#FINALLY I CAN GET TO WORK ON THOSE REQUESTS
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comforting reader scenarios; arcane women x fem! reader
finally home and spending time with family for the first time in a while. i started writing this while still at my dorm though, and wanted to finish it <3 iâll get to my requests once break is over!
summary: scenarios of arcane women comforting their girlfriend.
characters included: jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn.
tags/warnings: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, insecurity, nightmares (mel), smoking (sevika), crying, fluff, hurt/comfort
men dni.
jinx;
hosting at the last drop during a holiday weekend was no easy task, you knew that. but still, you needed extra hours. you needed extra money. so you picked up the shifts.
which you were now regretting more than you had any decision in a while. you wished that you could rewind time, and slap your past self across the face. tell her to put her sanity over a few more hours of pay.
you had just seated your final reservation of the night, and as soon as you got back to the host stand, your hands scrambled to untie your apron and slam it down on the desk. you couldnât even be bothered to hang it up on its hook. you were overstimulated, stressed, burnt-out. you were exhausted.
your coworker grimaced seeing you, but was evidently concerned. âyou gonna be okay getting home?â they asked, a hand on their hip. âi can give you a ride.â
âno, itâs fine. iâll find my way.â you grumbled, grabbing the last of your belongings before swinging the door open. you knew exactly where you were headed: jinxâs hideout. you turned on your heel, keeping your head down as you sped through the bumpy streets of zaun. your destination wasnât far, but the way in which your hands were trembling and you couldnât focus your vision, you didnât want to face the risk of any more human interaction.
you reached jinxâs hideout after about ten minutes of walking, and stepped in quietly. you saw blue braids, your girlfriendâs back facing you as she tinkered with what was presumably a new explosive device. typical jinx. she turned around in her chair as soon as the sound of your arrival registered, and she ran to give you a tight hug.
âhow was work, toots?â she asked, her dark lips curled in a smile. âi missed ya, yâknow.â she chimed, her arms still holding you close to her. you sighed and released the dayâs worth of tension from your body, finally feeling safe enough to do so.
âit was hell. honest.â you began, before you felt a full tirade coming on. âi mean- i got yelled at for the simplest things. not having a table for a party of thirteen, having to consult with my manager for something, anything and everything. itâs⊠itâs like i couldnât do anything right today.â you spoke, your voice faltering. you felt tears welling in your eyes, and you felt jinxâs grasp around you grow tighter.
â(y/n). hey. itâs okay.â jinx replied, her voice softer than most times. one arm stayed in place, and her other hand came up to gently cradle your cheek. âcustomers are awful. they always are. but youâre a damn good hostess, and you were doing your best! itâs just one of those weekends. they feel like they can do or say whatever they wantâŠâ jinx trailed off with a slight scowl in her voice. you knew that jinx was never particularly the best with choosing soothing words for you, but her odd and sometimes aggressive way of reassuring you did work.
your girlfriend softly grasped your shoulders to sit you down, then opted to grab one of your hands. her slender, calloused fingers slotting themselves between your own. she offered her shoulder wordlessly for you to lay your head on, which you accepted. you let out a sharp exhale through your nose. a single tear fell.
âi shouldnât have taken those shifts. holiday weekend, back to back.â you scoffed. âmoney be damned. iâm never interacting with the public again.â
âno problem with that.â jinx remarked, trying to lighten the mood a little. her free hand came up to run over your side, up and down, up and down, gently and repeatedly. an oddly soothing pattern. âyou could just stay here with me forever, yâknow.â
you gave a soft chuckle in reply. âyeah. thatâd be nice. you and me, not needing anything else.â
vi;
tonight was just one of those nights. you were getting better, you thought. you had been consistently seeing a therapist and airing out every little ugly detail about your life, your past, yourself to a complete stranger. and it was helping. you had a girlfriend who adored you, body and soul. who would do absolutely anything in her power just to see a hint of a smile on your face.
but right now, with your hair clutched in your hands and hot tears streaming down your face, your heart beating in your chest at record speed, you couldn't think about any one thing.
there was no rhyme or reason, you just felt horrible. about yourself, about your life, about everything. it was as if all of that progress you had worked so hard for was completely undone. dull and noid. you swore you could feel yourself dropping deeper and deeper, your shallow breaths growing quicker, until you heard the door of your apartment swing open.
"hey, babe, sorry i'm late, i got held u-" vi stopped dead in her tracks in front of you, taking in your state for a split second before her expression turned to one of unease. "oh, my god- (y/n), what happened? come on, talk to me." she breathed out, calloused, bandaged hands coming to grasp at your shoulders.
your girlfriendâs grip did ground you slightly, but you still couldnât get a word out. you could only focus on trying to breathe; in, out, in through your nose, out through your mouth. viâs worried expression didnât falter, but her hold on you did loosen as she noticed your breathing grow more steady.
vi now sat next to you and swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close to your side. she brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, and tried to soothe you in the most gentle tone possible. âhey. hey, now. itâs okay. iâm here. iâm not goinâ anywhere, ya hear?â she whispered. âtell me whatâs wrong.â
you just gulped, and hastily reached up to swipe away the tears on your cheeks. ânothing⊠nothing happened.â you said, voice still shaky. your gaze was downcast, focusing on some odd stain on the carpet. âi just feel so hopeless.â you blurted out. you just didnât know how else to phrase it.
âiâve done so much, gone to so many appointments and faced myself in the mirror. faced my flaws, my past, iâve done some rough work.â you explained. âbut i feel like itâs all for nothing. if iâve gone and done all of that, why do i feel like complete shit right now?â you muttered under your breath. your shoulders were tensing back up, and more tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to fall at the next minute.
the girl next to you took your chin with her forefinger and thumb, gently guiding your gaze to meet her own. â(y/n), look at me.â she said.
you looked at her, eyes shaky and unsure.
âyou donât feel like this every day, do ya?â she asked. âi⊠no. i donât.â you replied.
âthere you go, then. no amount of therapy or coping or self-analysis is gonna take away the fact that some days just fucking suck.â viâs arm was still draped around you, holding you in close to her and now slightly rocking you.
âyouâve got problems. we all do. theyâre not just gonna go away overnight, some of them probably wonât ever. but ya have to keep trying, right?â she asked, prompting you to slowly nod. you sniffled, and whispered, âit just feels so pointless.â
âi know it does, but it isnât. you know you havenât done all of that for nothing. one shitty moment doesnât erase all the hard work youâve put in.â vi affirmed. she accentuated her words with a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead. âyouâre one of the strongest people i know.â
you finally let yourself go and lay your head on her shoulder, wordlessly accepting your girlfriendâs comfort. her grip around you only tightened, and while you couldnât see her, you knew her well enough to know by now that she was smiling at the sight of you.
mel;
mel loved sharing a bed with you. it was so peaceful, so intimate in a way. you had her in your arms facing you, her head buried in the crook of your neck taking deep, relaxed breaths.
until you shot up from your slumber with a sharp gasp after having a nightmare. enforcers. your family. you hadnât done anything, and neither had your family, but there the enforcers were in that dream, taking them from you. ignoring your choked sobs and loud pleas to just let them go.
it was probably a side effect of growing up in the undercity, and witnessing that exact scenario more times than you could keep track of. even though it wasnât real, it still horrified you.
you tried to steady your breathing as to not wake the woman next to you, still deep asleep. but the second you saw her begin to stir, you knew you were in trouble. mel did not take kindly to her sleep being disturbed.
she sat up slowly, looking around and one hand coming to rub at her eyes, then her eyes met yours. thereâs no malice or annoyance in her gaze, only concern. ââŠwhat has you up this late?â
âjust a nightmare, mel. donât worry about it.â you sighed, voice dropping and trying to convince her to just go back to sleep. it wasnât until you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around you, though, and pull you close to melâs chest that you realized she wasnât planning on letting this go.
âno, talk to me.â mel demands, although sleep is still evident in her voice. now itâs obvious that she isnât going to let this go, and although you feel guilty for disturbing her rest, youâre grateful that sheâs not angry with you.
you let out a deep breath, and begin twiddling with your thumbs to keep your racing mind at bay. mel still has you held close to her, one hand cradling the back of your head. âit was about my family. i had a nightmare that enforcers⊠took them. threw them in jail without a trial. even though theyâve done nothing wrong.â
having been brought up in zaun, this was a fate that was unfortunately not uncommon. a slim possibility for you, one of the more ârespectedâ families of the undercity, but the chances were never zero. you were unsure as to why you were suddenly having nightmares about this, though.
silence hung in the air for a moment, the only sounds in the room being your girlfriendâs slow breathing and rain pattering against the windows. ââŠthat wonât happen, love. i wish i could tell you that our enforcers are a just group of people, but they are not. but you know all i am doing to try and fix this⊠your family is safe. i can promise you that.â
melâs words were genuine, but in reality, there was only so much comfort she could offer. piltover as a city was corrupt; there was no denying that. but at the very least, you could rest assured that she was trying. mel cared- not just because they were your family, but because she had a heart. thatâs more than you could say for some of the other council members.
you reached to intertwine your fingers with hers, and let your eyes slowly slip shut again. âyouâre safe with me, darling. a nightmare is just that; a nightmare.â mel whispered, her voice like honey, sweet and smooth. âletâs get you back to sleep. iâll be here all night.â she pressed a final lingering kiss to your temple, before you fell back into a deep slumber.
sevika;
being one of silcoâs henchmen, it wasnât uncommon for you to arrive home with an array of injuries. bruises, scrapes, cuts, sometimes even stab wounds if it was particularly bad. most of the time, you couldnât place exactly where each injury had come from, only that it hurt like hell. but you were used to it by now, and working for silco both paid well and earned you protection. so you couldnât exactly complain.
this time, though, you werenât only hurt, you were exhausted. you were honestly considering marching (albeit weakly) to silcoâs office and telling him youâre resigning, effective immediately. your legs felt like they were going to fall off. you undoubtedly had a few bruised ribs and had suffered more severe injuries than ever before. thankfully, nothing seemed to be broken, but there was only so much you could take.
you swung the door to your shared apartment open, seeing sevika already sat down. you slumped into the beat-up couch next to your girlfriend, letting out a loud and exasperated sigh. what to do? you had lazily patched yourself up, but you were still in considerable pain. you looked around the room, scanning all of your belongings from years of working for the eye of zaun. could it all have been for nothing? all of your hard work- was zaun, was silco going to chew you up and spit you out?
â(y/n)? took ya a while to get back. everything fine?â sevika asked. she swung one leg over the other and took out a cigar, grabbing her box of matches from a side table. you tried to muster up the most chipper tone of voice possible, and replied, âyep, i just got a bit held up on the way back. all is well.â you even tried to cement it by giving her the best smile you could manage.
sevika gave you one of her knowing side-glances, an eyebrow raised as she lit her cigar. âspit it out.â
god damn it.
if there was one thing your girlfriend was, it was observant. she knew your mannerisms, your habits and your demeanor well enough to know when something was wrong. honestly, sometimes, you thought sevika might know you better than you know yourself.
âsev, itâs nothing, really. donât worry about me.â you tried to reassure her, a smile cemented on your face to really sell it. yet she still saw right through you. â(y/n), somethinâs up. i can tell. come on, dove, you can talk to me.â
you weighed your options for a minute. you were scared, if you were being honest with yourself. you knew that sevika was frighteningly loyal to silco, and saying that you were thinking of leaving could anger her. maybe provoke her in some way. but another thing you knew about your girlfriend was that once she started something, she wasnât going to let go of it until it was resolved.
âi got beat up. badly, worse than i ever have⊠i donât know if i have it in me to keep doing this, sevika.â you muttered. oh, god, your voice was shaking. âeverything hurts. iâm exhausted. iâve seen so much, and i donât know if iâm strong enough.â
sevika sat in contemplation for a moment- a moment that felt like hours. she took a long drag of her cigar, exhaling as she talked. âthat comes with the job, darlinâ.â you felt your heart drop into your stomach. sevika was right. now you seemed like a traitor to silco and weak. âbut, we all have our limits. youâve done all you can, and youâve done a damn good job at it. now, iâm not gonna tell you that you should leave, because i donât want you to. iâm selfish like that.â your girlfriend chuckled.
you let her words sink in. you swung your legs around to be on top of her lap, laying your head down on the arm of your couch. sevika brought an arm up to rest her hand on one of your thighs, gently squeezing in reassurance. âdo what you think will be best, okay? iâll still be here. always will.â she smiled. âbut⊠what about silco?â you muttered.
sevika barked out a laugh at that, which slightly startled you. your eyes blown wide and your form jumping. âsilcoâll be fine. he has his other people⊠like me.â she said. sevika gently pulled you to sit your entire body in her lap, and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. âiâll be here, regardless.â she looked at one of the half-assed bandages on your ankle, blood seeping through. âletâs get ya properly patched up, okay?â
caitlyn;
you sat in one of the many libraries on academy grounds, countless papers sprawled out in front of you on a desk. all of the words and countless problems needing solving had lost all meaning. your final exams were exactly a week from today, but your head was fuzzy. you couldnât process anything. none of the study methods you were using stuck.
âshit.â you muttered to yourself, grasping your head in your hands against the desk. you lifted your head up to take in your surroundings: countless other students at tables, some in groups and some by themselves. what they all had in common was that they all seemed to be getting something done. that was a lot more than you could say for yourself.
you groaned out loud, disregarding the fact that others would absolutely hear over the loud silence of the facility. you gathered your papers, stacking them the neatest you could before shoving them in your messenger bag. you pulled out your chair, not bothering to push it back in, and turned on your heel to exit the library. god damn it.
you hastily made your way to your apartment, trying to keep your chin up as you passed other students of the district. you couldnât let yourself crack. you couldnât let on that anything was wrong. as you inserted your key into the lock of your apartment and turned the doorknob, the smell of dinner immediately hit you. was caitlyn⊠cooking?
âiâm home!â you called out, trying to search for caitlyn in the kitchen. you spotted her tall figure, her back turned to you and arms busy. you hung your bag up on a hook, and sat down on the living room couch with a dramatic huff. caitlyn turned her head to look at you for a moment, abandoning whatever she was busy stirring to come sit next to you.
when you looked over to see your girlfriend, you jumped the slightest bit. her footsteps were so quiet, it was startling at times. you never knew exactly where she learned how to do that.
âhow was studying?â she asked, reaching to twirl a strand of your hair around her index finger. you sucked your breath in, and hung your head low in defeat. âwell⊠i didnât exactly get much done.â you murmured.
âi didnât get anything done, actually.â you corrected yourself, voice a bit more clear this time. âiâve got this⊠this mental block right now. i donât know what it even is. i feel like every time i look at a piece of material to study, my mind just goes blank. whoosh, like i havenât been studying this shit for months in class.â your hands were clutching your pants, trying to find any type of temporary relief. you were so utterly disappointed in yourself.
âwhat now, then?â your girlfriend asked, still absentmindedly playing with your hair. the smell of what you could now identify as some kind of pasta filled the room. âwhat do you mean, âwhat now?ââ you asked. it wasnât a quip, but a genuine question. as much as you loved caitlyn, she could be confusing from time to time.
âi mean, what are you going to do now? sulk? rest?â she clarified, her blue eyes gazing directly at- or through you. it wasnât meant to be intimidating, but caitlyn had that effect. you took your hands off your lap and crossed your arms over your chest, gaze still downcast. âi donât know. iâll try again tomorrow, but right now, i donât know.â
caitlyn moved her hand to gently tap your jaw, signaling that she wanted you to look at her. you obliged, her eyes still piercing- but a bit softer now. âdo you know how many days like that i had as a girl, sat with my instructor? completely clueless as to how to solve the problem in front of me?â she asked, her tone soft and the slightest bit playful. she scoffed as she recalled the memory.
âthatâs part of the reason i decided not to attend the academy. of course, i had expectations to live up to, which played a major factor in my decision. but student life hasnât ever been for me.â caitlyn said, settling her hands down and opting to rest her head on your shoulder. navy strands lightly tickled your neck.
âwhat you do is admirable, dearest. one odd day doesnât make that less true.â she smiled. âyouâre still such a hard-working, smart person.. you just need to rest.â she accentuated her statement by pressing her lips to your cheek, ever so gently. fleeting.
you gently smiled at her words and leant into the kiss. you didnât have a clue as to how she managed, but caitlyn somehow always had the right words to say. you remembered the pasta cooking, though, and gasped. âshit- cait, should you be leaving that unattended?â
your girlfriend lightly chuckled. âthe sauce needed to sit for a few moments. all is well, i promise.â
#arcane x reader#jinx x reader#arcane x you#reader insert#mel medarda x reader#vi x reader#caitlyn kiramman x reader#sapphic
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Meet the Family 6
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary:Â Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)
Characters: Lloyd Hansen
Note: gotta right my final reflection today and then I don't have schoolwork for a while!
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. Iâm trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I havenât forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting âpart 2?â is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. đ
âSo, when is the wedding?â Lillians asks over a half-empty plate.Â
You take your time chewing. You donât have an answer. As far as youâre concerned, this is Lloydâs plot so he can come up with the detail. You're here to enjoy the wine.Â
âUh, the spring,â he blurts out.Â
âThe spring?â Gwenyth repeats. âDonât you have a specific date?âÂ
âErm, May something...â Lloyd says.Â
âMay? Thatâs so soon. If you donât even have a date, I doubt you have a venue or a dress or--â Lillian counters.Â
âOh, well, we were thinking of. Er...â Lloyd turns his fork in this hand. âEloping?âÂ
âEloping,â Gwenyth hisses. âEloping? Does that mean weâre not invited? Itâs simply not fair.âÂ
âMom, I--âÂ
âGwen, he didnât say that, did he?âÂ
âWell, dad--âÂ
âWe are invited,â William states. Itâs not a question.Â
âYou see what happens?â Gwen takes her cloth napkin and folds it, dabbing her tearless eyes, âthe groomâs mother is always excluded. He is my son--âÂ
âA destination wedding would be nice,â William suggests.Â
âUh, of course. Yeah. Weâd like to go somewhere far away, but uh, not far from you...â Lloyd stammers and you kick his foot. You could laugh at how flustered he is if you were entwined in his lies. He sits straighter, âWeâll have the invitations out soon. Everyoneâs invited of course--âÂ
You kick him again. He slips his hand on your knee and squeezes, âweâre still figuring things out,â he declares.Â
âOh, it seems so!â Gwenyth clasps the napkin between her hands. âDarling, you must let me help. And Lillian. Her wedding was fabulous.âÂ
âWhich one?â Lloyd snickers.Â
âWeâll see if you even have one,â his sister retorts.Â
He cackles and William sighs.Â
âYes, weddings. All that mess,â William drawls. âThe ladies can suss out the details but I do believe itâs time for the yearly rematch.âÂ
âYou still do that?â Lloyd asks.Â
âHm, of course. It is a tradition. Whatâs the matter? You too old, boy?âÂ
âSpeak for yourself,â Lloyd bounces back, shocking you with the snipe.Â
Another surprise, William laughs.Â
âBen may need to sit out,â William suggests.Â
âOh, to the contrary, old boy, Iâve had just enough bourbon that I am a prized asset in my state,â the man with the fluffy ash hair doffs his mug.Â
âHm, yes, Carter, Linus, Ransom, Ben, myself, Lloyd,â William counts on his fingers, âDawson, Lewis, Hudson, and Owen. Quite the lineup this year.âÂ
You look at Lloyd confused. He doesnât look excited. You reach under the table and move his hand off your leg. He flinches and glances over at you.Â
âIs this some sort of cribbage tournament?â You scoff under your breath.Â
He shakes his head. âTouch football...âÂ
âFootball...â You peer across the table with concerns. At least four of the players named are a bit too old to be running around in the snow.Â
âItâs fine. Just like tag,â Lloyd shrugs unconvincingly. You chew your lip as you consider him. His eyes follow the movement and you stop yourself. âWhat?â He asks.Â
âIâm just trying to picture it,â you say. âYou donât seem like a football person.âÂ
âWhat does that mean? You donât seem like one either? What would you know?â You hiss back.Â
âAh, dear,â William calls across the table, âdo not fear for his safety. We are all family, no one means to hurt each other.âÂ
Despite his assurance, youâre even less convinced that there wonât be some horrible accident. Again, you remind yourself, itâs Lloydâs problems. Your sole focus is the money. And the wine.Â
You reach to drain your glass, âIâm not worried at all,â you smile, âoh, and honey,â you turn to Lloyd, âyou never asked but I love football. Iâm a big Bills fan, actually. Remember, laces out.âÂ
Lloyd grumbles and stands. The other men do in a lazy succession. They stretch and groan over the scraping chair legs. The women rise too and start to clear the table. Youâre not a fan of that divide; the men get their fun and the women get to tidy, but you will not be as rude as theyâve accused you.Â
You start to gather cutlery and plates. Lloyd startles you as he puts his hand on your hip to stop you. You face him.Â
âDonât worry, Iâll be fine.â He says.Â
You bat your lashes and smirk. Youâre amused that he thinks youâre that concerned.Â
âOh, Iâm sure you can handle a game of tag, but you might want to stretch. Thereâs no one you can pay to run the ball for you,â you snort.Â
You move past him and follow Lillian. He huffs as you leave him to the rabble of old man talking trash. As you enter the kitchen, Lillian sets the plates on the counter and you put yours next to hers. You take the top one and scrape it clean.Â
âYouâll enjoy it. Itâs always a good show. I am interested to see the teams this year,â she trills. âOf course, without Lloyd around for so long, I had to step in. Unfortunately, this year, I'm in no condition to lace up.âÂ
âOh, it sounds like a fun tradition,â you remark.Â
âItâs wonderful fun,â she assures as Gwenyth enters. Lillian shifts closer and lowers her voice, âalso, you might want to consider, Lloyd wasnât keeping us from you, perhaps it was the opposite. We are a rather selective bunch.âÂ
You meet her bruising sneer and smile. The wine helps drown your agitation. Why should you be bothered? Once you have your money, it wonât worry what the bloated bitch thinks? Oops, letâs keep those thoughts inside.Â
âOh, Iâll be sure to thank him for that,â you wink. She frowns.Â
âLeave the plates at the sink, ladies,â Gwenyth commands. âLetâs grab out coats! The powderâs fresh. Itâll be a good match.âÂ
Itâs odd. You really didnât take this horde of pretentious ghouls as the football type. Well, maybe not the NFL-watching, tailgating type in pickups or minivans. Still, you canât help but be a little amped for a Christmas game.Â
Thereâs a crunch at the front door. Andrea, Angela, and Raquel warble with Gwenyth, as Shanna, Linda, and Lana come over to admire Lillianâs bump and ask her about the birth plans, while you stand to the side and watch Beatrice with a few younger girls, the elder daughters from all those pairing, who are less than enthused about the whole show. The parade of names escape you though you hardly wonder who is who.Â
Your eyes wander to the next room. The younger kids are kept busy before the large Christmas tree by women you havenât been introduced too. You assume those are the nannies Lloyd mentioned. Itâs rather grim, a family divided as if the younger generation were a nuisance. Despite the enthusiasm for Lillianâs coming child, the poor soul will only end up at kidsâ table apart from their mother.Â
The men chatter near the open door as a brisk wind flows in. As you reach for your coat, you collide with another. You turn in the tight space to face Ransom as he cracks his neck.Â
âYou going to cheer me on, baby girl?â He smirks at you.Â
You stare at him crisply. You continue to pull your coat on as you censor the variations of âhell noâ rolling through your mind. You look around for an escape but there isnât one. The entry way is packed with bodies.Â
âIt will be cathartic. Youâd just be cheering on the team, not necessarily, cheering against your beloved fiance,â he snickers.Â
You look at him dully, âoh, I'm certain youâll run circles around a team full of middle aged and elder men.âÂ
âYou love to see it,â he grins and reaches around you. Before you can react, he pinches your ass again. You hit his chest as he pulls away and rubs his fingertips together, âfor good luck.âÂ
âYouâre nasty.âÂ
âLook at who you came with, sweetheart,â he sticks his tongue out and turns away. âBut I understand if itâs my ass youâre watching out in the snow.âÂ
You curl your lip as you zip up your coat and shuffle over near the women. The men disburse through the front door ahead of you. They holler at each other, pointing impatiently, âover there.â; âBen, too farâ, âNo, you snap--âÂ
You watch them break into team in the snowy street, barren of cars in the calm of Christmas Day. You tuck your hands into your pocket as you stand along the curb and the other women puff clouds into the frigid air. Lazy flakes swirl down and add to the glowing ambiance of the wintry midday.Â
William, Ransom, Linus, Dawson, and Hudson huddle on one side with the ball as the others, Benson, Lloyd, Carter, Lewis, and Owen watch, waiting to respond to the first play. Youâre not expecting anything more than wobbling throws and clumsy runs, still, itâs better than arguing at the dinner table.Â
Ransom gets down to snap to William. The ball passes hands as Dawson runs a route and Ransom and Linus block the front light. Hudson takes the running backs route for the fake handoff before William searches for his receiver. Not bad for amateurs, especially given the demographic.Â
The ball is caught as Owen makes the touch. No proper tackle, just a tap on Dawsonâs shoulders. The play end as the next play is called in the huddle. Instead of moving down the street, the team resets at the same line, counting yard from that point.Â
Another snap. The run is stuffed as Lloyd makes the touch on Hudson, almost indifferent about the play. The women cheer but not at the right times. Theyâre not really paying attention as they garble about desserts or their hair stylists.Â
âYou know what would be perfect, some mulled cider,â Beatrice suggests. The comment does make you thirsty but youâre not so sure youâd trade the cold outside for that inside.Â
The ball switches possessions. Lloyd takes the snap. Youâre a bit surprised but Benson is swaying in his blocking position. Thatâs less shocking.Â
Snap. A pass. Straight and on target. Carter, one of Williamâs brothers, makes the catch and runs for ten more. Or whatâs assumed to be that man.Â
A new call. Lloyd rambles out signals in a parody of a real game. âBlood. Wine. Beemer, beemer beemer. Black sheep...â Your eye is drawn by Ransom as he shifts low. You tilt your head.Â
âOffside,â you mutter as the ball snaps. Ransomâs across the line before the blockers can react and before the ball can change hands. In an instant, Lloyd is in the snow beneath the other man.Â
âOh my!â âGosh.â âRansom...â The concern washes over the audience of women as the men stop the play and turn to look at the two men in the snow.Â
The latch onto each other in a toothless brawl. Lloyd knocks Ransom into the snow and grabs his neck. Ransom grips him in turn and they roll back and forth, trying to throttle each other. The other men move to separate them.Â
âYou two,â William booms.Â
âOh, Ransom, what are you doing?â Linda rushes over.Â
âLinda,â William growls as Lloyd is dragged away from her son. âWe were kind in letting him come here after everything--âÂ
âOh, donât blame him. Your son is just as bad.âÂ
âMy son has a job,â William snarls back.Â
âDonât worry, that cuck barely got a ding on me,â Lloyd sneers as he shrugs the other men off. Thereâs a raw and red patch on his cheek bone and snow in his mussed hair. Scratches peek out above his collar as he coughs.Â
âFuckerâs weak as pudding,â Ransom jeers back.Â
âBoth of you. Thatâs disgusting,â William growls. âEnough. Both of you, benched.âÂ
âI didnât do anything,â Lloyd whines.Â
âDoesnât matter. Youâre ruining the game,â William says. âBoth of you, go inside.âÂ
âHe antagonized him,â Linda squalls, âyou heard his play call--âÂ
âYour sonâs grown. He can handle words,â William rebuffs. âYou can go inside with them.âÂ
Youâre disappointed. It wasnât bad while it lasted. Lloyd chuffs and steps around his father. Several bodies move to keep him away from Ransom. He rolls his eyes and waves them off.Â
âHeâs not worth it,â he stomps over to you. âWhatever, letâs get some hot chocolate or some shit. Better than standing in the snow with a bunch of geezers.âÂ
He grabs your arm and you have no choice but to let him lead you away. You can hear Ransom pleading his own case, whining at his mom, as she huffs and sighs. The argument fades as you near the front door.Â
Lloyd pushes through and drags you in with him. He checks his reflection in the wall mirror, fixing his hair as he winces. He left his coat and blazer inside, wearing only his black turtleneck, now wet from the snow and streaked with salt along his back. He shakes his head at himself.Â
You undo your coat and hang it. You almost want to call it a day. You came to brunch, you faced the wolves, and there isnât enough wine to make them tolerable.Â
He touches his cheek and hisses, âugh, bastard.âÂ
âHard hit,â you say.Â
âSure was. Who knew the brat had it in him?â He gingerly presses his cheekbone, âugh, well, Pix, how about you kiss it better?âÂ
âWhat?â You grimace. âNo way.âÂ
âBut it hurts,â he turns to you and pushes his bottom lip out.Â
âUh uh,â you cross your arms. âWe need to talk. About the wedding.âÂ
âReally? You wanna talk about that?âÂ
âLloyd, I said a courthouse.âÂ
âI know but...â he pauses and glances around the entry way, âcome on.âÂ
He ushers you down the hall and into the bathroom. He shuts the door and youâre once more trapped in the tight space with a Hansen twin. He stands in front of the door as he faces you.Â
âLook, Iâm just trying to get this done. Itâs good for both of us. You want your money, donât you? So you need to play along.âÂ
âI am.âÂ
âItâs just a fucking ceremony and a dinner.â He argues.Â
âItâs not what I agreed too.âÂ
âYeah, well, we have to be convincing if we want our prize.âÂ
You scowl, âI really am not enjoying this whole âweâ narrative.âÂ
âThatâs the script, Pixie pie. So put a little bit of energy into it.â He steps closer and you stiffen as he puts his hands on your shoulders. âLoosen up and you might actually have a bit of fun.âÂ
âIt was supposed to be the holiday and the courthouse,â you insist.Â
âNot good enough. We both know it.âÂ
âI want more money,â you grit.Â
He pouts again, âyou drive a hard bargain for such a soft little thing.âÂ
You push him away as he goes to stroke his cheek.Â
âTwo million. Iâm not wearing a white dress for anything less.âÂ
âBaby, please, youâre bleeding me dry--âÂ
âIâm not blind, Lloyd.â You look around emphatically, âI know what Iâm asking for is a fraction of what youâll get. Iâve worked for you long enough to know your tactics. Whatever I ask, Iâm being undersold. Two or I walk right now.âÂ
He takes a deep breath and lets it out, âlet me just see a little ass.âÂ
You blink, stunned by his barter. You shake your head. âNot for a three million.âÂ
âUgh, fine. Youâre so damn stubborn. I like it but I also hate it,â he sighs. âTwo,â he pulls his hand free and offers it. You shake it with a triumphant smirk. âLetâs seal that the right way.âÂ
He tightens his hold on you as he grabs the back of your head and bends to smother you with a bristly kiss. You squeak before you can pull away. You scoff at him and yank your hand free to wipe your lips.Â
âItâs gonna happen, Pixie,â he grins. âTrust.âÂ
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#series#fic#meet the family#dark fic#dark!fic#the gray man
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I saw requests and I've read some of your Mafia Lando fics, can you do something where reader and Lando broke up and a few days later reader gets into a accident and the hospital calls him because he's next of kin when they were dating and when he gets there he's freaked and the doctors surprises him by saying the baby's fine.
Bound by blood and fate
Summary: After a devastating breakup, Lando is pulled back into your life when an accident reveals not only your fragile state but also the existence of the baby he never knew you carried, forcing him to confront his love for you and his vow to protect his growing family
Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, fluff
TW: Mafia, car accident, pregnancy
A/N: thank youuu for the request. I really love all of your ideas! I hope you like it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!
Masterlist
The breakup had been ugly.
Ugly and inevitable, or so it seemed. The constant arguments, Landoâs late nights, the secrets he wouldnât shareâit all built up until the tension became unbearable. When youâd finally walked out of his penthouse a few nights ago, neither of you had looked back.
You told yourself it was for the best. You werenât meant to live in Landoâs dangerous world.
He had tried to shield you from it, tried to convince you that his darker dealings wouldnât touch your life. But the cracks in his promises had widened over time, and you couldnât ignore the risks anymore.
The days since then had passed in a blur of loneliness and regret.
Each moment away from him felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, but you reminded yourself why youâd left.
You couldnât stay in the shadow of his empire.
You couldnât live in fear.
But even as you repeated those words to yourself like a mantra, there was something you hadnât told him. Something that made your stomach churn with every passing hour.
You were pregnant.
Youâd found out two days before the breakup. The test had been positive, and your mind had spiraled in every directionâjoy, fear, uncertainty. Youâd planned to tell him that night, but the fight had derailed everything.
And now? Now it was too late. Lando was gone.
The accident happened on the fourth day after the breakup.
It was raining hard as you drove down the winding roads outside the city. The windshield wipers struggled to keep up, and visibility was poor. You had been heading to your doctorâs appointment, determined to make sense of your next steps alone.
But fate had other plans.
Your car skidded on the slick pavement as you rounded a corner, the tires losing traction. You tried to correct the steering, but it was too late. The vehicle spun out of control, slamming into a guardrail before flipping over and landing in a ditch.
The world went black.
When Landoâs phone rang, he almost didnât answer it. He had been drowning in his own misery since youâd left, throwing himself into work to avoid thinking about you.
But something about the unknown number on the screen made him pause.
âHello?â His voice was sharp, impatient.
âIs this Lando Norris?â a calm, clinical voice asked.
âYes,â he said, his brow furrowing.
âThis is St. James Hospital. Youâve been listed as the emergency contact for [Y/N]. Sheâs been in an accident.â
The blood drained from his face. âWhat? Is sheââ His voice cracked. âIs she okay?â
âSheâs stable, but sheâs in critical care,â the doctor replied. âWe need you to come in as soon as possible.â
He didnât think twice. Grabbing his keys, he was out the door in minutes, driving faster than he had in his entire life.
Lando burst into the hospital, his heart racing as he approached the front desk.
â[Y/N] [L/N],â he said, barely able to keep his voice steady. âIâm her emergency contact. Where is she?â
The nurse nodded, quickly directing him to the ICU. He didnât even thank her, his focus solely on reaching you.
When he stepped into the room, the sight of you lying in the hospital bed made his chest tighten painfully.
You looked so small, so fragile, your face pale against the stark white sheets.
A doctor stood at your bedside, checking your vitals. He turned as Lando entered, offering a calm but serious expression.
âYouâre Mr. Norris?â the doctor asked.
Lando nodded. âWhat happened? Is she going to be okay?â
âShe suffered a concussion and a few broken ribs, but sheâs stable,â the doctor explained. âWeâll need to monitor her closely for the next 24 hours, but sheâs a fighter.â
Relief flooded through Lando, but it was short-lived as the doctor continued.
âAnd the baby is fine as well,â the doctor added.
Lando froze. âThe⊠what?â
The doctor frowned slightly. âYou didnât know? Sheâs about 10 weeks pregnant. The impact was severe, but thereâs no sign of harm to the baby. Itâs a miracle, really.â
Landoâs world tilted on its axis. Pregnant? You were pregnant? His heart pounded as he looked at you, the realization sinking in like a punch to the gut.
He sat by your bedside for hours, his hands trembling as he held yours. Memories of your last fight replayed in his mind, and guilt twisted in his chest.
If he had known⊠If you had told himâŠ
But it didnât matter now.
All that mattered was that you were okay, that both of you were okay.
When you finally stirred, your eyes fluttering open, his breath hitched. He leaned forward, his face hovering inches from yours.
âLando?â Your voice was weak, but the surprise in your tone was unmistakable.
âIâm here,â he said softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek. âIâm here, love.â
Tears welled in your eyes as the reality of your situation came rushing back. âThe babyââ
âIs fine,â he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. âYouâre both fine. But why didnât you tell me?â
Fresh tears spilled over as you looked away. âWe were already falling apart. I didnât think it would change anything.â
âChange anything?â Landoâs voice cracked with emotion. âEverything changes, [Y/N]. You and this babyâyouâre my everything.â
You turned back to him, searching his eyes for the truth. âBut your world, Lando⊠itâs dangerous. I didnât want to bring a child into it.â
He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he considered your words. âYouâre right. My world is dangerous. But Iâll protect youâboth of youâwith everything I have. I swear it.â
Your lip quivered, but before you could respond, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. âIâve lost too much already. I canât lose you,â he whispered.
The days that followed were a blur of recovery and quiet conversations. Lando rarely left your side, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive.
He made calls, tightening security around your home and ensuring that anyone who even thought of causing trouble would think twice.
You saw a new side of himâa man willing to go to any lengths for the people he loved. And as much as youâd tried to deny it before, you realized that love had never stopped between the two of you.
It wasnât going to be easy. There were still battles to fight, both within and outside of Landoâs world.
But as he sat beside you, his hand resting gently on your stomach, you knew one thing for certain:
You werenât alone anymore.
Thank you for reading!
#lando norris#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando x you#f1#fluff#mafia!lando#f1 mafia au#mafia#angst with a happy ending#angst#car crash#accident
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i was scrolling through pinterest and i came across a prompt: âi canât focus with your damn hand on myâ ooh..â i IMMEDIATELY thought of jayce đ«ą can i request sumn like that? i love your work so much đđ
Hi anon, this prompt drove me insane. Thank you so much!
Play (dirty)
Jayce Talis x GN Reader
Summary: A fancy play at the Piltover Opera is a good excuse as any to deck out. And an even better excuse to have some fun with your partner.
Word count: 2.5k
MDNI. Mature content under the cut.
Tags: Sub Jayce, slight exhibitionism, dry handjobs, heavy petting, alcohol consumption
Jayce could never stand still. Thereâs something in him thatâs constant, restless, relentless. Always the type to fiddle, to twirl his pen between his fingers, to scratch at his own scruff in thought, to chew the inside of his cheek, to bounce his leg. His mind is a hyperactive, brilliant thing; equal parts blessing and curse.
He does it now, too â bouncing his leg, that is, under the fine silk of his prettiest burgundy slacks (his ass, though nothing to write home about, never failed to look tremendous in those. Something about the thin, generously revealing material seaming to the humble curve of his ass in a salacious display). Jayce taps his fingers on the sturdy oakwood of the theatre chair as he stares at the still lowered curtain, crosses his legs, sighs, uncrosses them, bounces his leg again.
Itâs the final stretch of the second intermission, though the play isnât particularly doing it for you, mainly because youâve seen this exact rendition before, with Jayce at your side. Just⊠not from up here: an opulently designed balcony, all to yourselves, just shy of the stage. Generous courtesy of Salo for a favor taken rather than given from Jayce, a situation thatâs been stressing him out something fierce these past few weeks. You digress. Thatâs not what matters anymore â heâs earned a break. Heâs earned something good.
Itâs a lovely opportunity to spend some time with him outside of the confines of his lab or your shared home, which is growing increasingly rare. Itâs a lovely opportunity to put on your shiniest clothes and make a pretty sight for one another.
Undeniably, thatâs been the best aspect of it. Jayce has been sneaking looks at you the whole time â perhaps bored with the play, perhaps too enticed with you. And you canât exactly blame him, because youâre not doing much better either.Â
How are you meant to do anything when you have a much more captivating sight to take in, sitting tensely in the chair next to yours?
A dark shirt that hugs the proud swell of his chest just right (certainly something to write home about), a pretty burgundy jacket just the same warm colour as the fruity merlot heâs finished sipping on, lingering on his plump lips. Silk curling at the seams, stretching under the heft of his now thicker thighs as they rest on the seat, tie loosened just so, and heâs good enough to eat.Â
You lay a warm hand on the inside of his leg, and Jayce, as he always does, yields. Less on thought, more on instinct, always so eager, before he turns to look at you with a question in amber eyes gone chocolatey dark in the low light of the room.
âHm?âÂ
His cologne hits you in a peppery-sweet, floral wave as he leans in, leans closer, and gives you the attention youâre so clearly demanding.
âShould I get us more wine?â You make feeble conversation, more eager to hear his voice than his thoughts. Heâs been sharing most of them in whispers throughout the play so far as is.Â
Jayce shakes his head, flashes a conspiratorial, boyish little smirk. âIf I have any more, I might um,â he breaks out in a short, clearly tipsy giggle, âdo something I really shouldnât be doing up here.â
His hand finds yours, pinkies twining together in a near juvenile but vulnerable display of his affection, a plea for affection. And, oh, his eyes, though his pupils are blown wide, glitter mischievously like a catâs about to pounce. Two can play that gameâŠÂ
âMm. That would be a terrible look on you,â you emptily agree. âThink of the headlines⊠Man of Progress caught moaning during Winter Solstice play, Man of Progress bent over the railing on the operaâs most lavish balconyâŠâ
Jayce nods, a little drunkenly. Leans in for a kiss before he breathes: âTerrible.â
You let him have it â how could you not? Let him sloppily lick at your mouth like an overeager puppy for a long, dizzying, smooth-merlot attempt at a kiss. He smiles into it, as if in thanks.
Before you give a gentle little push at the plush swell of his chest with your other hand, pacing him, pulling away to leave him in a dazed little stupor. His breath hits your now slick lips in a warm, wet brush.
âIntermissionâs about to end.â You pat his thigh less sensually, more like youâd pat an obedient dog for a trick well done. âBetter keep quiet and focus on the third act.â
It looks like it pains him to settle back into his velvet seat, so you leave your hand on the top of his now still thigh â a reminder, a promise. It keeps Jayce on his toes more than the narrative unfolding before you does. Well worked sinew draws so tight you can feel it vibrate even under the soft layer of plush fat on his thighs, and as the action in the play begins to find its inevitable build, you find your hand wandering.Â
Just to the inside of his thigh, first, where heâs softer, which he gladly offers up to you. Fingers draw patterns more intricate than the paisley on his vest, until poor, tormented Jayce begins to shift in his velvet seat. Tilts his hips this way, then that, then readjusts his whole frame in the seat with an awkward clear of his throat when it creaks.
The rich tones of a singular violin crescendos in sync with the dip of your hand further, up, up, until you reach that tense tendon on the inside of his leg, where his thigh seams to his hip.
And further inwards, his straining cock nudges the back of your knuckles through the silk of his pants. Jayce jumps with the contact⊠Poor, poor thing.
âAw, Jayce...â Itâs both pity and reprimand, a whisper so low he can barely hear it. The flesh of his thigh spills from between squeezing fingers; it has him lowering his head in shame and trying to breathe through it. If not for the sacred quiet of the imposing room, for the performers playing their instruments as deftly as youâre about to play him, he would have at the very least whined for it. A low, pleading, dog-like sound.
Instead, he shoots you a look. Desperate and dazed and wide-eyed all at once in the dark of the room, before it turns into a kind of anger that does not and will not bite. Nibbles on you like an angry puppy, more like.
âHow d-do you expect me to focus when your damn hand isââ and you give him what he wants, âo-oh.â
Grabbing a handful of the straining outline of his dick through his pants, rubbing just once, from the wet patch on the tip to as far down as the silk allows.
âBetter?â You ask.
Jayce breathes a terrified, shivering sigh.
âI donât know,â he whispers.
âI can stop,â you remind. He knows it to be the truth intimately; though he aches to please to a fault, Jayce has learned a thing or two about respecting his own boundaries by now. You trust that if he needs you to, he will give you the word.
âDonât.â Armrests gripped so tight they could splinter, eager hips raise off the theatre seat to chase your hand until your palm cradles his leaky tip once more. Wide eyes flutter closed and cherry slick lips part in a muted expression of bliss.
âThen donât make a mess,â you breathe into his ear. âAnd keep quiet. Can you do that, baby?â
Jayce nods desperately, and does a surprisingly great job at swallowing another moan as you twirl your fingertips around what should be the crown of his cock, silk gliding under your hand akin to well oiled skin. He lets it happen gladly, spreads his legs in welcoming especially when you reach further down, until the dainty weight of his balls sits cupped in the groove of your palm. There, you linger, simply holding him where heâs most sensitive, unmoving.
Jayce exhales shakily, baby doe eyes flicking between you and the hand between his legs in questioning, in hope. The soft, still cradle of your palm turns greedy as you feel him up, fingertips curling around the heft of his bulge, his cock pressing into your hand. All of him trembles with how he stifles a gasp into the back of his fist.
You simply knead at him idly, the way a satisfied cat would as it purrs, and make a show of diverting your attention back to the play you couldnât care less about. It gets him off, in some capacity, to be touched but not paid attention to. It had made him soil his pants so quick, once, simply letting him have his pleasure against your thigh while you were busy with a book, and itâs a technique you employ on occasion since. Coupled with the fact that Jayce, touchy and needy as he is, hasnât gotten much chance at release lately, you know for certain he will find it now, and fast.Â
The glossy silk has gone sticky wet at the very tip of his dick, so much so it even leaves your hand damp after an indulgent squeeze at it. Below, horns blare with the oncoming climax of the play, music daunting in its grandeur even from up so high. In spute of such an enticing distraction at hand, you canât help but marvel at them as you palm Jayceâs cock. And you recognize the melody the very next moment, the thrill of hearing it for the very first time; just as you know the end Jayce is approaching with intimate familiarity, so do you remember the next part of the play.Â
It will go quiet for a long, breathtaking moment to draw the audience to the edge of their seats, the calm before the storm â and Jayce, judging by the sweat on his brow, the way he almost tears into the back of his fist with his canines, Jayce will not, cannot be quiet.
The realization must hit him at the same time as it hits you, because his free hand grabs yours in a death grip, a decidedly desperate attempt at halting the inevitable.Â
âS-stop,â he whispers, his lips meeting on the p just moments before the entire orchestra quiets.Â
You can hear every bated inhale in the grandiose room â but none of them as sweet as Jayceâs. The whole room buzzes, alight with the anticipation of the audience.Â
Jayce squeezes your hand vehemently, like the weight of his barely contained orgasm threatens to crush him. His thighs clench around your hand, his body curls, he exhales in a silent cry, before he presses his hand to his lips so hard it makes you wince. You lean in close enough to be able to hear his thoughts, let him hide his face in the fabric on your shoulder.
âBreathe,â you coo at him like heâs in pain, stroking your thumb up, then down the aching outline of his cock. It makes his hips jump. âOnce the music starts again, Iâll take care of you.â
You can feel him nod his head against your shoulder, can feel his grip slacken, can hear the tension in the room crackling like lightning when a violin starts a short-lived solo that is soon joined by the rest of the orchestra in a tsunami.
Jayce lets go of your hand, spreads his legs as if to offer himself up on a silver platter to you â full, complete trust. You slip the buttons of his pants out of their eyelets fast, aided by the near oily slipperiness of the fabric, the press of his cock, which have the front flap popping open the rest of the way.
Your hand slides down the bump of his soft, fuzzy tummy, into his pants, his underwear, easily, because itâs warm, familiar territory. Cradling all heâs worth in your hand, you scoop both his cock and his balls from the confines of the silk, laying them out vulnerable and exposed to the cold air.
It forces a gasp from Jayce, fortunately lost to the music, instinctually going to cover himself with both hands at the sensation and the prospect of being at the mercy of such a grand, full room.
âIâve got you,â you remind him. Deft hands reach for his breast pocket, stealing away his handkerchief from him. Even dazed like this, Jayce understands your intention easily, and wins another battle against his instincts as he lets his hands fall away from where theyâre cupped over himself protectively. One hand fists the silk of his pants, and the other wraps around your forearm not in guidance, but in seeking, of your presence, of you, grounding himself.
Jayce goes perfectly still as you stroke his dry cock, from root to swollen tip. It canât be satisfying, you know so by just the feel of your hand around him, the way his foreskin drags with the grip you have on him, up, over his leaky cockhead, then down, exposing him where heâs most sensitive. It canât be good, but itâs enough, because Jayce whines, quiet and half-terrified as he hides his face against your shoulder, before he goes rigid with your next upward stroke.Â
And you do that thing he likes so much â his tipâs smeared in enough of his precum to facilitate an overstimulating twist of your palm around just the ruddiness of his crown. His mouth falls open in a silent wail.
Jayce is so easy. Shoots his load into the handkerchief you bring up to his cock just in time, lets you milk all his overwhelming orgasmâs worth into the fabric until he canât help but clench his thighs around your still moving hand. Trembles in time with his twitching cock as you wipe the strings of cum off his sticky, swollen cockhead and stuff the handkerchief back into his breast pocket.
The orchestra quiets once more, for good this time, and the audienceâs applause roars. There wonât be much time until the lights come on, so you make quick work of tucking him back into his pants, and once Jayce regains some of his mental footing, he helps you button them back up.
Just in time â the lights blind you, but not as much as he does. Sitting low in his seat, slick with sweat, disheveled in his best clothes, and smiling at you so wide and dopey he shines, Jayce is brighter than any light, any sun. His chest rises and falls at a fierce, breakneck pace as he catches his breath.
You lean in to grant him a well deserved kiss to the cheek, one he chases with his mouth instead, and smiles into when you lick what remains of the by now long dried merlot from the ridges of his lips.
It makes him smile wider, a blush that matches his suit perfectly blooms on his cheeks. He takes the hand youâd stroked him with, intertwines your fingers like the lovesick fool that he is. You squeeze back, like the lovesick fool that you are, and canât help but gaze into his eyes even as the eager applause slowly fizzles out.
âThey clapped for the wrong performance,â you whisper to him. âYou were far more glorious than any play.â
#jayce talis#jayce x reader#jayce talis x reader#arcane jayce x reader#jayce arcane#jayce arcane x reader#arcane jayce#arcane x reader#reader insert#my writing
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Hiiiii, I really love your Yan! Sentinel x Prime!Reader, also your SentinelxReaderxStarscream are the best as well! I am a huge fan of both works and both characters, your writings are so *chef kiss* Can I request a somewhat mix of both please? Maybe the Prime!Reader are close with Starscream and it makes Sentinel angry/jealous? Obviously you don't have to, but if you do write for it please take your time :3
Prime!Reader/Starscream/Sentinel
tw: jealousy, rivalry (between Starscream&Sentinel), gender neutral reader. word count: ~1270 a/n: good to know you enjoyed my other fics~ sorry for making you wait too long! the last weeks are exhausting ~_~
Being one of the 13 Primes is no simple task when you have to stand between two fires.
The incoming attack from the Quintessons didn't give you a single cycle of peace either. Over and over again, you've had to brainstorm a new plan with your brothers and sisters on how to push the enemy away from Cybertron. It's exhausting.
At times, you long to lock yourself away in your own chambers, switch off your audio receptors to finally get a break from it all. But luck never seems to be on your side. Every new day started with a new problem, and for some reason, you only had to hear about it from two bots you knew.
Starscream and Sentinel.
Your day could start with an early call from Starscream, where your subordinate, though not literally, hinted at having him accompany you at all times. His presence is absolutely required!
Well that's just Prime.
But when you hear a knock on your door, you don't have to guess twice to find out who it could be. When you finally open the door, standing before you is none other than your faithful servant, Sentinel.
âYou look as beautiful as ever,â Sentinel smiles as he looks in your optics. âAnd your armour is so wonderfully polished, as I can see.â
Starting your afternoon meeting with compliments was something he was used to, even if his attempts to charm you with his speeches never worked. You are many cycles older than him, Sentinel's behaviour only amuses you at best.
âZeta Prime would like to discuss something with you, let me escort you to him,â he holds his servos behind his back, taking a couple of steps back from the doorway.
âZeta wants to see me?â you have a momentary thought. In the current time, that means another long meeting, hours of planning and working out...You nod.
âAfter you,â he humbly motions for you to go through first, his bright blue optics just drilling your own.
As you walk through the long corridors of the tower, the loud clacking of heels comes from somewhere behind you.
âThere you are! I've been waiting for you for like practically half an hour now! Where were you all the time...â Starscream says in annoyance, his wings twitching faintly as the high guard notices...him.
For a moment, a spark of competition runs between your two subjects. Fortunately, or not for them, it never caught your attention, though perhaps you simply preferred to turn a blind eye to it. You have too many responsibilities right now to waste time on those two.
Sentinel still holds that casual pose, helmet tilted slightly, as if the mere sight of the enraged flyer gives him some kind of enjoyment. It doesn't even help that he's standing behind you, you can't even see that nasty grin on Sentinel's face! Oh, how that slimy, hypocritical glitch is annoying-.
âNot now, Starscream. I'll deal with this later. Wait for me here,â you calmly respond, then turn around and disappear behind the doors of the hall, where the rest of the Primes are already waiting.
The door slams shut, leaving the high guard and the advisor alone. Starscream frowns, his red optics aimed at Sentinel, who looks equally displeased.
Even though Sentinel was lucky enough to see you first today, the advisor had to come up with all sorts of excuses for you to pay the slightest bit of attention to him. He's occasionally lucky because you prefer Starscream's company to his own! Or so he thinks at first. As one of the Primes, you spend a lot of time on the battlefield, which makes you more often accompanied by Starscream.
Sentinel hates that. Most of the Primes, even Zeta himself calls on him far more often than you do! He's YOUR advisor, how can you care more about some guard?
Knowing Sentinel, if you were even with him for almost all of your time, any side glance would make him extremely jealous.
âYou're doing this on purpose. Wasting their time on something that isn't helpful in the war,â Starscream crosses his arms over his chassis, not even hiding his displeasure.
âMe? I would never ,â the Sentinel makes an indignant look that is painfully unserious. âI'm just a mere asvisor to them, helping out with a word here and there. Are you afraid of getting screwed, perhaps?â
âTo whom, you? Don't be ridiculous,â Starscream rolls his optics, then steps closer to the Sentinel. âThey hardly notice you.â
âYou want to bet, Screamer?â
âBet.â
You don't know how long it's been since you left them alone, but by the time you arrive, Starscream and Sentinel are there, waiting for you. Not a hint of hostility between them, which is surprising. Whatever had happened there during your absence, they had found another target.
After that day, you completely forgot about such a concept as âpeacefulnessâ. Every day, personal space was violated by one of them. If Starscream insisted on accompanying your every move, Sentinel would surely find another reason to distract and then steal you away from poor jet.
It went on like this time after time until you decided to end this madness once and for all.
When Sentinel unexpectedly received your message, he was hardly strong enough not to give the slightest sign of how extremely pleased he was. You, waiting for HIM, in your chambers? Oh, how much that could mean....
How surprised he was to see none other than Starscream at the door- Oh, lovely. Just when he's fantasising about nice things, you find a chance to ruin his dreams.
Had you left them alone for a split second, another fight would surely have broken out, but luckily neither of them have time to utter a word before you suddenly open the door.
âCome in.â
Starscream and Sentinel throw each other a quick fleeting glance, but not another word and they enter your room. It's large, rich, in your style. They've rarely had the chance to be here, even for a moment.
You stand beside your desk, seated in the centre of the room. You can recall many nights spent at it, searching for solutions to Cybertron's problems. Your gaze is neutral, though inside you are far from calm.
âMay I ask the reason why you decided to call me and...ââ Sentinel pauses briefly before looking at his colleague again. Starscream gives him the same look, as if daring him to make yet another annoying comment.
âYour behaviour,â you begin first again, closing your optics for a moment, trying to remain calm.
âIt's all Sentinel's fault,â Starscream blurts out sharply, pointing at the blue-and-gold fur.
âOf courseâ stop. What?!â Sentinel exclaims, now it's his turn to be outraged.
âIncompetent, arrogant toady, he should have been removed from his position a long time ago, â Starscream continues to recount, which can't help but cause Sentinel's optic to twitch.
âI'm talking about the both of you.â
Well, that certainly got their attention. And thankfully, so did shutting up.
No matter how tempting the idea of removing the two of them from their positions and sending them away, you can't raise your hand and dismiss them. How lucky you are that one of your brothers, while drinking high grade energon, blabbed to you about everything and gave you some wonderful idea.
âWhoever completes as many of my errands as possible during the week will receive a special reward from me.â
You pause again for a moment, watching their reactions. Both of your best subordinates look startled, but, extremely interested. For that reason, you continue.
âI expect excellent results. Don't disappoint.â
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Slide - The Vacation - MYG
Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!ReaderÂ
Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?
Word count: 1.6k
Summary:Â
"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"Â
Alternatively,Â
Yoongi finally finds an answer to all of his questions.
Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics
Warnings: Angst, angst and angst
Minors do not interact!!
Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)
Taglist requests are closed for now
A/N: This chapter has both readers and Yoongi's pov.
Read the next chapter
âI want to try being with you. If youâd let me.â Yoongi had said, just less than an hour ago, standing at your dining place.Â
If you have ever thought you would be squealing like a schoolgirl when he mistakenly professes his love for you - then you had been wrong. Because those words of his - rang hollow.Â
Those words of his had no promise, no meaning, only a tone of experiment - or maybe less than that.Â
Your tears have dried up. You have cried much more in the span of a year than you ever had in these twenty eight years of life.Â
So you donât cry.Â
Even when you stare at your bathroom mirror, without the sign of another life springing into you - you donât cry.Â
Even when the metallic smell of your own blood-soaked sheets dances around your senses - you donât cry.Â
Even when Yoongiâs voice saying he doesnât know what he feels for you rings loudly in your head - you donât cry.Â
The woman who is standing at the place of your reflection is you - but emptier.Â
Now, truly, you have nothing left in yourself.Â
The baby is gone, Yoongi is gone, you - yourself - are gone.Â
When Yoongi broke and scattered the broken pieces all over your sanity, you picked those up, put them up in a stack.Â
Now that you are at the same place, who is going to do that for you?Â
No one?Â
Yourself.Â
So you decide, you need a vacation.Â
Attachment and Expectations are two human behaviors that you have always dreaded.Â
You have purposefully stayed away from everyone, whoever you thought would get you attached. And you have always expected the least positive outcome whenever it comes to human connections.Â
At the beginning, Yoongi was no exception.Â
You admired him but never stepped past the professional boundaries in fear of getting attached, until he broke the norms.Â
Even when you realized you fell in love, you expected nothing more than the warmth of his body. But your resolve weakened whenever he looked at you for a little longer than necessary, whenever he shared tales about Holly, whenever he treated you to a meal.Â
Now that you are determined to heal yourself - you realize this is the root of the problem.Â
You are attached to Yoongi and you have expected Yoongi to have a similar feeling towards you.Â
Wrong. So wrong.Â
You need to break free.Â
So, you try to save whatâs left of your sanity and avoid looking at Yoongi as he and Namjoon sit right across from you in the same meeting room where everything went south a month and half ago.Â
Your feet bounce under the table, your breath shortens under Namjoonâs scrutinizing eyes.Â
âY/N, tell us whatâs wrong? Why suddenly - I mean, I am not saying no your application but you have hardly ever been to such a long holiday? And if I am being honest, then you look quite unwell. Is there something we should know?â Namjoon is concerned, you know that. You are even grateful but you have no energy to answer him, no energy to lie anymore.Â
You have no will to spend another minute inside the same room as Yoongi - because no matter what - you love him and you want him to wrap his hands around you and let you cry in his embrace.Â
You want him to mourn with you.Â
You want him to mourn for you.Â
âI was pregnant. I lost the baby two nights ago. I am neither mentally nor physically fit to work for now. Besides, I donât have any important projects going on.â you reply flatly.Â
Saying these words out loud, makes things even more real.Â
Pain crawls back inside your heart and fills your eyes to the brim.Â
Namjoon has gone quiet.Â
Yoongi has always been silent.Â
âO-oh.. I- I didnât know. Iâm sorry. It must be tough, Y/N. Please take care of yourself.â Namjoon fumbles with words, a rare sight.Â
Funny how your misery has rendered the smart ones dumb.Â
He approves your leave in his laptop as you raise your feet to leave.Â
âAre you going alone?â His voice interrupts your action.Â
Yoongi doesnât look at you, he stares blankly at the table.Â
âYes.â you reply.
âStay safe.â he adds.Â
And you want nothing more than to scream at him, to tell him that he fucked you up. But in reality you know he is troubled too - that itâs your fault as much as it's his. Â
âSure.â you mutter, as you quietly slip out of the room.Â
Two nights ago when you left the bathroom the first thing you did was to look for your phone. When you found it laying idly by your laptop on your desk, you dialed Hoseokâs number for the second time that evening.Â
You were incredibly sorry to him.Â
He was but a stranger to you and had no responsibility of attending to your troubles but still he showed up when you called him sitting on your bloody bed and came rushing to you despite being busy.Â
This time too, he received your call right after two rings.Â
âI need a vacation, Hoseok. Do you.. Do you know any wellness retreats that might help me?â you asked.
âThatâs a really good thought, Y/N. I will send you a few links, check those out, okay?â he replied.Â
And thatâs how you ended up packing your bags for a month-long retreat in Thailand.Â
Yoongi didnât come back home that night.Â
He went straight to a snack bar and drank seven bottles of distilled Soju all alone.Â
However, he didnât black out this time. He knew there would be no calling you if he passed out on the floor, covered in vomit and mud.Â
He knew there would be no kindness from your side - he doesnât deserve it - he never had.Â
While he drank the only thing he could recall is that you were carrying his baby. That you were on the very first step of being a mother and him a father.Â
Weird how, if these same words would have come out Gyuriâs mouth, he would have freaked out so bad.Â
But itâs you. And whenever he thought of you, he could picture a quiet life. A condo in an upscale neighborhood, floor to ceiling windows where he could enjoy mellow sunlight sitting on the couch with you.Â
Where he could cook for you in the kitchen and then serve you food piping hot or maybe feed you upon blowing a little.Â
Those thoughts had always shaken him to the core, made him question his feelings towards you but at the end of the day, he always left himself with no answer.Â
On the next morning when he woke up with the worst hangover ever, he decided to do what you have asked him to.Â
He decided to give himself time and question himself regularly, repeatedly, that what is it that he feels for you?Â
And while doing so, he decided to stay away from you - give you time to find your footing and mourn for the loss.Â
He decides to mourn too.Â
However, he got completely ruined like a damp wall with several cracks when he read your leave application.Â
You had applied for a month-long holiday.Â
A month without you? Without seeing you for a glance? Without hearing from you, even a word? Without having to watch you pressing the button on the seventh floor on the elevator, without your quiet sitting figure in the meetings, without your habit of writing lyrics on pen and paper rather than using your ipad?Â
Can he⊠can he survive?Â
âY/N..â he finds himself following you after you leave the meeting room.Â
You donât startle, nor do you turn back. You stand in the middle of the corridor and wait for him to finish his sentence.Â
âWhen are you leaving?â he asks from where his feet are stuck on the floor.Â
âTomorrow morning.â you reply briefly.Â
âIncheon?âÂ
âGimpoâÂ
âCan I come? To see you off?âÂ
âYou donât need to.â
âI want to. I want to see you off. I want to know⊠to know what I- what I feel for you.âÂ
He confesses to your back.Â
You, probably, sigh.Â
âOkay.â you say before walking off.Â
When he reaches the airport as per the timing you have sent him - he sees you sitting a little far away from the check in counter.Â
âHey.â he approaches you.Â
You look up at him with tired, blank eyes. Your eyes want to make him cry.Â
âHi. I was only waiting for you. I gotta go check in.â your voice is just as blank.Â
He nods.Â
âBye.â you try to walk away from him.Â
But he stops you with a hand on your wrist.Â
âI will.. I will be here when you come back.â he whispers, only for you to hear.Â
You nod.Â
And then something crashes inside Yoongi, the dam of his eyes breaks and tears start falling unbound. He pulls you closer to his body, envelops you in a hug.Â
You stay still but he doesnât mind.Â
He relishes your warmth, your smell, your feel for as long as he can.Â
When he lets go, his lips find yours.Â
He kisses you softly, with everything he has in himself.Â
You donât kiss him back but he doesnât mind.Â
For you, he will wait.Â
Because right then, while you part your way from him, Yoongi finds an answer to all his questions.Â
Yoongi realizes⊠He is in love with you.
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Thomas, Engineer
Part 4
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sparks burst upwards into the goggles Thomas was wearing, the plasma cutter in his hand burning at several hundred degrees, focused to an incredibly fine point. Holding it in his work gloves was awkward at best, but years of practice had made him exceptional at his job. Sixer and Mace mightâve been better at the finer detail work, Padrino had incredible dexterity after all, but making custom tools was well within his wheel house too.
The two bot brothers had asked him to make a special kind of nano wrench while they ran a âmemory sweeperâ program through his old translator, the one that had caught that rogue signal all those cycles ago. The group had been working on it in their off time between maintenance requests, and they were finally just steps away from the answers they were looking for. All they needed now was to strip the memory code out of the device, and for that they needed itty bitty tiny nanoscopic tools; ergo, while the twins worked their programs, Thomas got to work making the things theyâd need.
He was almost done too, when the comm-link trilled. A patch job in the security chiefâs office, apparently one of the terminals was unresponsive and the door was getting jammed up on something. Personal projects would have to wait.
âRoomba, we got a job. You coming with or hanging out here?â
[Statement: you operate at greater efficiency when this unit is present]
âThatâs right buddy, but Iâm asking what you wanna do,â Thomas said.
âBeep.â
[Statement: I would like to assist please]
âThanks Roomba, I appreciate that.â Thomas held his arm out and the little droid climbed up to his usual perch on the manâs shoulder. âLook at you, making decisions for yourself. Good for you bud!â
Thomas adored the little robot, and as Roomba got smarter, that feeling only grew. Every day the small cleaning drone was getting more clever, his AI evolving ever further, thanks to the upgrades from Sixer and Mace. Pretty soon Roomba would be as smart as Thomas was.
Maybe Iâll teach him how to play virtual chess, he thought. Or Iâll build him a little controller and we can split screen a blaster battle game or something!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The two made their way through the ship, waving and saying hello to the many people who stopped Thomas to look at the small robot on his shoulder. At this point in their mission, it was common knowledge that one of the humans had made a cleaning drone their âpetâ, although Thomas was trying to make it clear that wasnât the case. Roomba was his own person, he just so happened to have very little legs and it was faster to just catch a ride on his human companion. It probably didnât help that outside himself and the Padrino, nobody else had the hardware to understand what Roomba was saying, so all they ever heard was Beep.
They made it up to the command deck and knocked on the door to the Chiefâs office. It opened halfway before getting stuck, hidden gears grinding, and there was the Chief, leaning on his desk with a data pad in his hand. Thomas figured Chief Ducane was kinda cute, what with his scruffy yet trimmed beard and his various tattoos, but macho wasnât really his thing on guys. That being said, he could see why some on the crew were whispering about him, the man was built. Thomas tried getting his attention through the crack.
âReporting Chief, you sent a maintenance request?â Thomas said through the gap in the door.
âYeah, I did,â Chief Ducane looked up. âOh right, youâre Thomas right? I donât remember if Iâve introduced myself yet, Iâm Danny Ducane. Youâre the guy with the domesticated maintenance droid, right?â The Chief got up to the door and pulled it open himself, the hydraulics groaning as it slid open the rest of the way.
âHeâs notâŠâ Thomas started, annoyed, but took a beat. Donât antagonize the guy who can pull apart the doors. âThis is Roomba, he has an adaptive learning AI now, like the Padrino on the crew. Heâs not a pet.â
Roomba looked up when Thomas said his name and trilled angrily at the idea of being equated to a house cat.
âBeep.â
[Statement: Please inform the other human that I am not domesticated in any way, and would prefer that not get said again]
âHe said youâre being rude,â Thomas explained.
âBeep.â
[Sufficiently put]
Chief Ducane looked at the two of them for a moment before raising his hands in defeat.
âOkay, fair enough, that was a dick move on my part. Sorry little guy, didnât know you were one of the clever bots.â
Thomas nudged his tool bag with his foot, and the Chief took the message.
âRight, my control console is fritzing out,â Ducane said, shuffling awkwardly towards his desk. âThe screen blurs every couple minutes, and the door got stuck this morning, donât know what thatâs about either.â The chief stood there, gesturing to his desk with one hand, the other fumbling to put the data pad down where Thomas suspected he thought he wouldnât be able to see it. It occurred to him that Chief Ducane might not be the most technologically savvy, considering you could read a data pad from either side, and the exact same script was frozen on his console screen. It looked like a checklist of sorts, but Thomas wasnât here to snoop classified documents. Unless itâd be funny, then maybe.
âRight,â Thomas said, eyeing the chief, âitâs probably just an electrical short, a little leftover from that solar flare the other day. Iâll have to strip some wiring but itâs a quick fix. Though the door might have to be taken out so I can get into the motors.â
âAnd how long will that take?â Ducane asked.
âMaybe an hour? Maybe more?â Thomas shrugged. âTakes as long as it takes for me to get in there.â
Thomas looked at him a moment, standing there with his hands on his sides. He could hear Roombaâs mechanical innards ticking and whirring as the little bot held onto his perch on Thomasâs shoulder.
âGuess I should let you get to it then,â Chief Ducane said, clapping his hands and heading for the door, but he stopped before he left, like heâd just remembered heâd left the stove on or some such.
âHey, just a quick question,â he said, turning back to face Thomas. The chiefâs hands were fidgeting, hooking and unhooking his thumbs into his pockets. âAre you acquainted with the Sed engineers? Kor and Taren?â
Thomas thought for a moment, then shrugged.
âSure, Iâve seen them around. Why?â
âThey ever seem real busy for unknown reasons?â
âHonestly? Like you want my work appropriate answer or my actual opinion?â
âBoth.â
âWell my work appropriate answer is sure, they seem good at their jobs, usually off together on requests.â
âAnd your personal opinions?â Chief Ducane pressed, crossing his arms and shifting to stand in the doorway, as if he was keeping Thomas sequestered until he got answers to his odd line of questions. Thomas didnât need to ponder the question that long.
âHonestly? Honestly they kinda suck,â He blurted out, a little more venomously than heâd intended. âLike, okay, donât get me wrong, you ask them questions and they give the right answers, they know how things work and they know the right tool for the jobs, but work wise? Half the time nobody can find them. Iâve had three repair jobs handed over to me in the last two weeks âcause theyâre off somewhere fooling around.â
âFooling around?â Ducane intoned, âas inâŠ?â
âWell we just kinda assumed they were an item. And look, weâre sympathetic, but the work load is insane on a ship this size with this many conflicting requirements. Temperature differences for different races, atmospheric controls bottoming out, I got a guy with four arms for a boss and even he thinks itâs ridiculous how often stuff around here breaks.â
âSo you all just assumed they were off somewhere⊠doing that, while you all just put up with it? Has anyone seen them like this?â Chief Ducane pushed.
âRoomba did,â Thomas said, tilting his head the little droidâs direction, âwhile we were doing repairs in the air ducts a couple cycles ago.â
âBeep.â
[Please do not disclose this information]
âHuh?â Thomas put the little droid in his palm and let him stand for himself. âWhatâs up buddy?â
âWhatâs he saying?â The chief asked, shifting focus from Thomas to Roomba and back again.
âBeep.â
[Disclosure of this information will bring my work efficiency into question]
Ohhhhhhh, Thomas thought.
âHeâs just saying how weird what he saw was,â Thomas shiftily explained, patting the little droid on the head. âWe were working some repairs in the ducts when Roomba saw Taren in another part of the ship through the grating. He was on a comm-link and Kor showed up with a thing Roomba didnât recognize, but from what he told me it was some hand tool I think.â
âSo maybe they were just on another job and not screwing around?â Ducane questioned.
âNah, couldnât be, I was supposed to be the only repair guy in that part of the ship at the time. Everyone else is still supposed to be in the core room making repairs after that solar flare.â
Thomas took a deep breath and looked Ducane in the eye.
âChief, be straight with me, is something going on on my ship?â
âWhat do you mean your ship?â Ducane scoffed.
âTrust me, this ship has already gotten enough of my blood, sweat, and tears man. I probably love her more than anyone else on this boat, so yeah, sheâs my ship.â Thomas was getting a tad red in the face as he said this, which was fair, as it was slightly embarrassing to voice this odd idea of his. âLook man, this ship might be just a job to you, but itâs not just that to me, okay? So if thereâs something happening here that could hurt her, Iâm not gonna let that happen.â
How odd that a simple maintenance request could have such an impact on his day?
Roomba reach up and tugged on Thomasâs earlobe.
âBeep.â
[New Task Uploaded: protect Noah. Confirm?]
âThatâs right Roomba, thatâs what weâre gonna do,â Thomas said, weirdly amped up now. Chief Ducane stood there looking at him incredulously.
âIs every kid in the galaxy just ready to ride shotgun off to war these days? I swear, you younger guys need to do something more productive and fun with all that extra energy you have.â
âShove it⊠respectfully, Chief.â
âWell if it makes you feel any better, I donât have anything concrete that something is happening, not that I could tell you if I did.â Ducane shrugged and crossed his arms again, leaning against the wall. The data pad behind them on the desk trilled, a new file had been sent to it, and before the tones had silenced themselves, Thomas felt as if his neurons had just taken a bolt of electricity across his frontal lobe. He turned back to face the Security Chief with a dread look tacked onto his face.
âHypothetically, Chief, if somebody had possibly intercepted a weird transmission while outside the broadcast shields, how important would that be?â
Chief Ducane stared at him a moment, then clasped his hands together in front of his mouth before sighing uncomfortably hard.
âIâd say thatâd be pretty important, kid.â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
âI thought you were supposed to be smart!â Danny half accused, walking quickly down the hall away from the lift.
âMan, Iâm like actually a genius, I have four degrees, but nobody ever accused me of being smart,â Thomas said, shrugging. âI didnât want to get kicked off the ship if it was nothing, which it probably is!â
âYou wouldnât have gotten kicked off the ship. If I canât even get rid of Grite, youâre as safe as can be.â
âOh, okay,â Thomas said sarcastically, âthen I totally shouldâve spilled it when, while on a space walk, my somewhat illegally jailbroke translator picked up a rogue signal on the long range communications array for the ship I just got a job on. Iâve seen people canned for less, I couldâve been tried for espionage or something.â
âYou did what?â
Thomas and Danny turned on theirs heels to see Odis the Galley standing in the doorway theyâd just passed, a âcoffeeâ mug in hand. It had a cartoonish drawing of a purple cow on it.
âOh good, weâre just telling the whole ship now, I guess,â Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. âIâm definitely getting fired.â
âWait wait wait, Odis is cool,â Thomas vouched. âHeâs a real stand up guy.â
âWhat did you do now humie?â Odis groaned, downing whatever was in his mug before sprinting to join them. His shorter legs had to move twice as fast to keep up with the taller humans.
âSo you know that project the twins and I have been working on?â Thomas asked.
âYeah, youâve been using your off hours for something thatâs not video games, of course I noticed.â
âFiredâŠ,â Danny moaned. âCourt marshalled even.â
âQuiet big human, the smart human is talking.â
âOh no, weâve established that word doesnât apply to me.â
âBeep.â
[Thank you for not telling the human I fell down the air ducts]
It was a wonder how the entire ship didnât know what they were doing by then, seeing as they were not exactly discreet as they headed down to the maintenance decks. When the group of them finally made the locker room, more than one set of eyes was watching them, though it was mostly Chief Ducane they were looking at. It wasnât exactly normal operating procedures for the Chief of Security to walk into their locker room.
âHow is it that you humans are always up to something ridiculous?â Odis asked, shaking his bulbous gray head. âI mean, as a Galley, Iâm actually impressed with the level of⊠whatâs a good human word for this nonsense?â
âShenanigans?â Thomas offered.
âRidiculous words, ridiculous peopleâŠ,â Odis laughed. âThe cows are cool, but the rest of your world is just a mess of weird, huh?â
The humans didnât respond, though given any thought, they couldnât have refuted the Galley anyway.
Sixer and Mace stood at their work table, the terminal screen running thousands of lines of code a second. Thomas wouldâve loved to comb through it given the chance, but now wasnât the time.
âTwins!â he called over, âGot it up and going?â
âAlmost, Human Thomas,â Sixer replied.
âHello, Security Chief Ducane,â Mace greeted.
âYeah, hi guys,â Danny said. âI hear you all have been working a little side project?â
The two Padrino turned to each other and each gave a quick burst of machine speak before turning back to face them.
âHuman Thomas, do you believe it is time to inform the shipâs command structure of our findings?â
âYou could say that, yeah,â Thomas nodded.
âGood, because we have finished preparations. We simply need the tool you made up and to see if the sweeper program retrieves any data.â
Thomas patted down his coveralls before fishing the nano-wrench from his inner pocket. He handed the tool to Sixer, who turned back to the table and made the final adjustments.
âMoment of truth, I guess,â he said.
âYou realize Iâm going to be extremely pissed if you got me down here and all worked up for nothing,â Danny said pointedly.
âUnderstood⊠sir,â Thomas swallowed hard.
The computer ran its program, thousands, hundreds of thousands of lines of code fluttering across the screen, the Padrinoâs speed was impressive to say the least. They definitely had to teach him that sometime.
After a minute of them staring at the terminal in silence, the screen showed a resounding-
âNothing?â Thomas and Danny said in unison.
âCorrect,â Sixer said.
âUnfortunately,â continued Mace, âthe translators are not equipped with enough memory storage to log something the size of a communications transmission.â
âSo weâve got nothing?â Thomas said, hands clenched at his sides. He didnât know what he wanted the signal to be, but nothing was⊠incredibly unsatisfying, to say the least.
âDid you try to see recipient data?â Odis asked, eyeing the console code.
âWhat?â Thomas turned to him, confusion distorting the disappointment on his face.
âWith the long range array, itâs got recipient data built into the message, so the thing knows who itâs going to,â Odis explained slowly. âBack in the day, we Galley used to strip data out of long range messages to find new planets to⊠interact with. Itâs how we found the humies first, caught all those messages you kept throwing out into space.â Odis rifled through one of his side pockets and brought out something that looked like a key fob with a port on one end. He popped open a panel in the terminal and plugged it in, hitting a couple keys to sync the programs together. Thomas watched, confusion and disappointment morphing into a cautious optimism. Maybe theyâd find something after all.
âAnd here⊠we⊠go!â Odis said smugly, triumphantly hitting the execute key. The screen rolled the code again, but this time information began loading, the computer compiling the data for them.
âAnd you just happen to have this⊠why?â Danny looked sternly in the Galleyâs direction.
âIf it makes you feel any better Chief, most of my free time has been spent with the kid playing Terran video games,â Odis snickered. âDonât worry about what Iâve been up to, worry about whoever is sending messages to the GAIL High Council.â
âWhat the hell?â Danny exclaimed, leaning over the console to examine the data.
Sure enough, they couldnât recover any of the message, the data was just too big for the little device to have caught any. However, Odisâs tracer did show that whatever the signal was, it had gone straight to someone by the name of Mons on the High Council of the Grand Assembly of Intelligent Lifeforms.
âChief, what the hell are we looking at?â Thomas asked, for the first time actually realizing that something could be deeply, darkly wrong on the ship.
âThis doesnât make any sense, communications canât go directly to the Council, not without going through Captain Skitch and me,â Danny kept looking at the screen, rereading the data from start to finish, over and over again, before pulling out his data pad and copying all of it down, taking photos too.
âWhat are you doing?â Sixer asked.
âMaking sure whatever we have here, thereâs multiple copies so we canât lose any proof later.â
âDo you suspect thereâs another agenda aboard this ship Chief Ducane?â Mace followed.
â⊠I sincerely hope not, but either way, none of this ever happened. Not a single one of you saw any of this, okay? Nothing and no one,â Danny looked at each of them in turn, making sure they understood his meaning, âis going to hear about any of this. And when I call any of you to my office, itâs double time, understood?â
âYou got it Chief,â Thomas said immediately, the others following suit, but with much less gusto.
âBeep.â
[Task: protect Noah in progress]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The work shift ended with no more excitement, however Thomasâs heart rate hadnât declined even a bit in the following hours. The idea that something could threaten the ship, his ship, the ship heâd almost died for already, filled him with some very mixed emotions, not the least of which was apprehension. It did reassure him that Chief Ducane seemed like a good guy, and that he wasnât going to take any disciplinary measures against the worker crew for anything, but the idea that they could be called on to actually do something was daunting.
Walking to the mess hall, Thomas realized heâd never actually made any of the requested repairs to Danny office. He pulled a comm-link out of his back pocket and sent a quick âsorry, Iâll be right there to fix the doorâ text, but was alarmed at what the Chief of Security replied almost instantly.
>Someone searched my office while cameras were out of commission. Nothing is missing. They took advantage of the door being jammed and unlocked<
Another message:
>Donât come up here, itâll look suspicious for the both of us. Iâll make another request tomorrow. Tell your friends to be careful, and come to me immediately if you see anything at all<
Thomas shakily put the comm-link back in his pocket and headed back towards the Vending Machines. He saw Odis sitting in the corner and joined him after getting his food.
âYou ever think someone in the GAIL could do something pretty bad?â
âWhat, you think you humans have a monopoly on being kind of shitty?â Odis snorted. âYouâre not that weird, you know.â
#deathworlders of e24#humans are deathworlders#humans are space oddities#humans are space orcs#humans are weird#humans are strange#humans are space australians#earth is space australia#humans are insane#humans are terrifying#original story#original character#creative writing#writing
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echoes in the elixirs
WOOHOOOO yay this fic is finally done! i had so much fun writing this! thank you to everyone who supported the last fic i did, i was so happy to see so much interest! special shoutout to @joj0-thesimp for requesting and proofreading beforehand! per usual, requests are ALWAYS welcome! I write for jinx, vi and caitlyn, and do take smut requests.
also, i did my research on the herbs. a good amount of people predict that Jinx struggles with schizophrenia, which its symptoms can be alleviated with ginkgo. please let me know if my research is wrong, that way i can fix this :)
summary: jinx, looking rather off, enters your apothecary, to which you take care of her for the night.
warnings: mention of jinx's mental health issues, mention of seizures, lots of fluff, herbs are basically meds for jinx, jinx needs a hug, one-bed trope, cuddling
âHave a great day!â you called as you gave your product to your client. In the Undercity, every day in the apothecary was quite a busy one. Hundreds of people would file in every day, as they would trade in for your elixirs and remedies that would cure their pain and suffering, even if it was just for a while. The atmosphere was always loud and bustling, making you struggle to keep up.
However, when Jinx would arrive in your shop, things would usually calm down for the amount of time she was there. Business would slow down, and it was usually just you and her alone in the store. Or maybe it wasnât, and you were just so enamored by Jinx to even notice. Either way, Jinx was your one time to stop and take a breather during the day, which was ironic, considering her electrifying, energetic presence.Â
âSo, do you have my order, sugar?â Jinx would ask when she would enter.
âSure do! Right here,â youâd always answer. However, today, there was something different. Jinx seemed like there was some sort of hole inside her. She hadnât shown up for a while, since Silco had died, Piltover had been attacked, and she had had to hide to stay alive.
Today, however, she entered the store, a hood over her head, and her head low. Not to your surprise, instead of greeting you with those words, she browsed the store first, looking around, and generally not communicating with anyone. Understandable. However, you saw she was shaking as if winterâs frost had bitten her, and she had been without a coat. Trying not to overthink it too much, you went on with your business, packing up and giving your orders and occasionally convincing customers to buy more. When your final order was given, you left your table to check up on Jinx.
âHey Jinx, are you okay?â
She seemed startled by your words, as if she didnât expect you to come up to her and ask her that. She immediately tried to leave the store, ultimately avoiding your question.
âJinx!â you called after her, grabbing her arm. âDo you need anything?â
âYeah,â Jinx admitted, choked up in tone, âI need a shit ton of ginkgo biloba. More than you usually give.â Your stomach drops. Fortunately, now you know exactly whatâs going on, and what you can do to help her.
âIs it getting worse?â you ask, turning Jinx around, and holding her shoulder. Her face was all you needed as an answer. Tear streaks lined her face, black and mixed up with her makeup. Her fingernails were unpainted and outlined with her blood from picking at the skin around it so much. The only distinct features that stayed were her two long braids, still hanging off her head and cascading past her waist to her ankles.
âWith Silco dead, I just⊠donât feel important anymore. Theyâre getting louder. I canât sleep, or work, or do anything, I-â Jinx divulges, her head in her hands. You remove her hands from her face and replace them with your own.
âJinx, do you need to stay here tonight? I can make you some food, and make you a nice tea with the ginkgo, as well as some lavender to calm you down. Whatever you need.â
âHow much ginkgo?â
âThe usual dosage I give you. Any more could make things a lot worse. Plus, the lavender will calm you down, help you sleep.â
âHow much worse? Like what, I pass out for a week or something?â
âJinx, have you ever heard of a seizure?â
âOh. I guess I could stay the night. Itâs not like I have anything better to do at home or anything.â With that, you closed up your shop, locking the doors, and covering the windows, that way no one knew you were secretly housing Piltoverâs most wanted criminal.
You took the time to make Jinx a nice meal, as you knew she already didnât eat enough, let alone whatever her eating habits were during this tough time of hers. As the meal cooked, you also ground up some lavender and ginkgo, which you then put into a bag in order to prepare her tea. After that, you left the kitchen in the back of your shop real quick to check on Jinx.
âShut up! She wants to help me, I know it!â you heard her shouting, pacing around the room. Before you knew what you were doing, you ran up to her and hugged her as tightly as you could, making sure she knew that you did care. You heard her breathing slow down, and her body unwind as her tense state left her.
âYou good, Jinx?â you asked. She pulled away to look at you, surprised.
âWhy do you even care this much?â
âLook, youâve told me a few things about yourself here and there. And it sucks. Other than the herbs I know you need to calm down, I know you need to be taken care of right now. You need someone to be there for you. And I want to be there for you right now.â
âWhy?â
âBecause youâre nice to be around.â
âWhy?â
âBecause youâre funny, and caring, and innovative, and your presence always brightens my day.â With this, Jinxâs round, purple eyes widen.
âI brighten your day?â
âYes, Jinx. You brighten my day. I look forward to seeing you on the days youâre to come pick up your herbs just so I can see you, even if itâs for a few minutes. Jinx, everyone here is so down to business, and youâre the one who always lingers. Well, sometimes. Other times you were afraid of getting caught for sneaking out, so you were in and out.â
Jinx hugs you this time, burying her face in your chest.
âYouâre a good person, donât ever forget that,â Jinx discloses, tightening her grip.
âOkay, hate to let you go, but I do need to check in on the food and tea.â Jinx holds on as you struggle your way to the kitchen, making sure the food didnât burn during the moment between the two of you. Luckily, everything was ready, and in about five minutes, dinner had been served for you both. Jinxâs tea helped her greatly, calming her down. The sense of calmness in her eyes brought relief to yours, as you were glad to know that Jinxâs head would slow down for a bit. She was also happy to eat the meal you cooked, which, per your prediction, was the first proper meal she had had in a very long time. After your scrumptious meal, you both prepared for bed. However, there was one small kink in the works of your plan to take care of Jinx; there was only one bed.
âOh, donât worry about it,â you assured, âI can sleep on the floor.â
âAre you sure? I can sleep there too,â Jinx replied. You put your foot down though, insisting that she needed a proper sleep. It truly didnât worry you at all. You began to lay down on the ground, preparing for your sleep. Just as you were about to close your eyes, you heard Jinxâs voice from the corner.
âCould you maybe sleep in the bed with me?â
âYeah, is everything okay?â
âI just, havenât slept in a new place that wasnât where I was holed up in for a long time. Plus, youâre comforting to be around.â You get up, pillows and blankets in your arms, and settle into the bed with Jinx. She clutches onto your waist, her legs wrapping around yours. It takes every fiber in you to not turn around and spoon Jinx right there and then. However, your bountiful dinner, Jinxâs tea, and the calming atmosphere put both of you right to sleep.
so. i originally was going to make this some sort of a love story, but i felt like i couldn't considering jinx's mental state in this fic. shall i draft a part 2/ time jump where they get together?
taglist: @ananas26t @stupendousbananasharkcop @sarcasm-is-my-form-of-attack @t-wylia @emiliaisdead @ihatethis222 @west-c0ast-00 @shootingc @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @sweetstarfalls @klerns-birdie
(btw, this is the largest taglist i've had per explicit requests. thank yall so much for supporting <3)
#arcane#arcane netflix#arcane league of legends#arcane jinx#arcane jinx x reader#jinx#jinx arcane#jinx league of legends#jinx arcane x reader#jinx x reader#jinx arcane x fem!reader#jinx arcane x female reader#jinx x fem!reader#jinx x female reader#arcane jinx x fem!reader#jinx x f!reader#arcane jinx x female reader#jinx x you#jinx x y/n#jinx arcane x you#jinx league of legends x reader#jinx arcane x y/n#jinx arcane headcanons#arcane jinx headcanons#arcane headcanon#arcane headcanons#jinx arcane headcanon#arcane jinx headcanon#jinx league of legends x female reader#jinx league of legends x fem!reader
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Hello, are you busy right now?? I want to request oneshot when Deon jealous x reader
I won't force you, you can do this in your free time. Thank you~đ
Thx for the consideration. I write this in my unexpected free time.
Hope you like this
Deon kept reminding himself that he wasn't jealous, even as he felt a surge of anger at the sight of someone getting too close to Y/N, she talks to him too friendly even lean to him to explaining what was written with her finger tracing the paper to the person. That person seemed completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him because they still busy talk face to face.
He was in a state of turmoil, with no intention of holding back the fierce protectiveness he felt for Y/N. To him, she was his and his alone.
He never imagined that jealousy could creep into his heart, especially when he had someone he cherished and wanted to keep safe by his side.
Jealousy had never been part of his life; it was a feeling he thought he would never experience. It was a luxury he had never known.
From the start, he had battled feelings of despair due to a troubled past. He harbored resentment towards those who had thrust him into a conflict he never wished to join.
Even before the war, he struggled with self-doubt, feeling inadequate because of his frail body and the striking difference in his appearanceâwhite hair and red eyesâcompared to his family's dark hair and green eyes.
This mix of inferiority and bitterness made Deon a potentially volatile individual, especially when it came to love and the jealousy that could arise from it.
A newfound awareness of his instincts hit him like a jolt, causing him to flinch at the unsettling sensation that prickled the back of his neck. His body temperature plummeted, and a chill swept over him, making him shiver with fear.
Like a frightened animal trapped in the presence of a hunter, he finally caught sight of Deon. There was no smile on Deon's face; his lips were pressed tightly together, and his eyes glimmered with a menacing light, his brows furrowed as if he were contemplating how to inflict pain before delivering a final blow.
In that moment, the realization struck him hard: he was in deep trouble. Deon's reputation loomed large, feared in both the human realm and the demon realm.
He swallowed hard, his mouth trembling as he mustered the courage to excuse himself from Y/N and make a hasty retreat, leaving them alone together.
"You frightened him, Deon; he was just inquiring about work," Y/N said, shooting a disapproving look at Deon, her hands firmly on her hips. She was well aware of his tactics, recognizing the subtle threats behind his jealousy.
Deon asserted, "He's the one in the wrong here, so why am I the one being blamed? He's just too familiar." He spoke firmly, though he couldn't bring himself to meet Y/N's intense gaze.
"Really? You say that when everyone knows about our relationship? Only a fool would think they could handle you," Y/N replied, playfully fluttering her eyelids, signaling her teasing mood.
Deon, realizing the implication, looked at Y/N and said, "But you need to deal with me first, Y/N. I wonât get jealous if you donât act all friendly with him." He stepped closer, causing Y/N to instinctively back away, unsure of his intentions. His voice dropped to a low growl, adding an intimidating edge.
"Hey, you're blaming me! I'm innocent, Deon!" Y/N retorted, attempting to escape his grasp.
However, Deon had already cornered her. Their faces were mere inches apart, forcing Y/N to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. His other hand gripped her waist firmly, leaving her unable to turn away.
"Y/N, donât try to make me jealous. You really wonât like the outcome," Deon warned before he kissed her passionately, both of them losing themselves in the moment.
The bottom line: Avoid making Deon jealous; the world isnât prepared for that. Heâs the kind of guy who would go to great lengths for Y/N, his morals long since twisted. After all, sheâs the reason he still fights to stay alive in this world. (Please to keep stay in fiction story, Deon)
The End
Sorry for the hiatus, Writer's block and lazy and desire to only read is so strong...
#fanfic#x reader#manhwa#manhwa x reader#reader insert#fem reader#deon hart#intkot#i'm not that kind of talent#deon hart x reader#jealousy#request#self insert
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(Not a request dw) (So, about the two KO fics I was talking about earlier. I think I'm just gonna do the post-time skip one. The other one where Knock Out's human gets moved outta town, and has a few close calls isn't itching my brain good enough right now. I might have to let that one cook for a bit. lol.)
Re: Bumblebee rescuing Knock Out's human after they escape his game at the trainyard.
Once every other week, Bumblebee picks up his Little Pal for their typical hang out session at the Autobot Base. As they are wont to do, they spend the trip there excitedly chatting about what they're planning on doing together once they arrive. "What to do, what to do⊠⊠-Maybe a dance party?
"Hhhmmmm⊠No, that'd get too loud. Ratchet hates when we play music too loud. Or dance. Peepaw Ratch needs it relatively quiet in order to do his work. Haha. He could always use a break!"
"It doesn't have to -bee -loud music. We could -just have - regular music playing while we -hang out." Bee pleads through his spirit box speech, and his Little Pal finds that his bright blue, puppy dog eyes are hard to resist.
"Yeeeeeaaaaahhhhh⊠True. But we'd probably do that anyways. Haha. Maybe we could play video games? There's this one I found that I think you'll like. It's a racing game with weird tracks, gliding sections, customizable cars, and some killer music!" Bee lets out a string of excitable chirps before he tunes back into his alt form's radio.
"-Crowd cheering sfx- -Sounds great! When do we start?"
"Oh, just after we get to the base, and say hi to everybody. It's been, what, like, a month since last time? It's only polite, after-!!" They freeze mid-sentence like a deer in headlights at the sight of a familiar crimson mech. Of course he was real, they knew he was real. They'd only gotten repeated confirmation from everyone else they'd met that night. And every day since then, when they'd asked.
But. To see him again. To know for a fact that this particular mechanical alien that haunts their bizarre, blurry nightmares actually exists. That Knock Out actually exists, and is here. He's. He's here, and is planning on finally getting his talons on them once and for all! And-
They shake their head hard to dislodge their panic, and shuffle a little lower in Bumblebee's servos to hide themselves from Knock Out's line of sight. Bumblebee looks down at the human shaking like a twig in his servos, and tilts his helm. What's with the shaking? Why'd they pull his digits up, and around themselves like that? Who could they possibly be afraid of here? âŠ-Wait a minute. Of course.
Bumblebee would recognize the tell-tale click of those pedes anywhere.
"Well well well~! There's no need to stop the party on my account. Do you mind if I get a closer look at this new visitor of ours, Bumblebee?" Knock Out purrs as he draws closer, evidently more interested in the human huddling in the scout's servos than maintaining optic-contact with him.
"No can do, man! -They're -Off the menu! -There's no need -to play coy about your -obsession with them -anyways." Bumblebee growls, annoyed that the supposedly reformed Decepticon would even try to get at the poor human again. Especially right after he'd Just helped them get confident enough around Cybertronians to have a good time hanging out around the base!
This doesn't happen with any other human who happens by the base, by the way. Knock Out is loathe to even think about touching humans, typically. Something about "having taste", and a "refined palette" apparently. Whatever that means. But with BB's Little Pal? He's practically obsessed!
Now, he's fixated on them for a while, sure. But being this obvious about his desire to get his servos on them after he's joined the Autobots is new. New, and concerning.
"Oh fine. If you don't want to run the risk of your -eugh- "Little Pal" getting stolen away by the Big Bad Ex-Con, then why don't we all just sit down somewhere and have a nice, long chat, hhmmm? It'd be nice to catch up with each other after So long, wouldn't it?" Knock Out aims the latter question towards the human in Bumblebee's servos attempting to get a rise out of them, if nothing else.
The human clears their throat, and sits up a little to speak. They don't like the way he's talking to/about them, and they've decided that he's going to hear about it. "You know? I'm not feeling particularly chatty today, but maybe we can have this conversation some other day⊠⊠⊠Ah, what was your name again?"
Knock Out lights up at the sound of their voice, despite being a little put out by their refusal to remember his name. It's only been a few months since they'd been swept up in all of this, and they're already So comfortable talking to him like this. How⊠Cute.
Though, he really only has to take a step closer to shut his Little Runaway up. A quiet growl arises in his chassis, and he laughs- he Has to. The audacity of this human. If only he'd captured them back at the trainyard, they would have Long since lost the ability to sass him like this. How lucky this Squishy little Mouse must consider themselves- Ahem.
"Oh? Have you truly forgotten about me already? And here I thought our fateful encounter that night would've seared itself into your processor for good, lest you find yourself wandering alone at night the way you had been when I found you." At his human's lack of a pronounced fear reaction, he decides to press on with his little speech. He really shouldn't have to reintroduce himself, the human memory isn't that fallible, is it? He may have to remedy that, personally, if it is.
"I mean, we could have gotten to know each other better back then if only you'd stuck around to socialize. Ah, but I suppose you were a little too focused on winning to think about that now weren't you?" Knock Out's attempt to remain casual about how he lost a game he'd rigged so thoroughly in his favor, fails, and bitterness colors his tone.
Nonetheless, he takes another step closer, and reaches out a servo to lean on a nearby wall. Attempting to get a better view of the little one that got away. Bumblebee, in return, readjusts his grip on his Little Pal to block Knock Out's view even further, and quickly strides around the mad doctor before the human could reply to Knock Out's irritable rant.
Primus, how he loathes the effect Knock Out has on them. The way they're shaking right now, breathing unsteadily, and trying to bury themselves deeper into his servos than they could feasibly go. It sucks! They shouldn't have to put up with him! They've already won his game. They've already gotten away! What does he have to gain by terrifying them like this?!
-Whatever. It doesn't matter. He's going to put as much distance between Knock Out, and his Little Pal as possible. No matter what. "Nope. No way. Not gonna happen. -Optimis- won't be happy to hear about this." He keeps his pace steady to avoid shaking his Little Pal around as he goes, but that only allows the crimson mech to catch up sooner. KO's less than casual stride lets him overtake the scout, and pivot around to face him.
"And he doesn't need to. It isn't like I could do anything to them what with everyone keeping such a close optic on me, anyways." If Bumblebee could look less amused about the current situation, he would.
"You aren't helping your case here, -Knockout! -And besides, if they wanted to talk to you -to see you, -they would've approached you first. -The way they approach me. -There'd be no need for you to try, and corner them like this -at all." Bumblebee flexes what he's come to learn about his Little Pal over time, hoping to get under KO's armor. Weaponizing their well-earned faith in him to prove how easy it is to befriend humans if you don't terrorize them.
No amount of false platitudes from an ex-con is gonna charm him into putting his Little Pal into harm's way. Especially with how often Knock Out looks like a ravenous, starved even, Predacon whenever he catches sight of them. Let alone how he acts after catching a whiff of their fear, eugh. Some things never change, huh? Not even after KO became an Autob-"
Bumblebee feels the human shift in his servos, and only has time enough to look down at them before they pipe up with their trademark sass. "Hey you! Knock Out! Why do you still follow me around anyways, huh? You lost then, you keep losing now, and for what? A snack? Why don't you get a life, and go polish your paint job, or something. It's starting to get sad."
The pair of Cybertronians balk at the human's acerbic comment before Knock Out growls loudly, and makes a grab for them. How dare they speak to him like that! Especially when he could just-... Hold on. Knock Out retracts his reaching servo just in time for heavy footsteps, and rumbling laughter to echo from up the hall. It seems they aren't alone any more.
"Hah! Ohhhh you may need to stop by the Med Bay after this, Doc Knock. Pally got you pretty bad with that one!" Bulkhead pulls up next to the bickering mechs, and pats KO on the shoulder as if to comfort him about getting roasted.
"Yes! Well, to answer your question, Fleshy. I am nothing if not consistent regarding how I choose to spend my time. Now if you'll excuse me." Knock Out brushes Bulkhead's servo off of his shoulder, dusts himself off, and stalks off to the Med Bay. Likely to buff out the cracks the human made in his ego... And the ones Bulkhead made in his shoulder.
He doesn't get to far down the hallway before the human responds with one last grumpily, half-muttered insult. "Yeah... You're consistent alright. A consistent pain in my ass."
Knock Out had turned back to watch them as they spoke, and Oh how he wished he could wipe that look off of their face! They don't even look pleased with themselves about that insult either! It seems comments like those come naturally to them now. Ugh. He stomps off to the Med Bay for real this time, chased away by the sound of the Autobot duo's laughter, and begins to see to his paint job once more. Ignoring Ratchet's judgemental, but silent sidelong glance at him.
That human. His human. Has grown So comfortable around Cybertronians that they feel as though they can talk back to him whenever they damn well please. Why, he'd almost be impressed by their boldness, if it wasn't directed at him. Though he is aware that most of their bravado comes from the support they'd received from their new found allies. Maybe he should've taken that game of his seriously, after all.
-Not a Request Anon
Holy shit dude, this is awesome! Itâs like a story within itself! You should totally write a full length fic about this if youâd like to!! Youâve written out the relationship between Knockout and the reader so well with the formerâs âredemptionâ into the Autobot ranks! God, I love the way Bumblebee protects the reader and constantly defends them. Itâs like he knows the trust this little human has in Cybertronians, no matter how established, is still very fragile, and thereâs no way heâs going to let Knockout ruin the friendship heâs forged with his Little Pal! And AUGH, Knockout still referring to the human as his, even after all thatâs happened, itâs so him!!!
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Rinse and Spit [Part 6] - A Mouthwashing AU
FINALLY, this chapter is written. Enjoy it y'all, there will be More Development next time.
The dynamics shift on the Tulpar as the crew carries on without a certain shadow. But where does Curly stand in these new dynamics?
And why can't he shake the feeling he's one mistake away from being next?
Content Warning:
PTSD episode is depicted
Word Count: 2,400
Anya had left after tending to his new injuries. Curly almost found it funny that, by some cursed miracle, he could possibly get more hurt than he already was.
Presumably, she left to speak with Swansea and Daisuke. That had been a long time ago. He could hear, even through the heavy metal doors, that they were yelling. Swansea raising his voice, Anya raising her voice, even Daisuke.
He knew what they were arguing about.
One Captain laid dead. It was time to decide what happened to the other.
Curly had weighed in his head his chances. Daisuke seemed to still like him, at the very least. Thatâs one vote in his favor. Swansea, on the other hand, didnât seem like heâd spit on him if he was on fire. Thatâs one vote against him.
That only left Anya.
Anya. Who he utterly failed every chance he had to be a good leader for. Who he abandoned to go save her attackerâs hide over protecting her.
He didnât see the next few hours panning out well for him.
Take responsibility
So all he could do was wait.
And all the while, Jimmy was laying there. A pool of blood had settled under his head and neck. The entire room smelled metallic, with the stink of mouthwash mixing unpleasantly with it all.
It was at least easy for Curly to not look at him. Heâd learned to do that very well, not looking at Jimmy.
Instead, he could focus on what he was feeling. The image of the scalpel so close to his eye burned into his mind. The feeling of the sawâs teeth in his leg still radiated through his entire body. The burn of vomit still sat sticky in his throat and mouth.
Maybe he should stop focusing on what heâs feeling.
He couldnât look at the screen anymore. He couldnât listen to its buzzing anymore.
And yet, thatâs all he could do.
Thatâs all he deserved to do.
When had this all gone so wrong?
Was Jimmy always a monster? Curly didnât know. He knew that Anya and Jimmyâs relationship had started to fall apart, even before this hell of a voyage. He had thought they were just arguing.
âThereâs better nurses, you know.â
Jimmy played with the lighter in his hands, flicking it on and off, letting the lid make its little clicking sounds as he stared down at the floor.
âExcuse me,â Curly asked, looking up from the clipboard. Jimmy had been silent for the entire inspection of the cockpit. That was okay. Curly had been doing this for years, he knew what to look for without his help.
âIâm just saying. Thereâs gotta be better nurses working for Pony Express, right? Ones who actually made it into medical school? I mean, fuck, even school nurses need a degree, donât they? How come you donât request one of those?â
Curly shrugged. âI mean⊠Itâs Pony. I donât think anyone with that much school debt is gonna be working in a dump like this, yeah?â
Curly tried to laugh. Jimmy didnât. Curly clicked the pen uncomfortably.
âPlus, Pony offers medical school courses. Donât need a degree if theyâre teaching you what you need themselves right? Thatâs how youâre a pilot.â
Curly regretted it the second it left his mouth.
âYeah. I get it. I owe it all to you. Consider me fucking thankful.â
He didnât look at Jimmy, but he could feel the glare burning into his head. â...Sorry. But, why bring this up anyway? I like Anya.â
Jimmy didnât respond, just huffed and leaned as far back as he could in his pilotâs seat. Curly heard the click of the lighter, and Jimmy take a dragging breath.
âSeriously?â
âWhat?â
âYou know thereâs no smoking on Pony property. Iâve told you that a million times now. Itâs my ass they chew for that, you know.â
âYou and Pony can bite me.â
Curly sighed, running a hand down his face.
âLook. Iâm sorry for what I said. My point was Pony gives people chances. It gave you a chance, and you like being a pilot, right? So, itâs fair Anyaâs got a chance too. And sheâs a damn good nurse.â
Curly finally looked at Jimmy. He was never really good at reading the manâs expressions.
âI guess.â Jimmy finally cracked a little bit of a smile. âI do like being in control for once in my life.â
Curly turned that memory over in his head a lot. That had to have been a hint. He should have pushed more. Should have questioned it more. It was so obvious. A red flag he missed. One of manyâŠ
Even lifeless, Curly could feel Jimmyâs gaze burning him.
At least Curly wasnât alone anymore.
He finally brought himself to look at Jimmy. The color had completely drained from his face. His eyes were unseeing, staring at nothing, yet everything at the same time.
He didnât know how long he sat there until the door opened again.
He couldnât look. He wondered how theyâd do it. The ax? The gun? Something else? He didnât know. But maybe a selfish part of him is at least glad itâll all be over soon.
I hope this hurts
â...You got lucky.â
That was Swansea. There was a sound of a thud, and something dragging over the metal floor. He finally turned his head to watch Swansea drag Jimmyâs body away. The older man didnât look the Captain in the eye.
âVery lucky.â
Curly watched as Swansea dragged the former pilot away, Anya entering soon after. Thatâs odd⊠She already took care of his injuries, didnât she? She looked tired. And sad.
Anya looked at him. For a very long time. He looked away.
â...Try to get some sleep, Captain.â
She reached behind Curlyâs head, fluffing up the pillow a little before she took her old seat next to him.
Curly didnât move. He didnât look at her. He tried to breathe as quietly as possible. Because⊠Well, if he moved, it might break whatever spell has come over the Med Bay.
Anya was backâŠ
The days carried on like that. Anya was back at his side. She wasnât as chatty with him as she was at the beginning but⊠She seemed at ease.
You know why.
She carried on with her duties. She changed Curlyâs bandages, cleaned him, and brought him more IV calories⊠Curly didnât know how sheâd managed that, he had zero faith that Pony would have packed something that helpful. She had something about that, long ago. Something about how Swansea rigged the fabricator.
She even started chatting with him again. Just a little bit. But it was something. Something to listen to that made Curly feel like he wasnât just a pile of raw meat on the table.
She even became the one to give him his pain killers.
When she first approached him with a pill bottle, Curly hated how much he flinched. Anya just looked at him, her eyes full of sadness and regret.
âItâs⊠Itâs okay now, Captain. I can manage this.â
She was far more gentle in giving him the pills than Jimmy was. She sat him up, she eased his mouth open, she was careful and delicate with her fingers. She even gave him a glass of water to help it down.
Curly trusted her. He knew he shouldnât, knew he didnât deserve to feel at ease around her, but he did. She very easily could have made this all more painful than it needed to be, and sheâd have the right.
But she never did.
She set him back down as gently as she lifted him up. Yet Curly still felt ghosts of hands on his neck. Of fingers probing the back of his throat. Of nails digging under his bandages. He watched her for movement. For signs of vengeance.
But nothing ever came of his watching.
She read her books quietly. Listened to her music and smiled. She laughed when Daisuke poked his head into the Med Bay. She didnât tense up whenever the door opened anymore. She looked happier than even before the crash.
Take responsibility
He wished he could feel as at ease as she seemed to. Curly heard the metal doors slide open, a familiar, gruff voice filling him with dread.
âAnya, please, take some time to rest.â
âSwansea-â Curly could see Anya standing a bit behind him. She looked worried. She was wringing her hands together, her gaze flicking between the older man and the captain.
âI promise. You know Iâm good for it.â Swansea had his back to Curly. He wished he could see the expressions on his face. Or, maybe it was better he didnât.
She held eye contact with Curly for a very long time before she finally nodded.
â...Okay.â
The door closed again, Swansea taking a deep breath, before finally turning around.
The two men stared at each other for a long time. Curly was certain he could hear his own heart beat picking up speed.
â...Anya needs sleep. You need meds. Iâm filling in for her.â
Please noâŠ
Curly watched as Swansea strolled over to the desk with the pain killers. He looked at the bottle intensely.
âParacetamol? This shit is for fevers. Joint aches. You canât be getting much from this, can you?â
Curly waited a few moments. For what, he wasnât sure. Maybe for him to dump the few painkillers he had down the drain. Or maybe for him to threaten him.
But it didnât happen.
âWhatever helps, I guess. Thatâs what Anya said.â
Swansea turned back around, a pill in his hand. His expression looked generally bored. Maybe annoyed.
I hope this hurts
Curly couldnât help but start to shake.
Swansea hated him. Granted, for a good reason. But Swansea hated him, and was now approaching him with a pill.
âYouâre real lucky Anya has a soft spot for you right now.â He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his free hand. âYou got us into this fucking mess. And now weâre taking care of you. Isnât it the Captainâs job to take care of the crew?â
I hope this hurts
Swansea was standing over Curly now.
Curly knew what Swansea looked like. Heâd been looking at that tired face for almost 8 years. He knew what he looked like. He knew his receding hairline, his full face and thick neck, his pot belly and stocky limbs.
So why did his hair suddenly look longer? Why did his face and limbs suddenly look thinner?
âWhatever.â
Why did his eyes look so empty?
âI hope these make you fucking feel better.â
I hope this hurts
Jimmy was standing over him. He was smiling his empty smile and standing over him, reaching towards him. Of course. Of course Anya killing him had to be a dream. He couldnât escape it that easily.
He couldnât dodge responsibility that easily.
Take responsibility.
There were hands on him. A voice talking to him.
No, no, please noâŠ
He flailed his limbs. It wouldnât help, it never did, it only ever made things worse, but he had to do something. He couldnât go back to this nightmare. No matter how much he deserved it. No matter how much he knew Anyaâs gentleness was too good for him. He couldnât go back.
â...urly! Curly! Stop!â
Suddenly he was being held. Tightly. A hug? Anya?
He could smell something metallic, something like oil and sweat.
SwanseaâŠ
Curly froze in Swanseaâs grip. The man was hugging him. Or maybe he was trying to hold him together.
âAre you done?â
Curly couldnât see his face. And he wasnât about to lift his head to check.
âStop fucking staring at me.â
He couldnât place the tone in Swanseaâs voice. He wasnât sure when he got so bad at reading people. Then he felt the ghosts of hands on his throat. Maybe he was never good at reading people.
The captain then realized he was asked a question.
Answer the question, you wonât be hit as hard.
Curly nodded, his body still slightly shaking.
Swanseaâs grip gently released, an arm moving to support his back to keep him sitting up. The engineer seemed to be feeling for something. His fingers traced along his side, feeling his ribs through the hospital gown.
âJesusâŠâ
Curly didnât know if he was meant to respond to him. He usually had to guess with Jimmy, but he at least knew what to expect from Jimmy.
He didnât know what Swansea would have in store.
Gently, although not as gently as Anya, Swansea tilted Curlyâs head back and opened his mouth. The captain couldnât help but flinch again.
âHey. Curls. Look at me.â
Curly shook his head.
âCan you look at me?â
Take responsibility
Curly slowly turned his eye to finally look at Swansea. The manâs expression was harsh but⊠something seemed tempered. Softer than before. Frustrated, maybe conflicted.
âLook, I donât know what he did to you. Fucked up shit, probably, if you were freaking out that badly. But Iâm not him. Yeah, Iâm pissed at you. But Iâm not going to hurt you.â
Curly still didnât move. The two looked at each other for a long time.
âCan I give you your medicine now? Itâs probably not doing too much, but hey. Itâs something, right?â
The captain waited for Swansea to move. Get angry. Say something about how ungrateful heâs being. To do⊠Something.Â
âGotta give me a nod, bub.â
Curly hesitated another moment before nodding. Swansea sighed, nodding back. He tilted the captainâs head back, gently feeding the pill down his throat, and helping it down with some water. Swansea wasnât as delicate as Anya. But it was probably due more to his broad and callused fingers than⊠malice.
Swansea set him back down softly, making sure his head reached the pillow.
âGoodnight. Get some sleep. Daisukeâs been working on something for you. Wonât tell me what it is, but says itâs going to be âsuper important.â Whatever that means. So⊠I guess be ready for that.â
Curly was only half listening. A part of him was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Swansea to say that one last thing to make sure he remembered his place in the pecking order.
But he didnât.
â...Jimmyâs not here anymore. You can relax a little.â
And he left.
Curly listened to the static buzz for a long time. He felt tears stinging the side of his face long before he realized he was crying.
He swallowed the sobs down, even though it hurt his chest. He clamped his mouth as closed as he could manage, until his teeth hurt.
He had only just gotten this small blessing of peace.
He was not going to ruin it by bothering them anymore.
#mouthwashing#curly mouthwashing#anya mouthwashing#daisuke mouthwashing#swansea mouthwashing#jimmy mouthwashing#my writing#fanfic#my fanfiction
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Headlock - Imogen Heap
Fields of Mistria | March x F Reader
Summery | Anxiety on an all time high, you confront March during his work. Taking the step forward to make him yours, you request for him to join you to attend the Shoot Star Festival with you. Will he accept? or will he turn you down as he has with any other attempt to bond?
Warnings | Minor Swearing, Anxiety, I haven't written in almost two years, do be patient if it's poorly done.
Work count | 2310
Distant flickering, its greener scenery,
This weather's bringing it all back again.
Great adventures, faces, and condensation,
I'm going outside and take it all in.
Two pairs of eyes meet, lowering your chin hastily with a hand pressed against your chest. Grasping the fabric of your clothing while struggling to breathe, the tension was so heavy you could cut it with a sharpened blade.
You stood before March, crudely interrupting his work while clutching a device in your spare hand, cloaked behind your form. You were hiding it from his judgmental gaze. Lord, you despise how fearful you found yourself beneath his analytical eye, how heâd eat you up with a glance. Reading your intentions from a mile away, for somebody who insisted on disliking you- he sure did have a watchful eye on you at all times. Or was it that he truly couldnât avoid it because you always visit him while heâs on the job? Hell, outside of work he couldnât seem to escape you, or your name for that matter.
ââŠâ
Heâd raise a brow, expecting some sort of response. A greeting, yet he received nothing. That hardened glare softened as you lowered your head, confused by your actions. Ultimately, heâd press his hands deeper into the pockets of his apron. The wind swept through their figures, his red bangs shifting to cover his eyes temporarily before he murmured beneath his breath and took a step closer to you.
ââŠDid you come to waste my time? You've got a knack for breathing down my neck.â
Youâd suck in a breath, raising your slouched figure to look him in the eye, for a split second youâd see his hardened glare falter. There you stood tall, rolling your shoulder back in an attempt to appear more confident, but he could see right through you. Why exactly were you so tense? Had he done something wrong? Have you finally opened your eyes to how poor of a person he is to hang around? He had his suspicions. Despite this, his narrow gaze would widen. Pursed lips and a flushed expression are all he is met with before you press something against his chest.
Pressed against his chest was an invitation, a silent proposal to join you for a well-known event in Mistria. The Shooting Star Festival.
You say too late to start, got your heart in a headlock,
I don't believe any of it.
You say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock,
You know you're better than this.
â-âŠjust say no.â
March heard your choked whisper, lost for words. He had several suspicions about what your arrival may have been for, but inviting him to such an event was far from what he believed would escape your presence. Do you know what this entails?
You were often chipper, always willing to lend a hand despite his cruel treatment towards you. He intended to keep you at arm's distance, but, it backfired and seemed to ignite some sort of flare beneath your feet. Heâd tell you to leave him alone, youâd return with his sheets from the request board, a toothy grin apparent in your features. You almost walked off without the reward on several occasions, selflessly aiding those in town, no, him in specific. Were you attempting to get on his good side? What for? It frustrated him, he hated you. No, he hates you. So why is it he can never forget your greetings each day? The praise, the complaints, every word escaping those lips of yours.
The crease of your forehead when you'd pout and furrow your brows, playfully smacking him whenever he'd say something sarcastic. How your nose would scrunch up at the smell of the alcohol he downed each Friday night at the Inn with everybody.
We're a different pair, just something out of step,
Throw a stranger an unexpected smile.
With big intention, still posted at your station
Always on about the day, it should have flown.
â-Please! Fuck, March. Itâs yes, or no. I- I shouldnât have come here. ButâŠâ
You couldnât stand his silent treatment, you were previously so excited to ask him to be your partner for the Mistrian Tradition. One that allowed those of Mistria to gather around with friends, family, their significant other⊠what even were you both? You wanted to believe you were friends, but, March was still so distant. You hardly knew him, and thatâs what led you here. You wanted to learn about who he is. Attracted to him, the way heâd focus so heavily on his work. The way his muscles would tense up after a repeated swing of the hammer, the sweat dribbling down his chin from the heat. You fantasize about him more than youâd like to admit, wishing nothing more to see who he is at heart.
âSay no? Whyâd you even come in the first place? Shouldnât you want to hear me agree?â
Yes, you wanted so desperately to hear those words he withheld from you. Still not saying either of the options you intended for him to say, god, he was frustrating. So frustrating you could cry.
ââŠOf course I do!â
Youâd raise your voice, taking a step closer to him. The space between you closed further, forcing him to shift back as well uncomfortably. Did you intend to get this worked up over someone like him? There were plenty of others who wouldâve loved to receive this brooch from you. Balor, Eiland, Ryis... hell, even Celine or Reina. For the love of god, why is it him? Why are you here?
ââŠWhy else would I be here? Just as you said, it wouldnât make sense. But, I came anyway! Hoping that for some odd reason, youâd accept me despite..."
He'd notice your body tense up along with your lips visibly trembling, anxiety sent like ripples through your body. Tides crashing against the shores of your fragile heart. You were strong, and he admired that, from a distance. Standing here with the ability to openly ask him to be your partner for the festival. Something he was never capable of doing,
"Despite?"
He'd inquire further,
"You're going to make me say it..?-"
You'd curse under your breath, weakly allowing the words to slip from your tongue.
"-d-despite your clear disinterest towards me..."
You say too late to start, got your heart in a headlock,
I don't believe any of it.
You say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock,
You know you're better than this.
That was his intention from the start, to prevent you from seeing through him. Brushing you off, pushing you away, and nudging you in the direction of others far kinder than him, people who understand how to treat you right.
Why is it that his consciousness weighs itself down with guilt? The guilt of his treatment toward you, the guilt and outright refusal to admit when he's in the wrong. How his heart would ache each time your excitement died down over time, that cute smile faint, like a kicked puppy whenever he shot down your requests to hang out together.
He couldn't allow any sort of attachment, not when he knew you'd leave. He was confident you would, averting his eyes from the clear signs of your settlement at the farm you built up from blisters and bedrock. He wouldn't admit his feelings. The warmth in his heart at the sight of your passing figure each time you made your way through town, stopping by the forge just to say hello and part ways, he grew accustomed to your visits. Missing you when you'd show no sign of life, busy elsewhere with your life. Missing the way strands of hair stung to your glistening skin, soot and dust kissing your cheeks from hours in the mines.
Your clothes soaked from diving in rivers for artifacts, he noticed it all. Shifting positions with you at the anvil in order to stand near the fire of his forge preventing any chill, or further cold in winter, without a word of course. Maintaining his nonchalant disposition, knowing his true intention wasn't for you to move out of his way, but to warm up next to the crackling heat. Dry those clothes of yours, fearing you'd grow sick and not show up the next morning.
Afraid to start, got your heart in a headlock,
I don't believe any of it.
You say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock,
You know you're better than this.
The tension wouldn't let up between the two of you, deciding it was best to take your leave, you'd whisper something so meek he struggled to catch on. Â
"...I really shouldn't have gone through with this. I'm sorry, March."
You felt utterly ashamed, humiliated by his silence, it wasn't a no- neither was it a yes. Should you be happy? No, your anxiety wouldn't settle down. Unable to accept being turned down, unable to celebrate his acceptance... left in the dark. Eyes glued to the ground, holding back tears.
Your hand would fall from his chest, fingers wrapped around the brooch weakly. Ready to pull away, you'd suddenly gasp as his hands would clasp around your own. Forcing you to hold the brooch back against his chest. A stray tear made its way down your cheek as you'd blink,
I'm walking, you've been hiding,
And you look half dead half the time.
Monitoring you, like machines do,
You've still got it, I'm just keeping an eye
"F-fine. I'll go with you."
March couldn't stand the sight of your tears, he knew he had been a complete jerk recently. He didn't enjoy behaving that way, but it's all he knew how to do. A way to cope with his insecurity, you were beautiful, talented, smart, and most importantly... Kind.
"-Olric will definitely badger me if I say no."
He'd then follow those words with a hushed grumble, closing his eyes and lifting his head. His cheeks flushed now, similar to your previous expression.
"-Quit crying, I never said I wouldn't go."
His hand wouldn't budge from your own, the warmth of your fingers brushing against each other. The comforting pressure was so foreign to him. His hands were significantly rougher, calloused from his line of work. Not that yours were dainty either, one look and they told a story of all your efforts to build your farm from what had been given to you upon your arrival.
I've been walking, you've been hiding,
And you look half dead half the time.
Monitoring you, like machines do,
You've still got it, I'm just keeping an eye
You still hadn't spoken a word since he agreed, somewhat irking him. Is this how you felt about his silent treatment? No wonder you raised your voice at him. Â
"-Look who is silent now... I'll go with you, alright? Just, don't let it get to your head. I- hate the idea of leaving you on your own after you put so much thought into... asking me. That's all."
Still sticking to his excuses, he wouldn't pull away. Allowing you to collect your thoughts, feeling your gaze rise up once more. You worked too hard towards this for him to turn you down, he couldn't do it.
"March, I- You don't have t-"
You'd feel him squeeze your hand, forcing your mouth shut. Was he doing this just to please you? Before your anxiety could haunt you any further, he'd rip the brooch from your hand and lift the back of his hand to shield his mouth. Throwing his head aside with an averted gaze. His blush is still visible.
"Shut up, I said I'd go. I'll see you at eight. Tonight. Got it?" He was excited. Thrilled at the idea you wanted him to accompany you. Would he express that openly? No. Ignoring the flutter of his heart, the constant uneasy pound in his ears.
You know you're better than this
Come back and start, got your heart in a headlock,
No I don't believe any of it.
You say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock,
You know you're better than this.
Your lips would part, only to close once more. Smiling, finally, a reaction he enjoyed witnessing.
March had a way of making you lose your ability to speak, but it only worsened as you'd feel a weight plant itself on the top of your head, forcing your head down, losing sight of him. Your face lit aflame with blush. March's eyes scanned around the pair of you, sighing in relief. Nobody's eyes were capable of witnessing what his next actions were. Allowing himself to indulge in his desire to comfort you, his hand began making claw motions in your hair, massaging your head for a moment. Just as you'd scratch the head of a cat.
"-Don't be late."
He'd then pull away, feeling the warmth in his heart becoming unbearable. He'd abandon you at the forge, in a rush to do something inside it seems.
"I- I won't!"
You'd shout back in the hopes he heard you, a bright smile blooming on your face. Unsure whether he heard you or not. Not that it mattered, you got the answer you desired. All that anxiety from before washing itself away as you'd look at your hands, reminiscing about the way he held your hand.
You hadn't expected him to suddenly pat an scratch your head like that, not that it was unwelcome. Perhaps, he cared more than you initially thought... or was it you just confirmed a suspicion you had believed in for seasons now?
March has begun to warm up to you, and you couldn't be happier to see the signs firsthand.
Afraid to start, got your heart in a headlock,
I don't believe any of it.
You say too late to start, with your heart in a headlock,
You know you're better than this.
#fields of mistria fanfiction#fields of mistria#fields of mistria march x reader#fields of mistria x reader#march fom x reader#march fields of mistria
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[9]
Watanuki has resolved to make her eat it anyway.Â
>:) Lovely.Â
Though I find it fascinating the way this problem has played out. The customer presented a problem and even though Watanuki had hints from Yuuko it didnât make any sense to him until he discussed it with Doumeki. And then they figured it out together.
It feels like itâs signalling that Yuuko doesnât have much guidance left for Watanuki - or at the very least, heâs finding his own way of figuring out problems in a way that makes more sense to him.
Which is good in the way that Yuuko was always limited in the kind of help she could give, because outright giving any answers would always come with a cost that she didnât want Watanuki to pay. But weâve entered the zone where Watanuki doesnât need to rely on her hints as much and will figure things out naturally using his own methods.Â
So that's good! But on the other hand I would like to keep Yuuko forever.Â
I want it officially noted that this conversation between Watanuki and Doumeki lasted for ELEVEN PAGES before there was even a hint of faux outrage!
Eleven pages of solid conversation before Watanuki remembered that he pretends to hate Doumeki!
This is very fun knowledge for all people who are me.
Conspiracy!Â
We love Mokonaâs foresight and subtle manipulations to get more snacks. (And to get Watanuki to talk to Doumeki)
But even more than that we love Doumekiâs open concern for Watanukiâs wellbeing and double checking whether he can safely be here!Â
OOPS nope I misinterpreted that, it wasnât that at all. It was Doumeki double checking to see if this was the best course of action as far as the mystery was involved. He wonders whether Yuuko could have given him better help.Â
But I have preemptively talked all the way through that idea so Iâm glad I picked up on that undercurrent correctly!
#I lowkey love that both Yuuko and Doumeki both know#That if they request food Watanuki will quickly leave the room to immediately cook it#Leaving them open to have hushed important conversations with the people left behind#And they push that button very very often#(And it always works)#Not liveblogging the reservoir chronicle#xxxholic#xxxholic 86#Watanuki#Doumeki#Mokona#Yuuko Ichihara#Yuuko wanting Watanuki to learn how to cross those final few hurdles#And learn that he can solve these problems without her#And is subtly getting Mokona to steer him in the right direction#JUST IN CASE SHE WERE TO SUDDENLY LEAVE THE PLOT#IN SAY SIX CHAPTERS OR LESS#JUST AS AN EXAMPLE
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Morning sunbath.
#kifuart#artists on tumblr#dragon art#digital art#purple dragon at water's edge#so this is the comission#the infamous commission of absolute and total art block#to say i had a struggle would be the biggest understatement of all#but i finally finally got myself to do it#i just hope that it can be something the buyer is pleased with#because she deserves it that's for sure#she wanted a dragon on a specific lake#but those images were lost when she closed her fb account and i didn't save them#this isn't that lake at all but something off of a video that was the absolute inspiration for this whole thing#i still am not comfortable working without reference anymore for shading#but she waned a dragon and by the skin of my teeth she's getting a damn dragon#she also wanted something to do with smoke or fire#so i really hope the morning mist satisfies that request#i don't even now what else she wanted#because i'm going off of memory years old and nothing else anymore#dragon was supposed to be green but this satisfied my palette better
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So Much Love in Oklahoma
Tyler Owens x fem!reader 7k words
summary:Â Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.
a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies
also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33
masterlist | twisters masterlist
What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.
(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)
Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.
So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.
It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.
Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.
You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:
"What the hell are you doing out here?"
He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.
"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.
"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"
You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.
"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.
"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.
"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."
With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.
"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"
You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.
If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.
"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.
"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."
I got you.
You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.
You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.
He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.
You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.
And then suddenly - there's nothing.
It disappears within seconds.
There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.
You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.
"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."
He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.
You don't move an inch.
You can't move.
You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.
The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.
"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."
You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.
You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.
And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.
"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.
He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.
You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.
Empty.
"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.
"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."
You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.
You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.
You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.
All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.
"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."
The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.
"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."
"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."
He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.
"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."
He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.
Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-
"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:
"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"
His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.
"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.
"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?
He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.
"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.
It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.
You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.
Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.
You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.
"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.
"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"
Ah, right, that part.
Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.
"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."
"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.
"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."
You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?
The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.
"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.
"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."
More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.
"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.
He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.
"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.
"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."
You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.
"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."
...
A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.
You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.
"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.
"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.
"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"
He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.
God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.
"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.
"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"
...
Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.
Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.
"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."
She glances down at your bare legs.
"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.
"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.
"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.
You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.
"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.
"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."
Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).
"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."
...
Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.
Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.
In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.
You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.
"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"
"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."
She shakes her head and waves you off.
"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"
...
It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.
"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.
"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.
"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"
"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."
"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."
You have to snort at that.
"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."
...
When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.
"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.
"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.
"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.
"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."
They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".
You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.
But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.
"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.
"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."
"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.
...
The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.
A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.
You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.
"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.
"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."
She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.
"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."
"Really, mom?"
You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.
"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.
...
The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.
Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.
It's Tyler.
Tyler Owens.
"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.
You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.
"Hi", you echo.
His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.
Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.
"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.
"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."
Tyler chuckles.
"Seems like a great guy."
"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."
Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.
"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.
"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.
Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.
"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.
"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."
...
Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.
You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.
"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).
He looks almost bashful for a second.
"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."
Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.
"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.
"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."
...
It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.
You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.
"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.
"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.
"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."
So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.
"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."
You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.
"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."
You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.
You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.
"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.
"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."
You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.
"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.
"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.
"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.
Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-
You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.
You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.
"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.
"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."
"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."
When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.
"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.
"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.
It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.
And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.
Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.
"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."
"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.
It lasts maybe another two minutes.
"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.
"Thanks", you mutter.
"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.
"She likes you too."
It's the truth.
Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.
"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.
"Yep", you say.
That's it for that conversation.
You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.
"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.
"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."
You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.
You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.
Right into your kiss.
Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.
And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.
#x reader#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens#twisters#tyler owens twisters#twisters 2024#twisters x reader
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it was always you.
for as long as you remember, youâve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because thatâs what happens when life naturally takes it courseâyou grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.
so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason heâs asking you isnât due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks heâs doing you a big favor.
or at least, thatâs what you think.
pairing: jungkook x reader
word count: 13.2k
rating: 18+
content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brotherâs best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts
warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (iâm sorry but i tried to do as much research i can đ), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)
MINI PLAYLIST: â« die with a smile â lady gaga, bruno mars â« juno â sabrina carpenter â« selfish â *nsync â« nandito na ako â benj pangilinan, angela ken
opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you đ„čđ
âAny questions?â
A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. âCan we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?â
You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. Itâs the week before finals, and youâre aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.
You scan the crowd. âHow many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?â
More than half of the class raises their hands.
âOkay, thatâs honestly unexpected,â you say, pleased to know that they arenât slacking on your subject. âDoes Monday sound good? Thatâs three more days, to be fair. I donât want to extend it further because I have to read everyoneâs work and you guys know I donât like rushing it before turning in your final grade.â
A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.
âThank you so much, Ms. ____!â
âI love you, Ms. ____!â
âMs. ____, I will offer my first child to you,â one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.
âAlright, alright. Just get it done and Iâm expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.â
The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you donât stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where youâre certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. Itâs already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.
There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasnât the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so muchâit was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didnât get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasnât for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that youâre simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. Youâre in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.
Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, youâre too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder youâre holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that youâre oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.
â____,â he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.
âHoly shiâïżœïżœ You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. âJungkook?â
He grins. âHey, lamb chop.â
âWhat the hell are you doing here?â
âIs that how you greet an old friend?â
âOh, fuck off.â
He laughs, following suit to you whoâs already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. âYou gonna hug me or what?â
You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. Youâre just happy youâve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.
âArenât you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that youâre designated?â you ask, the first to let go from the hug.
âActually, I returned from deployment three days ago. Iâm on leave for two weeks.â
âWow. Two weeks, huh?â
âYep. Itâs the longest break Iâve gotten in a while.â
âThatâs good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.â
âSays the girl has a day job and a night job.â He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. âWhen the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.â
âYouâll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.â You snort. âAnd my students arenât kids. Theyâre in college.â
âYeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.â
âAre you seriously jabbing at my age when youâre two years older than I am?â
He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. âAnyway,â he starts again and you grin, âI didnât come here to compare how old we areââ
âYou didnât?â
He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.
âIâm here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.â
âDinner?â you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.
Letâs get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.
It isnât a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldnât tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person youâve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.
Itâs just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, whoâs the same age as he is and who youâre sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkookâs dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other thatâs worth speaking directly about.
At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.
âJungkookâŠâ Youâre trying not to sound mad but you canât hide the exasperation from your voice. âThatâs not the real reason youâre here.â
âOf course, it is. Why else would I be here?â
âHe told you, didnât he?â you ask, not willing to drag this out. âYouâre just going to give me another lecture that I definitely donât need.â
Jungkook frowns, like heâs dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.
âIâm right, arenât I?â You pressed.
âHe meant well, ____.â
You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasnât left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his âbig brother tendenciesâ, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, itâs different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that youâre fine, itâs like youâre talking to a wall.
âWhat exactly did you hear from him?â you query.
He seems hesitant in answering that. âThat you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.â
You wince.
âLook,â he steps forward towards you, âI wasnât going to bring it up unless you did, okay? Iâm just here because Iâm genuinely worried about you and I want to know how youâre doing.â
âIâm fine.â You murmur. âYou donât need to worry.â
âWorry doesnât vanish magically just because someone says so.â
âWell, it shouldâbecause Iâm fine.â
âYou sure? I heard that youâre struggling to buy insulin among other things youâre having a hard time paying.â
âFuck. Seowon told you that too? Thatâs private.â
âMy parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.â
âI donât need that. Iâm an adult. Iâve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.â
âIt doesnât look like it from what Iâve been hearing.â
âAll youâre hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who wonât listen to a word I say.â You huff. âIâm fine and Iâve been doing everything I can, alright? Iâm taking care of myself. Iâm going to the doctor whenever I need to. Iâm making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think Iâve been working two jobs for the past year? Itâs because Iâm doing everything I can to stay alive.â
Jungkook doesnât reply, he only remains gazing at you.
âIf youâre here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,â you add, already embarrassed that you canât even look at him anymore, âthen I donât want it.â
âThatâs not what Iâm here for,â he says.
âThen are you really just here to treat me to dinner?â you question sarcastically.
He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. âYes. Itâs my way of doing a welfare check.â
âWelfare check.â You echo with squinted eyes. âWell, in that case, here I amâalive and healthy.â
âI can see that, and Iâm glad.â He smiles. âBut I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.â
âAn apology?â
âFor being the last person to know about your condition.â
âAnd weâre still talking about that apparently.â You mutter under your breath. âSorry. I didnât think that you wanted to know.â
âOf course, I would have wanted to know. Itâs you weâre talking about here.â
Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isnât a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when heâs letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, itâs hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and thatâs why heâs so worried; you should already be past your âdeluluâ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.
âI didnât want to add to your worries,â you reason. âYou already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that youâre a naval aviatorâso you literally have your own life first to think about.â
âI can make space for you.â
Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?
You blink. âOkay, uh, thatâs⊠thatâs completely up to you, I guess.â
âI just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.â
âGot it. Next time I learn Iâm dying, Iâll tell you.â
â____,â he says your name in warning, and you know heâs serious.
âSorry.â You heat up. âI couldnât resist.â
âDonât be a pain in the ass.â
âI promise thatâll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.â
Jungkookâs nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.
âAre you done here? Because Iâm hungry and would really like to get going now.â He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.
âYeah. Iâll just get my things and then I can get out of here.â
âGreat. Youâre letting me take you to dinner, right?âÂ
âDo I have a choice?â
âNo.â
âFine.â You deadpan.
This time, heâs the one whoâs beaming at you. âIâll wait for you here and we can go.â
âOkay.â
****
When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking whatâs supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didnât have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.
He still couldnât be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote âtime is goldâ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.
And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment.Â
He wasnât sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his headâhe just didnât want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.
Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.
âShe would never say yes,â Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you wonât be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.
Seowon made a face. âI know. That girl is so hyper independentâsheâd rather die than accept help.â He scoffed. âShe needs it though. Itâll help with her medication and she wonât have to pay rent for that shit apartment sheâs living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if sheâs not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.â
âYouâre right.â Jungkook shrugged.
âYouâll do it then?â
He took a sip of his beer. âYeah. Iâd do anything for ____, you know that.â
âEven as crazy as marrying her?â
âSure.â
Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. âAre you sure youâre not just considering this because itâs a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.â
âI donât like her.âÂ
âYouâre in love with her.â
âI donâtââ Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. âFuck you, man. Donât make me some kind of pervert whoâs trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. Youâre the one who brought the idea up.â
Seowon laughed out loud. âI know, I just canât believe youâd agree. Itâll benefit ____, thatâs for sureâyou, on the other hand? Itâs career suicide.â
He shrugged. âIâm okay with the thought that sheâll be okay.â
âBecause you love her, man.â Seowon pushed. âWhy on earth would you consider this if you werenât? Itâs a fraudulent marriage. Youâll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.â
âWe donât even know if sheâll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.â
âYeah, unless maybe youâre the one who tries to persuade her.â
âMe?â
âYes.â
âDo you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?â
âThat can work.â
âWhat?â Jungkook laughed.
Seowon raised an eyebrow. âDonât tell me you donât know how sheâs been crushing on you since we were kids.â
He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. âWeâre not kids anymore and I barely see her though.â
âStill, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.â
âYouâre really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?â Jungkook asked.
Seowon placed down the beer bottle heâs consuming on the counter. âYeah. Youâre a good guy. Youâre not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you wonât do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heartâIâll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then Iâll do everything I can to fuck you up.â
Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.
âNoted.â
****
Itâs always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long itâs been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think thatâs why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciateâsomething that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.
You donât want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You donât think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world.Â
âAre you dating anyone?â he asks.
You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. Youâre in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why itâs what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; youâre thankful that you donât see any of your students within the mix.
âWeâre getting straight to it, huh?â you say.
Jungkook smirks. âIâm just making sure Iâm not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.â
âDonât worry, youâre not upsetting anyone.â
He nods in understanding. You donât want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.
âHow about you?â you ask back. âAre you dating anyone?â
The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. âNope.â
âWhy? You donât have the time for it?â
âPrecisely.â
âIt must be really hard dating when youâre in the Navy then.â
âKinda. Weâre away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people donât like the stress that comes with that.â
 You bob. âDoes it get lonely?â
âSometimes, but when youâre on duty, you donât get to think about those things.â He chuckles. âBesides, I donât know if this sounds fucked up or notâbut it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when youâre surrounded by good men in your squadron.â
âYouâve always been an adrenaline junkie.â
âAnd youâve always been a scaredy-cat.â
You scoff at the declaration. âNo, Iâm not.â
âRemember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?â
âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, itâs evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you canât help but recall that itâs one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkookâs hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.
He snickers, appearing like heâs replaying the scene in his head. âWe should do that again with Seowon during my break.â
âHell no.â
âI thought you werenât a scaredy-cat?â He challenges.
âIâm not.â You give him a kittenish glare. âBut I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book Iâm editing to the chief editor next week and itâs about to be finals week for my students as well.â
He fakes a shiver. âI donât know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.â
âYou work as a naval aviator so Iâd say weâre pretty even.â
The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. Youâre not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk aboutâwas it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether itâs because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever youâre the one whoâs talking.
You like the undivided attention, the back and forth thatâs occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder whatâs so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as youâre concerned, youâre positive that youâre acting like you always have in his presenceâlively, smiley, sarcasticâand aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkookâs acting like he always has too.
When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. Itâs a hassle but itâs necessary, largely because youâre still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.
After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but itâs times like this wherein youâre with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that youâre in a better predicament than you are right now. Youâre close to being broke, youâre overworked, youâre somehow fatigued all the fucking timeâthose factors arenât soothing your worries at all. Itâs a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.
âReady to go?â Jungkook smiles at you once youâre back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.
He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. Youâre both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. Itâs only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that youâve arrived in front of your apartment building.
âIâll walk you up,â he insists as youâre unbuckling the seatbelt.Â
âThatâs no need, Kook.â
âOf course, it is,â he says. âIâll walk you up. Thatâs nonnegotiable.â
So, you allow him.
It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.
âWell, this is me.â You turn to him, done unlocking your door. âIâd invite you inside but you should probably get going. Itâs quite a long drive back home.â
âYeah.â He breathes out a chuckle. âHey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.â
Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. âMe too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever youâre on a break.â
âAgreed.â
You flash him a smile. âYou can go now. Goodnight.â
Jungkook nods, however doesnât move a muscle. Heâs looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if heâs memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess itâs the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before youâre demanding why heâs impersonating a mannequin.
âThereâs something I want to say,â thatâs what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.
âOkayâŠâ The smile is still on your lips. âWhat is it?â
âPromise me you wonât get mad first.â
âWell, if youâre making me promise that then itâs probably worth being mad about.â
âItâs not as bad as you think.â
âThatâs not convincing at all.â
âItâs justâŠâ He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, âitâs⊠itâs why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.â
You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. Itâs certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didnât reckon youâd actually be truly disappointed at thatâat the idea that he just didnât randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.
You draw a long breath. âWell, I knew you werenât just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.â
Thereâs a pause and then he resumes. âJustâbefore I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.â
âI canât promise that either.â
âYou have to.â
âWhy do I have to?â
âBecause what Iâm about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, donât you?â
You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. âCan you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.â
âI just donât want you to misunderstand.â
âMisunderstand what?â
âWhat Iâand Seowonâgenuinely think is the best option.â
âOh, and Seowon is in on this too?â You bellow. âHave you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?â
âCalm down.â Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. âIâm sorry for dragging it out. You should know Iâm high key afraid of you, thatâs why.â
âYou should be.â You grumble.
Another chuckle, but heâs back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isnât healthy, that youâre close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of youâyet once he blurts the confession out, youâre speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.
âWhat?â You hiss.
He swallows hard.
âI want you to marry me, ____.â
You donât bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, youâre hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.
****
Jungkook was your first kiss.
It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkookâs direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you.Â
He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasnât right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.
âWe donât have to do anything,â Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. âYou donât have to feel pressured. Itâs just a stupid game.â
You blushed.
Secretly, you were hoping that heâd kiss you or touch you. Who didnât want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didnât want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There werenât a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.
5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.
âIs it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?â
You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. âThatâsâthatâs not true. Where did you hear that?â
âDuring homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.â
Your cheeks burned. âOh.â
âSo, itâs not true?â
âNo.â You shook your head. âI havenât even had my first kiss yet.â You laughed weakly.
It was his turn to seem stunned. âYou havenât had your first kiss yet?â
You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. âNot yet.â
âWant me to change that?â he asked, grinning.
He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldnât see shit that much) that you started nodding.
âOkay,â you told him.
âHuh?â
âYou can kiss me.â
âOh, oh, shitâI didnâtââ He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. âI mean, I was just joking butââ
You widen your eyes. âYou were? Oh my God, Iâm sorry, I thought you wereââ
âNo, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. Iâm sorry.â He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. âIt was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, itâs cool.â
âIt is?â Hope sparked within you.
âYeah. Itâll just be a peck anyway.â You can tell he was smiling through his voice. âJust donât tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.â
You cackled. âDeal.â
56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours.Â
****
Youâre seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowonâs number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.
âWhatâs up?â
âI will fucking murder you,â you snarl.
A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, âyou already talked with Jungkook?â
The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. âYes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?â You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. Youâre feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. Youâre comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.
â____, it wonât be a big deal if you donât make it to be.â
âAre you hearing yourself right now?â
âDid you even let Jungkook explain?â
âI donât need him to spell everything out. I know why heâs asking me to marry him.â
âThen you know too that itâd be good for you.â
âMarrying him wonât be good for me.â
âWhy not?â
âIt just wonât!â
âYouâll get health insurance benefits that you donât get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkookâs placeâthereâs a huge chance he wonât even let you pay him while you stay there too. Heâs away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldnât be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like youâve always wanted.â
You groan. âNot like this. This is crazy.â
âThe both of you can divorce once youâve saved up a little. It really isnât that complicated.â
âItâs a sham marriage!â
âItâs a sham marriage with Jungkook.â
âThat doesnât make it better.â
âAre you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.â
âOh my God, thatâs fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.â You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brotherâs behavior. This isnât the first time he revealed that heâs read your diary before; that doesnât mean itâs less infuriating to be reminded that he has. âI swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. Iâm choking you to death.â
Seowon laughs out loud. âJust marry him. Heâs surprisingly amicable with the idea.â
âThatâs because youâre pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.â
âMom doesnât know. To be fair, sheâd probably have the same reaction as you. Itâs all me and Jungkook.â
âWow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?â
âItâs not stupid. Itâs genius if you come to think of it,â he says. âJungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure youâll be okay and all that shit. Youâre the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?â
Your heart does that jumping thing again. âNo.â
âWell, he did. Heâs on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.â
âThis is nuts.â You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. âThe both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?â
âItâs Jungkook. I trust him. Donât you?â
âOf course, I do, I justââ you cut yourself off and frown, âI just feel like itâs unfair for him. Iâm marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?â
Thereâs a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.
âItâs better that Jungkook answers that question,â he tells you finally.
âWhy? You canât answer it on behalf of him?â
âSomething like that.â You can imagine him shrugging. âAll I know is that heâs genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?â
âGod, fuck it, fine. Iâll think about it.â You grimace.
You hang up and glance at the door.
You donât think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and youâre realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkookâs face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if heâs still there.
He isnât, which you sigh in relief at.
As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thingâand that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. Heâs your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that youâre looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because heâs afraid youâll die because of self-neglect.Â
Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.
Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: iâm sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that⊠Jungkook: iâm shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also itâs the first time iâm proposing so give me some slack
You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.
You: itâs okay You: iâm sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw
Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: letâs talk about it first
You: no need You: i donât want to marry you
Jungkook: oof thatâs harsh
You: sorry not sorry?
He doesnât respond and you think youâre safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and youâre confused because youâre a little disappointed that heâs not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.
However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.
Jungkook: give me 10 days and iâll change your mind
You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.
You: hate to break it to you but youâre not matthew mcconaughey
Jungkook: đ€Łđ€Łđ€Ł
****
Itâs not part of Jungkookâs branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that theyâll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.
He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because heâs not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful missionâbut most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.
Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, heâs a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. Itâs what youâve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how heâs trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.
âIâll file a restraining order against you, Iâm serious,â you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. Youâre wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.
âYou wouldnât.â He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. âAlso, what the fuck is in this thing? Youâll break your back if you keep using this.â He swings your backpack on one shoulder.
You laugh. âMy laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.â
âArenât they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?â
âI still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?â
âI have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.â
âAh.â You nod in understanding.
You two continue walking forward.
This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, heâll wait outside, youâll threaten him with something ridiculous, heâll take your bag, heâll offer to take you to dinner, youâll decline, and then heâll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, heâll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and youâll scowl at him, insisting that you donât need his help to survive.
âDinner?â he asks, right on schedule.
You glance at him. âNo. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.â
âBusy day?â
âYep.â
âYou know, if you marry me, you wonât have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.â
He doesnât need to turn to you to know that youâre giving him a dirty look. âI wonât marry you, Jungkook.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause marriage doesnât work that way.â
âIt does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. Itâs always been some kind of transaction.â
âWell, if I marry you, what do you get?â
âThe assurance youâre taken care of.â
âThatâs cheesy.â
You share a laugh and he grins.
âItâs true,â he says. âIâll be fine as long as you are.â
He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer heâs expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him whoâs known you since foreverâan expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. Heâs been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when heâs uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; heâs positive that youâll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.
Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passengerâs side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.
âHey,â he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, âyou alright?â
You raise your chin up. âKook, can you get my bag?â
Jungkook doesnât need to be told twice. Heâs swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passengerâs seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.
âWhat do you need?â he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.
âGlucometer.â
He halts. âWhat does that look like?â
âItâs in the yellow bag. There.â You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.
He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that youâre doing your best not to be too slow; heâd present to help but he knows that he might prolong what youâre doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how youâre pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.
âApple juice,â you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.
You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic coverâthen your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.
âLet me do it,â he says.
You donât fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.
âHow are you feeling?â he whispers. He didnât notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.
Another sigh. âBetter.â
âDoes this happen a lot?â
You seem to hesitate. âNot a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.â
â____ââ
âJust take me home.â You donât give him the chance to lecture you. âPlease, Jungkook.â
Defeated, he nods. âAlright.â
âThank you.â
He helps you position yourself properly on the passengerâs seat. âBut weâre talking about this at your place.â
Before you can protest, he closes the door.
****
Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kindâthe exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.
In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.
âHoney, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?â Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you heâd accompany you to your house.
âThatâs fine,â you told him. âItâs literally next door.â
âYeah, but it might be heavy.â
âItâs not.â
âBetter safe than sorry.â
You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.
Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasnât sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldnât think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasnât even sure why he was feeling a bit jealousâwas it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they canât have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when youâve already lost it?
âHow long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?â he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.
âFour months, I think.â
âFour months? And you already brought him home?â
You snorted at his tone. âHis family is in another country so I thought itâd be nice to invite him.â
âYou must really like him then.â
âYeah, but Iâm not in love with him or anything.â You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. âHeâs nice, and he likes me too.â
âDoes he treat you well?â
You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. âWhatâs with that question?â
âWhatâs with it?â
âNothing, itâs just thatâŠâ you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. âWait a minute, are you⊠you canât possiblyââ Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or notâ âare you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?â
Fuck, thank God, he thought.
âI prefer âoverprotective friend skitâ,â he said.
âThat doesnât have a nice ring to it.â
âBut Iâm not your brother.â
âYou donât have to be, Iâm just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.â
âNonsense. Seowon likes him.â
âOh, so you donât?â
He pressed his lips into a tight line.
âDid you just admit that you donât like Hyunwoo?â you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didnât seem to be offended by it.
âI didnât say I didnât like him.â
âInstead you implied it.â
âNo, I didnât.â
âYou kinda did.â
He heard you laugh and he couldnât help but allow himself to laugh as well.
âIâm sorry,â he apologized. âMaybe Iâm just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.â
âCanât say youâre wrong.â You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.
He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned heâd have the guts to mention out loud.
âWhen you open my gift,â he began, âdonât do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?â
âWhy not?â You werenât paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.
âHe might not like it. Youâll see.â
That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkookâs gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.
You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.
****
âNot so fast,â Jungkook grunts.
Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasnât for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isnât the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, youâre attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once youâre inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.
âSeriously?â He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.
âJungkookââ
âNo, you donât get to reason your way out of this. Iâm done hearing you out. Itâs your turn to listen to me.â He steps inside your apartment.
You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. âYou canât force me to marry you.â
âIs marrying me so fucking bad that you canât get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?â He demands, infuriated.Â
âThatâs not the issue.â
âThen what is?â
âYou can get arrested!â you exclaim. âAnd so can I! Does that not freak you out?â
âWeâll only get arrested if we get caught.â
âIâm not willing to take the risk.â
âIâm not willing to see you die.â
You scoff out a laugh. âWho the fuck said anything about dying? Iâm not dying.â
âYou almost passed out on me. You almostââ
âItâs an error on my part, I admit.â You sigh. âWhen I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. Iâm sorry.â
âAnd you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?â
âGod, Iâm not a child. Stop treating me like I canât do shit for myself.â
âPlease, ___,â he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, âjust accept my help. Itâs really not a big dealâyou wonât even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldnât be difficult. Weâll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.â
âYou just donât get it, donât you?â
âWhat do I not get? If you think I donât understand something, then explain it to meââ
âI canât marry you,â you say. You do so like itâs final, like thereâs no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As heâs pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, youâre communicating with your eyes in a similar way thatâs wishing he would just drop this. âItâs wrong.â
His eyebrows furrow. âThis isnât the time to go on your high horse and decide whatâs wrong and whatâs not. Itâs a fraudulent marriageâof course, itâll be wrong to some degree.â
âNo, I meanâŠâ You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. âItâd be wrong of me to marry you. Iâm taking advantage of you if I do, and I donât like that.â
Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you werenât that naive, were you? âYouâre not. Iâm not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I wonât split it with you.â
âThat wonât make me feel better.â
âThen what will?â
You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows heâs being a pain in the ass but he canât just stand here and do nothing. He thinks heâs already come too far in convincing you, he isnât going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that itâll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, youâll be taken care off.
Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand thatâs laying on the small space between you.
Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that youâre staring at him and he doesnât let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that heâs always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.
You hesitantly smile back. âYou know,â your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, âthere was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.â
He smirks, canât deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isnât where he expected to go. âWhat changed?â
âFor one, I grew up.â
âOuch.â
You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. âCan I confess something?â
That piques his interest. âAnything.â
âBut you have to promise not to make fun of me.â
âThatâs impossible.â He teases. âWhat is it?â
You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesnât let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.
âI like you, Jungkook. I really really do,â you finally say and he blinks, startled.
It shouldnât surprise him, considering that itâs been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesnât seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, itâs only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.
You continue speaking. âIn fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some pointâIâm not sure. Iâm at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like itâs something so natural. Like itâs a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, thereâs no way to shake you.â You chuckle half-heartedly. âThough never in a million years would I have thought that Iâd confess all of this. What for anyway? I donât want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldnât rub out.â
His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences heâs spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked himâthat maybe you even loved himâuntil he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!
He would have done all of that in a flash if it didnât appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand heâs holding thatâs becoming clammy, he discerns that youâre just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.
âActually, thatâs also why I canât let myself marry you,â you say. âI know it sounds ridiculous, but I donât know⊠it feels really icky somehow. I feel like Iâm holding you hostage, or that Iâm tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that Iâm defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. Iâm not sure. I just know that I donât want to marry you if it means Iâll only get to do so because you think youâre doing me a huge favor. I donât want to be your charity case, KookâI deserve to be more than that, you know? Iâm not traditional or whatever but if itâs not for love, Iâm not keen on getting married.â You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. âPlus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that youâre only married to me because I need it for my medication? Itâll just be unnecessarily messy. I donât want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I donât want to be a hindrance.â
Thatâs his cue. Thatâs when he knows heâs supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that heâs certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didnât want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you afterâthat when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didnât just see you as a friend.
âYouâre unbelievably dense, ___,â he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that heâs somehow treating this matter lightly.
âWhat?â
âDo you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think Iâm that generous? Iâm not. I wouldnât ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they werenât important to meâor if I didnât like them. Iâm not that much of a saint,â he adds. âI mean, Iâm taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. Iâm spending time with you every single day. Iâm driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do thatâand you think this is because I want to be charitable?â
Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks youâre still not getting the point.
âIâm in love with you, ____,â Jungkook says.
Your breath hitches in your throat. Youâre opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and heâs wishing that heâs done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about whatâs possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.
âAre you serious?â you ask after what seems like forever. âOr are you just saying that because youâre that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?â
âGodââ Heâs inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reactionâ âIâm convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.â
And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.
It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You canât seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. Youâre not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what youâre supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.
However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and youâre kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.
âThis okay?â he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.
You nod and Jungkookâs mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.
âHoly shit,â he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.
It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; youâre starting to get lightheaded but youâre positive itâs not because of your sugar levels running low.
âI hate that it took us so long to get to this point,â he mutters.
You grin. âIâm sorry.â
âDonât apologize. Iâm the manâI should have confessed long ago.â
âWhy didnât you?â
âI donât know. âWas afraid to lose you, I guess.â He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. âBut then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.â
You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. Itâs addictiveâthe intimate feel of him, how heâs not shy in making sure you know how much heâs craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.
âFuck, Kook,â you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, âyouâre so⊠so fuckinâ hard.â
Youâre palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.
He lets out a grunt. âYeah, baby, I know.â
âDo you⊠do you want meââ Youâre breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.
He understands you just fine though. âNo.â He shakes his head. âDonât do anything.â
Youâre not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.
Itâs like heâs releasing all the pent up emotions heâs been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that heâs eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, youâre positive that heâll get everything he wants because without a doubt youâll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.
Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought youâd come to see the day heâd utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.
âLast chance to stop me,â Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.
You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. âPlease never stop.â
âNever?â
âNever.â
âIâm going to take you up on that.â
âPlease do.â
After this night, youâre certain that youâll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasnât true or that there was no real relationship to prove thatâhowever, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.
âI love you,â he says, like heâs still in deep longing for your touch and affection.
You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. âI love you, Kook.â You stare at his eyes. âI canât remember a time I didnât.â
A boyish grin erupts on his features.
Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, youâre coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.
âThereâs no way youâre not marrying me after this,â he murmurs.
You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. âIâll think about it.â
He groans. âDonât think about it. Just say yes.â
âAt least let me sleep on it, Kook.â
âFuckâfine.â He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. âGuess Iâll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.â
****
âGod, why is this so difficult?â Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.
The air is very humid and Jungkookâs in his naval aviator uniform, which doesnât look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesnât care though, doesnât care that itâs sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.
âKook, Iâm fucking sweaty.â
âI donât care.â
You laugh.Â
Heâs leaving to return to his duty and youâre here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because thatâs how much of a good wife you are.
Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hallâs courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didnât know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why youâre rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.
âIâll propose to you again after a couple of years,â Jungkook promised after the ceremony. âLetâs renew our vows and Iâll give you an amazing wedding.â
You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didnât even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you werenât such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practicedâit was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.
âCall me everyday?â you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.
âDefinitely.â He smiles. âVisit me whenever possible?â
âOf course.â You kiss him too.
His smile transforms into a grin. âTake care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.â
âYes, Lieutenant.â
Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.
âOkay, pack it up, love birds!â Seowon shouts.
The two of you turn to your brother whoâs leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. Youâre still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkookâs place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because youâre trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.
Letâs just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasnât thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasnât as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkookâs ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, heâs just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.
Jungkook unwillingly places you down.
âI think I need to go,â you say.
He nods with a sigh. âIâll miss you.â
âIâll miss you too.â
âCall you tomorrow?â
âYes.â You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss.Â
He leans into it. âFuck, I donât want to leave.â
âSeriouslyâhurry up!â Seowon shouts and you pull back.
âI will kill him,â you tell Jungkook.
âHeâs your brother,â he says. âAnd now, my brother-in-law, so I canât let you do that.â
âThat might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that youâre choosing my brother over me.â You cross your arms. âTell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?â
âYou,â he answers without missing a beat.
You narrow your eyes. âIs that the truth?â
âOf course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and youâre shit at swimming. Itâs an easy choice.â
You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. âFor the record, I donât think anyone can âundrownâ themselvesâbut fine, you pass the test.â
Jungkook faces Seowonâs direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You donât think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time youâre saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you tooâand that alone weighs millions.
You spin on your heel and go to Seowon whoâs already in the driverâs seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, heâs giving you a dirty look.
âWhat?â you ask.
âPlease never do that in front of me again.â
His statement makes you smirk. âWhy? Didnât you want this?â
âWant what?â
âMe and Jungkook to be together.â
âWhen on earth did I say that?â
âYou previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.â
A short pause. âYeah, but that doesnât mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.â
âWeâre notââ
âYou are. Donât deny it.â He grumbles. âGod, every time I see you two, itâs like Iâm Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.â
âYeah, I remember that.â You laugh. âIn my defense, you havenât seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed soââ
âWait, so the two of you have?â
Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and youâre quick to attempt diffusing the situation. âI will not dive into that. All Iâm going to say is that Iâm a grown adult and so is Jungkook.â
He grimaces before starting the engine. âYeah, never dive into that. I donât need to hear the details.â
You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.
You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. âHey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.â
You recall how Seowon was the one who couldnât stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worseâin the best way possible.
A crooked smile illuminates his face. âYouâre my kid sister. Itâs my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.â
You scoff. âWell, youâre damn great at what you do.â
When you reach Jungkookâs apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasnât ideal was still manageable. A lot donât get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that youâll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.
âOh, I forgot to mention,â Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkookâs near to empty shelf, âWinnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but sheâs going to be busy for the next few days.â
You take the frame from his hand and see that itâs the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. Itâs in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the cameraâand the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.
You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. Itâs playful, itâs sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.
âThis is so beautiful, Seowon,â you say.
You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.
Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.
You: look how cute we look đ„č
Youâre certain itâll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. Itâs the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, itâs the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning youâll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldnât be traditionally explored given his occupation and how heâs most likely going to be away a lot, you donât mind.
If thereâs one thing you really believe in, itâs that waiting for Jungkookâwhether consciously or unconsciouslyâalways brings out the best outcomes.
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