladykailitha · 23 hours

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Everything I Ever Wanted Part 2/4

Yay! The next chapter is out!! I am really loving all the attention this little story got. Again please read the original.

Pt 1

In this one we have the charity gala for the alpha health care that Eddie suggested in the penultimate chapter. Chrissy is a gem. And Steve and Corroded Coffin boys have a little fun.

****

Steve and Eddie were getting ready for their third annual Alpha Health gala.

Every year since Eddie had suggested it, they had thrown a gala raising money to bring awareness to alpha health issues. Last year they had even managed to get alpha health classes mandated in middle and high school through the national congress and both Eddie and Steve was on hand when the president signed it into law.

Steve pulled on his black, lacy, thigh high stockings, clipping them to the garter belt then came on the black glittering stilettos. He pulled out the dress he was going to wear for the evening.

It was in the same style as the gold dress that had started this all, with the low drape in front and backless, but instead of the slits up to the middle of his thighs, it was a mermaid tail with a glittering train.

Steve was more comfortable with his feminine side now, not shying away from cuts that hid his broad thighs and flat chest. The only reason the drape this time is that Eddie loved his tits.

He giggled as he pulled on the dress, reveling in the silky smoothness of the material against his skin.

He was finishing his makeup when Eddie stepped out of the bathroom where he had been showering.

He looked up at Eddie and smiled at his naked form. His tattoos and piercings on display.

“Like what you see, darlin’?” Eddie said with a smirk.

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “You know I do. I love looking at your tats.”

Eddie squeezed the water from his hair. “Yeah? You got a favorite, big boy?”

Steve stood up from his vanity and stalked over to his very naked fiance. He looked him up and down, the heat of his gaze lingering over his lean frame. “You could say that.”

“if you say your initials on my ass, sweetheart,” Eddie said with a snort, “you and I are going to have words.”

Steve giggled and wrapped his hands around his butt. “As much as I adore that one, it’s not my favorite.”

“Yeah, so which one is your favorite then?”

Steve brought one hand up to trace the serpent on Eddie’s neck, and the other to trace the bats on his right forearm. “All great tattoos, but my favorite...” both of his hands dusted against dragon that curled around his abs, “is this one.”

Eddie’s stomach clenched at the touch. “Yeah? Why is that one your favorite, then?”

Steve leaned forward and whispered into his ear. “Because I love getting on my knees and kissing my way down it to suck your cock.”

Eddie threw back his head and groaned. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to will his cock not to react.

Steve stepped back and turned with a wink. “Too bad we don’t have time for any fun, guests are set to start arriving any minute now.”

“Baby,” Eddie moaned. “People try and tell me that I’m the menace in this relationship, but I’m pretty sure you just proved that it’s you.”

Steve cackled. “That’s because I’m sweet little omega,” he said clutching his hands and batting his eyelashes, “I couldn’t possibly be as freaky out of the bedroom as I am in it.”

“More fools they, then.”

Eddie got dressed in his favorite designer Jimmy Pantera. The tight leather pants, the knee-high laced boots, the black billowy shirt and the vest that looked like a paisley design but it you looked close enough they were actually dicks.

Steve laughed for a good twenty minutes when he saw it. He was the one that insisted that Eddie wear it.

Then he showed it to his bandmates and they all agreed to have some kind of dick tastefully woven into their clothes tonight and they were going to make a game of it to see who can catch the most.

Steve was sure he was going to win.

Well, Eddie was too, but he wasn’t going to admit that, not when there was a bet of a hundred dollars on the line.

When Steve finished putting on his jewelry, he turned in his seat to see Eddie putting in the last of his accessories. A single black diamond stud in his left ear.

“I still think it’s cheating,” Eddie huffed, walking over and flicking Steve’s earring, “that these are your dicks.”

Steve’s earrings had two diamonds side by side at the lobe and string of three diamonds hanging down, the third one slightly larger than the other two.

He snickered. “It’s tasteful and hilarious. Be grateful I didn’t chose the pink diamonds.”

“Now that would have been hilarious, princess,” Eddie said with a grin. “You ready for this?”

He held out his hand to help Steve to his feet.

Steve took it and pulled in close to his fiance. “Ready when you are, dearest.”

****

Jeff was the last one of the band to arrive.

“All boys,” Steve said with a grin. “Here are the rules. You have until midnight to figure out where everyone’s sneaky dicks are. Eddie even has one you don’t know about. You’ll write them down on a piece of paper when you think you got it and hand it to me. And then whoever has the most correct wins the bet and the absolutely magnificent bottle of red I found as a prize.”

Once he got all their nods of understanding he sent them off to enjoy their evening.

Chrissy was on the guest list, but she had also came with Jeff as his escort for the evening.

Steve privately thought that the Corroded Coffin guitarist was crushing on the omega, but he was going to keep that to himself.

Her princess cut, sleeveless, pink dress had ruffles in the front and Steve tilted his head with an amused smirk on his face.

He excused himself from Eddie’s side and went up to the beautiful omega.

They greeted each other by kissing the other’s cheeks.

Steve held her out at arms length. “Darling, you look stunning!”

Chrissy giggled and did a little spin.

“Do you like it?” she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“I love it!” he giggled. He raised an eyebrow. “Is this supposed to sneaky or overt?”

Chrissy did another spin with the her dress, making it flare out dramatically. “Overt, of course!” She leaned over and giggled. “I’m bringing awareness to female alphas sexual health, too. Like male omegas, they have both a vulva and a cock and we shouldn’t forget that in the sea of all this knothead fuckery.”

“Chrissy dearest,” Steve said with his voice filled with wonder.

“Yes, Stevie darling?” she asked with a sly grin.

“I adore you!” he wrapped his arms around her waist and swung her around.

She shrieked in delight until he put her down.

Chrissy reached up and flicked his right earring. “But I’m guessing these are covert?”

Steve grinned. “Yes, but don’t you going snitching to Jeff. He has to figure it out on his own.”

She clutched her chest in mock outrage. “I’d never!”

“Good,” he said booping her nose, “see that it stays that way.”

They chatted for a few minutes more before she went back to Jeff’s side.

Steve looked around to see if he could find his smoking hot fiance when he saw two other people he wanted to say hi to, instead.

He grabbed two glasses of champagne on his way over and handed one to each Joyce and Senator Jim Hopper.

“Thank you both for coming,” he said with a sincere smile.

Jim huffed out a laugh. “Son, I’d be a fairly stupid congressman if I didn’t show up to the fundraiser to raise awareness for the law I fucking wrote and got passed last year.”

“Jim!” Joyce protested, but both her and Steve were grinning.

“Still it’s good to see you both,” Steve murmured. “How are you taking to being grandparents?”

Joyce and Jim shared a secret smile.

“We’re doing great,” Joyce said. “Nancy is really taking to parenthood. She’s so protective of Jonathan. It’s really sweet.”

Steve nodded. It was one of Nancy’s greatest fears that she wouldn’t feel anything toward her children should she have any. But to hear that that was a baseless concern was a good thing.

Just then Nancy and Jonathan arrived arm in arm.

“Speak of the devils,” Jim said with gruff pride.

Steve looked over his shoulder to see a smiling, radiant Nancy and a soft and glowing Jonathan, who looked about four months along.

“Well that’s certainly a surprise,” Steve said with a raised eyebrow.

Joyce giggled into her hand. “It was for them, too. But I’ve never seen anyone so excited that she was going to have another baby with the love of her life.”

“I’m happy for her,” he said softly.

Joyce’s expression softened. “It must be so hard for you, watching old friends having children. I remember you told me that you’re infertile.”

Steve opened his mouth to tell her the truth. But decided that he didn’t want anyone to know yet. His body sagged a bit.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “But I’m happy being who I am.”

She squeezed his hand and the couple wandered off.

Steve looked around again and this time spotted Eddie with that omega actress again.

His stomach swooped painfully.

A warm hand touched his elbow and Steve started. He looked over at Chrissy who had a concerned expression on her face.

“Are you okay?” she asked, gently rubbing her hand up and down his arm.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “What if I’m not a golden omega? What if all these hoops I’m jumping through are for nothing and he’s stuck with a needy, barren omega?”

Chrissy looked over at the actress who had her hand on Eddie’s arm as they talked.

“Look at her,” Steve whispered harshly. “She’s beautiful, talented, rich, and hasn’t had hundreds of alphas between her legs.”

Chrissy smacked his arm. “And Eddie isn’t the remotest bit interested in her.”

His head whipped around to face her so fast she was afraid of whiplash, the dork.

“She’s not interested him either,” Chrissy insisted. “Look at their body language. You’re good at that. Show off for me. Imagine it’s just two strangers what would you see?”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly.

“She’s touching his arm,” Steve said, “something a lot people will use as a sign of attraction because gets the two them being connected.”

“But...” Chrissy said with a sly smile.

Steve waved at them. “But, she’s staying arm’s length. She’s not leaning into his space. Her smile is genuine, but it’s not flirty.”

She squeezed his arm in encouragement. “Now do him.”

He chewed on his lip. He knew what attraction looked like on Eddie having seen it first hand for years.

He was all heat. Lowered eyelids, smoldering eyes, dimples belying his smirk. He also had to touch. Hand, waist, shoulder, cheek. He would lean into the other person’s space, like he couldn’t bare to be far from them.

Eddie was touching her. But it was a loose hand hold and fond smile. They were clearly just friends.

“He’s being too casual with her,” Steve finally said. “If he was interested in her he would be closer, all heated glances and whispered promises.”

Chrissy grinned and gave his arm one more squeeze before letting go. “Now go get your man.”

Steve took a deep breath and began to walk. He walked right up to Eddie’s side and the actress greeted him by throwing her arms around his neck and talking happily about how excited she is that Eddie found his perfect partner.

Steve looked over Eddie who is blushing, but proud. So he leaned into the touch. He could allow himself this. Being her friend, too.

So he held her hand and started talking happily about the date they set and how they hoped either his heat or Eddie’s rut wouldn’t come early.

“Could you imagine,” Steve huffed, “going into heat at your bonding reception? I don’t think I’d ever come out in public ever again.”

Eddie laughed and drew him in close. “I’d be okay with that.”

The actress, who had now been properly introduced as Nikita Auclair, gasped. Her eyes wide with delighted amusement.

“You hound dog!” she shrieked, hitting his arm.

Eddie just smiled, unrepentant.

“Oh don’t worry,” Steve said, leaning in close to her, “I can make him heel.”

She threw her head back and laughed. She touched her chest as she fought to breath.

“I like you,” Nikita said, “Let’s do lunch before the bonding. I’d love to get to know you better.”

Steve kissed her cheek. “Eddie has my number, call me.”

She squeezed his hand and walked away.

“You are a menace,” Steve growled playfully.

Eddie kissed him deeply. “And you gave as good as you got, darlin’. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

At the end of the night, it was Steve that walked away with the bet and the prize. With only Brian guessing Steve’s dick earrings.

Steve knew that when Eddie and him got home that night they would be making quick work of that wine and spending the rest of the night naked and moaning.

As they walked off, Chrissy just shook her head at the rest of the band and their partners.

“We really should have known better than to bet against the greatest escort of his generation.”

The others could only agree.

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv

@wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee

@littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt

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@lexirosewrites @lawrencebshoggoth @lingeringmirth

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson

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604to647 · 2 days

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Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

First Movement (Adagio sostenuto)

5.5K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: About to make your society debut and enter London's marriage mart, you don't expect an old friend whom you haven't seen in over 10 years to make a surprise appearance at the first ball of the season.

Warnings: None! Fluff! B, C, D, E, F Bridgerton make appearances. It's me so there's a cute nickname (won't spoil). The masterlist includes a few words about how this reader insert is written - essentially, no reader description other than having hair and wearing dresses in the style of this era, reader has a backstory; much of this part is exposition (so maybe a little slow but we'll get there!😊)

A/N: My plan is to post the entire series before Season 3 of Bridgerton airs, because the story is intended to take place in the background of the same season and if things don't make sense after the show comes out then oh well 🤭 I'm also only 2/3 of the way through Julia Quinn's books, so please forgive me if some of my characterizations of the Bridgertons are not wholly correct 🙏🏻

Wonderful Bridgerton inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Series Masterlist

The Duchess of Hastings stands behind you, admiring the reflection in the mirror of the two of you together, “I dare say, if you had debuted with me during my season, there is a good chance that I may not have been the Diamond.”

“Oh, shush, your Grace,” you make a funny face at her in the mirror, to which she laughs and pokes you in the ribs, “Don’t you start with this ‘Your Grace’ business with me.”

That Daphne Bridgerton is your dearest and oldest friend in England is something you consider to be one of the great fortunes of your life, of which, as the daughter of a Count, you have many. Violet Bridgerton and your mother, the Countess, had been dear friends and as such, much of your early childhood in England had been spent at Bridgerton House, running around with not only the same aged Daphne, but her elder and younger siblings as well. The Bridgertons are one of the most beloved families of the ton, their good natured and spirited personalities recommending themselves to everyone, and accordingly, your memories of when your two families would gather remain some of the most joyous of your childhood.

Sadly, your dear mother passed away from illness when you were only seven years of age and your beloved father, who loved her more than life itself, could not bear to stay in England much without her. The Count was one of several nobles charged with governance of Her Majesty’s Royal Naval Fleet; a gentle man, his purview was primarily diplomatic (as opposed to militaristic) and he thus travelled widely, often and always for long periods of time.

Though he did not wish to remain where so many of his memories dwelled, the Count could not bear to leave his only child behind, and consequently, you had joined your father on his travels. He proudly raised a cheerful, spirited daughter who loved the seas and adventure as much as she did reading and music. Your father found that exposing you to and requiring you to immerse yourself in so many foreign cultures at a young age led you to be the most sympathetic and kind hearted child, one who others found easy to converse with and befriend on account of your good humoured nature and open minded heart. Unencumbered by the rigid etiquette requirements (and dress code!) of British high society, you happily embraced many freedoms that other young ladies of your age and breeding did not have the opportunity to enjoy. Your father taught you much about the ships and business of the naval fleet, subjects to which you took a great interest; to this day, you know your way around most ships better than some sailors. The Count was especially proud of your affinity for diplomacy, understanding the importance of fairness and tough negotiation both in foreign matters and managing fleets. You loved all of it – spending countless hours pouring over maps and letters of diplomatic matters with your father and absorbing all you could; as you got older, you took great pride in the way your father would sometimes seek your opinion and advice on business matters and delighting when he would praise you on your ideas.

While he was unorthodox, your father could not be accused of being neglectful; he would not forgo your formal and societal education, knowing that one day, you would have to return to live in England. Hiring only the most adventurous and brave governesses to accompany your travels, the Count ensured that your literary, numerical, musical and artistic accomplishments and pursuits could rival those of your peers back home. You learned to dance the dances of grand balls, though you had only the few foreign dignitary hosted events to practice. Your only other occasion to practice came when you would return for your infrequent visits to England, reuniting with your beloved Bridgertons to spend nearly all your time catching up and laughing with Daphne and her siblings, and take in what you could of British society before once again being swept away on another ship. Though brief, these reunions with your friends, coupled with your frequent letters were enough to ensure your friendships remained strong and cherished over the years.

Two years ago, Daphne had made her societal debut, meeting and marrying her love, the Duke, during the marriage season and you could not have been more delighted for your friend. That season should have also been your debut season, except that you and your father were in the Far East and would not have been able to complete the Count’s business and return in time. Since you had postponed one year, what was two? If you had your way, you would have made it three, not eager to give up the life of travel and leisure that you’ve grown accustomed to. However, when the Queen wrote to ask why the daughter of one of her esteemed Counts has not yet been presented, both you and your father had to regretfully concede that your life as a carefree sea farer was over.

And thus, you find yourself in your present circumstance: in a luxurious silk gown the colour of swan feathers, wearing what might actually be swan feathers in your hair, about to be presented to the Queen before embarking on your first social season. To be honest, you’re not terribly nervous, save for whatever nerves one always has whenever attempting something new, and you have good reasons not to be.

The first being that you are in the very capable hands of your great friend, the Duchess. The now Dowager Viscountess had promised your mother that when the time for your debut came, it would be the Bridgerton family’s honour to sponsor you. If anything, you felt that the honour was all yours – not only were you to have the support and backing of one of the most respected and revered families during your season, you would also be blessed with their company. As fortune would have it, due to the timing of your debut, Violet had prepared herself to take on the duty of presenting not one but two girls: yourself and her third eldest daughter, Francesca.

Fearing it was far too much work and pressure, you had assured Violet, whom you loved as a second mother, that she need not fret too much over you; you’re a woman of twenty-three with more world experience than most men twice your age, and encouraged her to focus her attentions on her own daughter. Violet had been aghast at the implication that she didn’t think of you as one of her daughters, and you were about to be on the receiving end of a scolding that only a mother could dispense when Daphne came to your rescue. As the Duchess of Hastings, she herself had the right to present young ladies at court, and she declared herself delighted to be your patroness this season. This was decidedly a win-win; not only could Violet concentrate on Francesca’s prospects, you could now look forward to spending the season with your dear friend by your side.

The second reason you’re not overly anxious is that despite being older than most of the girls debuting at the same time, you know you have plenty to recommend you to potential suitors. No, you are not terribly conceited nor do you hold your own attributes in such high esteem, but rather, very practically, you know most suitors will not let a small thing such as age deter them from the handsome fortune your father has bestowed upon you.

The Count was forever exasperated with the shortcomings of the laws of inheritance and how they prevented his one child from inheriting his estate, but he made up for it the best he could with the legal avenues available to him. First, he set aside a healthy dowry for you, so that you would be sure to attract a similarly healthy crop of high society gentlemen from which to choose a husband. Second, via his will, you would be provided for for the remainder of your life with a generous per annum allowance that rivaled the income of many estates; you were to want for nothing even if you never married.

And finally, known only to a select few, your father had a vast investment in an international fleet separate from the naval fleet of the queen; a beloved exploration and trade business venture that was the Count’s passion project - you and him spending many enjoyable hours pouring over the plans and movements of this fleet. The dividends from your father’s shares went directly into a trust of which you (and any future children of yours) are the sole beneficiary, though the capital had to be held by a man. It was the Count’s thinking that in addition to the income, it was only fair that you benefitted from a venture that you had invested much of your own heart and time into. Naturally, being a part of your father’s estate, this investment could be passed down to the next Count (a distant relative), but your father had other plans. If the intended recipient was willing, you father wanted to sell his shares to his future son-in-law, allowing for the dividends to continue flowing to you and so that you may remain close to the business via your husband’s involvement.

In other words, there are plenty of reasons that potential suitors who might otherwise be dismissive of your age and lack of societal presence, may find you attractive (the least of which were probably your charm and wit); you can afford to be choosy and you fully intend to be. And while you’re not quite so hopeful to wish for a great love like that of your parents, or even Daphne and her beloved Simon, you dearly wish for a husband that will understand and respect you; one who will celebrate you for your mind, experience, opinions and all the reasons why you’re different due to having grown up the way you did.

Daphne seems to have high hopes that there will be many potential suitors who will live up to your expectations. You’re less confident than she, but still more optimistic than not.

Flopping yourself down on the chaise next to Eloise, the two of you heave heavy sighs in unison. After the nerve-racking presentation to the queen earlier this week, the following days have been a non-stop flurry of ribbons, fittings, etiquette lessons and teas with the express purpose of study in the who’s who of the ton. In just a few hours, all of Violet and Daphne’s hard work and preparations will be put on display when your contingent attends the first event of the season: the Danbury Ball.

Eloise passes a box of candy to you and you select a treat gratefully. Though Daphne is your closest friend, you’ve sometimes found yourself having a fair amount in common with Eloise and know her to be a trustworthy confidant; this is one of those times. While you don’t think you have it in you to hate anything as much as Eloise despises the marriage mart, the both of you at least have the good fortune of being able to be picky with your suitors and moreover, wish to exercise that particular privilege. For Eloise, marriage is a cage. For you, it’s the not marriage itself, but a union with an imprudent match that you wish to avoid. If you can no longer be free to sail the seas and wander through the valleys and streets of the foreign lands that call your name, you must insist that the home you’re being called home to roost is at the very least, pleasant.

“I beg of you,” murmurs Eloise, “Please let all the fashionable young men fill up your dance card so that there shall be none left for me.”

You steal another piece of candy, “I’m afraid there’s more than enough young men to go around, El. Plus, you really ought to beseech Franny for your request, my dance card may struggle for applicants on account of me being such an old maid,” you giggle.

“None of that negativity now,” chimes in Daphne from the open door, “tonight is full of possibilities.”

During the season, you’re staying at Bridgerton House so to be close to all the finery of dresses, jewels, shoes, ladies’ maids and moral support that you may need. Your father is staying nearby in another house on Grosvenor Square, and comes by most days to see his daughter and dear family friends for breakfast at the very least. You have loved your life with your father, but at times like these, when you are laughing at and listening to the loving snipes and bickering of the Bridgerton siblings, you often wonder what it would have been like to have a more traditional upbringing. Pushing that thought out of your mind, you stand and pull Eloise up with you so that the two of you can follow the Duchess to the next room where you’re expected to choose from the glittering selection of dresses laid out for tonight.

As you lean towards selecting a pretty lavender gown, Daphne fills you in on the processional arrangements for your entrances tonight, “Mama, Franny, Anthony and Kate will take the first carriage, then you, Eloise and I will follow in the second. We will enter the ball in that order as well.”

“What about Colin and Ben?”

“They’re meeting with some friend from Colin’s travels whom he met in… I want to say Greece? They will make their own way and meet us at the ball.” You nod agreeably; as long as everyone is together at some point or another, your first season event will feel a lot less daunting.

---

As you walk into the Danbury estate, you cannot but feel a bit overwhelmed by all the elegance and glamour on display. Though no stranger to luxury and finer things, it’s not very often that you find yourself amidst so much opulence. Eyes shining as you take in the finery, your voice is full of excitement and genuine awe as you compliment Lady Danbury and thank her for hosting tonight’s soiree. Hand clasped tight in Daphne and Eloise’s as you make your way down the main hall to the ballroom, you see Colin further down on the right side of the hallway, waving alongside Benedict. Waiting by the wall with the Bridgerton brothers is a third gentleman, tall and broad shouldered with soft, curly brown hair who currently has his back to you; Colin has on a mischievous grin and he’s speaking to the stranger quietly, eyes flitting back to you and his sisters periodically as you approach. This can’t be good, you think with suspicion. When you’re a few steps away from meeting with the brothers, Colin gives the stranger a slight nod and he turns around; before you even have a chance to look upon the newcomer’s face, you hear a familiar sweet baritone voice say, “Hello, Dulce.”

At first, you’re in shock; the Spanish word for candy is not a nickname people commonly call you and it’s one you haven’t heard in over ten years. Then joy of recognition and realization overtake you and you completely forget where you are, crying out, “Pero!!!” Your arms behave of their own accord and fly open to wrap around his neck as you launch yourself into the handsome man’s arms.

He hugs you back firmly and whispers low in your ear, “Happy to see you, too” before releasing you, the both of you immediately stepping apart and drop your hands to your sides, remembering where you are and that the eyes of the ton are always watching. But you can’t help but beam; nor can you look away from Pero’s face.

Pero Tovar had been your most constant and beloved friend for many of your happiest childhood years spent abroad. Pero’s father, a Barón of Spain, was in charge of naval governance for his country in a similar capacity as your father was for England and accordingly, their paths crossed regularly in foreign countries. Both men of gentlemanly dispositions, the Count and the Barón had forged a deep and lasting friendship as they conducted their business. Another thing that they had bonded over was the fact that they were both widows who uncharacteristically chose to bring and raise their children with them on their travels.

So, although Pero is eight years your elder and already in his early teens when you first met, being the only two children of sea loving foreign diplomats in the strange lands you found yourselves in readily recommended you to each other and you had become happy and frequent playmates. Pero devoted hours and hours to your amusement, allowing himself to play more juvenile games of pretend that he may not otherwise with compatriots of his own age, and with his encouragement you grew to be brave and curious, always wishing to keep up with the older boy. He helped you with your studies, and you played music for him, learning and mastering the pieces he enjoyed the most. The two of you shared a love of literature and it became your special version of a traditional hunt in each new country you landed in to find foreign language versions of the other’s favourite books so that you could read the translations alongside your worn English copies. Some of the most cherished copies of your favourite books, ones you carry with you from country to country still, were gifts from Pero.

As you got older, your shared adventures expanded to include exploring the streets of new cities, trying local cuisines and frolicking on the beaches of the coasts of Italy, Portugal and even India. The last time you had seen him, he was a strapping young man of twenty and you had been twelve. His father was returning to Spain for an undetermined amount of time to deal with affairs of his estate, and Pero would be entering university, having postponed his acceptance for two years already. Although you had each promised to write, the letters were far and few between and eventually you lost track of Pero – you can hardly blame either of you; you were travelling with your father and not always easy to find, and you didn’t really expect a young man concentrating on his studies to have the time to write to a young girl despite having been her very best friend for so many years.

But now he’s standing right in front of you and you can hardly believe your eyes. He’s impossibly tall and wide, a far cry from the lanky boy with whom you scrambled over rocks on the beaches of Portugal, but he’s still tanned, leading you to surmise that he must still sail or at least get a healthy amount of sun regularly. And while his face is older, devastatingly handsome with a cutting jawline partially hidden by untamed facial scruff, he’s completely recognizable to you. An easy clue is the scar that runs from above his left eyebrow down past his eye, though faded from when you saw it last, but it’s the indulgent smile he’s giving you right now that gives him away to you.

“What are you doing at this ball? Did you know I would be here?” you can’t help but continue to stare at Pero wide-eyed, grinning like a fool.

“Oh! We made the connection earlier this week at dinner,” chimes in Colin, “We were going to bring him over to the house but thought this would be more fun.”

You make to swat at Colin’s arm. “How did you meet this scoundrel?” you jest, with absolutely no malice in your voice, pointing your thumb at the still laughing Bridgerton brother. As your group starts to move towards the ballroom, Pero falls into an easy step by your side, “We met when Colin was taking in the crisp sea air of Mykonos, and then again last year in the vineyards of Tuscany. He made for excellent company after a long day of helping the locals prune grape vines. Naturally, when I arrived in London for business this month, I had to look him up.”

Daphne is now tugging you towards the ballroom by your hand, and in turn, you’ve grabbed onto and are practically dragging Eloise down the hall with you. You shout back to Pero, “I want to hear everything!” and can’t help the smile that spreads across your excited face when he nods after you.

“Oh!” you breathe, invigorated from the surprise of seeing Pero, as you come to a stop right before the entrance way. Daphne smiles over at you, “It was so hard keeping it a secret from you!”

You’re astonished, “You knew about Pero as well?”

“Yes, I thought it might give you an additional boost of confidence to have another friend’s support during your first event.”

You smile at your sweet friend and squeeze her hand affectionately, “Thank you! It does and I’m delighted to see Pero again. But in truth, my confidence could never be lacking when I have a friend like you next to me.”

Daphne gives you her biggest smile and squeezes your hand right back. A moment later, the three of you step into the ballroom and meet the gazes of the other attendees as you’re announced.

---

The ball is a whirlwind. It seems you hardly have a moment to even catch your breath, never mind catch up with Pero. From the moment you walked in to the grand hall, you were pulled in this direction and then that, introduced to new person after new person, some of whose names were familiar from your visits home over the years, and others only from the copious amounts of study you’ve done on the ton over the past week. You’ve certainly forgotten all their names by now.

Then it’s dance after dance after dance with the young gentleman that Daphne parades in front of you. The dancing itself is quite pleasant and a lovely way to shake out some of your jitters, but you find the small talk hardly enough to get to know your partners, and when the dance is over and you’re once again being whisked away to another introduction or meeting that the Duchess has lined up for you. The few opportunities you’ve had to take a breather and indulge in a glass of lemonade, you’ve been happy to retreat back to Pero and your small familiar group; but just when you’ve started to entreat your old friend to open up about his adventures since you saw him last, another potential suitor will be introduced and the entire cycle starts over again.

It’s only when you’re halfway through the evening that the frenzy has died down enough that you can observe and be amused by Pero’s behaviour at the ball. While you’re constantly twirling around the dancefloor, you notice that he never leaves his position against the wall and doesn’t dance at all; he mainly scowls and looks displeased, hardly speaking to anyone other than the Bridgertons or you when you have a free moment. You feel his eyes follow you as you glide across the dance floor with the young men that have asked you to dance, and even when you’re making your way through the room on Daphne’s arm, meeting and making small talk with the other families of the ton. When you do happen to look up and search for him, you often find him glowering and looking dissatisfied, though if you catch his eye, his expression will soften slightly.

Once while you were dancing with Lord Whitfield, you had caught Pero’s eye mid-turn and made a silly quizzical face at him, as if to ask What’s going on with you? and you think you see him laugh briefly before the steps of the dance require you to turn away from him. You wonder why frowns so fearsomely and if there’s a reason for him to be so stoic and curt with the rest of the ton. It’s so odd to you as you’ve never had so much as a cross word from him in all the time you’ve known him, not even when you had snuck out of the compound in Singapore when you were nine so you could watch the fireworks display. Pero had come looking for you, his face serious and eyes panicked when he finally found you in the busy square, but he never once got mad. Instead, he swore not to tell your father, and promised that if you had wanted to see the fireworks up close, he would accompany you. And then he did just that the next night and the night after that. But here, when not engaging the company of his friends, Pero’s countenance is positively sour. Any hopes harboured by the mamas of the ton for snagging a Spanish nobility son-in-law this season are quickly dashed. Barón Tovar is decidedly not here to find a wife.

With the evening more than half over, you realize that unless you make the point to do so, an opportunity to speak more than a few minutes with Pero will surely not present itself. And while you are having fun meeting potential suitors, your mind consistently wanders to Pero throughout the evening. Aside from simply wishing to catch up with him and be in his comforting presence, you do have something important you feel compelled to speak to him on.

After a particularly spirited quadrille, you curtsey your gratitude for the dance to Mr. Sedgewick, and before any of the young men you spy hovering nearby can approach you, you hurry as elegantly as you can toward where Pero is standing awkwardly pressed to the wall.

Pero, having seen the look of determination on your face when seeking him out, asks with concern when you come up to him, “Is everything okay, Dulce?”

There he is, you smile when you see the kind, gentle expression of the boy that you knew for so many years, “Everything is fine, Pero. Although I must admit to needing a respite from all the endless socializing. Do you think we could get some lemonade?”

“Of course. I would be happy to accompany you in fetching a glass.”

With Pero by your side, any person who previously had designs on engaging you during this brief break between dances now thinks better of it; you chuckle to yourself as his fearsome expression comically paves a clear path for you to the refreshments table. Once having secured your drink, you ask Pero if you can speak to him privately.

Careful not to lead you from view of other people lest it incite a scandal, Pero finds a quiet place in the entrance hallway and turns to find you looking up at him rather seriously.

When you’re certain you have his attention, you launch into your confession, “Pero, please allow me to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your father’s passing. I remember him as such a kind, generous man, and such a wonderful friend to my father and by extension, me. I will always think of him with tremendous fondness.”

“Thank you, Dulce. I know he thought very highly of both you and your father and forever treasured your friendships.”

But you’re not done and start to shake your head, eyes filling with tears, “And I’m so very sorry that I did not write to you at the time. I didn't know where you were, but I should have been more diligent in my efforts to find you. I deeply regret not being there for you if you needed someone. I hope you were not alone during that difficult time.”

You hang your head in shame. Pero feels a deep affection for you blossoming in his chest; before him is the same sweet and compassionate girl he knew when he was a boy. Tender-hearted and endlessly considerate of the feelings of others, you always had more empathy than you knew what to do with; he himself had been on the receiving end of your care and concern more times than he could count. Pero gently tips you chin up with his gloved finger, “It was a tough time and I miss him a great deal. But he was an incredible man and I strive to follow the example he set for me everyday. So, in many ways, he is still with me. No need for any apologies.” He gives you what he hopes is a soft and reassuring smile.

In return, you grin, “Who are you and what have you done with my friend? The boy I knew would have made me pay dearly for even the slightest offense - my portion of dessert for a week, at the very least.”

Unable to hold back his own grin, Pero is finding it easy to slip back into this familiar type of playful banter with you, “Well, I was trying to be a gentleman, but since you think me nothing more than a brute, I shall have no trouble devising an appropriate punishment. For your transgression against me, I demand… a dance.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and it feels wonderful to laugh loudly at something genuinely funny rather than the quiet polite laughter you’ve been making most of the evening. “A dance? Well, that is hardly a concession for me! One dance with you means one less spot on my dance card for some lord I don’t know but who Daphne thinks I might find charming,” you joke.

“Are you finding your potential suitors so far to be villains or are they all just very boring?” smirks Pero.

Giving him a little punch in the arm to show him you’re not really complaining, “I am not so terribly unfeeling. They are for the most part fine enough gentlemen. The particular circumstance we find ourselves in just makes them so very eager. It can feel terribly awkward.”

“None of them are good enough for you anyway.”

“Oh, and you are?” you jest, eyes full of mirth.

“Dulce, I’m the worst of the bunch,” counters Pero, leaning in close.

“I don’t doubt it,” you haven’t smiled this wide all evening.

“Be that as it may, the price you must pay to regain my favour remains the same. Shall we?” Pero holds out his arm, waiting for you to accept his dance invitation; you hold on to him gratefully and head back into the main ballroom, realizing this is the first dance of the ball that you’ve truly looked forward to.

When Pero takes his place across from you, the tittering from the crowd that the Barón has finally taken to the dance floor can be heard over the opening notes of the music. You can’t help but giggle, and Pero beams back at you – your light laughter more melodic than any music he’s ever heard.

Hand firmly curling around your waist, Pero sways you to the beat and the two of you carry out the steps of the dance comfortably together. You hadn’t realized how much stress you’ve been under or how much tension you’ve been holding in until now, when you find yourself actually relaxing in Pero’s strong hold. For the first time this evening, you’re dancing without nerves or the pressure of having to make polite conversation or a good first impression; you can simply be. You sigh in contentment.

“What is it, Dulce? Are my dance skills not to the standard set by your other partners this evening?”

“Hardly,” you chuckle, “I know for a fact that you dance remarkably well. And if I were to have any complaints, the blame would rest squarely on my shoulders since we learned these dances together.”

“That’s true, we can only be as good as the partners we practice with.”

“Exactly. At least that’s what Madam used to say, right before she would rap you on your shoulders with her rhythm baton,” you muse, nostalgic.

“That weapon had a name? I have not thought of Madam for many years now, but upon my word if I did not straighten up and stiffen my arms just now.”

You share another chortle as only two close friends with a long history of fond memories and inside jokes between them can. When you sigh again, Pero cocks his scarred eyebrow at you.

“Do not think me dissatisfied, my Lord. It is simply just so comfortable dancing with you, as if it has not been over ten years since we last did so.”

“I feel the same way, Dulce.”

You smile sincerely at Pero; although you could explain yourself further, you somehow know that he understands your meaning without you having to do so. Feeling content, both heart and mood light in the safety of Pero’s closed frame, you find yourself wishing that you could spend the rest of the ball dancing with only him.

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